Harry settled into bed at Grimmauld Place, watching Ron undress out of the corner of his eye. It had certainly been the most eventful day Harry had had in weeks, but sleep wasn't exactly on his mind. Besides, he knew that if he tried to sleep he would only have vicious nightmares; he'd been having them all summer. He was still furious and confused about everything that had happened, but he didn't want any more explanations that night. What he wanted was a proper greeting; not many people had given him one, least of all Sirius. Ron, however, was perhaps even more of a disappointment. As Ron pulled the stuffy covers heavily over himself, Harry pushed back his own.

Ron watched, biting his lip to keep from smiling, as Harry scurried across the room and dove under Ron's sheets. Before either could say anything, Ron ducked his head under the covers and kissed a trail down Harry's chest. Harry smiled and relaxed for the first time since leaving Hogwarts earlier that summer. He pushed all negative, dark, depressing, and bitter thoughts out of his head as Ron threw the sheets onto the floor, along with Harry's boxers. Harry, whimpering and squirming, came faster than he ever had before, clutching the pillow behind his head as he moaned Ron's name quietly, hoping Fred and George didn't have any ears dangling in the hallway to catch midnight Order chatter.

Ron, grinning widely, lay back down next to Harry and stroked his messy, brown hair. Before long, they were both asleep, Harry naked and Ron's hand lying softly on his shoulder.

Harry's dreams were quiet, calm, and more like hazy flashbacks than concrete dreams. Scenes flashed in his mind; the first time he and Ron had kissed, after the second tournament task; the first time they had spent the night in the same bed, when their roommates were pulling an all-nighter in the common room to study for exams; the first time Ron made Harry come, just by rubbing him gently through his boxers and whispering something rather obscene, though loving, in Harry's ear.

Harry and Ron were sitting in the common room, alone and avoiding each other awkwardly. Ron had made light of the situation all day, cracking jokes about moral fibers and gushing about the kisses he and Harry had received from Fleur. However, he still knew that the fact that he had been chosen as what Harry would have missed the most from Hogwarts was something that embarrassed his best friend.


Harry put down the note he found between couch cushions and looked up. "Er… I think… maybe it's time for bed. It's been a long day."

"Harry." Ron strode across the room quickly with his long legs and stood an inch in front of Harry, preventing the other boy from going anywhere. "Harry, why was it me?"

As Ron had expected, Harry went red, avoided meeting his eyes, and tried to move away. Ron grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him into a rough kiss. Harry's eyes widened and he whimpered and tried to break away from Ron's mouth, but Ron gripped him tighter and held him in his place. At last, Harry closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and wrapped his arms around Ron's neck. Ron fastened his long arms around Harry's thin waist and pulled him closer.

"Ron–" Harry broke away and searched Ron's ecstatic blue eyes. "Never during the day, never down here, never in front of Hermione, never in front of anyone."

Ron blinked and frowned slightly as he listened to Harry's rules. He nodded, though, and refused to let go of Harry's hand as they walked up to their room.

Harry opened his eyes the next morning to find Ron staring at him from a few inches over on the bed. He smiled and, reaching for Ron's hand, entangled their fingers. Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Harry kissed him instead. Ron didn't protest. Harry usually prevented him from saying things when they were together; he guessed that they had barely said more than a few sentences about what they were doing, including Harry's original rules. It seemed to him that Harry was using him for physical comfort more than emotional. This bothered Ron, but he knew he couldn't do anything about it. Even if Harry let him say something, he didn't know what he would say. He wanted to be with Harry, regardless; he just wished that sometimes Harry would let him say the things he wanted to say.

A herd of people rushed by in the hallway and clambered down the stairs. Harry sprang out of Ron's bed and scrambled to pull his boxers back on.

"Harry, the door's bolted–"

"Yeah, and Fred and George will surely pay attention to that." Harry rummaged through his messy trunk and found some relatively clean clothes. Ron watched Harry dress himself.


Harry's days at Grimmauld Place seemed to grow longer and longer. He was beginning to wonder if it was any better here than at the Dursley's. He had too much time to himself, and, to make it worse, he had constant reminders that he wasn't safe, that no one was safe, and that terrible things were inevitably coming his way. Even with Sirius there and Ron next to him in bed every night, he couldn't help feeling more and more alone, especially when he thought about his trial getting closer and closer each day.

Four days after arriving, on an especially hot London night, Harry remained in his own bed, the covers tossed on the floor and his limbs flung wildly across the mattress. Ron stared, unblinking, up at the ceiling and waited for Harry to come over. Ten minutes passed since they turned out lights, but Harry remained in his own bed. From the near-constant sound of Harry tossing, though, Ron knew that he was still awake. Another ten minutes passed before Ron decided to make his move. He sat up slowly and looked over at Harry, who was laying, face-down, on the mattress. Stripping his boxers, Ron stood and moved over to the other bed. He lowered himself onto Harry's back and kissed around his sweaty neck. Harry eventually turned under Ron's weight and kissed him desperately. Ron could nearly taste Harry's urgency and despair. Figuring that he could help his friend relax, Ron reached down and grabbed Harry's already stiff cock. Harry pushed his hand away and, instead, placed it on Ron's own hardening cock. Ron buried his face in Harry's neck as he stroked himself slowly. Getting harder, Ron moved his mouth up to Harry's ear and began whispering what he was thinking about. Harry smiled, but quickly hushed Ron with a kiss. As Ron began to groan into Harry's mouth, Harry pulled Ron's hand away and brought it up to his lips, which he tore from Ron's mouth and placed gently on Ron's hand. Then, without breaking eye contact, Harry forcefully grabbed Ron and shoved him on the bed, allowing himself to take the top position. Ron smiled and reached around to grope at Harry's ass.

