Clueless

AN: this is my first time attempting humour, so tell me how I did.

---------------------------------------------

The fire crackled merrily in the Gryffindor common room and the air was one of general contentedness. People were in quite a bright mood because, earlier that evening, while the truly avid fans of Hogwarts Quidditch watched on, Gryffindor had thrashed Slytherin in what was meant to be a practice match. And so, though the victory meant nothing in the quest for the Quidditch cup, spirits in the common room were quite high for all.

Ron, more than most, was ecstatic. He had hardly stopped beaming from the moment he had walked into the common room and dropped himself into a prime and freshly vacated chair near the fireplace, to be joined soon after by most of his yearmates including Hermione who had appeared some minutes later with the usual elephantine, leather bound volume (her idea of light reading) in tow.

“...and did you see his face when I yelled ‘bludger’!?” Ron bubbled, as the people around him cackled in laughter, all but Hermione who gave him the usual incredulous look that she adopted at the mere mention of Quidditch.

“And when Harry caught the snitch right from under Draco’s nose.” Ginny quipped, having joined the rather robust conversation which was reliving every last detail of the match in colour. “I think that makes it a nice round dozen times he’s done that to Malfoy.” Her voice was sly as she said so. The group in front of the fire peeled with laughter once more.

All except Ron this time. He had adopted a rather thoughtful look and as the laughter died down, everyone’s eyes turned to him.

“Uh...speaking of Harry? Where exactly has he gotten to?” Ron asked, the words spoken rather slowly as though he was just then realizing that Harry was missing.

A knowing glance passed between the circle of friends who sat before the fire, one that was missed entirely by Ron who had turned around to stare at the portrait hole as though expecting Harry to stumble through it at any moment. When no such thing happened he turned around to the group, his expression one of pure worry.

“Uh, he’s still in the shower mate.” Dean said quickly.

There was a murmur of assent as though everyone was backing up Dean’s claim before the group seemed to realize that most of them had no right to know where Harry was and that it looked rather odd that everyone knew Harry was in the shower.

Ron had been staring hard at the fire, thinking hard apparently and therefore didn’t pick up on the rather odd behaviour of his friends. Which not only included the general consensus of Harry’s whereabouts but all also the vigorous shaking of Hermione’s head in combination with the slicing motions across her neck as she stared pointedly at Ron, nor the vicious glares that Ginny was sending the way of the group. A general snicker went around the group and Ron seemed to shed his worry and bounce back to his bubbly, victorious attitude.

A collective sigh of relief flitted through the group seated before the fire as they accepted that they had narrowly avoided spilling the beans on Harry, something, that, were it to occur, would without a doubt result in a massive brain aneurism on the part of one best mate of Harry’s known only as Ron Weasley.

And yet no such thing happened and as such Ron had begun to once again talk quite animatedly about the Quidditch victory and all was well [AN: guess where that line is from? If you hate it raise your hand.].

“And the look on Malfoy’s face when he saw the snitch in Harry’s hand, man he just couldn’t swallow it.” Ron shouted gleefully.

Seamus who had been chuckling lightly at that point fell into a rather violent choking fit and Dean was left to pound him powerfully on his back while Ron gave the Irishman an odd look. The rest of the group, which by then included Neville, Lavender and the Creevey brothers had to try very hard indeed to bite back the snickers that were trying to be voiced.

Hermione raised a delicate eyebrow at Ginny who simply shook her head, indicating that she couldn’t even begin to vouch for Ron’s thickheadedness.

Half an hour passed, filled with Slytherin bashing, rather blatant innuendos that were missed by no one other than Ron and severely repressed laughter on the part of everyone within the group (for it would have been rather inappropriate for everyone to burst into laughter at the slightest mention of Harry’s expertise in handling a broomstick). By the end of that time, Ron’s not so covert looks towards the portrait hole were becoming rather frequent and the fact that Harry had not returned to the common room was being made persistently obvious.

“Guys this had been brilliant, but I’ve got to say I’m worried about Harry. He can’t be in the shower all this time. It’s been over an hour since the end of the match.” Ron’s eyes held genuine apprehension for his best friend and everyone in the group rather resolutely avoided his gaze.

When no one spoke up Ron seemed to make a decision of the moment. “I’m going to go look for him. I mean he might have dropped a bar of soap, bent down to pick it up and gotten banged up or something.” Ron said looking rather flustered.

Hermione snorted, she couldn’t help herself. And this time it was Dean who began to choke as he laughed, tears of mirth streaming from his eyes as Seamus patted his back. The Creevey brothers had both hit the floor with clutching their stomach, barely able to breath for laughing and the others merely watched in amusement at Ron’s obvious outrage to the Muggleborns’ reactions.

“I suggest that Harry could be seriously hurt and you guys double over in laughter?! What is wrong with you people?” Ron huffed, his ears turning red in anger and disbelief. “I for one am going to find Harry!”

Ron stood up, and Ginny immediately stepped in his way. “Now Ron,” she said, adopting her reasoning voice, “I don’t think it’s time to send out a search party yet. I’m sure Harry’s fine.”

“You don’t know that. I mean Harry could be lying somewhere, on his back writhing-”

But that was as far as he got before his voice was droned out by gales of laughter.

“THIS IS NOT FUNNY!” Ron screamed. “I’m going to find him.” His statement brought about a rather sudden turnabout to the mood. Suddenly everyone seemed apprehensive.

“Ron there’s really no need-”

“No.”

“Be reasonable, Ron, I’m sure-”

“I said I’m going to find him.”

“Come on Ron, he’s Harry Potter for crying out loud.” Was Neville’s rather last ditch effort. But the redhead was resolute.

