A War at the End of the World

I don’t Own harry potter but I do own the book. Its like pittance.


So this is chapter 6 thanks for the reviews keep them coming. I love reading what you guys think. And for the person who said they hate sub harry. Wait and see what sub harry thinks of being a sub. Enjoy, by the way I do have two potential betas I will be in touch as soon as my fingers cool down from writing this chapter and the next.

Chapter 6: Heartstrings

Ron woke slowly and opened his eyes the same way. The room was large, larger than the room he shared with Harry and the others. There was a small table just big enough for two to share a meal, a comfortable looking couch, a reading chair, and a desk in the room, all of it done in a dark green that was almost black in the fire light, with accented silver to give the casually comfortable furniture just that taste of luxury. Not that Ron carried really. He had always thought that he would, believed that he would care about whether or not he had the nicer things in life since he had always grown up without them. Instead he found that none of the nice things really mattered to him beyond their practical use and he knew he would be just as comfortable if everything in the room had been of the school issued fare.

Not that he was complaining about the large four-posted bed he was in at the moment. When he had first seen it he could not stop himself from staring at it (in truth it had been the second time he had seen it since the first time, Blaise hadn’t given him much time to appreciate it.) The sheets were a silky silver-ish material that both held and shone with light. The comforter was a forest green that had been embroidered with little leaves in a lighter green and made it seem as if he was sleeping under a forest canopy, complete with rustling leaves and a pleasant breeze.

Ron ran his hand over the comforter. It was a nice bed.

The redhead and shifted slightly and he felt Blaise press back against him, sending his cock deeper into Ron to ghost over that place that always made the other boy howl. Blaise’s need to be in Ron when they slept wasn’t something that the boy understood or had even appreciated when they had first gotten together.

It had started the first time Ron had allowed himself to fall asleep after he and Blaise had sex. It had been a month after they had returned to school and restarted their…whatever it was they had started during the summer. Blaise had convinced the redhead to miss out on a Hogsmeade day in favor of spending it with him in his room. The mere memory of that day made Ron’s skin red with embarrassment.

Blaise had spent what felt like hours licking, sucking, and caressing Ron into a of mindless want and need, bringing him to the edge of completion before backing off and allowing the redhead to calm down. At some point he had begun playing with Ron’s hole making it feel as good as everything else they had done that morning if not better since Blaise allowed Ron to penetrate himself on the dark haired boys fingers, not to deep, but enough to make Ron feel like he had control, even if it was over how he fucked himself. Then without warning Blaise had taken even that small amount of control away, plunging two fingers deeply into Ron and hitting his prostate, which until that moment he had been completely oblivious too.

The action had brought stars to Ron’s eyes and made everything around him seem to glow brightly as Blaise continued the aggressive finger fucking, one hand holding Ron’s hips so that he couldn’t bring any more pressure to his prostate than Blaise wanted. After what had seemed like hours, but had actually been only a few minutes, Ron had been ready to burst, his moan approaching a pitch and tone that let Blaise know how close he was and then like before the boy had stopped and removed himself unceremoniously from his partner. Ron remembered screaming his head off and bucking his hips, the loss almost unbearable until he felt something much larger than two fingers positioned back at his entrance.

“Do you want me back, Ron?” Blaise had asked gently. Almost afraid.

“Ron had to work to focus on Blaise for a second. “Blaise you right Bastard. If you don’t get back in me and let me cum I will bloody well kill you. I will kill you and then bring you back to life so I can fuck you and kill you again.”

Then the boy had raised up raising his stiff and swollen member into the air like a flag of surrender.

“Please Blaise. I’m begging you.”

“Begging isn’t good enough,” Blaise had said softly, leaning back and moving his cock away from the redhead’s entrance.

Ron had lunged for him than, intending to follow through with his threat, but had found that at some point Blaise had bound his wrists above his head. He had no memory of when that had happen.

“What they bloody hell?” Ron had yelled and pulled at his wrists slightly worried.

Blaise smiled slyly at his redhead. “I wanted your full attention and,” he’d added, giving the other boy’s cock a slow pump, “I didn’t want you distracted by playing with this.”

