"Is that entirely necessary?" Ron asked, frowning over at Harry from where he sat, reading at the kitchen table.

"What, exercise?" Harry panted as he did yet another sit-up.

"Exercise… in half your Quidditch uniform?"

Harry huffed out a rough laugh as he continued his routine. "It's motivation, Ron. Inspiration. Got to – beat – Charlie – and George – and Ginny."

"These weekly matches are becoming a bit of an obsession for you all."

Harry collapsed on the floor, panting loudly. "You're the only – one – who doesn't seem – to care – about them."

"I care. I play, don't I? I'm the one who convinced Bill to be on our team, aren't I? I just don't… you know, spend time thinking about it during the week. It's just something to do on Saturday afternoons, you know? No need to spend so much energy on it."

Harry sat up and looked over the sofa at his boyfriend. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing," Ron muttered defensively. "I'm just trying to work and you're all… over there in your shorts and… undershirt… 'n shin guards…"

Harry bit back a chuckle. "Is my work-out outfit turning you on?"

"No." Ron turned a page in his book. "Don't be ridiculous."

Harry shrugged and stood up to stretch. He watched Ron as he did so, trying not to laugh at the way Ron kept shooting him covert glances and the way Ron changed positions in his chair every few seconds.

"Fidgety, much?"

Ron glared up at Harry through his fringe. "I'm trying to work here, Harry."

"No, you're not."

"Then what do you suppose this book is for?"

"Distraction from my manly powers of seduction," Harry explained as he made his way around the sofa to the table.


Harry put his hands down on the table and leaned forward a bit, eying the book. "Want to take a shower with me?"

"No," Ron muttered. "I'm working."

Sighing, Harry straightened up again. "You never work at home."

"Well, I am now."

"What are you working on, then?" Harry asked curiously.

Ron marked the page with his finger and flipped the book shut so Harry could read the title. The cover was dark blue and slightly fuzzy.

"Healing with Fur?" Harry read aloud. "What the hell is that?"

"Pretty much exactly what it smells like," Ron said as he opened to his page again.

Harry blinked. "What?"

Ron looked up from the book. "What?"

"What it 'smells' like? What does it smell like?"

To Harry's amusement, Ron blushed furiously. "Sounds like. Exactly what it sounds like."

Harry leaned down again. "But you said 'smells' like."

"Slip of the tongue," Ron muttered, staring blankly down at his book.

"Something on your mind, Ron?" Harry teased.

Ron was silent for a few seconds and when he looked back up again, Harry was disappointed to see a stern face looking up at him. "I'm working, Harry. You look delicious and you smell even better, but I have to finish this book by tomorrow. I'm trying to heal someone, okay? That has to come before sex."

"You could come before sex."

Ron rolled his eyes and returned his attention to Healing with Fur. Harry, grinning to himself, stripped off all of his clothes and gear, dropping them unceremoniously into a pile on the floor, and headed for their shower.


Harry used the Floo Network to get from the Ministry to St. Mungo's the next evening. He waited in the lobby for twenty minutes before going up to the highly disgruntled Welcome Witch.

"Um… excuse me, but do you know where I can find Healer Weasley?"

"Classified, unless you're a patient or visiting one."

"But I'm visiting him."

She looked up and glared at Harry. "Classified."

"But he's supposed to get off work at 6."

"Not today, apparently. This is a hospital, you know. Emergencies don't tend to follow schedules."

"Fine. I'll just wait, then."

"You do that."

Mumbling furiously under his breath, Harry returned to where he had been sitting and leafed through several old copies of Witch Weekly. Over an hour after Harry had arrived at St. Mungo's, Ron finally emerged, looking especially haggard. He walked over and pulled a magazine out of Harry's hands.

Harry looked up, smiling. "There you are." He stood and, once he'd gotten a better look at Ron, frowned. "What happened?"

"Long day," Ron said vaguely.

"Your… your robes have, uh… grown some fur."

"I know." Ron sighed. "There was a… mishap. Let's go home, I'll tell you about it over dinner."


Back at their flat, Harry and Ron made a simple dinner in relative silence, each too tired to focus on more than one task. Once they'd sat down to eat their sandwiches and drink their wine, they began to relax.

"So, what's with the fur?" Harry asked, peering into his wine glass. He took a small sip and waited for Ron to finish chewing.

