Things Meant to be Said

Beta work by Evil Auntie Snape.

Takes place during GOF, on the morning of the First Task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Follows immediately after BY DEFINITION. Implied Ron/Charlie.

Written as a response to dream_wia_dream‘s Lumos Weekend prompt: 'things we meant to say'. Yeah, I altered it a bit...

This series continues with STORMFRONT...


~~~~THINGS MEANT TO BE SAID~~~~


Tuesday, 24 November, 1994


Ron couldn't believe he'd slept so soundly. He didn't recall the last time he'd done that; weeks, probably. But then again, it was always good to see Charlie, and their conversation had done wonders. His older brother always knew exactly what to say; he'd missed Charlie's counsel terribly since his move to Romania. And then there was the added, unexpected bonus of sleeping with Charlie. It seemed to come out of nowhere, a wild bludger, as they say, but it felt perfect nonetheless. He just knew that Charlie loved him, and he certainly adored his older brother. But what in Merlin's Balls did it all mean? Wasn't it enough that he was a queer bent bastard, let alone apparently harbouring intense feelings for one of his brothers?

And what of Harry? And Viktor? And Hermione?

"Bloody hell," he murmured to himself as he strode across the entry hall. Despite the early hour, the castle corridors were dotted with more than a few early risers, all no doubt excited about the First Task of the Tournament. He rounded a corner at full speed, nearly slamming into Filch. Fortunately, the caretaker and his scraggly cat were tormenting a small group of Durmstrangs. Filch gestured wildly while Mrs. Norris hissed and spat menacingly at the hapless students. Ron quickly did an about face and headed in the opposite direction, expertly working his way through the maze of interconnected corridors. His heart pounded in his chest, feeling at once relieved yet apprehensive at the prospect of confronting Harry.

He'd totally bollixed things up in the past weeks, and there was no guarantee that Harry would even speak to him, let alone hear what he had to say. Nothing for it but to try...

Ron flew up the sliding stairs, barely maintaining his balance as the impossibly heavy stonework re-aligned itself to the landing. He skidded across the flagstones, nearly knocking a few portraits from the wall as he stumbled by, the pictures' inhabitants snorting and grumbling irritably. A moment later, he stood before the Fat Lady.

"Glemmining!" he gasped loudly.

The Fat Lady ignored him, snorting softly as she snuggled herself even more deeply into a rather comfy looking bed of straw.

"Oy!" Ron hissed, tapping the canvas with a balled fist. "Wake up and let me in!"

The guardian of Gryffindor paused a moment before cracking one eye open. "Foul spawn of evil," she sighed with obvious annoyance, draping her arm over her forehead. "Far too early to be out and about, yes?"

Ron planted his hands on his hips. "Ain't any of your business what time it is. Just do your thing," he growled. "Glemmining!"

The Fat Lady blew out a breath, rolling her eyes as she hoisted herself up, muttering and smoothing out her robes. "Needn't be so rude," she huffed. Pausing a moment, she pointed a chubby finger in Ron's direction. "I know all about you," she replied, nodding slightly. "Dark water from a foul well, and all that."

The first hints of sunrise were tinting the narrow windows of the hall. Ron glanced at them briefly before turning to glare at the Guardian once more.

"How many times do I have to say it, you bloody daft bint?" He pounded on the canvas again, his anger nakedly apparent. "Open up!"

The Fat Lady wrinkled up her nose and waved dismissively. "Piffle! Get on in, then!" She turned away, flouncing back down upon her makeshift beddings.

"Wench," Ron murmured, swinging the frame aside and plunging through the portrait hole. He emerged into the common room, at once pleased to see that it was devoid of any other Gryffindors. At least it appeared to be. His untied boot barely contacted the bottommost step as a clearly tired but deep Irish brogue washed over him.

"Wassup, matey?"

Ron briefly considered ignoring Seamus, but for some reason, he stopped his ascent and turned about slowly.

"What?" he shot back rather tersely, at once sorry he did so.

Seamus' decidedly tousled sandy-haired head poked up and over the back of the most squishy sofa. He blinked languidly, a crooked smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

"Late night," Seamus drawled, planting his chin on his folded arms. "Up to no good, I expect."

