Warning: Okay, there hasn't been much of a reason for a warning yet, BUT
NOW THERE IS! * chuckle * Girl on guy (eventually)/ guy on guy stuff.
Sex, language, you name it.
A/N: I don't own a damn thing - YET. (Ms. Rowling won't take my damn phone calls.) BWAHAHAHAHAHA
Summary: With the help of Aromankin's Amulet, Harry is now able to transport himself in and out of the minds and dreams of whomever he wants. Hee hee hee. Right now, he's got Ron Weasley on the brain. Whatever will happen between the two of them??
Side note: Sting was working for me the first two chapters, but now I need a lil' something else. SO - we've switched to Stone Temple Pilots. (the purple album to be precise) ENJOY! * grin *
P.S. If anyone has not yet read anything by franthephoenix, get off yer lazy ass and do it! She's got my literary approval. =)
~*~
"Wow."
The last time Harry had used the amulet, he had been transported into the void. Rather, the void that was Ron Weasley's mind. This time, however, there was no void.
There was a Quidditch field.
"Figures."
Harry found himself in the sidelines of what looked to be the largest Quidditch field in the world. Millions of wizarding folk were cheering and carrying on, supporting the teams. The sound was deafening.
Harry couldn't help but gawk at the sight. The stadium itself looked to be at least a mile long, and half a mile wide. Bright orange and black banners flew high in the sky, billowing out with the breeze. The game hadn't begun yet, but he could tell that it was about to.
Just as he was thinking it, he spotted the first team fly out onto the field. Light blue flashes sped onto the grounds and into the air. Immediately, the crowd started jeering at them. He didn't recognize the team colors, but there was something familiar about the players.
The teams captain, and keeper, Harry recognized immediately. Draco Malfoy. It was practically impossible not to recognize that blonde haired git. Straining his eyes, Harry managed to identify the rest of the team. Crabe and Goyle were the beaters; Professor Snape, Lucious Malfoy and Ron's brother Percy were the chasers. Harry did a double take. Percy? Why was he on the other team? He figured Ron had held a grudge against Percy for being a prefect, or a kiss ass at least.
Harry was beaming by the time he had identified six of the seven-team members. He had to hand it to Ron; the boy certainly had a sense of humor. Excited to find out who the chaser was, Harry scanned the team. No - no - no - no - no - no - WHAT?
Considering how many times Harry had looked in the mirror, seeing himself shouldn't have been such a shock. But there he was, and he was shocked. Flying higher than the rest of the team, there was Harry Potter, the team's seeker. Rather, there flew Ron Weasley's version of Harry Potter.
Harry was speechless.
A Quidditch team comprised solely of, what looked to be, Ron's enemies; why on earth was HE on the team? Harry's mind was racing. 'What the hell is going on? Did I piss him off? What the hell is going on? Does he hate me now? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?' Before Harry's questions could be answered, the second team flew out onto the field.
Well, "TEAM" may not be the correct word.
In a triumphant blast of trumpets, Ron Weasley flew out onto the Quidditch field, and was met by a joyous eruption from the crowds. Immediately, people started throwing confetti, waving banners, and screaming at the top of their lungs. "RON! RON! RON! RON!"
"Oh brother."
Harry scanned the field for the rest of the team, only to find there was no "rest of the team." Only Ron Weasley.
Not able to hold back, Harry let out a semi-humorous scoff. 'HE's going to take on the entire team?? ALONE?'
Smiling smugly, Harry sat back down. 'This I gotta see.'
The two teams, er-rather, the one team and Ron, gathered at the center of the field as Madame Hooch carried out the trunk. Harry couldn't help but laugh at the site of Madame Hooch. The woman was wearing a bikini! And a scantily clad one at that.
"Allright, I want a clean game, from both of you!" Harry could see Ron smiling smugly, as Madame Hooch winked at him. Turning his attentions to the other team, Harry could see that they were scared. No, they were more than scared.
They were terrified.
Himself, above all else. Harry watched himself in disbelief. He was shaking like a leaf.
Mentally, Harry screamed at himself. "Don't be scared, you twit! Its just RON! You can take him!"
The whistle blew, and the game began.