"Well, I stayed up all night reading that book, so I was a bit tired today… a bit off my game. I messed up the spell, and… well, it wasn't a pretty sight. Furballs everywhere, tufts of hair floating around, getting into people's eyes and ears… Jackson started sneezing like mad and ended up being admitted as a patient, and Reynolds and I had to spend a few hours scrubbing things down because fur is oddly hard to get rid of with magic, once it's started, you know, growing its, uh… roots, and all."

Harry sucked in his lower lip, trying not to laugh. "So, er… what exactly were you trying to do, then?"

Ron sighed dramatically. "I was trying to cure this weird illness… we still haven't figured out exactly what it is. The patient keeps saying he feels itchy on the inside of his body. And a really popular method of curing magical rashes is with fur, so I thought–"

"Wait." Harry choked slightly on a bite of his sandwich. "You cure rashes with fur?"

"Sure." Ron shrugged. "When the fur starts to grow, it opens up the pores and… you look totally baffled. Let's just say it has a soothing effect and leave it at that."

"But… why can't you just use a lotion?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "It's not like we treat common Muggle skin problems with fur. I said magical rashes… they're completely different things."

"I'll take your word for it."

"Probably for the best. Anyway, so, I thought that maybe we could cure his inside itching with fur, too. Only we couldn't find precedent for it, so I had to read that book about four times before I was confident that it would work."

"But… it didn't work."

Ron glared at Harry as he took a sip of wine. "Because I botched the spell, not because the spell didn't work. If I had done it correctly…"

"Magical medicine is a total mystery to me," Harry said.

"So I've noticed," Ron teased.

Harry huffed and finished off his sandwich. "But what are you going to do about the itchy patient now?"

Ron shrugged. "Try again tomorrow, hopefully. We couldn't try right away again… there was too much chaos. All of the bed sheets had sprouted fur, and the patient's skin, and the quilt his niece had knitted for him… it was a nightmare." He looked dejectedly down at his half-eaten dinner. "At least nothing worse happened, I guess… I really shouldn't have tried that in the state I was in."

"But you had no choice… you're the Healer."

"I know. I just should have taken better care of myself before trying something so new."

"Well, nothing you can do about it now, except try again tomorrow. Though, for someone who got no sleep last night, you seem remarkably well-composed."

Ron smiled. "It's the coffee."

"Ah, of course." Harry stood and moved the dirty dishes to the sink, letting Ron finish the last few bites of his sandwich. After washing them quickly and setting them to dry, he moved behind Ron's chair and leaned down to kiss the top of Ron's head. "Do you want to come shower with me?"

Ron nodded wordlessly and stood. Harry kissed him hard, already working on removing his clothes. They struggled to get each other naked for a few seconds until they were standing in the middle of a heap of various articles of clothing. Harry licked across Ron's collar bone, and Ron wrapped his arms around Harry, pulling the shorter man closer to him.

"Thanks," Ron muttered as Harry kissed his way up to Ron's ear.

"For what?" Harry whispered, sending a shiver down Ron's spine.

"F-for distracting me from my job-related failure."

Harry rolled his eyes and leaned back to look Ron in the face. "You're not a failure, Ron. Everyone makes mistakes. No one died, there was just an excess of fur. Worse things have happened."

Ron kissed Harry to hide his smile.


Harry, Staying work tonight. No excess of fur today. Solved problem. Tell you about it tonight. Hopefully around 8. See you then, Ron


When Ron came home that night, the flat was dark and empty. He looked around for a note or some sign to point to where Harry had gone, but he found nothing. Figuring some emergency Auror situation had arisen, he shrugged off his robes and headed for the shower. He turned on the hot water and let the bathroom steam up for a few minutes, taking deep breaths and enjoying the feeling of being truly relaxed for the first time in days.

Eventually, he adjusted the water temperature slightly and stepped into the shower, letting the stream wash away the dirt and sweat, the stress and anxiety. He soaped himself up and rinsed himself off, thinking of nothing but the sound and feel of the water. He wrapped one hand around his cock, licking his lips and imagining Harry in his dirty Quidditch outfit, dripping with salty sweat and filled with adrenaline. Ron closed his eyes, leaned his head back, and let the fantasy take over his wandering thoughts.

Harry would come off the pitch, covered in dirt, having just won the match against Charlie, George, and Ginny. He'd be wild with energy, tackle Ron to the ground, and snog his boyfriend senseless. They'd Apparate home Harry would and tie Ron to the bed, keep his Quidditch uniform on while they fucked, and hiss filthy things in Parseltongue all over Ron's body.