“Isn’t there anything we can say to convince you from going?” Ginny asked, knowing that her brother was rather difficult to deal with when he got this way. If the question seemed odd to Ron he didn’t mention it.

“No, Ginny, I’m going and there’s nothing anyone can say to stop me.” Ron was halfway to the portrait hole by then when one last desperate voice called out to him.

“Not even if I said we could go upstairs to your dorm room and have raunchy, kinky, wild monkey sex all night long?”

Ron’s eyes glued themselves to Hermione’s in an impossibly fast fraction of a second. He didn’t think such words could every come out of the studious brunette’s mouth (except for in his wild, hormonal fantasies in which she appeared dressed in Neville’s Grandmother’s outfit, hat and all, from Snape’s storage closet with a whip in hand, but then that was a different story).

Ron laughed. It was a high pitched and almost crazed sound.

“You didn’t by any chance mean that did you?” Ron asked, his voice cracking all over the place.

“Uh....yes?” Hermione tried, not quite sure if she preferred a severely freaked out hormonal Ron, or the comatose one that she would have to deal with if she allowed him to go search for Harry.

Ron laughed nervously. This wasn’t true. Hermione was simply pulling his leg. “Good one ‘Mione. But now I think I’ll go find Harry.”

Ron had once again covered half the distance between himself and the portrait hole when Seamus called out to him. “And I don’t suppose you’d be up for a hot sweaty round of mansex up in our dorms then?”

Ron swivelled around once again and found himself looking at a rather hopeful looking Seamus. Ron shuddered. “I’ll just assume that you were joking because you couldn’t have possible meant that.” Ron gushed. “I mean I couldn’t think of anything that could possible be wronger.”

“I bet I could.” Seamus muttered under his breath, and the group heard and most of them were twitching nervously by then. But then Seamus beamed at Ron, having given up keeping the redhead from seeking out Harry.

“I’m going to leave now.” Ron said warily. “You know before my sister starts asking me to sleep with her.” Perhaps he had noticed the rather desperately anxious look on Ginny face. He turned to leave. A mere step from the portrait hole Ron paused. Without turning he said, “Unless...Hermione, if you meant what you said...if you did, then...maybe you wouldn’t mind dressing up in that outfit...you know the one I showed you from Filch’s catalogue...”

“RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY!” Hermione screeched and Ron was out the portrait hole faster than Harry could swallow a snitch on a bucking broom.

[~][~][~][~][~][~][~][~][~][~][~]

Ron made his way through the relatively empty hallways of Hogwarts, retracing his steps back from earlier that day. He decided to head for the locker room first. It wasn’t really reasonable to think that Harry was still in the showers but then Ron had no other leads and the last anyone seemed to have seen him was in the locker room.

As Ron approached the Gryffindor locker room door, the password already on his tongue he realized that the door was open a crack and that there were voices coming from within. One he immediately recognized as Harry’s and the other served only to make him uneasy in its familiarity.

Curious as to who Harry was speaking to and what could possibly have kept him so late, Ron leaned in, turning his ear to the crack so that he could hear better.

“I want you to beg for it.” Harry’s voice sounded, it seemed harsh and demanding, and seemed to echo within the tiled locker room walls. Even though Ron couldn’t see into the room he had the distinct feeling that Harry was talking down to whomever was in the room with him. “Beg for it Malfoy.”

The name hit Ron over the head like a mallet. That was why the voice has given him such a sinking feeling, it belonged to Malfoy. But then what did Harry want from the likes of such Slytherin scum. Or rather what did the ferret want from Harry that Harry had decided to make him beg for.

There was a muffled sound that could almost be identified as a moan, and then the words which caused Ron’s blood to boil within his veins in horror: “Oh please, please, PLEASE let me ride your broomstick!”

Harry couldn’t possible be considering letting that slimey git touch his broom. The thought was horrifying. Ron, heard Harry’s voice again, piercing through his disbelief and for the slightest moment he held onto the strained thread of hope that Harry would rebuff the Slytherin git and go back on whatever deal he had made with Malfoy. But Harry words indicated no such notion.

“Now that’s what I wanted to hear.” Harry growled, sounding rather pleased. “And since you asked so nicely...”

Ron heard a moan of longing from within the room and knew that Harry must have pulled out his broom. The thought of Malfoy touching Harry’s broom was sickening beyond anything he could imagine, and such a fine broom it was. He simply could allow the madness to go on.

With a flourish Ron slammed the locker room door opened and yelled at the top of his lungs, “No Harry, don’t let him ride your firebolt!”

It took a moment for the scene that his eyes viewed for his mind to process. Harry was standing stark naked in the bright white light of the magically lit locker room with an equally naked Malfoy hoisted up against the locker (his locker he noted) with Malfoy’s arms locked around his neck and his legs secured firmly around his waist. The blond’s expression was one of utter ecstasy as he rode out the motion of Harry’s hips, his head tilted back so that his moans echoed off the ceiling.

Harry looked at him with a sheepish look. “You’re about two months too late Ron.” He managed to gasp, still rolling his hips. Ron had seen enough. He promptly turned heel, walked to the end of the Quidditch pitch and proceeded to bang his head repeatedly against the heavy iron post that supported the right most ring which he guarded as a keeper. If he was lucky he would pass out and wake up the next day having forgotten the atrocity which he had just witnessed and would wander back to the Gryffindor common room with nothing more than a cold lump on his head for his efforts.

-----------------------------------------------

AN: So there it is. Hopefully I met the requirements of the challenge. I know it wasn't all that funny and that my humour sucks but I enjoyed writing it all the same. If you enjoyed reading it then please leave a review.

- Incessant_Darkness