Title: A Whisper and A (Hiss) Kiss
Characters: Harry/Ron
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~2000
Warnings: unbeta'd, slash, Hogwarts!fic, language, smut, oral, Parseltongue!kink, pwp
Summary: In which Harry and Ron spend Christmas Eve in Ron's attic bedroom...
A/N: For elainemalfoy ! You put up with my bs, my obsessive love of Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy(cest) and most of all you let me spam you with Harry/Draco *eg* Happy birthday! ILU!
"Ron?"
"Yeah?" Ron heard the sheets rustling on the makeshift cot in the corner of his attic bedroom.
"It's really c-cold up here," Harry stammered.
As if to illustrate Harry's point, a howl of wind blasted against the lone circular window. Ron tugged his blankets up to his chin but grimaced when his feet were left uncovered. He'd grown too tall for his childhood bed. "Sorry mate, the climate charms are a bit faulty at the top of the house. I've tried to alter them but I'm not very good. Dad says I've got to be a professional."
"Oh," Harry said. "You reckon we could sleep in Fred and George's old bedroom, then? I bet it's warmer down there."
"Well, that would work, except they're coming home from the shop early tomorrow for Christmas breakfast. I don't know about you but I don't fancy being hexed in my sleep or getting up earlier then I have to," Ron said. He rolled over and reached for his wand. "But if you come here, this will help."
"What?" There was more rustling on the cot.
"Come here," Ron said again, trying to remember a warming spell Percy, the git, had taught him.
"Ron, I said I was cold and I don't think pulling off my blanket will help."
Ron rolled his eyes and remembered the spell. "Ignis."
A small ball of light burst from the tip of his wand and hovered just over his bed. He sighed as the heat seeped into his frozen appendages. "It's a weak warming charm," he explained. "You can stay over there in the cold or come here."
Apparently Harry believed there was a third option. He was holding his wand. "What's that spell?"
Ron shook his head. "Harry, it's very difficult and your magic is kind of…strong. You might end up burning the Burrow down."
"You sound like Hermione," Harry grumbled.
"Well, we both know she'd be right." Ron smiled. "Besides, I can remember what happened the first time I tried this spell. I think I set Fred's hair on fire. He was bald for weeks before the hair potions kicked in."
"Brilliant." Harry laughed. He dropped his wand on top of his trunk and quickly made his way to Ron.
"You think it'll hold both of us?" Harry asked, pausing in front of the bed. The ball of light illuminated him: his oversized nightshirt, and sloppy hair, and very green eyes. A lump formed in Ron's throat. Had Harry's eyes always been that green behind his glasses? Why hadn't Ron noticed it before?
"Ron?"
"Wha-?"
"C-can you spell the bed bigger?" Harry asked, impatiently.
"Oh." Ron quickly shuffled over; Harry was obviously very cold standing barefoot on the frozen hardwood without a blanket. "If I knew that spell I'd make the bed longer so my feet wouldn't dangle over the edge," Ron said. "We'll have to squeeze. But it's no problem seeing as you're a skinny midget."
"Sure and you're a scrawny giant so it just might work." Harry smirked and lifted Ron's blanket. He slipped into the pocket of space Ron provided for him.
Ron stiffened. Harry's back was mere inches from his chest and suddenly Ron wanted to wrap his arms around Harry and pull him closer. For the body heat, he reasoned, attempting to rationalize the inappropriate urge.
"This is better," Harry sighed.
"Somewhat," Ron muttered. His cock stirred not erect yet but he would probably get there in the next few minutes. He also had the strong desire to touch Harry's hair. It looked so soft in the sparkling glow of the fireball. Merlin! Maybe the spell had backfired into a lust charm. He shivered.
Harry mimicked the movement. "Still cold?" Harry sounded concerned.
"A little," Ron said, though it was a lie. He was extraordinarily warm. He turned to face the wall on the other side of his bed and listened to the wind cry and rattle against The Burrow.
Mercifully his body relaxed and he was eventually able to drift into an uneasy sleep.
Ron woke what felt like two minutes later. He was aroused but that always happened when he slept. He blinked several times trying to figure out what had woken him. He noticed the ball of heat was slowly dissolving. It wasn't as warm as it had been at first, but it was still comfortable. Ron flopped down again and sighed. His hand landed on Harry's shoulder and Harry let out a soft hiss.
Ron froze. The sound. The sound melted like butter over the expanse of Ron's skin. It seeped into his veins, into his ears, into the crevices of his brain. It wasn't the fire that aroused him to the point of consciousness. It was that sound. Harry was speaking Parseltongue in his sleep: faint hisses every now and again that innocently drove Ron to his breaking point. He'd been aroused on the few occasions that he'd witnessed Harry speaking snake language but he'd been in mortal danger then. And Harry certainly never spoke it in his sleep. Tonight Ron was safe.
The only danger was Harry finding Ron's erect cock pressed against his thigh. Ron slowly slipped his hands into his pyjama bottoms. He had to relieve the tension. If he was quiet Harry wouldn't have to know. He gripped himself firmly and began to pull.
"Harry," he whispered, though he didn't know why. He bit his lip to keep from screaming it again and again. Harry was quiet. No noise but his soft breathing. Ron needed him to make another sound. He tapped Harry's shoulder again, lightly so he wouldn't wake. Harry didn't respond. Ron rolled his eyes. Maybe if he copied the sound Harry made earlier...