Ron had groaned again, a defeated man. “What do you want you want? I’ll give you anything Blaise. Anything.”

Blaise had smiled then and repositioned himself at Ron’s entrance. “Tell me your mine and then ask for it.”

“What?” Ron had been slightly shocked. Though not shocked enough to allow his erection to ease any.

“I want you to say you’re mine. All mine. And then ask me to fuck you. Or I will let you go and you will go back to your own dorm and you can play with yourself there.”

“You bloody git!”

Blaise had laughed, but his eyes had held a strange fierceness that few would have understood. “What will it be then Ron? What will it be?”

Ron didn’t even have to think about it for even a minute before he said (and a might sarcastically): “Oh great and powerful Slytherin sex god, I am yours. Please fuck me until my bloody brains come out.” Ron almost sneered, but couldn’t bring himself to actually do it.

“That good enough,” Ron panted.

Blaise hadn’t answer and instead slammed into Ron, making the redhead’s eyes roll into his head, and allowing a screech of pure ecstasy to crawl out of the boy’s throat.

If Ron had been about to answer or not he never got the chance as Blaise had kept him occupied for some time to come, thrusting into him just enough to stimulate the boy, but never enough to bring him to climax. When Blaise finally allowed Ron to cum, he didn’t change his thrust at all, only the angle so that his cock brushed against the other boy’s prostate once, than twice, and finally a third time; which had brought Ron to a mind shattering climax. Blaise had been able to thrust one or two more times before he followed Ron over the edge.

After a long moment had gone by and both boys had caught their breaths again, Ron had stared up into Blaise eyes and said:

“Get off me now your heavy.”

(Let it never be said that Weasely men aren’t romantic, just Ron.)

Blaise had complied happily, a look of self-satisfaction, and completion on his face that Ron had thought he understood, and found annoying since he was the one to take it in the ass. When they had started their fling that had not been the way that he had foreseen things. But still even his annoyance with Blaise had not compelled him to move from where he had been sprawled. The bed was comfortable, he was exhausted, and though he wouldn’t admit even to himself, being held felt nice. And so he had fallen asleep with Blaise lying behind him.

And when he had woken up it was to a feeling of fullness and not the raw sore feeling that he had been expecting. That had pleased him until he’d realized why he felt so full. The ensuing brawl had been loud and very one-sided. Ron had scorned the entire day as a mistake and warned Blaise against ever coming near him again. A warning, which had been heeded for all two days before the boy, had come trying to seduce Ron again.

In his defense Ron had resisted for a solid week before he had given in again to the Zanbini boy. And he was careful to not fall asleep after they had sex, though Ron being Ron and Blaise being incredibly skilled, it was eventually inevitable. And now…

Now Ron realized that he felt strange when he woke up in his own bed, in his own dorm, and without Blaise inside of him. And even though he had never once been the top since they had started sleeping together, Rob found himself more than okay with that arrangement. Not that Blaise could ever find that out.

“Oye, Blaise, have a care and get out of me already, I’ll be walking funny if you keep that up.” Ron’s voice had none of the heat that it had held the first time he had woken up with Blaise inside of him and the other boy noticed it. He smiled into Ron’s freckled neck and gave it a small kiss before pushing deeper into the other boy.

“Your sure about that Ronnie? Want me to get out or,” he reached around and started stroking Ron’s hard-on, “do you want me to finish what I started.”

Ron groaned and pressed back into Blaise as answer. Their coupling was fast, hard, and spectacular and when they climaxed they did so together, both smiling though the other couldn’t see it. Blaise stayed inside Ron for a little bit longer than he needed to, not wanting to give up the delicious heat before slipping free of the other boy. He cast a cleaning charm on the two of them and got up, walking over to the table where the food was.

“Get up then,” he said to Ron. “You haven’t eaten since breakfast. You need to keep your strength up.” Blaise plopped a small dumpling into his mouth as he summoned a bathrobe from his closet.

“Yeah, well you may like parading around starkers, but I’d rather not thank you. Throw me my shorts will you.”

“Why? You’re just going to be taking them off again.”