Ron was gone, and in a flash, at the other end of the field chasing the Golden Snitch. Crabe and Goyle were trying to hit him with the Bludgers, but their aim was pathetic, and ended up hitting Draco in the head - knocking him unconscious. Even more ludicrous was Percy scoring with the Quaffle. Unfortunately, he had thrown the Quaffle through the wrong set of hoops and scored on himself. Infuriated, Professor Snape snatched the Quaffle from the obviously distraught Percy, and flew to the other end of the field. He flew within 3 feet of the hoops, threw the Quaffle, and missed. An obviously unfazed Lucious Malfoy just sat on his broom and trimmed his nails. Dumfounded, Harry tried to find himself.
It wasn't too hard, considering he hadn't moved an inch since the game began. There he was, 30 feet in the air and clinging to his broom for dear life.
Infuriated with himself, and Ron, Harry shouted.
"MOVE!"
And much to everyone's surprise, especially Ron, he did.
As if awoken from a deep sleep, Harry's dream-version of himself began to give chase. Not willing to let his chance go by, Harry screamed again.
"CATCH HIM!"
Taking orders, Harry began to close the gap between he and Ron.
Obviously outraged by the chain of events, Ron sped up, his hand closing on the Golden Snitch.
"NO!" Harry yelled again, only to be met by an equally loud "YES!"
Surprised, Harry tried to find the voice.
It was Ron.
Not the Ron that was playing Quidditch, but another Ron. He was sitting across the field from him, watching the game.
Amazed, Harry tried to comprehend what he was seeing. There was Ron - and THERE was Ron. Harry looked around him, trying to see if there were any other Ron Weasley's hanging about.
Looking back, Harry would've told himself to keep focused on the game; because just then, Ron caught the Snitch.
Only two minutes and four seconds long, the game was over. Ron had won.
Of course, the crowd deafened Harry with their cheers. Obviously pleased with himself, Ron held the Golden Snitch in his raised hand, presenting it to his fans. Slightly embarrassed, Harry wondered if that was what he looked like the first time he had caught it.
Ron got back on his broom and begun circling the stadium; a victory lap. This only made the crowds scream louder. Beginning to think this had been a bad idea, Harry looked around for an exit. When all of a sudden, there was silence.
He was alone.
The once fully packed stadium had emptied, and there he sat, all alone. A small chill made its way up Harry's back and onto the nape of his neck. This was too weird.
Movement from across the field caught his attention. He wasn't alone after all.
Ron was getting up from his seat in the stands and was making his way onto the now empty field. Slowly, Harry rose from his seat and followed. He had gotten onto the field when he noticed a large oak door had appeared at the far end of the stadium.
'That's a odd place for a door like that.' Harry thought offhandedly. Intricately carved and a beautiful mahogany color, it looked like it belonged in the Malfoy Mansion. Ron had made his way to the door, took out a key, unlocked it, and went through. As soon as the door had closed behind him, the landscape began to change. The once vibrant colors began to go gray. Nothing was quite solid. Suddenly, parts of the stadium began to disappear.
"Oh shit."
In a panic, Harry began to run across the field in the direction of the door. It looked a mile away. Each step he took only lengthened the distance, and his feet were sinking into the ground.
"Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit."
Acting on instinct, Harry called out, "Accio Firebolt!" And immediately his broomstick was in his hand. Thanking the Gods that magic still worked here, Harry pulled himself out of the ground and onto the broom. Racing the rapidly depleting landscape, Harry made it to the door. Taking out his wand, Harry called out "Alohomora!" The door creaked open, and Harry slid in just as the ground disappeared.
~*~
The room Harry found himself in wasn't like any other room he had been in before. Beautiful tapestries hung on the stone walls, just between the large stained glass windows. Taking a closer look, the tapestries appeared to have Quidditch games being played on them, but from another time. Harry laughed inwardly, 'This is Ron's room.'
One of the first things he noticed was that the room was round. Round, with a huge vaulted ceiling that went up at least forty feet. The ceiling itself, technically, wasn't a ceiling. It was a window, or a skylight to be precise. Dome in shape, the window had a million diamond panes, revealing the blue-black night sky above it.
The room itself wasn't decorated in any particular style; in fact, there was nothing at all similar between its contents. The tapestries and windows were all old-world European, while the Armoire and chest were late Renaissance. And the desk and chairs were all something out of an Ethan Allen catalogue. Certainly, Ron was never the type to care about matching his outfit with his shoes, but the room seemed too mismatched. The only common theme, Harry thought, was that it's all-
Of course. Everything in his room's expensive. This is a rich man's room.