He tried it and was immediately rewarded by the warm buttery sound of Harry's hiss.
"Fuck, Harry," Ron muttered. Again he copied Harry's hiss and groaned at Harry's response. He ran his hands furiously over his cock, his heart pounded in his ears.
Harry shifted and Ron stilled his movements.
"Ron?" Harry's voice was groggy with sleep.
"Yeah?" Ron gasped, feeling like an idiot as the absurdity of the situation washed over him. He was lying in his childhood bed on Christmas Eve wanking to the sound of his best friend speaking Parseltongue while asleep.
"Did you say something?" Harry asked.
Ron shook his head and then realized Harry wasn't looking at him. "No," he said.
"Oh," Harry said. He sounded disappointed. "I, er, I must've been dreaming…"
Ron shivered in spite of himself. His cock was still hard, aching on the edge of release. If only Harry would go to sleep for two more minutes.
"Why are you awake?" Harry turned over so his voice was in Ron's ear. "Are you still cold?"
"Um." Ron sighed. "You were talking in your sleep."
"I— what? What did I say?"
"You were speaking Parseltongue," Ron said; he could sense Harry's embarrassment and felt guilty for mentioning it. Harry was probably having a nightmare and Ron sat there wanking to it. Some best friend.
Ron's eyes widened when he heard Harry laugh. "That's odd." Harry sounded relieved.
"What?" Ron asked.
"I had a dream that you were, er—" he leaned over and rested his head on Ron's shoulder momentarily. Then he gave Ron a meaningful glance. "I don't know Ron. This bed is so small…"
"Yeah, it is," Ron said. He sat up and scooted his feet onto the cold hardwood.
Harry sat up too, suddenly tense. "Christ, Ron. I didn't mean for you to leave."
"I'm not leaving for good. It's my bed," Ron snapped. "I'm just…" He paused because Harry's eyes had traveled down to the bulge in his pyjama pants, so clear in the dwindling ball of light. "I'm just… I need the bathroom," Ron mumbled, not sure if he'd ever be able to face Harry again.
"Wait," Harry said; he quickly grabbed Ron's forearm and tugged him back towards the bed. Ron sat down on the edge and Harry reached for his lap. "Lie down. I can—I can help."
Ron's eyebrows knitted together. "Yeah?" he gasped.
"Yeah."
Harry palmed Ron's erection through the fabric of his pyjama bottoms.
"Harry," Ron hissed. Harry straddled Ron on his knees. One hand held Harry up and he continued to rub Ron through his clothing.
Ron struggled to grab at Harry's trousers and was shocked to find Harry nearly as aroused as he was.
"Had a dream about you," Harry whispered. His eyes, heavy lidded, were locked on Ron's and his lips were parted. "You said open and I did and—" he paused and looked down. His hands slowed.
"And?" Ron panted.
Harry gave him a mischievous smile and then knelt between his thighs.
"Oh," Ron gasped when Harry wrapped his mouth around the head of Ron's cock. It felt strange at first, like he could hear his heart beat in his cock. Harry was sucking and swirling his tongue like he'd never done it before but was trying really hard to make it seem like he had. He muttered something with his mouth full and the vibration rushed up the base of Ron's spine. God, how he hoped Harry was whispering Parseltongue.
Ron closed his eyes and stretched getting used to the wet sensation. Soon his hips rocked slowly into Harry's mouth. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. Pressure pooled between his thighs and his mind went blank. Before he knew it he'd arched up from the mattress and let out a sibilant hiss.
Suddenly, Harry released Ron's cock with a wet pop. He sat up and wiped his mouth on the inside of his sleeve.
"Harry, why?" Ron panicked.
"Did you just speak Parseltongue?" Harry rasped, crawling up the length of Ron's body.
"Er-" Ron felt hot behind the ears. "Sort of. I just copied what you said while you were sleeping," he admitted.
Harry kissed him on the corner of the mouth and Ron smiled, tasting himself on Harry's lips was oddly exhilarating. He grabbed a fistful of Harry's hair and it was softer than he remembered. Slowly, he deepened the kiss.
Seconds later Harry pulled away. "It's hot," Harry whispered. "When you talk like that." He sat up on Ron's lap and pressed their cocks together. Ron groaned and jerked his hips upwards, attempting to create friction. "So hot." Harry gripped both cocks and massaged. "Should teach you to talk to snakes."
"I…" Ron swallowed. He couldn't think like this. "Why did you have the dream about me?"
"I always dream about you," Harry panted.
"You do?" Ron gasped shocked. "Why?"
Harry didn't respond. His hands roamed furiously and Ron pushed into Harry's heated palm. His chest heaved, their eyes met and, before he knew it, their come had splattered all over their clothing and the small bed. Harry collapsed on top of him, sated.
They lay in silence watching the rest of the hovering fire burn itself out.
Ron knew this would be awkward in the morning. "So you okay?" he asked. "We should go to bed before Fred and George walk in on us like this."
"Right." Harry nodded and pushed himself off of Ron's chest. He pulled up his bottoms and paused. "You're my best mate by the way," He said quietly. "And I care about you, er… a lot. That's why I dream about you."
Ron smiled and weighed Harry's words. He cast a cleaning spell for the small attic bed and his pyjamas. "So by care you mean love?"
"Yeah, I mean love." Harry returned his smile and climbed into the cot. "Can you believe I thought it was cold up here?"