Harry stepped silently into the bathroom, glad Ron hadn't bothered to close the door. He stood, hidden under his invisibility cloak, and watched Ron wanking. Ron's breath was getting shallow, his hand moving faster, his mouth hanging open wider. Harry reached for his own erection, stroking it in time with Ron. He watched the wet redhead through the foggy glass of the shower, mesmerized by Ron's face and hands, which were stimulating as many areas as they could. One hand was on his cock, the other on his balls with a finger or two curled lower to rub his perineum and arse.

Harry moved his hand faster, groaning and struggling to keep his eyes open. He let his other hand drift up to his nipples, which he pinched and pulled as his balls tightened and his toes began to tingle.


Ron gripped himself tighter, sensation coursing through his body. He stepped forward and let the water hit him in the face as he came with a shout.

He stayed under the shower spray for a few moments, letting it wash away his come. When he opened his eyes, he gasped and jumped slightly to see Harry on the other side of the shower door. He ran his hand across the glass, wiping away the steam. Harry was leaning against the opposite wall, his hand covered in his own come, panting heavily.

Ron grinned widely, turned off the water, and slid open the glass door. "Did you enjoy the show?" he teased, striding over to kiss Harry's open mouth.

Harry returned the kiss enthusiastically, pressing their bodies together and taking in Ron's wet heat.

"Harry," Ron mumbled against Harry's eager lips, "you're getting me dirty again."

Harry broke the kiss to look down at the white, sticky mess that had smeared onto Ron's clean stomach. Laughing, he dragged Ron out into the living room, where he used his wand to clean off the come.


"Much." Ron ran his hands through his wet hair and looked searchingly at Harry. "Exactly why were you watching me wank in the shower?"

Harry blushed slightly. "Well, I… I knew that, if it seemed like I wasn't home, you'd most likely take a shower and… well… you know I like watching," he mumbled.

Ron grinned. "I know. And you know I like hearing you admit it."

Harry rolled his eyes, but pulled Ron close for a kiss. "So you fixed that guy's itchiness, I take it?"

"Yeah. The fur thing worked this time. He's a bit, um, ticklish at the moment, but he should be fine in a few days."

"Ticklish?" Harry repeated.

"Yeah… turns out organs are really sensitive, and the fur keeps rubbing against them…"

Harry shook his head. "Like I said, magical medicine is a total mystery to me."

Ron nodded. "I'm well aware. Anyway, it turns out he'd swallowed some liquidized porcupine needles."

Harry's face fell blank. "What?"

"Yeah. We tried to get him to tell us more, but he couldn't stop laughing. We ended up just giving him a sleeping potion."

"You live a weird life, Ron," Harry said as he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend.

"Says the Boy Who Lived to Be the Chosen One and the Savior of the Wizarding World."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

Harry lowered his hands and squeezed both of Ron's cheeks. "How about dinner first."

Ron sighed dramatically. "I guess I can live with that."

"Do you want me to cook in the nude?"

Ron considered this for a moment before asking, with a slight blush, "How about in your Quidditch uniform."

Harry blinked up at Ron and then broke into a fit of laughter. Ron crossed his arms indignantly.

"Quit taking the piss, Harry," he mumbled.

Harry tried to make a serious face. "Let's make a deal."

Ron tilted his head to the side. "What kind of deal?"

Harry grinned wickedly. "I cook dinner in my Quidditch uniform, and you have to have sex with me somewhere new."

"What kind of 'new' are we talking about, here?"

"It's a secret," Harry teased.

"What? No! I'm not agreeing until you tell me."

Harry thought for a few seconds, biting his lip. Finally, he said, "the loo."

Ron rolled his eyes. "The loo. Yeah, that's really new."

"At Merlin's."

Ron's mouth dropped open. "The loo at Merlin's."

"Yup. That's the deal. Take it or leave it."

"How about you have sex with me in your Quidditch uniform instead," Ron said after a long pause. "And I'll have sex with you at Merlin's. That's a better trade off."

Harry shrugged. "Does that mean I get to cook naked, then?"

"Er, if you want."

"Oh, I want." Harry grinned and kissed Ron briefly before turning towards the kitchen.


The next night, Ron sat nervously across from Harry at a small table in the only gay pub in Wizarding London, Merlin's. He drummed his fingers on the side of his beer glass, humming absentmindedly to himself.