A sad smile crossed Harry's lips. It made sense; Ron's family has never owned anything valuable. They could never afford it.
This is his dream room.
Harry closed his eyes after he realized what he had thought. Again, he was having a "Duh" moment.
His attention was drawn to the fireplace, whose logs had suddenly caught ablaze - illuminating the rest of the room. Directly across from the fire was Ron's bed.
'Oh wow.'
Harry never knew how good of a taste Ron had for the luxurious till just then. The bed, which was obviously the centerpiece of the room, was huge. King size, with four spiraling stone posts on each corner; the bed was a work of art. A beautiful emerald green comforter covered, what looked to be silk, black sheets. Harry counted eight pillows, all different tones of the emerald green comforter. It looked amazing. Instantly, Harry felt the urge to touch it.
'Ron, I'm impressed.'
He was about to walk over to the bed, when a noise outside the door startled him. Straining to hear, Harry made out some muffled voices.
"Oh Ron! I can't believe it's you!"
"That game was amazing!"
"Would you sign this?"
"Ladies! Ladies! Thank you. But I must be going."
The door began to creak open.
Desperate for Ron not to find him there, Harry hid behind the closest thing to him. Unfortunately, it was a plant - and not a very big plant at that. Too late to change his mind, Ron was already through the doorway. Besides, he thought, I can always take off the amulet if I have to.
Ron strutted in and looked around the room, basking in the glory of it all. Pleased with himself, he went over to the bar and poured himself a drink. Picking up the brandy snifter, Ron rolled the liquid around in the glass before taking a sip. Harry had to stifle his laughter. 'All he needs now is a robe and a pipe.'
He had spoke too soon; directly after thinking that, Ron opened his armoire and pulled out a forest green robe. Blushing, Harry diverted his eyes to the ground as Ron changed.
'Why am I getting embarrassed? I see Ron change all the time!' This time was different somehow. Harry felt, dirty. Like he was spying.
And what was worse, he liked it.
Slowly, he raised his gaze and resumed his spying. Somehow, Ron seemed older than 16; not so much in his height, but in his face. The lines were deeper, his gaze was the same. More penetrating. Harry studied Ron as a collector would study a fine piece of art.
'How have I never noticed his skin before?'
Harry wanted to touch it.
A sudden surge of heat raced through him and landed in his stomach, almost knocking him off balance. Luckily, a knock at the door covered the thud of Harry hitting the floor. Ron's attentions were to the door.
"Come in."
The chest beside him blocked Harry's view of the door, but he could hear it opening. Ron smiled.
"I'm here. As requested."
Harry recognized the voice, but couldn't quite place it. His pulse was quickening. 'Why am I getting so bloody excited? It's just Ron.' Harry tried to disregard the voice inside his head. 'You know who it is. You know.'
The voice was moving closer. "You look good in green."
Ron smiled again, "Thanks."
"You'd look better in maroon, though."
A shit-eating grin shot across Ron's face, "Shut the fuck up."
The mystery man was laughing. "Just shut up?"
By this point, Harry was no longer hidden by the plant - as he was completely leaning over it to see.
Pure lust spread over Ron's face as he slowly answered, "Shut the fuck up and kiss me."
The mystery man walked into view, and Harry's balance was again defeated, his deepest-darkest thoughts confirmed.
It was him.
Harry took Ron's face into his hands and kissed him, deeply. A low moan escaped from Ron's lips as he eagerly kissed back; their hands running through each other's hair, tugging lightly.
'This is too much. Leave now.' Harry's prudish side pleaded with him. But Harry was too engrossed with the scene that was playing out in front of him to hear it.
Ron led Harry back to the bed, still kissing, and pushed him down onto it. Leaning down, he pulled Harry's sweater off of him and tossed it aside. Running his hands down Harry's bare chest, Ron slowly undid his pants and slid them, and his boxers, off. Only when Harry was completely naked did Ron begin to undress himself.
'You shouldn't be here!' was the only thing Harry could think. There was a knot in his stomach about the size of a Quaffle. Yet, he could not look away. The Quaffle went from his stomach to his groin when Ron undid his robe.
'OH MY GOD.'
There was Ron, stark-ass naked in front of him, and he was beautiful.
