Change Comes From Words

All previous disclaimers apply.

Warning: LEMON. (With a little bit of fluff thrown in.) Don’t like, please don’t read.

“It was a good day, wasn’t it?” Ron Weasley sighed as he collapsed in the deep, comfortable chair that had been the first purchase he and his lover, Harry Potter, had made for their first very own flat in London nearly a year prior. He felt almost bone weary and more tense than he had in a very long time, but it was in a good way. It was in that way where the day has been busy and all you’ve been doing is rushing around and stressing out about so many things that have to be done to make it perfect, but it’s all worth it to see that one glorious moment where everything has worked out just as it’s supposed to. And the day, while the most stressful in a long while, had been full of those just perfect moments, more than he had been expecting, actually. So, he smiled as he leaned over to remove the fancy shoes that hurt his feet so badly and felt nothing but contentment as he sat back up and leaned into the comfortable, worn padding of the old, ugly chair.

“The best,” Harry responded quietly, approaching the chair from behind and reaching over the low back to massage the tension out of his lover’s shoulders. Ron closed his eyes and groaned in pleasure as his lover’s hands worked their magic and all the stress of the day began to work itself out of his body.

“Hermoine looked beautiful,” he moaned, dropping his head forward as Harry’s hands moved their way up his neck to the back of his head.

“She looked gorgeous,” Harry agreed, leaving off of his massage and coming to the side of the chair so that he could lean over slightly and capture Ron’s lips with his own. No matter how long they were together, no matter how many mornings he woke with Ron in his arms, he could never quite get over the fact that Ron was actually awake, that Ron was with him, that Ron loved him. He moved a bit more so that he was sitting on the chair’s large arm and cupped Ron’s face in his hands so that he could kiss him more thoroughly. He smiled against his lover’s lips when he felt Ron’s arms encircle his waist and pull him even closer so that he was almost in his lap. Slowly, no stress, no pushing, Harry traced the outline of Ron’s lips with his tongue and chuckled low and deep in his throat when Ron’s lips opened easily, smoothly, with no more coaxing needed. Ever so slowly, their tongues melded, traced each other, held each other, gently, coaxingly, promising more to come. Much more.

Ron moaned from deep in his throat and pulled Harry just a little bit more so that his smaller, darker lover was actually sitting in his lap. He couldn’t believe how remarkably his life had changed since he’d woken to call Harry, the love of his life, back to his side. After two months recovery in Saint Mungo’s, gathering his strength and relearning how to use muscles that had long been in disuse, he’d finally been given over to the care of his family and his lover. They’d stayed at The Burrow for a while, just until Charlie and Draco had finally gotten married, their original plans ruined by the Final Battle, as it had come to be called. For a while it had been difficult on everyone who was part of the order, who had participated in the war. They were now global heroes, they were dogged everywhere they went. It was the worst for Ron, who hadn’t participated in the last part of the war. He was labeled as the one Harry Potter had won the war for. It was Harry Potter’s love for the sleeping man that had won the war. It made Ron glad to know that Harry loved him so, but it was also hard to be labeled as the one who had to be rescued. The one the war was won for, not by.

Soon enough, though, as was bound to happen, their accomplishments were overshadowed by the rebuilding process and gossip as the world got back to normal, or as normal as it had ever been. They still saw a few photographers hiding in the bushes every once in a great while, but nothing compared to what it had been. So, they were able to concentrate once more on their own lives, their relationship, their love. It had taken them a while to readjust to each other, to get to know each other as the people they were after a war. But, as was bound to happen with people who loved each other as much as they did, they learned to deal with the differences in their personalities, the problems that arose from them. They had to learn to love each other again not as the boys they had once been, but as the men they had become. Not, that it hadn’t been hard and that there hadn’t been fights. They fought pretty noisily and violently sometimes, but it usually ended with sex just as noisy and violent. Then, in the aftermath, they spoke quietly in each other’s arms and resolved whatever had made them fight in the first place.

The world itself had definitely become a more interesting place since the war had ended. At the very end of the war, all muggles knew that the wizarding world existed. For a time the World Magical Council had decided that there were just too many muggles to try to perform memory charms on all of them. So, they had decided together that they were going to attempt something that hadn’t been attempted in a thousand years. They were going to try to get along with muggles knowing they were there. Harry, Ron, Hermoine, Viktor, and Draco had been asked to join the Council just after the war and they had been the biggest advocates for allowing the two worlds to become one. However, the Council had also feared what might happen if muggles began to depend too much on their magical counterparts and resentment began to form, creating a social division that they had always feared. So, their backup plan was that no matter how many people it took, if a social division began to form all wizards and witches would spend as much time as it took to modify the memories of all the muggles on the planet.

