Gryffindor Investigations

*Ron lives ^here^?*

Harry surveyed the shabby, dilapidated old tenement with a certain amount of distaste. He was only a few short blocks from the King’s Cross station, but he might as well have been in another world. Though the neighborhood was being “redeveloped”, King’s Cross still had a long way to go. Every third building was boarded over as abandoned; with every other step, he had to avoid discarded needles, crack pipes, and other signs of the inhabitants’ total lack of hope. Everywhere he went, the smells of rotting garbage and worse assaulted his nostrils; he risked a Bubble-Head Charm when the smells became intolerable. At least he hadn’t run into any prostitutes. Maybe they had the night off.

It was hard for him to believe that Ron was living in this decrepit rat-trap in this dodgy a neighborhood. *I would have thought his mother would have swept in and dragged him out by his ears,* he thought.

Normally, the image would have brought a wicked grin to his face, but the building and the neighborhood were like dementors; they seemed to suck the happiness out of you. *You’re stalling, Potter.* Harry told himself firmly. *Ring the bloody buzzer and let’s get on with this.*

The names of the building’s inhabitants were listed in crude pencil on the doorjamb; most had at least one letter missing, as paint had chipped and peeled, and rain and snow had washed away much of what was left. Harry narrowed the possibilities down until he had the most likely permutation (“V*sl*”), and pressed the buzzer next to it.

Within moments, a surly voice that sounded far more like his uncle than his best friend demanded, “Who the hell is it?”

“It’s Harry, Ron.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Visiting you. People do that every now and again. Will you let me in? I need to talk to you.”

“Piss off!”

Harry had expected something of that sort. He sighed, closed his eyes, and reached out with his mind and his magic. He’d shared magic with Ron for years; he knew the other man’s mind almost as well as his own. He wasn’t very good at this sort of spell, and using it always brought back bitter memories of how many times Voldemort had intruded into his own mind, but it took him very little time to find Ron’s exact location in the building, and, with a crack of imploding air, Harry Disapparated.

He reappeared in what looked like the sitting room—mostly because Ron was sitting in it. Harry was shocked at his friend’s appearance. Ron looked, quite simply, like hell. He’d put on at least ten kilos in the last year, and his once-strong chin had gotten jowls as a result. His red hair was lank and unkempt and looked like he hadn’t washed it in a week. His t-shirt was torn, and both it and his jeans looked absolutely filthy.

One thing that hadn’t changed, however, was his temper. Ron jumped to his feet as Harry appeared, screaming in outrage. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“You wouldn’t come to the door,” Harry said reasonably. “And we need to talk, Ron.”

“I’ve got nothing to say to you. You’ve got five seconds to get out of here,” Ron growled, clenching his fists and stepping to face Harry, “then I take you apart.”

At least his breath wasn’t too bad. Harry didn’t flinch, and said, “Ron, I had lunch with Hermione the other day. She told me about why you two broke up.”

Ron blinked. “She—she what?”

“She told me about why you two broke up,” Harry repeated.

Ron’s face turned pale and his eyes widened. His lips began to tremble; Harry wanted to reach out to him, but held himself back. It wasn’t time, not yet.

“W-what did she tell you?” Ron gasped.

“Everything.”

“That….that…..” Ron turned away, a look of utter disgust on his face. Harry took a moment to give the room a quick scan. No outward sign of alcohol, or drugs—but that could be even worse, it could mean that Ron didn’t even care enough to make the effort to become a drunk.

“Ron,” Harry said quietly, “why didn’t you ever tell me? Why wouldn’t you talk to me?”

“Oh, that would have been just fine, wouldn’t it?” Ron drawled sarcastically. “‘Hey, Harry, I know you’re dating my sister and all, but I’ve just figured out I’m a bloody queer, and I was just wondering if you might be too?’ Why the hell would I have said something mental like that?”

“Why the hell not?” Harry snapped. “Do you really think I would have cut you off? Chucked ten years of being best mates just because you fancied blokes?”

