After their conversation was over, Harry and Ron seemed to fall into a comfortable arrangement. Along with what he had already been doing, hardly leaving Harry's side, Ron frequently found moments for them to be alone when he could. Between classes, if they managed to slip away from Hermione without seeming suspicious, Ron had seemed to scope out which classrooms were unused. Ron never seemed to say much during these times, but it was his way of telling Harry he knew what he needed, that Harry could be with him for even just a moment. Mostly they might just stand there close together, sometimes Harry would take the moment to trail his lips over Ron's, down to his neck, and just listen to him breathe.
Each time these moments would end, Harry always felt recharged. Like Ron had refilled him. Taken everything, all the bad dreams and stress, and turned them into something good. He couldn't help but wonder what any of this was doing for Ron. If it felt good to him too. But there was a small, slightly selfish part of him that didn't want to ask.
As Valentines Day approached, Harry suddenly found himself being approached by Cho in the hallway quite frequently. She would say hi, ask about DA meetings, and attempt to make other forms of small talk. Harry would have found these short situations easier to handle if it hadn't been for Ron and Hermione. Hermione would smile at Cho, greet her, then try and eye Ron pointedly to try and get him to walk away from her. And Harry could sense the inner struggle of Ron wanting to stay at Harry's side, or walk away to avoid suspicions. Harry could also sense a look of jealousy on Ron's face.
After one particular encounter, and Cho had walked off, Harry glanced around. He spotted Hermione nearby, waiting close to the Great Hall, as it was almost lunch. But no Ron, which confused him.
"Where'd Ron go?" Harry asked Hermione.
"Said he left something in the library," she replied, "Ready for lunch?"
Harry was starving, but everything inside him wanted to head to the library. The invisible rope that had been attaching him and Ron together for weeks now was growing taut, trying to pull them close again. But Hermione was staring, a strange look in her eye that Harry could not place. So he headed toward the Gryffindor table silently. As he pulled a plate toward him he suddenly realized he was no longer starving.
"So," Hermione said slowly, twirling a fork in her hands, "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"
Harry froze. "Er…with what?"
"You," Hermione said, sounding exasperated, "I feel like we haven't spoken in forever. And Ron looks like he hasn't slept in weeks. What's going on? Are you having those dreams again?"
Harry spotted his chance.
"Yeah…dreams," he muttered, trying not to sound relieved, "The same. That corridor. It wakes Ron up sometimes, or something. I dunno." When he said Ron's name he felt a sharp twinge in his stomach. "Also, sometimes he just doesn't sleep."
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Is it what we talked about?" she asked, dropping her voice. "At St. Mungo's?"
"What?" Harry asked sharply, "No. No he hasn't been…" He trailed off, thinking. Had Ron been drinking? Harry had been sleeping so well recently that he hadn't a clue. But he felt that would be something Ron would tell him, or ask him to join at the very least. "No." He said firmly.
Hermione did not seem convinced, but she dropped the subject. When lunch was finished she headed toward Muggle Studies while Harry instinctively headed toward Divination, he very badly wanted to head toward the library, but if this was they way Ron wanted to act, Harry knew he could play this game too. He was sure Ron assumed Harry would come looking for him, and he wasn't going to give in this time.
So the day passed. There were only two classes left before dinner, and Ron didn't show up. Then he knew Ron had quidditch later that evening. Harry slowly grew more and more frustrated, but he let it build. All while he presented outwardly as calm, as he and Hermione worked on homework and studied for upcoming exams, he let his frustration settle around him like a warm, heavy blanket. And when the Gryffindor team arrived, breathless and glowing, he did not look up. He could feel Ron's eyes on him, but he simply continued working. He heard Ron talking to Hermione but there was a buzzing in his head that blocked out the noise.
Time passed slowly, and eventually Hermione went off to bed. Harry meticulously put his books, parchment, and quills away. He glanced at the clock, it was a little after ten. He grabbed his bag and headed upstairs. Ron was sitting in the corner of the dorm with Dean and Neville, seemingly chatting casually. But there was a slight tension in the way he was sitting, and his smile wasn't quite reaching his eyes. When he looked up as Harry entered, Harry locked eyes with him momentarily then looked away, raising his chin slightly. He slowly got undressed and changed into his nightclothes, then got into bed and pulled the hangings closed. His frustration was still cloaking him, but he found a comfort in it, and lay there patiently, his eyes closed. He eventually heard the sounds of the others heading to bed, and then the deep breathing of people having fallen asleep. But he didn't hear Ron's, nor had he expected to. He listened for a few more minutes, telling himself to wait. He wanted Ron to be uncomfortable, nervous about what was going to come.
Not that he knew.
When Harry felt enough time had passed, he sat up and quietly pulled his curtains open, then crawled out of bed as Ron sat on his own bed, propped up against his headboard and a couple pillows. Harry was pleased to see that he did, indeed, look anxious. He shifted slightly in his bed as Harry approached, but remained silent. Swiftly and quietly, Harry climbed into Ron's bed and into his lap, facing him, his knees on either side of Ron's legs, then slowly pulled the hangings closed.
