Gryffindor Investigations

……to reappear with a loud CRACK!!! in their bedroom.

Harry, for the first time in his life, felt the cold hand of fear touch his heart when he looked at Ron. He’d been a right bastard to him, the last few days—what if Ron really wanted to end it? “Ron, I…”

A gentle finger on his lips stopped him before he could say another word. “It’s all right, Harry,” Ron said softly. “I already told you I know you didn’t mean all those things you said. I love you, and I know you love me, and nothing will ever change that. Right?”

“Right.” Harry sat down on their bed, shifted a little so he was in the middle, and patted the mattress next to him. “Come and join me?”

Ron didn’t need a second invitation. He plopped himself down next to Harry, took Harry’s chin in one hand, and lifted his head into a gentle kiss.

The two men kissed for a very long time, letting their tongues and lips say all the things they couldn’t as the case had gone on. Ron’s hand slipped under Harry’s shirt to stroke his stomach, and Harry slid his hand around Ron’s neck and pulled him even closer.

Ron pulled Harry’s shirt all the way off and tossed it over his shoulder. Ron’s hands felt warm and soothing on Harry’s shoulders as he guided him down onto the bed and crawled between Harry’s legs, kissing him all the while. Ron paused just long enough to peel off his own shirt, then bent and kissed Harry in That Spot—just above his waist and just to the right of his navel.

Harry gasped and almost jumped five feet into air. Ron grinned wolfishly and said, “Just remember I know where that spot is, and I’m not afraid to use it!”

“You’re a right bastard, aren’t you?” Harry grinned back.

“You don’t know the half of it……” Ron replied as he stripped off Harry’s shoes, socks, and jeans, leaving him only in his boxers.

“Then show me…”

“You’re on, mate.”

Ron bent over and began to kiss at Harry’s tight, narrow chest, his tongue flicking at the nipples and his lips gliding across the muscles and making Harry squirm in pure pleasure. He kissed his way down Harry’s chest to his abs, then past them (this time avoiding That Spot). He pulled Harry’s waistband down, and Harry’s dick sprang forth from its prison and almost slapped Ron in the face.

“My, my,” Ron said, “where could this have come from?”

Harry started to answer, but whatever words he was about to utter died in the moan of pleasure as Ron began to kiss and suck at his dick. He let his head sink into the pillow and let a lazy smile spread across his face as Ron made love to his meat.

Ron finally let Harry’s dick free from his mouth with a loud POP!, then stood up. He quickly slipped off his jeans and underwear, and Harry just lay there and admired his muscular, freckle-covered body. Ron was back—and he was more than he had ever been.

“How so?” Ron asked.

“Hmm?” Harry murmured.

“How am I more than I ever was?”

Harry propped himself on his elbows, startled. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

“Because you said it aloud, you git,” Ron said as he sat on the edge of the bed.

Harry shook his head. “No, I didn’t. I’m sure I didn’t.”

Ron stared. “Then how……”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care.” Harry reached over and pulled Ron down to him. “Kiss me.”

Ron obeyed.

For a long time, they lay together, side by side, their tongues dancing back and forth in a slow waltz, their hands wandering all over each other’s bodies. Harry felt like he’d never been happier.

And then Ron sat on his chest, straddling him, and whispered, “Open wide.”

Now it was Harry’s turn to obey.

Ron’s swollen member was bouncing off his nose. Harry shifted himself up and took the thing in his mouth. He spent a long time with the head, kissing and licking it, while his hand worked the shaft. Ron reached back and returned the favor, stroking Harry’s dick.

And then Ron pulled his dick out of Harry’s mouth, and shifted himself down to Harry’s. Harry slid into his mouth and down his throat as smooth as an oyster, and Ron began to bob his head up and down, his tongue working the underside of Harry’s shaft, and Harry squirmed under him.

He shifted position to get at Ron again, and Ron shifted in response, rolling onto his side to give Harry more freedom of motion. Harry took Ron into his mouth once again, kissing and sucking at Ron’s dick even as Ron continued to service his. The only sounds in the room were the deep sighs of the two wizards and the wet smacking sounds of their lovemaking.

And then it happened.

Harry began to feel a curious separation. He was there, in the bed, making love with Ron—but somehow, he was also beginning to drift somewhere else. It was somewhere he’d never been before, he was sure of it—which meant it wasn’t the semi-dreamland he’d gone to when Voldemort had “killed” him. Wherever it was, it was warm, and tranquil, and Harry felt an enormous sense of peace being there.

He felt something else, too: a tremendous well of love and passion, and no little wonder, and just a little fear and apprehension, a whole tangle of emotions that didn’t seem quite familiar enough to be his, emotions that were nearer to the surface of the skin than his normally came.

It took him a few moments to realize where they were coming from, even though in retrospect it should have been obvious. He was feeling Ron’s emotions, and somehow, he knew Ron was feeling his.

Theirs.

Because in fact, there was no Ron, and there was no Harry. Their spirits had gotten so thoroughly entwined that it was impossible now to tell where Harry ended and Ron began.

With a thrill of exhilaration at this new oneness, they began to soar, leaving Grimmauld Place—indeed, the world they had known—far behind. They had never done soul flight before, had never even known it could exist, and they marveled at its breathtaking freedom and the wonders around them, vivid, brilliant colors that shifted and flowed around them, warmth and coolness and softness that flowed over their forms, smells of jasmine and honey and Mrs. Weasley’s chocolate cookies and apple and musky sweat and things they couldn’t even name, all accompanied by music that was at once tranquil and dynamic, soothing and vibrant.

They had never felt anything like this before, and it was almost with regret that they separated and flowed back to the world they knew, back to the master bedroom in Grimmauld Place, back to their bodies.

Ron’s eyes were very, very wide, and when he spoke, it was with a voice that trembled and was filled with awe. “What……what was that?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said slowly. “But……I’ve felt that we were getting there for a long time, now. Every time we’ve made love, I’ve felt us getting closer to it. I guess we finally made it.”

“I guess so.” Ron leaned over and kissed him. “Wanna?”

“More than ever.”

Harry lay on his back, his knees tucked close to his chest and his legs apart. Ron dug in their bedside table for condoms and lube; coming up with both, he wrapped the rubber on his dick and coated it, and Harry’s arse, with a generous supply of lube. Harry could feel him knocking on the door……and then he slid in.

It took them almost no time at all to get into a rhythm; they knew each other’s bodies inside and out. Ron bent over and kissed Harry as they made love, and Harry’s legs wrapped around Ron’s torso to hold him even closer.

There was laughter--Harry couldn’t quite tell if it was his or Ron’s—and there were gasps of pleasure, and there were cries of pure joy, and finally………there was climax.

They lay together, exhausted, soaked in sweat, their bodies wrapped around each other, both asleep almost immediately. And just before he drifted off, Harry thought how amazing, and yet how natural, it was that the brief time he’d spent joined with Ron spiritually made him appreciate being joined with him physically so much more.