Salt in our Wounds

Disclaimer: They're not mine. Never have, never will be. All chapter titles are songs by HIM (a Finnish band) and aren't mine either.

A/N: Okay ... this is three years after Hogwarts. Harry and Ron are both 20 years old and work as Aurors.

Warning: This is slash (boy/boy love), so if that isn't your cup of tea, don't read it.

Chapter 1 (Right here in my arms)

Ron slowly cracked an eye open to avoid the sunlight that flooded the bedroom. He groaned and turned away, but a firm, yet gentle hand held him back.

"It's about time for you to get up," Harry said.

"Nooo," Ron whined and tried to turn, but no avail; Harry was, to Ron's dismay, taller and stronger than him now and could easily deal with his lover. The redhead pushed his hair out of his face and glared at Harry.

"We have work to do," Harry said in a merry voice and left the room to go over to the kitchen where he was making breakfast.

Ron sighed. Harry almost reminded him of Hermione with his passion for work; being an Auror was all right if you actually got to do something. Harry, however, refrained from letting the redhead do anything, but research. Ron wasn't sure why his lover never let him do anything. Did he do it because he thought that his boyfriend was too dumb or because he wanted to protect him? It was hard to tell. Finally the youngest Weasley boy decided to get up and get ready for work; Harry and Ron had never liked the other Auror's taste in fashion and so they usually went in colors that suited them. Ron usually took dark blue robes which made a nice contrast to his red hair and Harry liked green that complemented his eyes. The one Ron had chosen that day was especially gorgeous; it was midnight blue with golden stars at the sleeves and hem. Ron gently ran his fingers across the soft fabric, staring at it in awe; it was probably more expensive than anything he had ever owned. Harry had given it to him on their first anniversary which lay back five years now. They had often had to repair the beautiful robe, but Ron just couldn't part with it.

"RONALD WEASLEY!"

"I'll be right there!"

Ron hurried to complete the task of taming his hair and joined Harry, who was reading The Daily Prophet, at the breakfast table.

"He did it again."

"Nooo," Ron whined. "Please, say that that was just a joke." They were talking about their current target, a dark wizard who loved playing tricks on Muggleborn and their families, but also all other Muggles he could get a hold of. At first they had been harmless, but now the first Muggleborns had been injured. Harry and Ron were pretty sure that the dark wizard had also used the Cruciatus curse on some of them, but they couldn't be entirely sure as most witnesses were too scared to tell them anything, anyway.

"It's about ..." Harry's voice trailed off.

"Who?"

"Whoever it is, he performed the Cruciatus curse on Pansy Parkinson."

"Well, who's that?"

"RON! She was one of Malfoy's little friends! They were even engaged, but then they broke up because," Harry giggled, "he wanted to get married to Crabbe's cousin thrice removed on the mother's side."

"I never knew you were one for gossip," Ron muttered.

"Well, everyone knows, except you, but it's okay. I still love you, even if you're a bit dumb."

"I'm WHAT?!" Ron's eyes widened until they were twice their usual size. "Phhh."

Ron acted like he was offended, but Harry knew better than to believe it. It was just a little game between the two of them and they enjoyed it. They both got up and leaned over the table so that Harry was able to brush his lips against Ron's in a moment of sweetness.

"We gotta go to work now," Harry finally said.

"But Harry ..." Ron rubbed his chin, deep in thought. "Pansy Parkinson was in Slytherin. She's a Pureblood then. Why would our man hurt her?"

They usually applied the expression 'our man' to their current target, even if it sounded strange to other people.

"Right ... that's ... Ron, you're right! Well, I'm going to visit Pansy now and you are going to the library and look for some spells he might have used."

"Why can't I come, too? Why ...?"

"Ron! There is no time to argue now. We're already late." Harry quickly kissed Ron and grabbed his bag. "I'm seeing you later, Wheezy!"

The darkhaired wizard had already vanished with a 'plop' before Ron could ask him any more questions.

Wheezy ... Harry didn't use that name very often, just when he wanted to be especially nice or if he had to deny Ron something. The redhead sighed and grabbed his own bag, leaving the apartment the normal way. The Ministry with its library wasn't that far away and Ron needed some fresh air, anyway.

Two hours later he was practically buried under a pile of huge spell and charm books; he sighed and kept looking at the pages, although he wwas so tired.

"I hate this," he murmured, before his head made contact with the table.

When he woke up it was dark and certainly night. How was he supposed to get out of the building now? And why was everything so soft now and ...

"Bloody hell! Why did nobody wake me? Harry's gonna be so mad and-"

"I'm not mad. Well, not anymore," Harry said softly.

"You ... aren't?"

"No." Harry placed a gentle kiss on Ron's brow. "And just in case you were wondering. You're at home and in our bed now. When I got home you weren't there. I was ... worried and went to the library and there you were. My little Wheezy ..."

Ron curled up in Harry's arms.

"I like how you say that."

"I should say it more often then."

They both knew that he wouldn't, but it didn't really matter. After a while they both fell asleep in each other's arms.

TBC