“YES!!!”

Harry couldn’t remember a time they’d been in this position: nose-to-nose, fists clenched, shouting at each other like two schoolboys getting themselves worked up for a scrap. With an effort, he calmed himself down, and changed the topic. “Ron,” he said, “I’m starting a new business. A private inquiry agency. I’m going to need a lot of help getting it started, and I thought it would be just brilliant if you and I—”

“SHUT UP!!!!” Ron screamed. “You think I’m bloody pathetic, don’t you? You think I’m a bloody failure, don’t you? You think you have to give me a damned handout, you think—”

“I think you’re my best mate, when you aren’t acting like a bloody prat!” Harry snapped. “I think that there’s no one else I want to watch my back in a scrap, when you actually care enough about anyone but yourself to make the effort!”

“You……you……”

“And most of all, I think you and I belong together, Ron!! And yes, I mean *together*.”

Ron spun around, his fist swinging in a wide arc toward Harry’s head. But Harry’s Auror training had involved extensive self-defense. He blocked the blow easily, then used Ron’s momentum to swing him into the wall. He caught Ron’s other arm by the wrist and forced both arms over Ron’s head.

Ron kicked and thrashed like something wild. Spit flecked from his lips as he raged, “Let go of me! Get your bloody hands off of me!”

Harry kissed him.

It was a deep, long, soulful kiss. Harry’s tongue wrestled against Ron’s, even as Harry could feel Ron struggling to free himself. But Ron was out of condition, and Harry was in the best shape of his life; he easily held Ron’s arms pinioned over his head, and pressed Ron’s body into the wall with his own.

Harry continued to kiss Ron, hoping to prove with acts what Ron wouldn’t believe in words—that Harry loved him, needed him, wanted Ron with him no matter what the past had been. He wanted so desperately to caress the big redhead, but Ron continued to struggle, and Harry kept him pinned.

And then it happened. Ron’s struggles began to relent, slowly but surely, and then ceased altogether. His tongue met Harry’s in joy, not anger, and the tension eased out of his body as he surrendered himself to the love he’d kept secret for so long.

Harry, knowing he was taking a risk, took his hands away from Ron’s wrists and slid them down Ron’s arms. If Ron was faking, now would be the time for him to take a free shot………

But Ron wasn’t faking. His arms wrapped around Harry and pulled him closer, holding him so tightly that it was almost as if he were trying to combine himself and Harry into a single being. Harry’s hands were everywhere, feeling beyond the extraneous fat that inactivity and depression had added to Ron’s frame, seeking and finding the muscles underneath.

At last the two men came up for air. Harry was surprised to see tears trickling down Ron’s face. “Crying?” he asked softly, his thumbs gently brushing the wetness away.

Ron blushed. “Yeah, I guess………Harry, if you only knew how long I’ve wanted this…………”

“I can imagine,” Harry whispered, “because I’ve probably wanted it as long.”

Ron tried to kiss Harry again, but Harry put one finger on the redhead’s lips. “Where’s your bedroom?”

Ron jerked his head sideways. “Down the hall. But Harry, it’s a crapper, a real shithole……”

“So?”

The room was as bad as Ron had warned him. Dirty clothes, dirty dishes from several meals, and a faintly unpleasant smell coming from the sheets. Harry didn’t care one bit.

Ron was leading him, his hand in Harry’s. Harry suddenly pulled his hand free and gave Ron a playful shove that sent him facedown onto the bed. Harry was behind him in an instant, his lips and teeth nuzzling and nibbling the back and sides of Ron’s neck.

Ron turned to face him, and his lips met Harry’s for a brief kiss, before Harry went back to work on Ron’s neck, strewing light, tender kisses like rose petals across Ron’s flesh. They rolled over with Ron on top, and Harry’s legs wrapped themselves around Ron’s hips and drew him in closer.

Ron lifted Harry’s shirt out of his pants and looked in envious wonder at Harry’s torso. “Like you’d been sculpted,” he breathed in wonder. “Just beautiful.”