Ron snorted. "Kettle, meet pot."

Seamus chuckled throatily. "Aye, lad. Thas' the ticket."

Ron grinned. "You're wasted."

Seamus rolled his eyes, pulling himself up and onto the back of the sofa. "Yeah. Fancy that," he replied, favouring Ron with a most lascivious smile as he straddled the couch. "Bit of a celebration last night. Your brothers supplied the firewhiskey, and they've been helping me work on me own creation. Not quite there with it, but it does the trick, all right! Good mates, Fred and George. We talk a lot. About you, mostly." He leaned forward slightly, his hands on his knees. "Missed ya las' night, matey. No one knew where ya were. Got sorta lonely."

Ron stared for a moment, instantly struck at the intense colour of Seamus' hazel eyes. "Ummm," he stammered, averting his gaze. "Erm, well, I just needed some time by myself." He felt his stomach do a series of flip-flops. The very idea of the twin terrors and Seamus having a chat up about him was more than a bit distressing.

What had Fred and George said? Sure, Charlie knew how he felt about blokes in general and Harry in particular, but he'd never broached the subject with the twins. Of course, nothing got by them, and they had been working on some sort of new eavesdropping device. Expandable Ears or some such thing. And now it appeared that Seamus was in the know. He'd always found the gregarious Irish Gryffindor secretly attractive, but...bollocks!

Seamus slowly rolled over the back of the sofa, fluidly landing on his bare feet and striding toward Ron. He was wearing his now trademark black t-shirt and Muggle jeans. The kind of Muggle jeans that barely hung off of his hips...the kind that no doubt barely clung to the topmost arc of Seamus' most delicious arse...

Ron cleared his throat nervously. "Oh, well, I wouldn't put too much stock in what those brothers of mine say. They just like the sound of their own voices, that's a sure and certain fact." He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He watched as Seamus moved closer, transfixed at the way his jeans seemed so loose that they were about to fall off, yet they clung to all the right places. And when had Seamus gotten so, well, muscley?

This was not good. No, not good at all...

"Anyway," Ron stammered, "Sorry I missed the party. Sounds like a time. But I managed to get things sorted. A bit, at least."

Seamus grinned widely. "Yeah, I figured that. Been having a rough time of it lately, thas' fer sure. But ya can always count on yer friends, right? So no need to run off when you've got ol' Finnigan about to chat up, yeah? Next time, ya come right to me, hear?" He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops.

Ron glanced about the common room, at once desperate for someone, anyone, to come strolling by. And where was Hermione? She always popped up when you didn't want her to, and then when you did...bloody hell!

"Okay, thanks for that, mate," he replied, taking a small step toward the stairs. "I...um...I need to get ready for breakfast," he blurted out, hooking a thumb toward the dorms.

"Wait up a minute, Ron."

"Yeah?"

Seamus took a deep breath, one of his hands absently scratching the back of his head. "Ron," he began, pausing to lick his lips. "We've known each other for a time now. I'd like to think we're mates..."

"Oh, right, sure," Ron answered quickly. "Mates."

"Well, thas' fine and good, but lately I've been thinkin' that I'd like to get to know ya better. Spend more time with ya." He grinned sheepishly. "Get closer."

"Uh," Ron offered valiantly.

"Listen mate, there's something I've been meaning to say," Seamus murmured, jamming his hands into his front pockets and pushing his jeans down even further. "Something important." He grinned crookedly, briefly averting his gaze. Ron was positive he noticed a slight blush tinting his housemate's perpetually ruddy cheeks. Seamus took a few steps closer; they were now barely a foot apart. "It's about you. An' me." Seamus tentatively reached out, placing a hand on Ron's shoulder, squeezing gently.

Ron's eyes went wide, eliciting a smile from Seamus. Glancing down, Ron couldn't help but notice the rather sizable bulge forming behind Seamus' zipper. And the swath of entrancing, pale skin that Seamus had exposed between the hem of his t-shirt and the waistband of his jeans nearly made Ron swoon. Not to mention the lovely trail of sandy brown hairs disappearing behind the denim.

