Rita\'s Skeeter\'s Little Secret

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Hi, fans! (hey, I\'m joking)

I do not own Harry Potter, and I intend to make no profit off of this story, or indeed, any of my others. So please don\'t sue me.

Dedicated to Rachel, because every time I replay the scene where Ron squeaks, I hear you laughing in my head.

Thanks to Atob, Jon and Sneakums, for the help they gave me.

Also, a big thankyou to the ever-lovely (*grin*) Serenitas, for being a stunningly good beta and always having the enthusiasm to listen to my hare-brained plots.

I hope you enjoy it, please PLEASE leave me a review, I do love them immensely.

Nix.

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Rita Skeeter’s Little Secret

It was a fresh, sunny morning in May, and the sky really did look as though a child in Muggle Primary School had stuck cotton wool to a painted bright blue background. The sun was out, and the grounds of Hogwarts were already being slowly toasted in warm light.

Ron Weasley soared, his orange hair very vivid against the blue, sixty feet above the Quidditch stadium, feeling like he was on top of the world. One reason for this was his new Nimbus 2001, the best broom any of the Weasleys had ever had, even his legendary older brother Charlie, which turned at his lightest touch and which he didn’t really notice that he was consciously flying.

The second reason for Ron’s good mood was less obvious, though far more important to him. In a life where he had had five older brothers, high achievements were somewhat hard to, well, achieve. Everyone else had done it before. Although he and Hermione had helped Harry prevent Quirrel from reaching the Philosopher’s stone in their first year, and rescued Ginny from the Chamber of Secrets in their second, and although he had helped win the House Cup for Gryffindor many a time, they had never really felt like they were his triumphs, they were shared.

This was all his. His alone.

From the moment Harry had dragged him in front of the Mirror of Erised, he had wanted this. And now, after practicing hard in all weathers, after working his guts out for the past two summers, in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts, Ron Weasley had finally achieved his dream.

Quidditch Captain.

He grinned widely to himself and began an easy series of loops, turns and dives, relishing the speed of his broom. As he hung upside down, his hair ruffled by the slight May breeze, his eyes caught on a bright flash of gold over in the stands, and when he flew over to investigate, he couldn’t stop his face contorting into a heavy frown.

“I know you’re definitely not allowed on Hogwarts grounds,” he said sternly, glaring at the golden-haired figure. “What are you doing here, Rita?”
“Now, really, Ron,” Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet Reporter replied, smiling widely, “I just wanted to ask you some questions….”
“I’m not interested,” Ron said, shouldering his broom and starting to walk down to the changing rooms. Rita grabbed his arm, shaking the heavy brassy blonde ringlets out of her face.
“Look,” she said, “You know all about me being an Animagus… I can’t abuse it anymore and if I write anything untrue about you, I’m sure your lovely friend Hermione will not hesitate to reveal exactly what I am to eliuelius Fudge. I don’t even use a Quick-Quotes Quill anymore. Though I did like sucking on it,” she added suggestively, her voice surprisingly low and husky.
“I… You have a point,” Ron agreed, swallowing nervously, “I still don’t trust you though. Why do you want to interview me?” Rita shrugged.
“Well, the last time a Weasley was Quidditch Captain, he could have played for England, but went off chasing Dragons. I’m just wondering whether you have any intentions of pursuing a Quidditch career outside of Hogwarts. I hear your younger sister, what’s her name now..?”
“Ginny.” Ron supplied suspiciously.
“Ginny is on the Gryffindor team as well? She plays Chaser, doesn’t she?” Ron noddeAnd And the ever lovely Harry still plays Seeker, of course. Such a shame he missed out on Head Boy, but I suppose Draco has all that influence of his father behind him.”
“Mmm…” agreed Ron, non-committedly.
“But I digress,” continued Rita, her eyes hooded and shimmering blue with eye makeup “I… I just feel I should make it up to you three. I fucked you over pretty bad, especially Harry…and Hagrid. My year out really gave me a chance to think it over, and I’m guessing I hurt your family pretty bad, so I’m asking you for the chance to redeem myself.”
“Rita Skeeter, ruthless Daily Prophet Reporter, bitch extraordinaire and apparent compulsive liar without a shred of a conscience is saying she’s sorry?” Ron asked incredulously. Rita lowered her eyes as he insulted her.
“Yes, I am,” she sighed. “I know it sounds weird, but as I said, I’ve really thought about it. And..” she trailed off and looked at him beseechingly with large blue eyes behind those jewelled glasses.
“And?” Ron prompted.
“And I….really want to fuck you, Ronald Weasley.”