“And it’s all yours,” Harry told him.

Ron lowered his face to Harry’s chest. His tongue flicked out and hit a nipple, and Harry spasmed in ecstasy at the touch. Ron kissed Harry’s chest, his abs, even his ribs—and Harry, who was extremely ticklish, would shiver wildly at every kiss.

Straightening up, Ron started to pull off his shirt, then stopped. A look of doubt crept across his face. “It’s not as nice as yours,” he muttered sadly.

“It’s *you*,” Harry smiled. “That’s all I care about.”

Ron held Harry’s gaze for a long time, seemingly weighing something. Then, with a deep breath, he pulled off his shirt.

There was no getting around it; Ron had gotten fat. But again, Harry didn’t give a damn. If he felt anything but passion and love for the man who had been a surrogate brother for eleven years, it was anger at all the time wasted in those years, time they could been together.

And Harry wasn’t going to let something so trivial as a little fat keep him from sharing himself, and his life, with the man he loved.

*How the hell could I have missed it?* he thought, even as Ron pulled off Harry’s shirt and tossed both of them aside, then removed Harry’s shoes and socks and his own. *It was right there, at the Triwizard Tournament. The person most dear to me was taken, and I had to get him back. It wasn’t Hermione, or Ginny. It was Ron.*

Ron’s hands were fumbling with Harry’s belt buckle; Harry gently pushed them aside, saying, “It’s a little tricky.” He undid the clasp, then leaned back, waiting. Ron got the message; he pulled on the buckle, and the belt slid from around Harry’s waist. Ron sent it to join the rest of their clothes, then undid the button on Harry’s trousers. He slid back to Harry’s ankles, and pulled on the pant cuffs.

Harry’s pants slid off without a hitch, leaving him clad only in his briefs.

“My god, Harry……what an amazing body you have,” Ron gasped.

“The better to wrap around you, my dear,” Harry laughed in a singsong voice. “Now get your pants off and get back on top of me!”

Ron complied so quickly it was a wonder Harry didn’t miss it when he blinked. Harry was gratified to see that, no matter how else Ron had let himself and his life go, his underwear was spotlessly clean. *That* would have been a dealbreaker…

And then Ron was on top of him again, and there was more laughter, and more tears, and more love and passion than Harry had ever felt before. Ron cupped his face in his two hands and kissed him, hard and rough, his throbbing erection pressing against Harry’s, both of them begging for release.

And then Ron broke off the kiss, and slid Harry’s briefs from around his hips.

Harry lay on the bed, completely naked, completely hard.

Ron hesitated. Harry had never seen such fear in his best friend’s eyes.

“It’s yours, mate,” he said quietly. “It’s all yours.”

And Ron dove for Harry’s dick and took the whole thing in his mouth at once. He sucked on it with desperate intensity, his head bobbing up and down almost too fast for Harry to follow. Harry felt the pressure build, and he knew he was dangerously close!!!

“Nngh……oh……ugh…….Ron……STOP!!” Harry cried.

Ron was off of him in an instant, his face a mask of pure horror. He stumbled off the bed and landed on top of some unwashed clothes in the corner, holding his face in his palms, weeping uncontrollably. Angry, bitter, self-loathing words came out from behind his hands. “Oh, god, Harry……you don’t like it……you don’t like me……I’m bloody useless………”

Harry scrambled off the bed after him. “Ron, no!!! Ron, you’re not……Ron, I love you!”

Ron looked up, shocked.

“It’s true, you bloody idiot,” Harry said with a grin. “I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

“But……you said……you told me to………”

Harry’s grin grew slightly vicious. “I told you to stop because you were making me *too* hot, lover.” There. He’d said the word. Ron’s eyes widened at the sound of it. “I was too close, Ron—and I want this to last.”

Harry pulled Ron to his feet, and guided him back to the bed. “So why don’t you just lay back,” he said, easing Ron down onto his back, “and let me do the work.”