"Turn over," Harry growled, lustfully.

Ron's eyes widened slowly. "Wh… what?"

"Turn. Over." Harry sat up so Ron could turn himself over onto his stomach. Harry pulled up on Ron's hips so that Ron was kneeling on all fours, and then, as he swiftly removed his own boxers, whispered a lubricating spell. Ron felt a cold, smooth gel between his cheeks, and suddenly, Harry was pushing his fingers into him, coating and preparing him. Ron whimpered, hanging his head down. He had often fantasized about sex with Harry, but had always fancied that he would be the one doing the preparing. As he considered telling Harry to stop, or at least to wait, Harry seemed to decide that Ron was prepared enough, and he pulled his fingers out and whispered them clean. Ron closed his eyes and moaned unwillingly as Harry grabbed his hard cock forcefully and began stroking him slowly. Then, without much warning, Ron felt a sharp burning as Harry began pushing his own hard cock into Ron. Ignoring Ron's loud groans of pain, Harry buried himself completely and then leaned down, bringing his head to Ron's neck. He fit awkwardly against Ron, as Ron was so much taller, but this didn't faze him.

"Alright, mate?" Harry asked, tightening his grip on Ron's cock.

"Harry, this bloody hurts, you could've asked or something, first." Ron grunted.

"Sorry," Harry said gently, kissing around Ron's tense neck. "Will you be okay?"

"Well, yeah–"

"Good." Harry straightened up again and pulled himself out a bit before thrusting back in. He clenched his jaw and moaned throatily as he pumped his hips slowly. Ron was clenching his eyes, cursing Harry in his head and trying to block out the pain, but then Harry shifted his hips and, unknowingly, his angle and his cock brushed against Ron's prostate. Ron's body shivered as his head dropped limply and a soft curse escaped his lips. Harry smiled and thrust harder and faster, making sure to hit that spot with each thrust. It wasn't long before Ron was moaning and screaming into Harry's pillow, his body trembling and his cock throbbing hotly in Harry's sweaty hands. He tore the pillow from his face and grunted loudly as Harry moved deeper.

"Fuck," Ron panted. "Fuck, please, Harry, you're, Merlin – Harry, fuck, please, please, please, fuck – fuck!" Ron grabbed the pillow and screamed more pleads and curses into it.

"Please what?" Harry asked curiously through gritted teeth. He was getting closer to coming, and, by the sound of it, so was Ron.

"Please, Harry," Ron moaned away from the pillow. "Harry, fuck me, oh fuck, harder, more, Harry, please, ah, shit, er… fuck, Harry." Ron whimpered pathetically as Harry's cock moved faster and began brushing his prostate even more. He pressed his head into the pillow and let out what sounded to Harry like a roar as his cock leapt in Harry's hands. Harry stilled his hips and stroked Ron frantically, listening to the muffled sounds of pleasure Ron emitted as he came. His muscles clenched Harry's cock even tighter and Harry had a hard time holding back until Ron's shouts died down. He let go of Ron's still-hard cock and began thrusting erratically into him, tossing his head back and opening his mouth in pure ecstasy. Ron, still twitching with orgasmic pleasure each time Harry hit his prostate, flexed his muscles around Harry's cock and, within seconds, brought Harry to a silent but powerful climax. Harry's face twisted with bliss as he struggled to remain quiet. As soon as he could, he collapsed on Ron, pushing the other boy back on to the mattress. Harry buried his face in Ron's hair and let out a shaky moan that was so deep and long that Ron couldn't help but laugh.

"I love you." Ron turned his head around as far as he could to look at Harry. "I do."

Harry nodded and pulled himself out of Ron and mumbled a cleaning spell. "Ron, I…" He sat at Ron's feet as Ron rolled over. "I don't not love you," he offered, sadly.

Ron sat up and kissed Harry forcefully. "I don't care. I just want you to know. I love you. And, I know that… you don't necessarily love me and I know that you're not really doing this because of how you feel about me, but I don't care." Ron was lying, and Harry could tell. "I just want to be with you, because, well, I am doing this because of how I feel about you. And how I feel about you is that… I love you."

Harry nodded and looked down at the bed between them. Before he could respond, there was a shattering CRACK and he yelped, almost falling off the bed in surprise.

Fred and George appeared on Ron's bed, staring at them and grinning. Harry groaned loudly and started cursing at the twins as he quickly pulled on his boxers. Ron only watched Harry sadly as he moved away, and ignored the loud laughter of his brothers.

"Ron, Ron," Fred slapped his knee, "you're fucking The Boy Who Lived!"

"No, he's not," Harry said defiantly, his eyes shooting daggers at Fred from the corner where he stood, arms crossed.

"Oh no!" George nearly fell off Ron's bed as he shook with more laughter. "The Boy Who Lived is fucking Ron!"

"No, I'm not," Harry growled, refusing to look at Ron, who had finally put his boxers on. "If you don't get out of here right now, I'm telling your mum where you've gotten all that money from. Don't think I won't do it. I can live with her anger. She's not my mother."

Fred and George stood, trying to control their laughter, but failing. They looked at each other and with another bang, Disapparated back up to their bedroom.

Harry remained in the corner, shaking with anger. Ron moved slowly over, but when he reached out to touch Harry, Harry knocked his hand away and went back to his bed. Ron looked down at the floor.

"They won't tell anyone, mate," Ron muttered as he fell back onto his own bed.

"I don't care," Harry said as he stared up at the ceiling.


"Shut up."

Ron bit his lip and rolled over into his pillow.