There There (The Boney King of Nowhere)

“Anyone else got a problem with Harry?” The fierce-eyed red-head glared around the room. Seamus was flushed, Neville was chewing his lips, pointedly looking away from Ron, Dean was staring wide-eyed at Seamus. Nobody made any move to say anything. Ron sniffed haughtily. “Right then.” He said, satisfied. He turned with a grin toward where Harry had been standing only to find the tousle-locked wizard gone.

“Upstairs to the dorm.” Neville said quietly, eyes wavering as he looked up once to Ron. “He left in the middle of your…speech.” His big, dark eyes met Ron’s for a moment and something of a smile worked its way onto his lips. Ron felt himself blush.

Neville had known about Ron’s crush on Harry for sometime. He had known about it almost before Ron himself had. The bumbling wizard smiled again, lips working into a shameless grin over his large teeth.

“Don’t worry. I won’t bother you.” He said sincerely, glancing over to Dean and Seamus as he did so. The other two boys had no idea, not even an inkling of Ron’s feelings--or at least they hadn’t before. Ron felt his blush deepen, after his speech however. He ran a hand across his nose and glanced over at the two. Seamus had wandered off in a huff and Dean, ever the faithful friend, had tagged after him. They stood across the common now, conversing quietly. If they knew, they weren’t showing it. Ron heaved a sigh of relief. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Seamus and Dean, because he did, deep, deep down he truly did, but the two weren’t known for being good secret keepers. One too many chats with Pavarti and Lavender had earned the two a reputation.

“You’re going to want to go up there now.” Neville said, calm voice breaking through Ron’s thoughts. The red-head blushed again, nodded, turned on his heel clumsily and tripped up the steps to the dormitory.

He found Harry, moody, injured Harry, brooding by the window, lips pressed tight together, eyes hard behind the smudged glass of his glasses. If he heard Ron approaching, he gave no inclination. Ron smiled to himself.

This was how it had been for five years now. He was always standing in Harry’s shadow, never really doing anything note-worthy on his own. He leaned carefully on the door jam, eyes never once leaving Harry’s form pressed against the window. People thought he was jealous, but it wasn’t true. He was far from jealous. He was in love. And, as such, every one of Harry’s triumphs was a triumph for himself.

Pale blue eyes studied the way in which the Boy-Who-Lived sat, studied the elegant curve of his back, the way his hands fisted in the material of his too-large jeans. Harry had been affected deeply by Cedric’s death, by…You-Know-Who(no, Ron couldn’t even think the name)’s return. Ron knew that what Harry needed now was comfort, he needed guiding hands and support from his house and yet, all he had gotten all day was doubt and speculation.

‘Tell us how it happened, Harry?’ ‘Tell us what it was like?’

Ron snorted in anger, not realising how loud he was. Harry turned quickly, emerald eyes wide. When he saw it was Ron, he attempted a half-smile.

“Oh, its only you.” And didn’t those words just sting like a Fizzing Whizbee, even as amicably stated as they were. “I was afraid Seamus was coming back to give me more grief.” Harry turned back to the window. “I’m telling the truth.”

“I know.” Ron did know. Yeah, he and Harry had their moments, moments when the freckled red-head could have just murdered the quick-thinking raven, but when it came down to it, they were friends through and through.

“And everyone is acting like I’m keeping some big secret, like I’m not telling something. Or like I’m just out and out lying for the bloody attention.” Harry continued. Ron didn’t bother to speak up, this was Harry’s moment, the time he needed to air his thoughts. “That, or they act like its my fucking fault. Like Seamus.” Harry’s eyes hardened again. If he’d had laser vision, his gaze would have bored a hole into the window pane. It was that intense. “God, it isn’t like I asked his mum not to believe me. It isn’t like I made some fairytale up just so that he wouldn’t be able to come back to this bloody place, you know?”

“I know.”

“And Dumbledore just made things worse, by bringing it up at his funeral.” He didn’t need to clarify whose funeral, Ron knew. Ron always knew. “Now everyone knows and even more people are on my case about everything.”