His slender body outlined by the roaring fire behind him, looked amazing. Unearthly. God-like.
The dream-version of Harry reached up and took Ron by the neck, bringing him down, and locking in a passionate embrace. Their hands were everywhere, pulling, scratching, and kneading. Harry heard himself groan as Ron's mouth went to his neck, softly biting down. He watched, mesmerized, half-aware of his own erection forming. Ron traced his tongue down Harry's chest - down - tracing the outline of his now contracting stomach muscles. He watched as Harry's eyes closed, his hands moving to Ron's head, pushing him downward.
Harry couldn't help but want to be there. To BE him. To feel what he's feeling right now. Pangs of jealousy felt like daggers in Harry's stomach.
Ron's mouth was dangerously close to Harry's erection, and he'd have to be blind AND deaf not to know it. Harry was pleading with him to continue, LOUDLY - and Ron was loving it. His grin giving him away.
He watched as Ron's tongue slipped over the tip of Harry's erection, and was met by a throaty growl. Taking that as a yes, Ron moved in. His mouth closing over Harry in slow, solid strokes. Harry responded with a sound that made himself blush.
'I wonder if that's what I really sound like.' Harry absurdly thought. He watched himself buck and flail around on the bed. 'I REALLY hope that's not what I look like.' He sounded close to orgasm when Ron stopped - and grinned.
"You bitch."
Ron laughed as Harry pounced on him, forcing his hands up over his head. Harry held him there for a minute - Ron struggling beneath him.
Harry couldn't help but cheer himself on. 'He deserves that. Give it to him.'
Holding both of Ron's wrists together with one hand, Harry moved his free hand down the side of his face - neck - ribcage - hip - and finally - Ron's eyes shot open and then immediately closed again, he was purring.
Harry could see the other Harry's hand stroking Ron. Slowly at first, then speeding up, sending Ron into hysterics. "Oh Har ry-" Faster "Don't st op" Ron was on the verge when Harry's mouth closed over his, ferociously kissing him, muffling his screams.
Never in his life did Harry ever believe that he would WANT to see Ron Weasley orgasm. But there he was, and Ron looked incredible. His back arched, one knee up, and his hips were bucking slightly.
'Where have I seen that position before?' Harry grinned as he remembered. He couldn't help but feel proud of himself.
The feeling of accomplishment left him as soon as he saw Ron's face. His red hair tussled, little beads of sweat on his brow, a quirky half-smile on his face. Ron was happy. The pangs of jealousy were back.
Before he had a chance to figure out why, the room began to shake. Ron's head shot up.
"What the-?"
Suddenly, they were all falling. The room felt as if it were tumbling out into space. The bed lifted off the floor as Ron desperately held onto the post, his feet in the air.
In a panic, Harry fumbled through his clothes to find the amulet; and in one swift movement, it was off him. ~Swirling~ ~Darkness~
~*~
In a violent bounce, he was back in his bed.
And Ron was on the floor.
It took him a moment to realize what had happened. Then he laughed. And laughed. And couldn't stop laughing.
Ron had fallen out of bed.
Harry made his way to the edge of the bed, about to wake him up, when he noticed something poking at his belly button.
* oh god *
Quickly covering himself with the blanket, Harry looked around to see if anyone had seen. Deciding it was best to leave Ron on the floor, Harry lay back down and began to take care of his little problem.
Well, it's not little.
The evening's events raced through his mind as he stroked himself. The fire - Ron's skin - his muscles contracting - the way his face contorted as he climaxed - Harry's face was flushed, his breath shallow and raspy, a fire building in his gut - oh, he was close. Then he thought of Ron sitting there, sweaty, his hair tussled with that damn half-grin of his - he could smell the desire - and it was too much. Harry felt a glorious rush as his eyes flashed open - the contractions - oh how he wanted him - the heat - waves of pleasure sent his body into spasms. He had to close his eyes to regain focus.
It took a few minutes to regain awareness. His body relaxed and he laughed, softly. He looked over at Ron, who was still on the floor, his left leg perched up on the bed. Harry shook his head and smiled at his friend.
Ron was smiling.
~*~
Sorry this chapter was so damn long!! I had a lot to get in, and I wasn't allowing myself to take too many shortcuts. Anyway, I hope you liked it! All forms of reviews would be appreciated!!! (If I don't get any, I'm not continuing the story!!) hee hee My little attempt at being threatening.
