Chapter Eighteen: A Bilius Battle
The members of The Secret Order of Harry's Army were busy at work practicing the patronus charm. They'd been slogging away at it to varying degrees of success for the last quarter of an hour whilst Harry cuddled with Dudley on an arsenic green velvet Victorian fainting couch observing their progress.
Dudley lazily fanned Harry with an old peacock feather fan which had belonged to Sirius' mother but Harry had liberated for himself. In fact, Harry had also taken the liberty of relieving the now charred corpse of her best embroidered silk dressing down, which he was, of course, now wearing.
Harry was smiling like the cat who caught the canary. Sure, they were preparing for an all out magical war against Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic where there was a high probability that biological warfare would be used against them, but watching his soldiers as they did their magical drills with his cousin - no, his boyfriend - beside him, Harry couldn't have felt happier.
Dudley was just teasing a grape into Harry's mouth when Harry noticed that Ron had made yet another mistake.
What in the name of Merlin's most well used buttplug was wrong with Ron now?
Harry waved the grape away, rose from the fainting couch and crossed the room to his best mate, who was resuming his stance so he could butcher the patronus charm again, like the dozy mare that he was.
"Ron, stop." Harry said in a low, calming voice as he placed his hand on his bro's shoulder. A jolt of electricity went through Ron's body at Harry's touch and he laughed nervously. "Sorry, I know I'm buggering it all up." He breathed.
"You just need to focus and work on your form a bit. I was watching you before and your stance needs a little work to start with. Here - " Harry said, putting his hand on Ron's back. "Let me help you." He slid his hand slowly up Ron's back to his shoulder.
"Now, your wand arm needs to be more like this - " Harry guided Ron's trembling arm into the right position. "And you need to flourish your wand like this - " He held Ron's clammy hand in his own and showed him the magical motions.
Ron suddenly felt quite weak in the knees in the oppressive late summer heat.
"Now, what about your happy memory?" Harry asked, still speaking to Ron in that almost insufferably soothing voice.
"My - what do you mean?" Ron blurted out in a panicked voice.
"The happy memory you're supposed to be thinking of as you perform the charm." Harry prompted casually.
"Oh, er, uh...I was just thinking about...uh...about...er, seeing the Quidditch World Cup last summer...er, yeah, that's it." Ron said, not very convincingly.
"Well, whatever it is, it's obviously not happy enough." Harry said bluntly, "It isn't working at all for the patronus charm."
"It isn't?" Ron moaned miserably.
"No, it isn't." Harry said. "You're just going to have to come up with a better memory." He leaned back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully and furrowing his brow as he looked Ron up and down.
Ron couldn't help but feel as utterly exposed under his best mate's calculated gaze as if he were standing before him in the nude.
"Hmmm..." Harry hummed, walking around Ron as though he were a used Ford Anglia that Harry was inspecting for purchase, examining him from all angles. If Ron had tires instead of feet, Harry probably would have kicked them.
Finally he stopped just behind Ron. "Actually," He drawled, "I think a little more work on your stance should do the trick."
Harry was now so close that Ron could feel his best mate's breath on the back of his neck. He gasped as Harry placed his hands on his waist to reposition him.
"That's better." Harry said approvingly, removing his hands from Ron's waist so he could survey his work. "But it still needs some adjustments."
He crouched down between Ron's impossibly long legs and and the ginger couldn't help but gasp again as The Boy Who Lived began meticulously repositioning his legs, his hands moving upwards, moving closer...closer...
"Good!" Harry said as he quickly took his hands off of Ron's thighs and jumped back up, rubbing his hands hastily on Sirius's mother's dressing gown.
He stood back, surveying his work once more, before resuming his position behind Ron. "One more quick adjustment and I think we should be ready to try again!"
Harry put his arms back around Ron, leaning his whole body into the ginger's gangly frame and using his hips to guide Ron into the correct position.
Ron's mind went as blank as a canvas waiting for a ghostly inhabitant.
"Much better." Harry hissed into his ear, so close that his lips lightly grazed Ron's earlobe as he spoke. Then he let go of Ron and stepped away.
"Now, time to try again." He said, going back to business. "Do you have a happy memory ready?"
"I do now." Ron almost shuddered.
"It's better than that dumb one about the Quidditch World Cup, right?" Harry teased, smirking.
"Ohhh yeah!" Ron said, his breath quickening with anticipation.
"Well, go on then, big boy, show me what you can do." Harry commanded Ron, whilst looking across the room at Dudley and giving him a reassuring wink.
"Oh, don't you worry, Harry," Ron said in a low, raspy voice. "I'll show you exactly what I can do..."
Harry smirked at Ron, "Good." He said, slapping Ron's arse abruptly. "Now, do it!"
"EXPECTOOOOOO PATRONUUUUUUUUMMMM!" Ron ejaculated as he flourished his wand, a fully corporeal stallion patronus exploding from the tip. The force of the magical act left Ron doubled over and gasping for breath.
"Well done, Weasley." Harry said, thumping a shaking, shuddering Ron on the back, then he shrugged off the silk dressing gown and handed it to his best bro.
"You might want to clean yourself up." He smirked, winking at Ron knowingly before leaving to rejoin Dudley.
Ron lifted the musty dressing gown to his face and inhaled its musky scent as he watched Harry walk away.
Somewhere off in the distance he could almost hear the sound of Hermione screaming.