“You’re confident,” Ron drawled. “Anyway, it’s all I’ve got, and it’s better than nothing so have here.”

“Who said it’s all you’ve got?” Blaise asked nonchalantly. “Try looking next to you.”

Ron’s face grew a confused look, but he did as he was told and turned his head where he found a soft looking bathrobe in a dark red with gold trimming. Ron reached out a hand to the bathrobe as if it might burn him and inspected it. The material was nice and was something that he expected to find in Blaise’s closet and not his own. On the left side of the robe, where his heart would be when he wore it, was tightly stitched gold embroidery that read ‘Ronnie.’

“Do you like it?” Blaise asked with a strange voice, worried that Ron’s silence meant something dire.

Ron did like it. And that was the problem. He liked the way it felt in his hand, the way it looked, and the fact that it was a full robe like the one Blaise wore and not the shorter robes that fell only to mid thigh. He even liked the way Blaise had had his nickname for him stitched into it. Were Ron willing to be honest with himself he would have said he loved it. But since he wasn’t, he simply replied with:

“It’s nice. Thank you.”

Blaise relaxed a little and smiled. “Good. Then come over here and eat. I’m not feeding you in bed.”

Ron chuckled and slipped into the robe before getting out of bed and walking over to Blaise. He sat on the other side of the table, which garnered him a slightly annoyed look, which normally he would have ignored. But instead of waiting for Blaise to move his seat next to Ron like he predictably was about to do, Ron got up and moved his chair next to Blaise’s, sitting down again close to the other boy.

Blaise first looked surprised, then pleased, as he picked up a dumpling and held it to Ron’s lips.

“Thank you,” Blaise said in softer voice than he normally used.

Ron took the dumpling from Blaise’s fingers and plopped it into his mouth.

“No Problem,” he said around the mouthful.

“That’s disgusting you know,” Blaise said honestly.

Ron swallowed. “Yeah I know.” And then he surprised both Blaise and himself and leaned his head on the other boy’s shoulder.

Blaise smiled to himself a smile, which grew even wider when he felt Ron snuggle into him. This was the first time that Ron had made the first move in their relationship. And that’s what it was. It was slow going, but Blaise knew that in time Ron would tie himself firmly to Blaise and do so willingly.

But before Blaise could fully appreciate the small victory, the fire in the hearth roared green as two figures flooed into the room.

The Darklord and Fenrir Greyback.

Ron leapt up from his seat alarmed and hauled Blaise with him. “Blaise get out of here,” the redhead yelled. “There probably after me to get to Harry. Run and get help.”

Ron checked for his wand and realized that he had left it next to the bed. He ran, hoping that Blaise had heeded him and was already out of the room. He made it to the bed and grabbed his wand and turned, only to have a spell knock it from his hand.

Ron stared in shock at Blaise and his raised wand. Something new inside him broke. Ron charged the boy that he had just a moment ago felt so safe with, but felt a fist slam into the side of his head and knock him back onto the bed. Ron was able to hold onto consciousness long enough to realize that at some point Fenrir had gotten close enough to land the blow before Ron passed out.

Greyback for his part realized his mistake as soon as he made it and so was prepared when the spell rammed into him with all the force of enraged dragon. The world spun for a moment but Fenrir was able to hang on only to realize that he was laying on his back with Blaise standing over him, his foot on the werewolf’s neck, and a look more sinister than he had ever seen on the face of one of his Lord’s Deatheaters. Masked or not.

Blaise reached back with a hand that was bent in the shape of a claw prepared to tear out the aging wolves throat when the forgotten Lord Voldemort cleared his throat from where he stood by the fire still.

“Blaise, I would appreciate it if you did not kill one of my generals. They’re hard to replace. At least at the moment.”

Blaise held still, but his muscles quivered to avenge himself on behalf of the boy who lay unconscious on his bed. When Blaise finally lowered his hand it was with extreme reluctance and the promise of a death to come should the werewolf ever give reason for Blaise to notice him again.

“Never touch what is mine, Greyback. Never.”