“I know.” Sometimes he felt like a broken record, it didn’t matter to Harry though. He was much too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice. Ron would simply choose a phrase and repeat it as many times as needed until Harry would finish his rant and give that look that meant so much. The look that would signify that it was okay to touch and kiss. The look that would give Ron the go-ahead to supply his own kind of comfort. It was a system that the two had long since perfected. A system of give and take, meaningless, comforting, satiating sex, aired feelings and sweat. It was a game they’d begun long ago.

“And Cho, did you see how she looked at me? She’ll never forgive me, I just know. She’ll hate me forever because in her eyes, I just about got her boyfriend killed.” Ron hated when Harry brought up Cho. Hated how Cedric became second rate whenever the Asian girl was in question. Sure, Ron hadn’t been Cedric’s biggest fan, he had felt the boy was a bit of a braggart and very phoney, but hearing Harry speak so highly of him, only to be drop him to status as the ‘other man’ when in conjunction with Cho Chang, made Ron a little angry. Because, despite how Harry found his solace, despite the things said and done with Ron in the merciful veil of the night, the Boy-Who-Lived was very much straight.

Where Ron, on the other hand, was very much not. He had only one love in his life, one person that he ever considered sleeping with, and that was Harry. He loved the Boy-Wonder more then anything else in the world.

Green eyes met blue. “Can we?”

Honestly, now that he was here, in the position he’d been in so many times before, Ron no longer had the urge to. Sleeping with Harry was wrong, letting the scarred boy think they shared the hollowness of the sex was wrong. It had never been meaningless on Ron’s part, never, and pretending as such was not right. So instead of nodding his own go-ahead, or kissing Harry or anything, he said quietly.

“So you can think of Cho the entire time?”

Harry’s confusion was evident. His mouth formed a half-frown, his nose scrunched up, behind his glasses, his eyes crinkled. “What are you talking about?”

“Cho. Fucking Cho Chang. Do you want to have sex with me so that you can think of Cho Chang the entire time? Am I just there so you can fantasise about what you don’t have?” Ron’s voice was hollow. He didn’t know exactly why he was doing this, he wasn’t sure why he had decided this time to be virtuous and true.

Harry still didn’t comprehend, his expression was almost comical. Ron snorted. “What is it you think about when you fuck me, Harry?”

‘Cho. Cho. Cho. Cho. Chochochochochochochochochochochochochochochochocho.’ His mind chanted.

“You.” Harry answered slowly. Ron blinked.

“What?”

“I said you. When we…fuck…I think about you.” Harry’s voice was quiet, sincere. Ron blushed. “I mean…to think about Cho…would…” Harry was red to, face bright as he stammered out the words. “It isn’t like you’re a lass, Ron, I couldn’t think of soft curves and stuff when I’m with you.” Ron wasn’t sure whether that was a compliment or what.

“But it doesn’t mean anything. The sex, I mean. It isn’t like it means anything to you…and it…” Ron clamped his mouth shut, glaring hard. No reason to spill his guts to Harry when the boy was offering nothing in return.

“Sure it does.” Harry’s earlier angst was left to the way-side, he turned to face Ron more properly. “I mean, we’re friends, Ron, the sex is just and extra fun little bonus.” He smiled at the still distressed Ron. He obviously had no clue where this newest line of doubts was coming from, usually the two kept talking to a minimum once the deed was started but tonight…

“’Extra fun little bonus’?” Ron echoed. He looked back up at Harry, blue eyes flashing indignantly. “And how many others of your friends get this little benefit?”

Harry frowned at the open hostility. “Hey now, that isn’t fair. Ron, you know that you’re the only person I’ve slept with. Merlin, you’re the only person I’ve even kissed. And you know that!”

“Well I wouldn’t, not with the way that you go on about CHO! Every other word out of you is about that…twat!” Ron couldn’t keep the hostility out of his voice. “And Merlin fucking forbid we should pass her in the hall! You practically make the corridor a water slide with the way you drool!” Harry flushed.