A/N: I don't own a damn thing - YET. (Ms. Rowling won't take my damn phone calls.) BWAHAHAHAHAHA
Summary: With the help of Aromankin's Amulet, Harry is now able to transport himself in and out of the minds and dreams of whomever he wants. Hee hee hee. Right now, he's got Ron Weasley on the brain. Whatever will happen between the two of them??
Side note: Sting was working for me the first two chapters, but now I need a lil' something else. SO - we've switched to Stone Temple Pilots. (the purple album to be precise) ENJOY! * grin *
P.S. If anyone has not yet read anything by franthephoenix, get off yer lazy ass and do it! She's got my literary approval. =)
~*~
"Wow."
The last time Harry had used the amulet, he had been transported into the void. Rather, the void that was Ron Weasley's mind. This time, however, there was no void.
There was a Quidditch field.
"Figures."
Harry found himself in the sidelines of what looked to be the largest Quidditch field in the world. Millions of wizarding folk were cheering and carrying on, supporting the teams. The sound was deafening.
Harry couldn't help but gawk at the sight. The stadium itself looked to be at least a mile long, and half a mile wide. Bright orange and black banners flew high in the sky, billowing out with the breeze. The game hadn't begun yet, but he could tell that it was about to.
Just as he was thinking it, he spotted the first team fly out onto the field. Light blue flashes sped onto the grounds and into the air. Immediately, the crowd started jeering at them. He didn't recognize the team colors, but there was something familiar about the players.
The teams captain, and keeper, Harry recognized immediately. Draco Malfoy. It was practically impossible not to recognize that blonde haired git. Straining his eyes, Harry managed to identify the rest of the team. Crabe and Goyle were the beaters; Professor Snape, Lucious Malfoy and Ron's brother Percy were the chasers. Harry did a double take. Percy? Why was he on the other team? He figured Ron had held a grudge against Percy for being a prefect, or a kiss ass at least.
Harry was beaming by the time he had identified six of the seven-team members. He had to hand it to Ron; the boy certainly had a sense of humor. Excited to find out who the chaser was, Harry scanned the team. No - no - no - no - no - no - WHAT?
Considering how many times Harry had looked in the mirror, seeing himself shouldn't have been such a shock. But there he was, and he was shocked. Flying higher than the rest of the team, there was Harry Potter, the team's seeker. Rather, there flew Ron Weasley's version of Harry Potter.
Harry was speechless.
A Quidditch team comprised solely of, what looked to be, Ron's enemies; why on earth was HE on the team? Harry's mind was racing. 'What the hell is going on? Did I piss him off? What the hell is going on? Does he hate me now? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?' Before Harry's questions could be answered, the second team flew out onto the field.
Well, "TEAM" may not be the correct word.
In a triumphant blast of trumpets, Ron Weasley flew out onto the Quidditch field, and was met by a joyous eruption from the crowds. Immediately, people started throwing confetti, waving banners, and screaming at the top of their lungs. "RON! RON! RON! RON!"
"Oh brother."
Harry scanned the field for the rest of the team, only to find there was no "rest of the team." Only Ron Weasley.
Not able to hold back, Harry let out a semi-humorous scoff. 'HE's going to take on the entire team?? ALONE?'
Smiling smugly, Harry sat back down. 'This I gotta see.'
The two teams, er-rather, the one team and Ron, gathered at the center of the field as Madame Hooch carried out the trunk. Harry couldn't help but laugh at the site of Madame Hooch. The woman was wearing a bikini! And a scantily clad one at that.
"Allright, I want a clean game, from both of you!" Harry could see Ron smiling smugly, as Madame Hooch winked at him. Turning his attentions to the other team, Harry could see that they were scared. No, they were more than scared.
They were terrified.
Himself, above all else. Harry watched himself in disbelief. He was shaking like a leaf.
Mentally, Harry screamed at himself. "Don't be scared, you twit! Its just RON! You can take him!"
The whistle blew, and the game began.