Greyback showed his throat in understanding of what the creature above him said. The old werewolf had always considered himself something of a terror, even among the Darklord’s army, but that had been before he had met the children that would have been the next wave of Deatheaters had the ministry not ruined their war. Next to some of them he felt silly.

It was not a feeling he was accustomed too.

Blaise slightly mollified moved away from the werewolf and to Ron’s side where he stroked the purple bruise that was blossoming on the side of the boy’s face.

“So why are you here?” The question obviously directed at the Darklord since Greyback was as good as dead to Zanbini.

“Is that all the respect I encourage?” Voldemort asked with mild interest.

“It is when you bring those who attack mine,” Blaise replied unapologetically. If it came down to it, Voldemort would win in a fight between the two, but before he did he would more than likely lose a limb. And they both knew it.

“Yes. I suppose this is as polite as you're going to be. Anyway, we are here on business.”

Voldemort related what he had learned from Dumbledore of the ministry’s plans against Harry though not the reasoning behind it. If he was going to be allies with the man he might as well start by not telling the whole world what may be sensitive information. Especially to Blaise who was Draco’s best friend.

“Alright. I’ll ignore the fact that you’re leaving something out in favor of asking what this has to do with me? I’m not a Deatheaters and it certainly doesn’t sound like you need me. So what can I do?”

“We need you to trigger the spell that Dumbledore has set in place since the teachers and the rest of the adults will be occupied.”

Blaise nodded.

“Okay,” he said without argument beyond keeping the rest of the students in the school safe agreeing meant that he could keep Ron safe. “But what is the spell for?”

Voldemort twirled his wand in his hand and turned to the hearth fire. “It’s part of Dumbledore’s plan.”

Blaise sighed. He hated having to pry information out of people. “And what is Dumbledore’s plan?”

Voldemort threw a handful of floo powder into the hearth and watched it turn green. “That, Zanbini, is something you will discover when you activate the spell.”

“And just how will I do that?”

The Darklord moved to the table where he laid a small phoenix talisman. “The password is Abra Cadabra.”

Blaise stared at Lord Voldemort, Darklord, and most feared wizard in the history of the wizarding world.

“Really? That’s the password?”

Voldemort moved back to the fire. “Obviously I did not craft this spell. But it will work. I can a sure you of that. Come Greyback.”

The werewolf got up from where he had been left lying on the floor. The two men stepped into the fire, but before they left Voldemort called out to Blaise:

“A Weasely, Blaise?”

Blaise looked down at his redhead who had started lightly snoring. “Yeah. A Weasely.”

“He will be less than thrilled when he wakes. I suggest you take measures. We cannot afford mistakes when the time comes. You cannot afford distractions. Don’t fail me Blaise.”

“I won’t.”

Voldemort nodded and then he and Greyback where gone in a flash of green fire.

Blaise stroked Ron’s head for a long time trying to figure out what to do with the boy when he woke up. What had taken months for him to build had been destroyed in mere moments, quite possibly beyond all repair. On a whim Blaise took his wand out and placed the tip just over Ron’s heart. He cast a spell and then drew his wand away pulling a cord from the boy’s chest that when plucked thrummed the name Blaise loudly.

Blaise felt a tear slip out of an eye as he stared at the cord. It was a deep red and thin, though not as thin as Blaise had thought it would be, he had been farther along than he had thought. Where he had been expecting a hair like wire instead he found a cord as think as several pieces of twine together. Blaise drew the heartstring to his chest where he anchored it to his own heart.

Now he didn’t have to worry about Ron, at least for the immediate future. As long as Ron felt something for him he would be able to control him to a certain degree. Not all the way, but enough that he could keep the boy safe and quite without having to resort to locking him in his room. Not that the idea didn’t appeal to Blaise on some level.

Still Blaise hoped that his spell wouldn’t make a difficult situation worse and hurt their fledgling relationship any more than it already had. Though if he was honest with himself, and he generally was, unlike Ron, Blaise liked having the other boy connected to him. And in some ways it felt right. It wasn’t like Blaise was taking something from Ron that wasn’t already his.

Some how Blaise didn’t think Ron would see things that way. And for some reason neither could he.