As you can see, we're 14 chapters in now, and I can tell, this will be a good few chapters longer. I've got lots of stuff I wanna fit in before the big finale, and I haven't quite decided howI want to end it yet, so we shall just have to see where things go from here. To everyone who reviewed, thank you. It only takes a few minutes, but it means so much. Now, on with the story because I have nothing more to say.

Warnings: Slashiness again.

Chapter 14 - Pacifier

The balmy summer's night was in full bloom, and a sleepy silence had taken ahold of the neighborhood. The streetlights had long since came on as the sun went down in blazing glory. It seemed to be so hot outside that even the creatures of the night were taking a break. Harry noticed none of this. His mind was back in Dr. Riddle's office, a week ago. Something about his visit, about Riddle... Something about the whole bundle bothered him. There was something going on, and it was just out of reach of Harry's comprehension. The world around him was... Whatever it was doing, it was happening right under him. And he was the only one that seemed to notice.

No one noticed the odd happenings right in front of their faces for what they were. The last step disappearing, causing Chloe to fall down in the middle of screaming at Harry. The coffee machine blowing up when Marcus got too close to him. The old tabby cat that seemed to be following him everywhere. And more and more owls seemed to be flocking to his neighborhood. It was just Harry that saw these things. They convinently vanished or could be explained away when Harry pointed them out to someone. Chloe had only missed the step. Marcus had busted a dial. There was no cat. The owls' mating had increased and blah, blah, blah. It was just driving Harry insane... or even more insane than everyone seemed to think he was.

He was due to see Riddle for their second session in a week. Riddle would again ask him about his nightmares, and this time, he would have to say something. The cold feeling was still resting in the pit of his stomach. It lurched every time he thought about Riddle. The night after his first visit, he had dreamed again for the first time in nearly a month. He had relived the battle again twice more, the most recent being the reason he was sitting on his porch swing, staring out at the night. When he would awake, that feeling would be eating at him. It was trying to tell him something. Something about Riddle? He knew he had to stay on guard around the doctor. There was something off about him.

Harry trembled. There was no cold to induce it; he felt insecure. Lost. Overwhelmed by everything that was going on. The situation was gradually getting more and more out of his control. He was becoming helpless in the face of it all, and he hated that feeling. Everything around him was slowly beginning to take on an unreal-like quality. He felt like he was forgetting things about his childhood. There was a place in his heart that felt like it had been sloppily re-patched and was coming apart at the seams.

'Ron...'

It was as if by needing Ron so badly, Harry had brought him to life on the street. Ron was walking towards him, hands shoved in his pockets. He gathered Harry in his arms as soon as he reached the porch. And suddenly, Harry's world was fine. He buried his face in the crook of the warm neck. There were no words needed. Ron knew that Harry needed him, he could feel it pulling at him from the other boy. He was there for his Harry.

They moved back into the cool interior of the house. Quiet, as not to wake the other four Potters who were still tucked away in their beds, the two walked up the stairs. Harry was clinging to Ron's hand. He needed all of the contact he could get with Ron. He needed that feeling of calm Ron inspired in him. Harry needed to be grounded, as only Ron could do.

Sitting on the bed, Harry crawled into Ron's arms again. The hands running over his back lulled him. Everything else was gone. It was all meaningless in the face of the clawing, desperate insistance builiding inside his chest. It caused him to cling even harder to Ron. Harry knew by the way Ron was kissing his shoulder he was feeling the same thing. He was attuned to Ron, mind, body and soul, and he knew Ron felt the pull of it too. Ron always knew. He was always there, always would be. He would always catch Harry if he fell, would always hear him, would always take away the pain.

"Ssh," Ron said. "It's all right... I'm here. Don't cry..."

He hadn't even realized that he was crying. But sure enough, as Ron ghosted a hand over his face, those were tears Ron wiped away. And they were quickly being replaced by more and more. He had been so absorbed in Ron that he hadn't noticed. He looked up at his long-time friend, and his heart swelled painfully in his chest. He felt so much for Ron. So much that it almost hurt. The painful look on Ron's face told him he wasn't the only one feeling that way.

"Ron..."

"I know, Harry. I know..." And he did. Ronald Weasley always knew.