Ron was gone, and in a flash, at the other end of the field chasing the Golden Snitch. Crabe and Goyle were trying to hit him with the Bludgers, but their aim was pathetic, and ended up hitting Draco in the head - knocking him unconscious. Even more ludicrous was Percy scoring with the Quaffle. Unfortunately, he had thrown the Quaffle through the wrong set of hoops and scored on himself. Infuriated, Professor Snape snatched the Quaffle from the obviously distraught Percy, and flew to the other end of the field. He flew within 3 feet of the hoops, threw the Quaffle, and missed. An obviously unfazed Lucious Malfoy just sat on his broom and trimmed his nails. Dumfounded, Harry tried to find himself.
It wasn't too hard, considering he hadn't moved an inch since the game began. There he was, 30 feet in the air and clinging to his broom for dear life.
Infuriated with himself, and Ron, Harry shouted.
"MOVE!"
And much to everyone's surprise, especially Ron, he did.
As if awoken from a deep sleep, Harry's dream-version of himself began to give chase. Not willing to let his chance go by, Harry screamed again.
"CATCH HIM!"
Taking orders, Harry began to close the gap between he and Ron.
Obviously outraged by the chain of events, Ron sped up, his hand closing on the Golden Snitch.
"NO!" Harry yelled again, only to be met by an equally loud "YES!"
Surprised, Harry tried to find the voice.
It was Ron.
Not the Ron that was playing Quidditch, but another Ron. He was sitting across the field from him, watching the game.
Amazed, Harry tried to comprehend what he was seeing. There was Ron - and THERE was Ron. Harry looked around him, trying to see if there were any other Ron Weasley's hanging about.
Looking back, Harry would've told himself to keep focused on the game; because just then, Ron caught the Snitch.
Only two minutes and four seconds long, the game was over. Ron had won.
Of course, the crowd deafened Harry with their cheers. Obviously pleased with himself, Ron held the Golden Snitch in his raised hand, presenting it to his fans. Slightly embarrassed, Harry wondered if that was what he looked like the first time he had caught it.
Ron got back on his broom and begun circling the stadium; a victory lap. This only made the crowds scream louder. Beginning to think this had been a bad idea, Harry looked around for an exit. When all of a sudden, there was silence.
He was alone.
The once fully packed stadium had emptied, and there he sat, all alone. A small chill made its way up Harry's back and onto the nape of his neck. This was too weird.
Movement from across the field caught his attention. He wasn't alone after all.
Ron was getting up from his seat in the stands and was making his way onto the now empty field. Slowly, Harry rose from his seat and followed. He had gotten onto the field when he noticed a large oak door had appeared at the far end of the stadium.
'That's a odd place for a door like that.' Harry thought offhandedly. Intricately carved and a beautiful mahogany color, it looked like it belonged in the Malfoy Mansion. Ron had made his way to the door, took out a key, unlocked it, and went through. As soon as the door had closed behind him, the landscape began to change. The once vibrant colors began to go gray. Nothing was quite solid. Suddenly, parts of the stadium began to disappear.
"Oh shit."
In a panic, Harry began to run across the field in the direction of the door. It looked a mile away. Each step he took only lengthened the distance, and his feet were sinking into the ground.
"Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit."
Acting on instinct, Harry called out, "Accio Firebolt!" And immediately his broomstick was in his hand. Thanking the Gods that magic still worked here, Harry pulled himself out of the ground and onto the broom. Racing the rapidly depleting landscape, Harry made it to the door. Taking out his wand, Harry called out "Alohomora!" The door creaked open, and Harry slid in just as the ground disappeared.
~*~
The room Harry found himself in wasn't like any other room he had been in before. Beautiful tapestries hung on the stone walls, just between the large stained glass windows. Taking a closer look, the tapestries appeared to have Quidditch games being played on them, but from another time. Harry laughed inwardly, 'This is Ron's room.'
One of the first things he noticed was that the room was round. Round, with a huge vaulted ceiling that went up at least forty feet. The ceiling itself, technically, wasn't a ceiling. It was a window, or a skylight to be precise. Dome in shape, the window had a million diamond panes, revealing the blue-black night sky above it.
The room itself wasn't decorated in any particular style; in fact, there was nothing at all similar between its contents. The tapestries and windows were all old-world European, while the Armoire and chest were late Renaissance. And the desk and chairs were all something out of an Ethan Allen catalogue. Certainly, Ron was never the type to care about matching his outfit with his shoes, but the room seemed too mismatched. The only common theme, Harry thought, was that it's all-
Of course. Everything in his room's expensive. This is a rich man's room.