"I'm sorry," Ron whispered quickly. He was breathing heavily now as Harry got situated. As he scooted closer, his groin pushed against Ron's and a shock shot up his spine, and flutters erupted in his stomach. Then his knee knocked into something that was hiding under the blanket. Harry reached under it and pulled out a bottle of Firewhisky. He raised an eyebrow. "Sorry." Ron repeated.
"Shut it," Harry said firmly, he popped the top off, took a large drink, and placed the bottle back down. He pushed himself closer, leaning forward and kissing Ron firmly and gripping his hips tightly, his fingers digging as deeply as they could ever through the thing fabric of Ron's pajamas. Ron tasted distinctly spicy like the whisky he had been drinking. Harry moved his way down Ron's jaw to his neck, right below his ear where he knew he was sensitive. Sure enough, he heard a small moan, and Harry felt a hardness growing that wasn't in his own pants. He smiled against Ron's skin.
"I thought you would be mad," Ron said quietly, tilting his head to give Harry more access. But Harry stopped smiling.
"I told you to be quiet," he snapped quietly yet firmly, pulling away, "Or do you want them to wake up?" Ron opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head. "Take off your shirt."
Ron obeyed quickly. Harry leaned forward and trailed a few kisses across Ron's chest. "Besides," he murmured gruffly, "Who said I wasn't mad?" he bit him below the collarbone, hard. Ron inhaled sharply, flinching. Harry looked up and slowly rocked his hips, his own hard member grinding against Ron's, the friction was hardly bearable but he knew he could handle it. He kissed Ron again, just once, before continuing. "I'm mad." He kissed him again, "You seemed to forget the rules, yeah?" he kissed Ron's jaw and slid a hand from Ron's hip to the waistband of his pants. "Did you forget your promise?" he stopped rocking his hips for a moment to look at Ron.
"N-no," Ron whispered, stammering, a look of panic crossed his face then he closed his eyes as Harry slid his hand down his pants and swore quietly.
"Shut. Up." Harry snapped firmly. He slowly wrapped his fingers around Ron's hard cock and carefully slid it out of his pants. Ron was breathing very heavily now, moving his hips very slightly to try and find some motion. "Now," Harry murmured, moving his mouth close to Ron's ear, "Are you," he swirled his thumb around the head of Ron's cock, making him shudder, "Going to behave?"
Rob nodded quickly, his breath growing rapid. Harry smiled and started stroking slowly.
"Good," he whispered, he kissed Ron's jaw and enjoyed listening to his labored breathing as he continued, and after a moment he kissed that sensitive spot again, and sucked there for a moment. A slight whine escaped Ron's throat. In one swift movement Harry came back up and used his other hand to cover Ron's mouth and , as an afterthought, his nose as well. "I said be quiet," he growled, "Do I need to teach you how to listen?" Ron shook his head, he tried to take in a breath but struggled. Harry started stroking faster, just barely. "Behave." He said quietly. "I'll let you breathe when I want you to, understand?" Ron nodded behind Harry's hand. "Good." Harry smirked at Ron, enjoying the struggle. He deepened his stroking motion, adding more pressure. Ron closed his eyes, his hips making small, involuntary motions. When his face turned slightly red, Harry removed his hand slowly, but as soon as he heard Ron take in a breath he put it back. He heard something of a whimper deep in Ron's throat and he had started to tremble.
Harry, realizing what was about to happen, leaned toward Ron's ear and whispered gruffly, "Don't you dare." He laughed when he heard the whimpering sound again. "You want to behave, don't you? Then just wait. You can cum when I tell you you can." Harry removed his hand from Ron's mouth and kissed him as he caught his breath. "Do you want to? Hmm?" he murmured against Ron's lips, "You can tell me."
"Yes," Ron whispered shakily, "Fuck..yes…" His head fell back as he moaned quietly.
"Not yet," Harry told him, "Not until you apologize."
"I'm sorry," Ron whispered quickly, his voice quivering, "I'm sorry."
"Good," Harry said softly, "Look at me." Ron did so, still breathing heavily, his face glowing with sweat. "You're mine. Mine." Ron nodded. Harry smiled and leaned forward again, he kissed Ron softly on the cheek then murmured in his ear, "Okay. Go ahead. Cum for me."
Ron buried his head into Harry's shoulder to muffle his moans as he finally let go. Harry laughed gently and held onto him. "You won't forget who's in control now, will you?" he grabbed Ron's discarded shirt and wiped the sticky semen off his hand.
"No," Ron whispered breathlessly. He slumped back against his headboard. Harry made a move to start getting off the bed but Ron reached out to stop him. "Harry," he said softly, "Can you…please…" the sound of Ron begging was almost too much. "Please stay, for a moment."
Harry considered, then nodded. Ron lifted his covers after shifting his pillows, and they laid down. Ron rested his head down on his pillow for a few moments then moved, and laid his head on Harry's chest, with one arm across his stomach. Harry sighed and closed his eyes, he brought one hand up and placed it on top of Ron's, and he shifted around and wrapped his other arm around Ron's back.
"I won't ever leave you again," Ron whispered.
"Good," Harry replied. He closed his eyes and settled into the comfort of holding onto Ron. "Shh, go to sleep, alright?"
Just a few minutes, he thought with a sigh.
