A Tale of Two Men

TITLE: A Tale of Two Men

Author: Lady Sirius

Pairing: SB/SS, HP/RW, HG/DM and others I haven't thought of yet

RATING: NC17

FEEDBACK: darklove_zorg@yahom
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DISCLAIMER: Of course all rights belong to JK Rowling - I would claim Sirius if I could (but alas this is not meant to be!)

OOTP SPOILERS: Yes there are references, so don't read if you don't want to know.

DEDICATION: To my glorious, talented and wondrous inspiration - Gary Oldman


Chapter Two

Comfort in the Arms



"Do you know how much I hate that man?" Harry Potter muttered to his companion. He stared sullenly into the smoldering fire in the Gryffindor common room. Tossing a crumpled piece of his discarded homework into the flames, he watched as it was consumed in a shower of colourful sparks.

"Don't fret, mate." Ron Weasley laid a consoling hand on his friend's shoulder. Reaching up, he brushed his fingers softly against Harry's cheek in a move that was calculated to distract him, but Harry would have none of that at the moment.

"And Sirius isn't helping either, acting all mysterious like he is." Harry glared at Ron, fairly bristling with indignation. His godfather had come to see Harry as promised following the confrontation with Professor Snape. But he had refused to discuss any of the details of their meeting, other than a general admonition that everything would be all right. (Harry and Ron had tried their best to listen in from the hallway, but had failed in their attempts, almost being caught in the act for their trouble when Sirius stormed out of the potions classroom). Harry had been so angry with Sirius that he had slouched in a sullen nonverbal heap of angst until the exasperated Sirius took his leave.

Undaunted by Harry's petulance, Ron kissed him lightly on the cheek, with just a touch of tongue for good measure, putting one arm about him and drawing him closer.

"You should trust Sirius," he insisted. "Has he ever steered you wrong? Well, has he?"

"Well... you may be right..." Harry relented long enough to return Ron's kiss. "I just want to know why Snape is riding me so hard. And what is Sirius going to do about it?"

Ron squinched his face in thought as he pondered the possibilities. "Snape seems to be mad at you about something..." he began.

"You think?" Harry quipped.

"I do, yes I really do." Ron remained oblivious to the sarcasm in Harry's voice. "Have you done anything to him lately to make him hate you any more than usual?"

"No, I haven't. All I have time for is studying and playing quidditch, you know that." Harry eyed Ron dolefully.

"And making love to me," Ron added with a grin.

"Always time for that, mate."

"Well, then, let's not worry about all this right now, and let's go up to..." But Ron's words were interrupted by a voice which came from the depths of an armchair behind them. They had been so wrapped up in each other that they had forgotten that they were not alone.

"I think that you two are missing the big picture," Hermion Granger interjected with her usual air of pomposity, "as usual." The two boys turned to face her, their eyes quizzical. She sat crosslegged in the overstuffed chair, a large tome resting comfortably on her lap, regarding them. "Have you ever stopped to think that Snape is just using you as a means to an end?"

Harry pondered her words as Ron responded with, "For crying out loud, Hermione, say it in plain English, will you?"

Harry looked up at Hermione, an idea beginning to grow in his mind. "You think that maybe Snape is trying to get to Sirius, and that he is using me to do it? Is that it?"

Hermione smiled at him, not unkindly. "You catch on quickly, grasshopper. Yes, that is just what I mean. I think that you need to look for answers in the past, their past, to find out what is going on between them now."

"Well, we can't do that tonight," Ron announced, pretending to yawn and stretching his thims ems every which way as if to announce his sleepiness to the room. "Where's your new beau, Hermione, why aren't you out tonight?"

Hermione flushed, as she always did at the mention of Draco's name. "He had something to do," muttmuttered. "Something important. Don't worry, I'm seeing him tomorrow night."

Ron and Harry grinned at her. She knew they were teasing, but sometimes she amazed herself at the way she had ensnared the young Malfoy's heart - especially considering all the really rotten things he had had to say about her non-wizard blood in the past. But that had all ended abruptly when they had been thrown together under circumstances that forced them to get to know one another - and now they did know one another, very well. She blushed at the knowledge of just how well, her senses tingling as always at the mention of her lover's name. She thought of his sleek blonde head, his sensuous purple eyes, his hands, his taut butto his his... She shook her head, refusing to give in to the desire, at least not while he wasn't here. "Never you mind," she said, "go on about your own business."

"We shall," Ron assured her, taking Harry's hand and leading him up the stairs to their bedroom. As they had hoped, the only other occupant at the moment, Neville Longbottom, was fast asleep and snoring heavily.

"You know, I think Hermione may be on to something..." Harry started to say, but Ron put a stop to hirds rds by covering his lips with his own and kissing him thoroughly, until Harry had nothing more to say.

"That's better," Ron murmured, as he helped Harry to disrobe. When he was done, he viewed the other boy's naked body with pleasure. "Where to tonight, love?" he asked, "yours or mine?"
"I don't care, whichever is handiest," Harry replied. This turned out to be Ron's, and they tumbled together onto the heavy comforter, drawing the bedcurtains shut behind them.

