When Harry woke up the next morning he noticed two things right away. One, he had fallen asleep without changing into pajamas. And two, he felt very ill. Slowly he sat up and put on his glasses, groaning quietly. Then he looked over to where Ron was still sleeping peacefully. Harry's mind filled with everything he had witnessed, and overheard. His face grew hot, and sweat broke out on the back of his neck.
Harry plopped back onto his pillow, not wanting to move quite yet. He kept hearing Ron's words echoing in his mind. "Yeah." He had said. "That's okay."
Harry wanted to grab him and yell. Why? Why with Michael? If Ron had, after all this time, been attracted to guys too…how had he never said anything to him? To his best friend? How had he never even considered Harry as…as an option?
Harry rolled onto his stomach, resting his chin on his folded arms, still thinking. Maybe it was simply…Ron didn't know that Harry could have been an option. That had to be it. Otherwise, how could he have even considered being with anyone else. Losing his virginity to anyone else. To take…it…like that…with Michael Corner.
Harry's stomach burbled. He sighed heavily, wishing he hadn't drank so much. He never had before. And though it had been enjoyable at the time, it didn't feel so great now. But then, an idea popped into his head. He sat up slowly and looked back over at Ron, sleeping with one arm under his pillow, and one laying across his bare chest. Harry thought about the way Michael had touched him, and kissed him. He inhaled deeply, feeling a tingling in his groin, and held his breath, trying to control his thoughts.
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The most difficult thing about Harry's plan was having to wait until his and Ron's next quidditch practice, which was two days later. Everything else would probably be easy, especially since he knew his best friend so well, and could play on his weaknesses. That wasn't something he was particularly proud of, but if he wanted Ron out of Corners clutches…
Harry was grateful he was only the captain and seeker, and had such a great team. He was highly distracted, especially once Michael and a few other members of the Ravenclaw team showed up. Not to mention the few Slytherins that also showed up to spy, as they had a match the following week against the Gryffindors. Gryffindor was on a winning streak, and it had become common for the other teams to watch their practices.
As the practice came to an end, Harry felt a fluttering in his stomach. He slowly packed up the practice balls and strategically made his way to the storage room just as Michael and Cho were descending the stands.
"Hey," Harry said, approaching Corner, Cho blushed and continued walking, "Ron has to help me with something but he said he'll meet you at the library later. Probably in an hour."
"Oh," Michael said, surprised, probably at how calmly Harry was talking to him, "Alright…is everything okay?" He didn't appear suspicious, Harry noticed. Though he probably didn't know that he should be.
"Yeah, of course," he said, struggling with the box as his hands grew sweaty with anticipation, "I'll tell him I let you know."
He was glad to see that it was only Ron in the locker room once he had arrived. His friend was sitting on a bench with his head in his hands, looking stressed and frazzled. Harry couldn't understand why in that moment, because the practice had gone so well. Ron had seemed to really get a hold on his nerves when it came to performance anxiety.
"What's up?" Harry asked, trying for a gentle tone despite his impatience.
Ron looked up, startled, apparently he had not heard Harry enter.
"Er…" He said shakily, "I, uh…nothing. It's nothing." He stood and started removing his practice gear, the wrist protectors dropping to the stone floor with a soft clatter.
"Doesn't seem like nothing," Harry replied, propping his Firebolt against the wall and crossing his arms.
"Really," Ron said with a tight smile, "I don't think it's something you'd want to know about."
Harry hesitated, realizing with a jolt what Ron was probably talking about, about his and Michael's plan. He stepped forward and put a hand on Ron's shoulder, his skin tingled pleasantly at the touch.
"I will always help you," he said, "I'm here, okay? If you don't want to talk about it right now, that's fine. But if you decide to, we can talk about it."
Ron nodded, smiling. Harry removed his hand.
"How about I go tell Michael you're in here, yeah?" Harry said, a lie, but a necessary one, his heart thumped erratically.
"Sure. Thanks, Harry."
Ron turned away, pulling off his robe. Harry took a few steps toward the door and opened it, then shut it without exiting. He slowly counted to five, then opened and shut the door again. Ron hadn't looked up. Harry approached him slowly, and positioned himself directly behind his best friend.
"Hey," Ron said softly, "Did you want to-" he abruptly stopped talking, after having started to turn around, Harry gripped his waist tightly, stopping him. "Okay," Ron laughed, relaxing into Harry's grip.
Harry gripped the bottom of Ron's shirt and swiftly yanked it over his head, then slid his hands up Ron's back until they were on his shoulders. It was much different than touching Cho during their kiss. Cho had been soft, almost cushiony. Ron was, for lack of a better word, hard. His muscles rock-like and taut under Harry's calloused hands. It was much, much more enjoyable.
Harry exhaled slowly, watching Ron's hair flutter. He tilted his head forward and kissed the back of Ron's neck. His lips immediately tingled, and his mind buzzed with excitement. He moved his lips closer to Ron's shoulder, then to the nape of his neck. A pleased sigh escaped Ron's mouth as he tilted his head, giving Harry more access.