Harry pushed Ron down onto his back, and stretched himself out ontop of him. He began kissing Ron. He poured everything into his kisses, as if his very life depended on him giving Ron all he had. His hot mouth worked its way down Ron's jaw, over his neck and paused to nip at his freckled collar bone before he pulled the shirt off. Ron lay beneath him, more than happy to provide Harry with this satisfaction, twining his hands in silky ebony hair. He moaned as Harry left a trail of wet kisses down his chest to one nipple. He squirmed as Harry's tongue flicked over the sensitive nub. He had to bite his lip to keep from crying out when Harry latched on and began to suck. Yes, he was quite content to be Harry's pacifier.

He could feel tears on his stomach as Harry kissed and licked and bit it. He hurt inside to know that Harry was this upset. As Harry sat up and pulled his own shirt off, Ron saw the tears still pouring. Harry didn't seem to notice that he was still crying. Ron sat up then until he was level with the boy in his lap. He took Harry's glasses off with care and sat them on the bedside table. Harry watched him through all of this, his face still wet.

Ron took Harry's face into his hands. The two just stared at one another for the longest time in silent understanding. Then Ron leaned forward and began his loving caress of Harry's face with his lips, starting with his forehead. Harry's eyes slid closed. He moved over both cheeks, kissing away the tears, kissed his chin, then his ears, his closed eyelids, and then he pulled back. His breath caught as he took in the beautiful sight before him. He knew then that he would always love Harry James Potter, for so long as he may live and long, long afterwards.

"Harry," he said, his voice barely audible.

"I know, Ron..." Yes, Harry knew. He was feeling the exact same things Ron was.

Their lips barely touched in a kiss. Neither of them moved. There was absolutely no need to rush things between them. Finally, when Ron's tongue swept at his bottom lip, Harry opened his mouth to him. He made soft mewls of approval as Ron massaged his tongue, explored his mouth, licked his lips. He began kissing Ron back, slow and calm and so-very-sensual.

Ron stood, holding Harry up by his bum. He loosened his hold and Harry slowly slid down his slender frame. Ron swallowed a moan from the friction. His lips found Harry's again as he began removing Harry's pajama bottoms. He pushed them down over slender hips, down his thighs, then let them drop of their own accord past his knees. Boxers soon followed pants, leaving Harry exposed to Ron. His hands returned to Harry's hips, gripping them and massaging them with his thumbs. His whole mission tonight was to calm his lover down, and to comfort him. It was nearly accomplished: Harry was very nearly a puddle of calm goo on the floor.

Ron's jeans and boxers soon joined Harry's on the floor. Hot, naked flesh pressed together as Harry tried to get as close as he could to Ron. He was enveloped in loving arms, Ron trailing feathery strokes up and down his spine. He smiled as Ron lowered him onto the bed.

Harry gladly spread his legs so Ron could nestle between them. He tugged playfully at Ron's hair as they kissed again. The terrible, lost and panicked feeling that had gripped him was gone now, replaced by Ron, who was filling him full, slow and gentle and very much posessively. Harry had no other choice but to give himself fully to Ron, and did so quite willingly.

Ron began thrusting as soon as he was all of the way inside of Harry. The two boys moved in a slow tandem. Harry held Ron against his chest, afraid that if he let him go, this would all vanish. Ron's hands glided over his body, down his sides, over his knobbly knees. He tossed his head to the side as Ron grazed his prostate. He moaned deep into Ron's mouth. Harry wished that his parents and siblings weren't sleeping right down the hall. He wanted to cry out, moan, and tell Ron how good it was making him feel. He wanted to tell Ron how much he loved him. But Ron knew.

He could feel it building at the base of his spine. He could not hold on much longer, not with Ron moving on him like that. Harry's hands moved above his head, gripping the pillow. His head tossed from side to side. Ron ran his hands up Harry's arms to find the other boy's hands, tangling their fingers together and squeezing. With one final passionate kiss, Ron came in unison with Harry. They passed crying accolades back and forth between their joined mouths.

Harry forgot to breathe in the post-coital bliss. He felt Ron's forehead pressing against his and opened his eyes, not remembering when he had closed them. Ron was smiling down at him, his blue eyes so full of love and emotion. Harry smiled back.

"Stay with me? Just for an hour or two?"

"I will..."

"Ron, I love you."

"Love you too, Harry."