Harry pulled off Ron’s briefs and took Ron’s throbbing, pulsing dick in his hands. “You always had to be bigger than I was, didn’t you?” he teased. Ron smiled back weakly. Then Harry bent over, and opened his mouth—and there was no time left for teasing.

Harry’s lips glided up and down Ron’s thick shaft, while his hands were just as busy, one delicately stroking Ron’s huge balls, one gently twisting Ron’s nipples. His nose was filled with the musky scent of Ron, and his dick got even harder in response.

Ron’s mouth and eyes were wide open in silent pleasure. Then Harry got past his gag reflex and took Ron’s whole cock, and Ron gasped. “Oh, my god, Harry………”

But Harry was beyond answering. His throat muscles were busy working the head of Ron’s dick, and Ron began to thrust himself into Harry, bringing tears to Harry’s eyes, but Harry didn’t relent one bit!

“My gods……Harry……” Ron moaned in ecstasy. “My gods, mate, you’re magnificent………”

Ron’s dick came loose from Harry’s mouth with a loud pop! Harry looked up at his lover, a devilish look in his eye. “Wanna see how magnificent?”

“What—what do you mean?”

Harry turned back to face Ron’s dick. “Mr. Weasley’s dick,” he said in his most formal voice, “the pleasure of your company is requested in my arse. Immediately.”

Ron laughed weakly. Harry sat up and kissed him, quickly, then asked, “How do you want it, Ron? On my back or on my stomach?”

“On your back,” Ron said firmly. “I want to look at you.”

“Your wish is my command.” Harry flopped down onto his back, then lifted his legs in the air, revealing the puckered hole underneath.

Ron fumbled in a pile of things by the bed, coming up with a condom and a bottle of lube. He applied first the one, then the other, to his swollen member, then applied some lube to Harry’s hole. “You’re really tight, mate,” he warned, as his finger slipped inside the opening. “This is probably going to hurt.”

“I don’t care. Do it, Ron.”

Slowly, one millimeter at a time, Ron pushed his dick into Harry’s ass, until the head had completely penetrated the opening. Harry gasped in half-pain, half-pleasure as Ron slid in some more, stretching Harry almost to the breaking point.

“You want me to stop?” Ron asked.

“Don’t you dare.”

Ron slid in, agonizingly slowly for both of them, until his balls were bouncing off of Harry’s ass cheeks. Harry’s eyes widened, and a slow smile spread across his mouth. “Go to town, mate,” he urged.

Ron started easily at first, fucking Harry with slow, steady strokes. Harry cried out with every one, but they were cries of pleasure, not pain. “Harder, Ron,” he begged. “Harder!”

Ron obliged. Years and years of pent-up frustration spurred him on as he slammed into Harry again and again and again, even as he bent over to nuzzle Harry’s neck and jaw. The bedsprings shrieked in rhythm to Ron’s thrusts as the redhead pounded Harry’s ass raw.

“Oh gods……Harry……I don’t think I can hold it much longer!”

“Together! Together!”

Ron pulled out and quickly stripped the condom from his dick, then began pulling at it furiously. Harry was already jerking himself with wild strokes. And then, as one, the two men erupted in a spray of milky-white cream that splattered all over Harry’s chest and stomach!!!!

Ron collapsed, completely spent, on top of Harry. Harry’s arms wrapped around him, and for a long while the only sound in the room was the panting breaths of the two men.

Until finally Ron spoke, softly. “Private inquiry agent, eh?”

“That’s right,” Harry replied. “‘Gryffindor Investigations.’ What do you say?”

“What if we fall on our faces before the year’s out?”

“Then we’ll have time to come up with something else.”

“What if we decide we hate it?”

“Then we’ll cash it in and go bum around the Continent for a couple of years.”

“What if we take on some Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws as partners?”

“Then we’ll change the business cards.” Harry took Ron’s head in his hands. “Please, Ron. I need you. And not just for the investigations, either.”

Ron’s only response was a kiss.