Harry pushed himself into Ron, sliding his hands back down to his waist and pulling him closer. Harry was almost startled at how excited he was. And how easy this was, to touch Ron like this. He kissed Ron on the neck again, on top of a hickey left by Michael. Harry bit and sucked at the spot, making it his. A small moan cut through the silence. But then, Ron froze. Harry immediately realized his mistake – his glasses. Ron had felt them.
"What the-" Ron whipped around and staggered backwards.
Harry knew he couldn't give Ron time to think, he closed the gap between them quickly and gripped Ron's waist again, and pushed him backwards until his back was against the stone wall.
"What are you doing?" Ron asked. He did not sound angry, to Harry's relief, just confused.
"Don't tell me you never thought about it," Harry replied, smirking, looking Ron directly in his deep, blue eyes. He noticed an adorable pink blush creeping up Ron's neck to his cheeks.
"I can't," Ron finally whispered, his gaze flitted downward, unable to maintain such strong eye contact.
Harry chuckled. "That's not an answer," he said. And, thinking about how he had seen Michael do this quite a few times, he raised a hand up to Ron's face and cupped it, running his thumb along his bottom lip. He smirked again when he saw Ron's eyes glaze over just slightly. He dropped his hand back to Ron's waist, and hooked both his thumbs under his waistband. Ron inhaled sharply.
"I can't do this," Ron said quietly, his voice quivering.
"Okay," Harry replied slowly, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against Ron's, then moved close to his ear, "Tell me to stop. Tell me you don't want this. If you can, then I'll stop."
Ron's chest heaved up and down, but he didn't say anything. Harry smiled and kissed his neck again in the same spot. He reveled in the quiet, whining noise Ron made, and then was completely caught off guard when Ron hooked a hand around the back of Harry's neck and guided his lips back to his.
I thought so said a small voice in Harry's mind. Harry couldn't stop the moan that crept up his throat when Ron gently bit his bottom lip. His hands quickly found Ron's waistband once more. He needed to feel Ron. All of him. He wanted to touch him everywhere. Ron was his. No one else's.
His fingers fumbled with the button. And then, Ron pushed him away. Hard. Harry caught his breath, staring hard at Ron, who suddenly looked terrified.
"I can't," he said again, "Harry, I…" he raised a hand to his mouth, then dropped it and turned around, then turned back to Harry but did not look at him, "Oh my God. I just cheated on Mike." He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, and then dropped his hand and finally looked at Harry. "Why? Why are you doing this? Because you really hate him that much?"
"No."
Ron turned away from him again, covering his face and taking deep breaths. Harry closed the gap between them and snaked his hands around Ron's waist tightly. "Because," he whispered in Ron's ear, "You. Are. Mine. Not his." He slid a hand up Ron's stomach, his chest, and grabbed his chin. "You're mine." He kissed Ron's shoulder, trailing his hand slowly back down, and grazed his fingertips over the crotch of Ron's pants, and groaned appreciatively at the hardness he felt. Ron gasped.
"Please, Harry…I…I can't…he loves me."
Harry bit the inside of his cheek. Had they actually gotten to that point? Michael Corner told Ron he loved him? But…Ron had said 'he loves me,' not 'I love him.' So Harry chose to ignore it. He grazed his fingers over the bulge again, and used his other hand to guide Ron's face over his shoulder, and kissed him. Not in the frantic way they had earlier, and not gently. A real kiss. A passionate kiss. A kiss that made Harry's brain feel full of wrackspurts. And his heart did a somersault when he felt Ron mirroring his lip motions. Harry placed a hand firmly on the side of his face, daring him to turn away. His other hand mindlessly began massaging Ron's now very obvious erection through his pants. The redhead moaned into Harry's mouth and he pulled away slightly, his breath coming out raggedly.
"P- fuck…" Ron whispered shakily, "Harry, please…"
The more Ron begged, and Harry wasn't even sure what for, the more Harry almost lost control. Every 'please,' gasp, and moan was music to his ears. But he needed Ron to need him. To want him. And not just because he was caught off guard and cornered.
Harry moved his hand away and forcefully turned Ron around so he was facing him. He kept his hands on his waist as he looked him up and down slowly, then looked Ron in the eye and dropped his hands.
"I better go," he said, almost enjoying the look of surprise on Ron's face. And before Ron could stop him, or say something, he swiftly turned around and left the locker room.
Fucking hell, he thought to himself as he crunched across the grounds toward the castle. Everything had gone almost exactly the way he had expected it to. The only thing he hadn't expected was how much he had enjoyed it. How good everything had felt. And now he had Ron right where he wanted him. Confused, flustered, questioning everything. Because now, Ron would go with the safe option. He would choose Harry.
Harry just knew it. Ron would choose him.