Ron’s shout of combined mirth and horror sent birds flying out of the Forbidden Forest, but before he knew it, Rita had lunged forward and pinned him to the ground with surprising strength, his hands above his head.
“Hey, get off! What are you doing?!” he bellowed, but stopped as her soft lips brushed tantalisingly across his, leaving a faint smear of red lipstick.
“Oh, Ron!” she breathed as she started kissing down the side of his neck, her thick fingers with long red nails undoing his Quidditch robes efficiently. “Ron, I’ve always wanted you… I’ve always thought about your hard cock inside me, Ron… God, you’re gorgeous, mmmm…Big Boy, you want to show me you you’ve got?”
Ron was torn between laughing out loud at her words, protesting or moaning loudly because her lips had just found that sensitive spot on his collarbone that always sent him crazy. He settled for lat latter and felt her suck on it gently, nipping it with her teeth. He moaned again, as he felt lust stir deep within him, and Rita slid a large hand down his muscular stomach and cupped his growing erection gently, rubbing it through the faintly silky fabric of his school trousers.

Ron moaned again, as Rita pushed open the front of his robes and began to kiss her way down his chest, panting slightly with lust. She took one of Ron’s nipples into her mouth, blood red lipstick smearing on his chest, and circled it quickly with her tongue, causing Ron to buck up against her hand, still stroking his erection through his trousers.
“Ooh, come on, Big Boy, let’s see what you’ve got! Rita wants to see this fabulous cock!” she said, as she undid his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped him all one-handed. “Ooh, wow, what a lovely big cock!” she continued, fishing him out of his Gryffindor lion emblazoned boxer shorts and beginning to stroke him gently. “I’ve got to taste it, Ron? Oooh, baby, I’ve got to suck on it, please, Ron, let me suck you off.”
“Uhh… yeah, whatever, Rita… oh, god..” Ron said, in between moans as she stroked him faster.
“Lovely,” she said, and promptly lowered those red lips to his groin, sliding them easily down his thick shaft. Ron’s moans got louder and his breathing more ragged as she bobbed her head up and down, licking around the head and up the underside before she swallowed him up to the hilt again, removing her hand from his, leaving him unpinned and using it to cup his balls.

Ron lowered his hands to her hair, and tangled his fingers in the curiously rigid blonde curls, moaning as Rita bobbed faster and faster. She wormed one of her hands underneath him, covered with her own saliva, and eased it gently inside him. Ron’s eyes fluttered for a second and then, as her finger moved inside him and touched his g-spot, he arched off the Quidditch benches and came hard, crying out noisily, Rita lapping away at him, swallowing quickly.

When Ron came back to himself, it was to find Rita’s finger still inside him, which was quickly joined by another. They started to scissor gently inside him, and he was just about to ask what was going on when he managed to focus on what was in his hand. Blonde curls.

As he looked up, his breath hitched in his throat, and his face paled to the colour of old parchment and he became aware that something was pressing against his leg.

“YOU’RE A MAN!?” he squd ind in sheer horror.
“Well, of course,” Rita took the wig from his hand, putting it back on over the short dark hair that had been revealed. “Big Boy, honey, can’t you tell the difference?”

Without even bothering to pick up his robes or his broom, Ron scrambled to his feet, swaying in disgust and tore off at top speed, still naked, his arse bearing the distinct patterning of the Quidditch stand floor, a wordless keening coming from his throat. Rita laughed quietly to herself, dusted her magenta robes and made a swift exit in the direction of the forest.


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“Harry, have you got any idea what’s wrong with Ron?”
“I swear, I don’t know what’s up, Hermione. He just keeps rocking on his four-poster, muttering to himself…”
“Always muttering what?”
\"I guess he\'s worried about the big Quidditch game coming up. He keeps mentioning balls.\"

- Fin -