A sad smile crossed Harry's lips. It made sense; Ron's family has never owned anything valuable. They could never afford it.
This is his dream room.
Harry closed his eyes after he realized what he had thought. Again, he was having a "Duh" moment.
His attention was drawn to the fireplace, whose logs had suddenly caught ablaze - illuminating the rest of the room. Directly across from the fire was Ron's bed.
'Oh wow.'
Harry never knew how good of a taste Ron had for the luxurious till just then. The bed, which was obviously the centerpiece of the room, was huge. King size, with four spiraling stone posts on each corner; the bed was a work of art. A beautiful emerald green comforter covered, what looked to be silk, black sheets. Harry counted eight pillows, all different tones of the emerald green comforter. It looked amazing. Instantly, Harry felt the urge to touch it.
'Ron, I'm impressed.'
He was about to walk over to the bed, when a noise outside the door startled him. Straining to hear, Harry made out some muffled voices.
"Oh Ron! I can't believe it's you!"
"That game was amazing!"
"Would you sign this?"
"Ladies! Ladies! Thank you. But I must be going."
The door began to creak open.
Desperate for Ron not to find him there, Harry hid behind the closest thing to him. Unfortunately, it was a plant - and not a very big plant at that. Too late to change his mind, Ron was already through the doorway. Besides, he thought, I can always take off the amulet if I have to.
Ron strutted in and looked around the room, basking in the glory of it all. Pleased with himself, he went over to the bar and poured himself a drink. Picking up the brandy snifter, Ron rolled the liquid around in the glass before taking a sip. Harry had to stifle his laughter. 'All he needs now is a robe and a pipe.'
He had spoke too soon; directly after thinking that, Ron opened his armoire and pulled out a forest green robe. Blushing, Harry diverted his eyes to the ground as Ron changed.
'Why am I getting embarrassed? I see Ron change all the time!' This time was different somehow. Harry felt, dirty. Like he was spying.
And what was worse, he liked it.
Slowly, he raised his gaze and resumed his spying. Somehow, Ron seemed older than 16; not so much in his height, but in his face. The lines were deeper, his gaze was the same. More penetrating. Harry studied Ron as a collector would study a fine piece of art.
'How have I never noticed his skin before?'
Harry wanted to touch it.
A sudden surge of heat raced through him and landed in his stomach, almost knocking him off balance. Luckily, a knock at the door covered the thud of Harry hitting the floor. Ron's attentions were to the door.
"Come in."
The chest beside him blocked Harry's view of the door, but he could hear it opening. Ron smiled.
"I'm here. As requested."
Harry recognized the voice, but couldn't quite place it. His pulse was quickening. 'Why am I getting so bloody excited? It's just Ron.' Harry tried to disregard the voice inside his head. 'You know who it is. You know.'
The voice was moving closer. "You look good in green."
Ron smiled again, "Thanks."
"You'd look better in maroon, though."
A shit-eating grin shot across Ron's face, "Shut the fuck up."
The mystery man was laughing. "Just shut up?"
By this point, Harry was no longer hidden by the plant - as he was completely leaning over it to see.
Pure lust spread over Ron's face as he slowly answered, "Shut the fuck up and kiss me."
The mystery man walked into view, and Harry's balance was again defeated, his deepest-darkest thoughts confirmed.
It was him.
Harry took Ron's face into his hands and kissed him, deeply. A low moan escaped from Ron's lips as he eagerly kissed back; their hands running through each other's hair, tugging lightly.
'This is too much. Leave now.' Harry's prudish side pleaded with him. But Harry was too engrossed with the scene that was playing out in front of him to hear it.
Ron led Harry back to the bed, still kissing, and pushed him down onto it. Leaning down, he pulled Harry's sweater off of him and tossed it aside. Running his hands down Harry's bare chest, Ron slowly undid his pants and slid them, and his boxers, off. Only when Harry was completely naked did Ron begin to undress himself.
'You shouldn't be here!' was the only thing Harry could think. There was a knot in his stomach about the size of a Quaffle. Yet, he could not look away. The Quaffle went from his stomach to his groin when Ron undid his robe.
'OH MY GOD.'
There was Ron, stark-ass naked in front of him, and he was beautiful.
His slender body outlined by the roaring fire behind him, looked amazing. Unearthly. God-like.