Fortunately, the world had finally seemed to get the hint after the most bloody war for both warriors and civilians, that petty hate and jealousy led nowhere but more pain. The world was practically utopian at the moment, with all creeds, races, religions, magical abilities, and even different species getting along. Everyone with half a brain knew that it wouldn’t last. That it couldn’t last. It was only human nature to fight, even to almost the brink of destroying themselves. But for the moment, the peace was the most perfect part of life for all. There was always the hope that when people finally started fighting again it would only be small groups and the peaceful ways of the rest of the planet would be enough to put down the fights without much violence at all. It was just a hope and not a very likely one at that, but it kept most who had fought and lost so much in war going.

“You went far away,” Harry whispered quietly, ending the kiss and bringing Ron out of his thoughts gently, “Where did you go?”

“Nowhere,” Ron whispered back, smiling and placing a gentle kiss to Harry’s neck, “Nowhere more important than here.”

“Then why did you go?” Harry teased quietly, reaching low playfully and stroking Ron lightly through the fabric of his tuxedo pants. Ron hissed and arched slightly.

“I . . . I didn’t mean . . . I . . . Harry, stop . . . You distract me . . .”

“Oh, really?” Harry whispered, then drew his tongue along the shell of Ron’s ear as he skillfully undid Ron’s belt with one hand, “What makes you think that’s not exactly what I was trying to do?”

“You’re drunk,” Ron half-laughed, half-moaned when Harry reached into his pants and stroked him lightly through his boxers, teasing touches, feather light.

“Only a little,” Harry told him with a smile, “It was a wedding. And ‘Moine looked so beautiful. And Viktor was so handsome. And Lilith was so cute in that little dress Molly made for her. And everybody kept toasting what a beautiful family they were. It would have been rude not to toast them.”

“You’re very silly when you’re just a little bit drunk, my love,” Ron murmured, pressing his lips to Harry’s neck and drawing a pleasant blush to the surface of his skin by sucking lightly. Two could play at the teasing game. Ron continued to kiss at Harry’s neck, lick at the same spot, as he slipped his hand under Harry’s tuxedo shirt, under his undershirt, so that his hand met with the warm skin of Harry’s body, traveled on the warm, familiar planes of Harry’s abdomen, then up to his chest, resting over a nipple, rubbing lightly, teasing.

Harry gasped and arched his back, then looked at Ron with a half accusatory pout, half knowing smile, “You took control.”

“Only a little,” Ron whispered, then stopped teasing, took his hand out from under Harry’s shirt and wrapped it once more around his waist. Harry took the signal from his lover well and took his hand from Ron’s pants to set it to his arm, the other he kept resting on Ron’s hip, “Do you have any idea how much I love you?” Ron felt almost breathless looking into Harry’s eyes. The eyes that had captivated him before he even understood why. The eyes that had kept him sane when he was trapped in his mind for so long.

“About as much as I love you?” Harry questioned quietly, his voice taking on the same breathless quality as Ron’s.

“That better be more than anything,” Ron smiled and set his forehead to Harry’s.

“Absolutely,” Harry smiled, looking into Ron’s eyes. Slowly, he bit his lip, and got the look in his eyes that Ron knew meant he wanted to ask something, but was afraid that Ron would be offended or get angry.

“What is it?” Ron rubbed a hand up and down his back gently.

“Ron, I never quite understood. Voldemort told me that there was nothing I could do to break the spell. And then, after he died, you were still sleeping when I woke up. What happened? How did you find your way back to me?”

Ron closed his eyes and began to speak, his voice quiet and low, “For once in all of his miserable existence, Harry, Voldemort told the truth. There was nothing you could do to break the spell on me. It was something I had to do. Everyday you would come to me, no matter what, without fail. Every single day I heard you speaking to me. I could hear the pain in your voice, the loneliness, and then, after my father gave you the letter, the love. I don’t think Voldemort intended his spell to do it, but I also don’t think that it could have gone any better if he’d intended it to happen. I went nearly crazy knowing that the only thing separating us was the fact that I couldn’t wake up due to the damned spell. I almost had it so many times, but there was always just a little bit missing. Just the smallest bit of energy, of life, preventing me from opening my eyes. Then, when you were sleeping, something deeper connected us. And there we were, in our dream house, Harry, just you and me. And we got to talk, just how I’d always wanted us to talk.”

“I remember,” Harry interrupted quietly, “For so long, I thought it was just a dream. But, it wasn’t, was it?”