Harry leaned over the table to whisper at his boyfriend. "Just think of all the hot, dirty, sweaty, Quidditch uniform sex we'll have tomorrow after the game."

Ron snorted and continued staring at the amber liquid in front of him.

"Well," Harry said, grinning, "I'm off to the loo."

Ron's head snapped up. "What?"

Harry winked as he pushed his chair back and stood. "I'm off to the loo," he repeated and he headed for the back.

Ron watched Harry retreat, muttering under his breath. He finished off his beer and, glancing around the crowded bar, stood up and followed Harry's path.

When Ron stepped into the loo, there was a man at the sinks, washing his hands. Ron glanced around nervously, noted the one closed stall, and went for the urinals. By the time he had finished relieving himself, the man at the sinks was gone. Ron knocked quickly on the closed stall door. Harry opened it, pulled him inside, and closed it again. He shoved Ron against the closed door, locking it with one hand and using the other to hold the back of Ron's head. They kissed wildly, Harry pulling at Ron's clothes with his free hand, and Ron desperately clutching the back of Harry's shirt.

"What – fuck, Harry – what if someone – oh shit!"

Harry clamped his hand over Ron's mouth as the door to the loo squeaked open and someone walked in. He looked at Ron's nervously excited eyes and grinned, reaching down with his other hand to unbuckle Ron's belt. Ron jerked slightly as Harry unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans.

The man on the other side of their stall door washed his hands briefly and left again. Harry replaced the hand on Ron's mouth with his lips, using both hands to push Ron's jeans and pants to his thighs.

"What are we – fuck." Ron stared, mouth agape, as Harry quickly undid his own jeans and freed his needy erection. Abandoning all pretenses, he dropped to his knees and took as much of Harry's cock as he could manage into his mouth. Harry sighed in relief and dug his fingers into Ron's hair.

"You – Ron," Harry groaned, watching Ron's head bob along his cock. The door squeaked open again and Harry shuffled backwards in the stall, trying to stop Ron's long legs from sticking out under the door. The door swung shut again almost immediately. Laughing, Harry pulled Ron to his feet. "Turn around," he whispered.

Ron did so, crossing his arms in front of his face and leaning his forehead against them. He stuck his rear end out towards Harry, who laughed in a muffled sort of way. Glancing behind him, he saw Harry stroking his own cock with one hand, and sucking on the fingers of his other. Moaning, Ron faced the door again. He bit down on his arm as Harry slid one, two, then three slick fingers into his arse.

"Fuck, Harry," Ron panted slightly when Harry pulled out his fingers and replaced them a second later with his cock. "Ah, f-fuck," he muttered, hanging his head and trying to remember how to breathe.

Harry leaned against Ron, wrapping his arms around the taller man and breathing heavily against Ron's back. He waited a few moments, trying to give Ron time to adjust to the pain.

Two more men came into the loo, talking drunkenly. A thrilling jolt shot through Harry and he withdrew slightly from Ron's arse before pushing in again. Ron gasped quietly and bit down on his arm again, harder this time.

They built up a steady rhythm with Harry pressing his forehead into Ron's neck and Ron moving his hips back against each of Harry's thrusts. As soon as the two men left again, they both groaned. Harry began rocking his hips faster, panting heavily into Ron's shirt and resisting the urge to growl.

Ron leaned his forehead against the cold door and reached behind him, putting his hands on Harry's hips and urging him to move harder. Harry obeyed and braced himself with one hand on the wall as he moved his other hand to Ron's cock, stroking it quickly.

"Fuck, Harry – fuck, Harry – fuck – a-aah…" Ron's wail trailed off as he shuddered and came on the door. Harry came a few seconds later, both arms wrapped tightly around Ron's middle as he listened to the muffled sounds of the pub crowd.

Ron put his hands on the door in front of him, trying to catch his breath and remain standing. Harry continued panting against Ron's neck. They stayed like that, connected, entwined, chests heaving together, until the squeaky door brought them back to reality. They didn't move as the man walked to the urinals, peed, and left without washing his hands.

Pressing a kiss to Ron's red, sweaty neck, Harry pulled out and turned Ron around. They kissed lazily, a slow grin spreading across Harry's lips.

"What're you so happy about?" Ron asked, brushing the hair off Harry's sticky forehead.

"I'm just thinking about how hot the Quidditch uniform sex will be tomorrow."