The dream-version of Harry reached up and took Ron by the neck, bringing him down, and locking in a passionate embrace. Their hands were everywhere, pulling, scratching, and kneading. Harry heard himself groan as Ron's mouth went to his neck, softly biting down. He watched, mesmerized, half-aware of his own erection forming. Ron traced his tongue down Harry's chest - down - tracing the outline of his now contracting stomach muscles. He watched as Harry's eyes closed, his hands moving to Ron's head, pushing him downward.
Harry couldn't help but want to be there. To BE him. To feel what he's feeling right now. Pangs of jealousy felt like daggers in Harry's stomach.
Ron's mouth was dangerously close to Harry's erection, and he'd have to be blind AND deaf not to know it. Harry was pleading with him to continue, LOUDLY - and Ron was loving it. His grin giving him away.
He watched as Ron's tongue slipped over the tip of Harry's erection, and was met by a throaty growl. Taking that as a yes, Ron moved in. His mouth closing over Harry in slow, solid strokes. Harry responded with a sound that made himself blush.
'I wonder if that's what I really sound like.' Harry absurdly thought. He watched himself buck and flail around on the bed. 'I REALLY hope that's not what I look like.' He sounded close to orgasm when Ron stopped - and grinned.
"You bitch."
Ron laughed as Harry pounced on him, forcing his hands up over his head. Harry held him there for a minute - Ron struggling beneath him.
Harry couldn't help but cheer himself on. 'He deserves that. Give it to him.'
Holding both of Ron's wrists together with one hand, Harry moved his free hand down the side of his face - neck - ribcage - hip - and finally - Ron's eyes shot open and then immediately closed again, he was purring.
Harry could see the other Harry's hand stroking Ron. Slowly at first, then speeding up, sending Ron into hysterics. "Oh Har ry-" Faster "Don't st op" Ron was on the verge when Harry's mouth closed over his, ferociously kissing him, muffling his screams.
Never in his life did Harry ever believe that he would WANT to see Ron Weasley orgasm. But there he was, and Ron looked incredible. His back arched, one knee up, and his hips were bucking slightly.
'Where have I seen that position before?' Harry grinned as he remembered. He couldn't help but feel proud of himself.
The feeling of accomplishment left him as soon as he saw Ron's face. His red hair tussled, little beads of sweat on his brow, a quirky half-smile on his face. Ron was happy. The pangs of jealousy were back.
Before he had a chance to figure out why, the room began to shake. Ron's head shot up.
"What the-?"
Suddenly, they were all falling. The room felt as if it were tumbling out into space. The bed lifted off the floor as Ron desperately held onto the post, his feet in the air.
In a panic, Harry fumbled through his clothes to find the amulet; and in one swift movement, it was off him. ~Swirling~ ~Darkness~
~*~
In a violent bounce, he was back in his bed.
And Ron was on the floor.
It took him a moment to realize what had happened. Then he laughed. And laughed. And couldn't stop laughing.
Ron had fallen out of bed.
Harry made his way to the edge of the bed, about to wake him up, when he noticed something poking at his belly button.
* oh god *
Quickly covering himself with the blanket, Harry looked around to see if anyone had seen. Deciding it was best to leave Ron on the floor, Harry lay back down and began to take care of his little problem.
Well, it's not little.
The evening's events raced through his mind as he stroked himself. The fire - Ron's skin - his muscles contracting - the way his face contorted as he climaxed - Harry's face was flushed, his breath shallow and raspy, a fire building in his gut - oh, he was close. Then he thought of Ron sitting there, sweaty, his hair tussled with that damn half-grin of his - he could smell the desire - and it was too much. Harry felt a glorious rush as his eyes flashed open - the contractions - oh how he wanted him - the heat - waves of pleasure sent his body into spasms. He had to close his eyes to regain focus.
It took a few minutes to regain awareness. His body relaxed and he laughed, softly. He looked over at Ron, who was still on the floor, his left leg perched up on the bed. Harry shook his head and smiled at his friend.
Ron was smiling.
~*~
Sorry this chapter was so damn long!! I had a lot to get in, and I wasn't allowing myself to take too many shortcuts. Anyway, I hope you liked it! All forms of reviews would be appreciated!!! (If I don't get any, I'm not continuing the story!!) hee hee My little attempt at being threatening.