“No, Harry. It wasn’t just a dream. It was as real as anything can be. And in that moment, finally getting to hold you, I knew what I needed for you to do. And I knew you loved me. I knew you’d do it and you did.”

“Did what?”

“You kissed me. You gave me your love. And with your love you gave me that little bit of life I needed to open my eyes. To look at you. To finally be able to tell you in real life how much I loved you.”

“I love you, Ron.”

“I love you, Harry. Take me to bed. Make love to me.”

“As you wish, my love.”

They stood quietly and, without a word, walked hand in had to the bedroom. With a flick of his wrist the candles that Harry had placed in the room earlier in the day all lit and filled the room with flickering, beautiful light. He smiled when Ron looked around the room in wonder and looked back at him. Harry just shrugged. He’d known that morning that after Hermoine’s wedding, they would both be feeling a little bit sentimental and a night of romance would be just what they needed, especially considering that their own wedding was just a couple of months away.

They undressed each other in the flickering light, taking off one article of clothing at a time, slowly undoing buttons, kissing bare skin as it was revealed. Harry moved his hands under Ron’s white tank top and pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder before pulling it over his head. Ron placed small butterfly kisses down Harry’s jaw and collar bone as he undid Harry’s belt and slid his pants down over his hips. When they were both finally completely nude, Harry placed one hand to Ron’s hip, cupped the back of his neck with the other, and leaned in to kiss his tall lover. Ron wrapped one arm around Harry’s shoulder, cupped his face with the other, and met Harry’s lips with his own.

The kiss started gently, a tender meeting of lips and tongues that expressed their love for each other, but soon enough Harry demanded more by pressing closer to Ron, making their hips meet and their erections rub. Ron moaned into the kiss and soon it became a battle for dominance between the two of them. Harry’s hand moved into Ron’s long ginger hair and gripped tight. Ron’s hand on his shoulder began to tighten almost hard enough to bruise. Soon enough, though Ron backed down from the kiss. Sometimes he liked to win, sometimes he wanted to be the dominant in the bedroom, but tonight he wanted Harry to make love to him. So, he let Harry win.

“I love you,” Ron whispered, and began to lower himself to his knees, pressing light, chaste kisses to Harry’s nose, his neck, his chest, his belly button, as he went. He smiled when he felt Harry’s breath hitch as he just knelt for a moment, admiring Harry’s cock, proud and fully erect, before him. He leaned closer, so that his lips almost met Harry’s erection and breathed out in a slow, concentrated stream.

“Ron,” Harry’s voice was breathless and almost desperate, “Ron, please don’t tease me.”

Ron smiled, took hold of Harry’s hips, and kissed his erection. Harry’s hips jerked in his hands, but his grip was strong and kept him where he was. Ron loved how responsive Harry was. He loved how hard he could make his black-haired lover. He loved how hard Harry could make him. Gently, slowly, he took the head of Harry’s cock in his mouth, swirled his tongue around it, loving the taste. He felt Harry’s hands fist in his hair and smiled, moaning around Harry’s cock, knowing his strong lover had a weakness for the vibrations caused by vocalizing during oral sex. He heard Harry’s gasp and could just imagine his lover, head thrown back, eyes closed, glasses just about to fall off the end of his nose. He closed his eyes and moved, taking as much of Harry in his mouth as he could, alternating between sucking and swirling his tongue. He could feel Harry getting harder in his mouth, knew he was about to come, and relished in the fact until Harry pushed him away gently.

“Don’t want to come yet, love,” Harry whispered, “Want . . .”

“I know . . .” Ron stood again and pulled Harry close. They fit so perfectly. They always did. He took Harry’s glasses from the end of his nose, folded them carefully, and set them on the bedside table, “Make love to me.”

“Yes,” Harry nodded, smiled, led Ron to the side of the bed. He set a hand to Ron’s bare hip, slid it down, cupped his ass tenderly, “Lay down. On your back. I want to look into your eyes tonight.”

Ron nodded and did as he was told, moving to their large bed. It was one of the few things they had really indulged in when they were first starting out. It was large, ornate, completely impractical, but they both loved it. Ron positioned himself right in the middle, letting the goose down pillows cradle his head and neck, and spread his legs, ready when Harry knelt between them, the bottle of lube in his hand. He closed his eyes and arched off the bed when Harry’s warm hand encircled his cock. He bit his lip hard and held back a moan as Harry began to stroke him, long, slow strokes as a lube covered finger probed at his entrance. He couldn’t hold back the moan when Harry’s finger entered him, probed a bit, then was joined by a second finger.