Calm and safe in Ron's arms, Harry fell asleep, content that Ron would stay with him and see him through the night. When he awoke, he wouldn't be screaming from dreams of Voldemort. He'd be smiling in memory of his redheaded love machine.

¥ £ ¥ £

"So," Hermione said, her eyes still on the notebook in her hands. "You've been having these dreams for a few months now, and they started going away when you and Ron... Yes, well, and then they started occuring again after you visited that doctor, who you think has something to do with them in the first place?"

Harry nodded. "I just feel this connection between it all. Like, a gut feeling."

Hermione, Harry and Ron sat outside the coffee shop on the small patio. Harry was on his lunch hour, and taking the time to fill his friends in on his dreams and the suspicions he had about them, his doctor, and the connection they had with him. Earlier in the year, he had taken Ron's advice and began to write down his dreams and the strange occurances during the hours he was awake in a notebook, which Hermione was now reading. She had noticed right off that nothing about the dreams ever changed.

"I just don't know, Harry," she said, moving on to the more recent entries, enteries about things from a different time he had seemed to start remembering. Flashes of green light, a cupboard and a portly man, and... empty. "This is all... I've never read about anything like this, Harry, honestly. And you say this Voldemort person, you've seen him? During the day when you're not asleep?"

"Once at the cook-out, and then when I was on my way out of my room. He was outside."

"And you passed out after seeing him?"

"Yeah. What do you make of it?"

She shook her head. "I really just don't know. Are you sure there isn't any chance you dreamed all of it? No, I'm not trying to call you crazy, Harry. I'm just trying to rule everything out. I'm not qualified for this, you know, even though it seems like a terribly interesting line of work." Harry gave her a sour look. "All right... Well..." She sighed, burying herself in the notebook again.

"I still say you write a book about this all, mate," Ron said. "Imagine, a lone boy having to save the world from a... wizard, did you say? People would eat that stuff up, they would! Bloody fascinating."

"Not if you're the one dreaming it, it's not," Harry said.

"Oh... right. Sorry..."

"Are you sure you're not just being... well, pig-headed about this doctor, Harry?" Hermione looked up at him cautiously. "I mean, you didn't want to go see him in the first place. Do you think all of these feelings about him making things worse are just because you want a reason to get out of these appointments?"

Harry glared at her. "So, you think I'm making this all up? That I just want attention or something? Think I made this scar myself because I had it in those dreams? Think I'm just seeing these things? Well, they're there, Hermione! I'm not imagining it! Something's going on, and it's making me..." He just couldn't bring himself to say the word. Because he wasn't... was he? "Look, I told you all this so you could help me. If you just want to pile it all up to be a figment of my deranged imagination, then you can forget I've said anything, all right? I don't need your help if you think I'm nuts."

"I don't think you're mental, Harry." Hermione looked as if she could not decide whether she wanted to cry or beat him around the head with something. "I never said that, and I never will. No matter what. I want to help you, but I'm not going to sit around and put up with that temper of your's. If you don't want to hear what I have to say, then I won't say anything else, and don't you come to me for help again! I've got to meet Ginny... I'll see you later..."

And with that, she gathered her things and went to her car. Harry glared as she drove away. "Some help she was... And she took my bloody notebook..."

Ron remained silent, and just continued to stare at his pasty. He wouldn't give Harry the back-up he sought, wouldn't even meet Harry's eyes.

"I've got to get back to work," Harry finally said, giving up on Ron joining in on a rousing round of Hermione bashing. "You going to wait around for me?"

"Nah," Ron said, still staring at his pasty. "I've got chores at home, and Mum's probably going to yell at Percy some more. Don't want to miss that."

Harry nodded. Ron had told him all about Percy divulging to the whole family, with an air of upmost importance, mind you, that Harry had been in to see the best head doctor in all of London. His subtle and well-placed jabs at Harry's sanity had earned him a good ear-boxing from Mrs. Weasley, a few rather nasty bruises from the twins when they managed to catch him alone that night, a black eye from Ron, and a busted nose, which had surprised the whole famly, for it had come from none other than Ginny. So, Ron bid Harry good-bye with a kiss and the promise to meet up later that day, leaving Harry to watch him go with a feeling of dread at the thought of his approaching appointment with Riddle.