Ron felt his universe tilt horribly. This had to be a dream. Had to be.

First, sleeping with his brother, and now this. And to make matters worse, there was no denying the swelling in his own jeans. Sweet Merlin, what was going on? Was he turning into some sort of pervy sex fiend? Was this going to be the way of it from now on? A prisoner to his raging hormones, wanting to snog and shag every nice-looking bloke he ran across? But that was precisely it, wasn't it?

He did want to snog and shag. Right now, he wanted to snog Seamus right into Christmas. He wanted to rip those jeans off and take Seamus' lovely, thick cock into his mouth and milk it dry. He wanted to run his hands over Seamus' delectably gorgeous arse and thighs, to map the delicious cartography of Seamus' leanly muscled chest with his tongue. And a whole lot more than that.

Most times it was all he could do to keep from popping a raging hard-on in the showers. And it was almost a crime the way Seamus lathered himself up in there. The image of a naked, soap-slicked Seamus caused an obscene relocation of blood from his brain to his groin. And there was Seamus, right in front of him, all blushing and smiling and apparently as aroused as he was.

But he couldn't go through with it, could he? He wanted Harry that way. He needed Harry; that was the whole point of his conversation with Charlie the night before.

"Oy, you okay there, mate?"

Ron jolted out of his reverie to Seamus gently stroking his chin. He unconsciously turned his head slightly into the shorter Gryffindor's hand.

Seamus smiled. "Now there's a good lad," he purred, reaching up and carding his fingers through Ron's collar length ginger locks. "Lemme make you feel good," he whispered, leaning up and tilting his head to one side. "Hate to see you so unhappy..." His words were cut off as he pressed his lips to Ron's.

Ron didn't hesitate for a nanosecond; he kissed Seamus back almost savagely, pulling the stocky Gryffindor into a crushing embrace. He rammed both hands down the back of Seamus' jeans, his tingling fingers eagerly devouring the smooth, silkily-furred globes of Seamus' arse. His own tongue slid over and around Seamus', their teeth clacking together as their probing lips suckled and smacked away. He pressed his throbbing arousal into Seamus' stomach, who responded by thrusting his own hard-on into Ron's thigh.

Seamus moaned deeply, swirling his tongue around Ron's mouth, his thick, calloused fingers cradling and massaging the back of Ron's neck. He pulled back slightly, nipping and pulling on Ron's bottom lip with his teeth. One of his hands drifted down to unzip Ron's hoodie, pausing only a moment before sliding under Ron's Cannons tank top.

Seamus' groping fingers quickly snaked up Ron's smooth torso to find and mercilessly tease a mounded nipple. Seamus pinched and pulled with abandon, causing Ron to gasp and moan with each painfully pleasurable tweak.

"Shite, Seamus!" Ron groaned breathlessly.

"Want me to stop?" Seamus replied briefly before turning his head to nuzzle Ron's neck.

"No, gods no," Ron whimpered as Seamus left a trail of nibbling kisses down the side of his neck.

"So fucking good," Seamus mumbled between kisses. "So fucking gorgeous." He licked and laved the skin at the base of Ron's neck before taking some of the reddened flesh between his teeth. He suckled on Ron, nibbling and biting with increasing intensity.

"Fuck!" Ron gasped as Seamus' hands slid downward to stroke the outline of his aching erection. He kneaded Seamus' arse, pulling the shorter Gryffindor tightly against his own body.

Seamus expertly popped the top button of Ron's jeans, easily sliding the zip down and pushing his hands inside. "Oh, yeah, that's it," he whispered as his fingers curled about Ron's cock, stroking it from base to tip, pausing slightly to tease the swollen head through the fabric of Ron's undershorts.

Seamus' ministrations caused Ron to gasp and buck his hips wildly, and he stumbled backward against the entryway to the stairwell. "God, Seamus! Sweet fuckin' Merlin!"

Seamus finally completed his attack upon Ron's neck, releasing his frenzied kiss with a loud sucking sound. "Gonna leave a mark," he grinned crookedly, his swollen lips red and full. "Wanted to do that for a long time," he breathed, staring up at Ron, his eyes full of desire.