“Okay?” Harry questioned briefly. Ron just nodded. He was so much more than okay. He felt amazing as Harry scissored the fingers inside of him for a moment and then added a third, stretching and preparing him so that he wouldn’t be hurt when Harry’s large cock entered him. He swallowed a yell and couldn’t help but arch off the bed when Harry’s fingers struck his prostate and sent a wave of pleasure coursing through him and light sparking behind his eyes.

“Ready?” The brief word, questioning, was full of anticipation, almost pain.

“Please . . .” Ron panted, running a hand through Harry’s thick, black hair, “Harry . . . please. Need you.”

Harry crawled up Ron’s body, kissed him thoroughly, and linked the fingers of their left hands. With his right, he led himself to Ron’s entrance, pushed his head against the puckered entrance, and groaned when he slid in with ease. Perfect. It was always so perfect when he was inside Ron. It was warm and tight. It took him a moment to get himself under control. When he was topping, he always needed to make sure Ron came first. He was sure Ron wouldn’t mind if he came first, but he loved to see the look in Ron’s eyes when he tumbled over the edge. He stayed frozen, poised over Ron, wanting to move so badly, but needing to make sure that Ron was ready for him to move. He knew from experience, no matter how many times they made love, it always took some adjusting when they first started.

“Harry,” Ron gasped under him, his right hand massaging Harry’s ass, “Harry . . . move . . . please.”

“Yes, my love.” His tone was thankful.

Their entwined fingers gripped each other like a lifeline as Harry began to move, pulling out of Ron’s willing, supple body almost to the tip and then plunging back in, stroking Ron inside just as his hand had stroked his cock. Long, slow, deep. Harry leaned down pressed his lips to Ron’s, an almost chaste kiss that was meant to display affection, not passion. They had amazing sex sometimes, rough and hard, leaving pleasant bruises and marks. But, tonight, they were going to make love because Harry wanted to show Ron just how much he loved him. He wanted to show Ron that he echoed what had been said in the letter so long ago. Without Ron, he would die. It was as simple as that.

“Ron . . . Ron . . .” he panted, cupping Ron’s face in his hand as his hips moved on their own, keeping their slow, deep rhythm, “Open your eyes. Look at me.”

Ron did as Harry asked, blue meeting green, holding, telling each other everything they wanted to say. Harry knew he wasn’t going to last long the way Ron’s body was holding him, squeezing him. So perfect. So, he reached stroked Ron’s face, smiled, and drew his hand down Ron’s long body to hold his erection again, stroking in time to his thrusts.

Ron cupped the back of Harry’s neck and smiled gently, unable to say anything. His body was on fire. Harry kept hitting the right spot and now his hand. Ron leaned up and pressed a kiss to the hollow of Harry’s throat. He knew Harry wanted to make sure he came first and he loved him for it. And he loved the way the fingers of their left hands were still linked. He laid back again and looked back to Harry’s eyes. He wasn’t going to last, he knew it when Harry began to whisper under his breath in Parsletongue. He was sure Harry didn’t realize he was doing it just as he was sure Harry didn’t know how hot he thought it was. The pressure was building and he couldn’t help but let out a quiet grunt with every stroke of Harry’s cock and hand. So good. The heat pooled in the pit of his stomach and a light flashed behind his eyes again. With a strangled cry, he came, a slow burning orgasm that seemed never to end.

Harry could see it in Ron’s eyes when he was ready to come, saw the light of pleasure, and felt his own orgasm begin. He felt Ron’s hot seed in his hand, coating both their stomachs and chests, felt Ron’s muscles tighten on him harder than ever, and lost it completely. With a low, guttural sound, he spilled his seed into Ron’s body, a white light of pure pleasure covering his vision for a moment. Breathing hard, trembling as he came down from the intense orgasm, he leaned down and kissed Ron again, their tongues meeting and swirling lazily. He tried to pull away, only to feel Ron holding his hip tight against his warm body.

“Just stay here for a bit,” Ron murmured, “It feels so good, just like this.”

“For as long as you want, Ron.”

“I love you, Harry.”

“God, I love you, Ron. Thank you.”

“For what?” Ron looked a little confused, even as he stroked the hard muscles of Harry’s back to help him come down slowly from their mutual pleasure.

“For choosing me.” The thanks in Harry’s eyes was enough to melt Ron’s heart and make him fall in love with Harry all over again.

“Thank you.” Ron touched his face gently, just the tips of his fingers to Harry’s lips.

“For what?” Harry moved ginger hair away from Ron’s eyes, tenderly.

“For waking me up. This is better than any dream.”