Ron drew his fingers nimbly across Harry's pubescent chest, smooth and satiny, silky and pretty. He rubbed the nipples tenderly, watched as they hardened with lust, and drew one into his mouth, suckling happily. Harry closed his eyes, enjoying Ron's touch, as he always did. He never failed to wonder at the gloriousness of this aspect of his relationship with Ron, the aspect they kept hidden from the rest of the school (except for Hermione, who couldn't care less), and he didn't know why it had taken him so long to realize the depth of his feelings for his best friend. Perhaps spending time with the Weasleys the previous summer had helped to open his eyes, especially when he became witness to the particularly lustful relationship that existed between Ron's twin brothers, Fred and George, previously of Hoggwarts but now proprietors of their own joke shop in Diagon Alley (courtesy of his truly, Harry Potter). He suspected that perhaps Ron had at one time had his own initiation under his brothers' tutelage, but he had never asked him about it.

Ron closed his hand about the shaft of Harry's penis and began to stroke it, firmly but gently, which brought a moan of delight from Harry. "Is that what you like, Harry?" Ron whispered, "is that what you need, Harry? Come on, Harry, tell me all about it."

Harry Potter's desire was building. He lusted so much after his red haired friend that at times he found it difficult to think of anything else. He was surprised that Sirius hadn't caught on to their relationship yet, but he dare not tell his godfather about it, at least not now. He was afraid of what he might think. Or say. There was no way Sirius Black could possibly understand the nature of his feelings for Ron, of one redblooded English boy for another. For Sirius was so undoubtedly heterosexual that it wasn't funny. All the man had to do was to walk down the street and the women he pasalonalong the way would instantly go into heat. To suggest to him that two lads could possibly have deeprooted feelings for one another was unthinkable, unmentionable. And yet it was very true. Harry sighed within his heart at the thought.

Ron's ministrations continued unabated. The boy had a talent for the job, that much was evident. The feel of his fingers caressing Harry's love tool was just soooo maddening, and invigorating, and delightful, all at the same time. As dominant a character as Harry was in most aspects of his life, in this respect Ron Weasley was lord and master - and Harry recognized it to be so. In the bedroom, Ron ruled, and Harry meekly did as he was told, when he was told. Just as now when Ron snapped, "Roll over, bitch!" and Harry quickly complied, his firm young buttocks jutting upward into Ron's eager grasp.

Ron rubbed his cheeks, first with his fingers, than with his lips, before ining ing one dampened finger into Harry's rear portal. Harry groaned aloud in anticipation, as the digit inside of him reached further in its enthusiasm, touching his prostate and sending shivers of delight in radiant waves. But just as suddenly, the finger was removed, and Harry felt Ron's lips against his ear, as his lover began to sing, "Before we go any further, do you love me?"

"Do I what?" Harry gasped distractedly.

"Do you love me? Will you love me forever? Do you need me? Will you never leave me?"

"Ron, what are you going on about?" Harry ground his rear end against Ron's pelvis in an effort to distract him.

"Will you make me so happy for the rest of my life? Will you take me away, will you make me your wife? I gotta know right know," Ron warbled, "before we go any further, will you love me forever?" Ron resumed his position behind Harry, once again caressing the firm young buttocks, and Harry felt his insides begin to melt.

"Ron, you know that I.... you know that I...." as he thrilled to the insertion of the tip of Ron's love muscle into his eager receptacle. "Let me sleep on it," he sang in reply, "come on, honey, let me sleep on it, I'll give you an answer in the mor-or-orning." In his head, he began to chant, "Enter me, enter me, enter me," even as aloud he pleaded to put off the answer to the all-important question.

Ron pushed further in, bringing forth a gasp of desire from them both as he slid smoothly into place inside Harry. Harry's own hand stole around to grasp his own firm meat, clutching it and sliding his hand up and down the shaft in unison with the metre of Ron's penis. The heat between them was becoming unbearable now, and there was a fire down below that could only be quenched in one way. "Oh Harry," Ron cried out, forgetting to be quiet, and from across the room the two boys froze when they heard a sound.

"Mummy, Mummy!" But it was only Neville, crying out in his sleep, and after a few tense moments, he was quiet once again.

Ron and Harry resumed their interrupted rhythm, gasping and moaning more quietly now, but still as intensely.

"Fill me!" Harry cried out, "Ron, thrill me, fulfill me, come inside of me, come, come, come..."

As if on cue, there was a great simultaneous orgasm which drove them both to the brink of madness and back. They collapsed together in mutual satisfaction on the bed, breats bus but happy, giggling at the idea of what Neville would say if he could only see them. As they lay together, wrapped up in one another's arms, they looked up in sudden consternation at the sound of something being broken.

"Oh my God, Harry," Ron breathed into his ear, "I think we're about to be caught in the act!"