Ron returned Seamus' gaze, bringing one of his hands up to caress Seamus' rather stubbly cheek. "Wow," was all he got out before a muffled burst of female giggles echoed across the common room from the opposite stairway. "Holy shite!" Ron exclaimed, his eyes going wide.

"C'mon, let's get up to our room," Seamus offered smoothly, already turning to pull Ron up the stairs.

"But Harry," Ron started to say, but Seamus cut him off with a shake of his head.

"Not there. Didn't see him all night. No worries, matey. No one's up there."

Another round of laughter wafted down to them. Seamus tugged on Ron's hand. "Let's finish wot we started, eh?"

Ron nodded, quickly grabbing the waistband of his jeans as Seamus nearly dragged him up the curving stairway. Ron stumbled, his chin barely grazing the edge of one of the stone steps.

"Shite!" he hissed as Seamus giggled heartily.

"Move that nice arse, Weasley!" Seamus shot back. "Almost there!"

Seamus reached the door to their room an instant later, frantically scrabbling at the latch. Ron ploughed into him, both giggling uncontrollably as the old wrought iron hardware refused to cooperate.

"Bloody hell, Finnigan, open the damned door!"

"Wot do ye think I'm doin', dragon breath?"

The next second there was a loud clank as the latch released. Ron shoved against Seamus with all his strength, pushing the startled Irishman through the door and into their dorm room.

"Oy!" Seamus yelped, losing his balance and tumbling to the floor. Ron overbalanced and tripped over Seamus' feet, crashing down directly on top of Seamus. With a swift kick of his leg, Ron managed to swing the door shut. It slammed loudly, the door latching and locking automatically.

"That was close," Ron said between chuckles. He sat up, offering a hand to Seamus who took it and sat up as well.

"Yeah," he replied, his eyes drinking in Ron from head to toe. "Never knew ya liked it rough," he growled throatily, grabbing the hem of his t-shirt and yanking it off. "Here, let me," he murmured, carefully pushing Ron's jumper down his shoulders and arms. Ron struggled out of it while Seamus lifted his Cannons tank top. A moment later, Seamus was running both hands over Ron's slightly sweaty, bare chest.

"Blimey," Seamus breathed softly, leaning in to leave a trail of kisses down the centre of Ron's torso.

Ron cradled Seamus' head with both hands, weaving his fingers through the Irishman's sandy curls. "Gods, Seamus," he moaned. "Not gonna last..."

Seamus gave a nipple one final flick with the tip of his tongue before looking up into Ron's eyes once more. "Thas' the ticket," he grinned. He stood up, motioning for Ron to do the same. Seamus had his jeans off in a second, tossing them to land on the pile of their discarded clothing.

Ron sucked in a deep breath at the sight of Seamus starkers. Sure, he'd seen his housemate without clothing on and off for nearly four years, but never this close. And never this aroused. It was almost like he'd never even really seen Seamus before. He wasn't what anyone would call handsome, but he was good looking, in a rough sort of way. He'd filled out quite a bit, sporting nicely broadening shoulders and a well-defined chest. Ron felt his own cock twitch as Seamus took a step closer, his engorged member bobbing about invitingly.

"Your turn," Seamus murmured, pushing Ron's jeans and undershorts down simultaneously.

Ron steadied himself, both hands on Seamus’ shoulders. He toed off his trainers, lifting up one leg and then the other as Seamus pulled his jeans and shorts off. He stood up again, almost startled at the intensity of Seamus' gaze. The Irishman's eyes were fire-bright, his smile nearly blinding. Ron trailed one finger down Seamus' chest, tracing the path of short, light brown hairs that formed a cross-like pattern down the centre of his stomach and underneath his pecs.

Seamus was likewise exploring Ron's body, his own hands caressing their way down Ron's sides, finally coming to a halt on his hips.

"Bloody brilliant," Seamus whispered, burying his head into Ron's shoulder and pressing against Ron tightly.

Ron encircled Seamus with one arm while his other hand grasped Seamus' erection, teasing the swollen head with his thumb and swirling the slick pre-come about lazily. He began rocking his hips in and out, the sensation of his cock sliding against Seamus' sweat-slicked skin almost too delicious to bear.

Seamus' bucked and moaned as he slowly thrust his cock into Ron's hand, all the while holding Ron's arse tightly and murmuring his name between the series of wet, sloppy kisses he was leaving all across Ron's collarbone. He increased the speed of his thrusts, his breath coming in shorter and shorter gasps. With a loud wail, Seamus arched his back, his hot, thick seed coating their skin.

Ron gasped at the instant warmth and slickness, moaning as he increased the speed of his own thrusts. He felt Seamus' hands slide between them, swirling the cooling spunk about.

Seamus then dropped to his knees, firmly grasping Ron's cock with one hand. With a smooth motion, he swallowed as much of Ron's member as he could, gagging slightly but never pulling back. He sucked and pulled on it with relish, each suckle sending a wave of ecstasy through Ron's body.

Ron knew he was nearing release; he tried to pull away, but Seamus only gripped him tighter and increased his attentions. A moment later Ron came, his own seed emptying from him as never before.

Seamus valiantly attempted to take it all in, but he finally failed, releasing Ron's spent cock with a heavy gasp. He looked up at Ron, grinning, thick dollops of come dribbling from the corners of his mouth.

Ron watched as Seamus wiped his face with the back of his hand. Ron plopped down to the carpet, suddenly very much aware of how tired he had become. Seamus also sat down, a huge smile on his face.

"Wanted to do that fer a long time," he said softly.

Ron scooted next to Seamus, lacing his fingers about Seamus' left hand.

"I...uh..." he stammered, "I don't know what to say, Seamus. That was...you were awesome."

Seamus winked. "In the blood, ya know." He leaned over and kissed Ron on the cheek.

"Ron, I---"

Ron cut him off. "No, don't, please."

"But I want to," Seamus protested. "One thing me Gran always used to say was to make sure to speak yer heart. Some things are just meant to be said."

Ron sighed, leaning his head on Seamus' shoulder. "Don't mind me, mate. I'm in a muddle. I think I've got it sorted, and then..."

"And then I happen by, making things even worse, eh?" Seamus carded his fingers through Ron's hair. "Well, don't mean to be makin' it rougher on ya, but I couldn't keep it inside any longer." He kissed Ron's head gently. "The las' thing I wanna do is to cause ya any grief, Ron."

Ron sniffled. "Bah, you haven't. Just me bein' me again."

Seamus chuckled. "Bang on. Wouldn't want ya any other way." He paused a moment before lifting Ron's head up. "So. When are ya goin' to talk to Harry?"

Ron blinked and sat straight up. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Seamus rolled his eyes. "Not exactly a secret, is it? You two been pinin' away for each other since first-year."

Ron folded his arms. "What exactly have Fred and George told you?"


Seamus made a rude noise. "Nothin'. Blimey, Ron, a blind man could see it without his cane!" He cocked his head to one side. "Course, I'm a pretty sharp bloke. Nothin' much gets by me, matey."

Ron stared at the Irishman for a moment before making exaggerated gagging noises. "Modesty, thy name is Finnigan."

Seamus adopted a deeply quizzical expression. "Modesty? What's that?" He held his face for a few moments before breaking down into laughter.

"Bloody hell-spawn of a Leprechaun," Ron muttered, unable to keep from grinning himself.

Seamus' giggles finally expired, and he eyed Ron carefully. "Well, ya know now that I'm here if'n ya need me. To talk, to toss back a few, or, well to have fun." He waggled his eyebrows. "And if things don't work out with Harry..." He trailed a finger down Ron's bicep. "Jes' keep me in mind, yeah? I'd be right proud to have ya, Ron."

Ron stared a moment before leaning in and kissing Seamus gently.

Seamus pulled back and opened his eyes. "Love ya, mate." Ron made to speak, but Seamus stilled Ron's lips with his finger. "Some things just aren't meant to be left unsaid."

Ron nodded, hugging Seamus tightly.

~fin~