“I…Look, Ron, you know that isn’t true. Yeah, Cho is sweet and cute, but it isn’t like I worship her or anything.” He looked to Ron with wide eyes. The red-head didn’t answer back, just stared moodily toward the window. He mumbled something that could have been ‘Sure you don’t’ but it wasn’t clear enough for Harry to make out.

“Come on, Ron. Don’t be like this…” Harry’s voice was quiet. The red-head glanced at him.

He felt sort of bad. He was acting like a spoiled brat (he thought of Malfoy pouting because he didn’t get the new cauldron he wanted) who wasn’t getting exactly what they wanted. And at this point in time, it wasn’t what Harry needed. Harry needed a friend and he needed honesty. He didn’t need another student giving him hell for no reason.

“I’m sorry, Harry.” He said after a fashion. “I’m acting like a dick…Its just I…I really, really like you and…when I think that you are just using me because you can’t have Cho…I get all mad and I just want to…” He ran a hand through his hair quickly. Harry nodded his understanding.

“Ron, you don’t seem to get that I really, really like you too. I mean, I like Cho too, but with her it’s different. I couldn’t ever do with her the things I do with you.” He was leaning in now, forcing Ron more toward the window. “Because I don’t love her and I do love you.” Harry was never that blunt about anything, but Ron didn’t question. His heart was skipping more then a few beats, his eyes were glued on Harry’s lips. “So can we?”

“Yeah.” His response was breathless. His eyes left Harry’s mouth to glance up at his eyes and Ron knew that none of what Harry had said was a lie. The clear light in his eyes belayed his sincerity almost more then the soul-searing kiss he was pressing to Ron’s mouth.

Their hands tangled together, their legs shifted around, bringing their bodies closer. Harry ravaged Ron’s mouth shamelessly. The Boy-Who-Lived was always fearless in bed, he knew what he wanted, when to take it, exactly how far to go. Ron moaned as Harry’s hand slid into his robes and trousers in one smooth motion.

“Harry.” It was a feminine whine, Ron knew, but at the moment, he couldn’t have cared less. Harry’s hands, defined from his years of catching the snitch, were calloused and strong and gripped Ron in just that way that caused his arousal to increase exponentially and his breathing to stop. Harry’s lips were on his neck, tasting him while the hand in Ron’s pants went about its task, but Ron was impatient.

“Cut it out, Harry.” He hissed, choking halfway through, distracted by the sensations in his nether regions. “I’m not in this for foreplay.” Harry looked up with a grin.

“I know.” He said, mimicking Ron’s earlier tone. He grinned again and continued his strokes and kisses. Ron made a noise of dissent, not happy with the situation but at the same time too happy to do anything to change it. He let his body relax, falling into natural rhythm with Harry’s hand. Closer and closer to the edge he built, breathe hitching as he did so. Just as he was about to crest that elusive edge, Harry moved his hand with a dry chuckle. “Thought you weren’t in it for the foreplay.”

“Fuck you, Harry.” Ron managed, righting himself on the window ledge. “You can’t do that to a person, work them all up and stop.” His words were a feral growl, his erection was pulsating painfully, lack of friction sending shockwaves to his brain. Harry smiled again, walking away from Ron, headed for the bed.

“Come on, Ron.” He whispered, voice just loud enough to be heard. “I’ll finish you, you know I’m good for it. So to bed, love.” He motioned his head toward the four-poster. “Come on. Sex on the window sill wouldn’t work that well anyway, I’m afraid.” He was pulling the curtains back then and climbing into the crimson and gold depths.

“You called me love.” Ron said quietly, tumbling awkwardly off the window. “You’ve never called me that before.” On the bed Harry blushed.

“Yeah, well…you know…I do love you and all, despite what you may think about…” He trailed off, cheeks the same colour and shade as Ron’s hair. Ron smiled despite himself and crossed the room in two strides. As he clambered into the bed after Harry he couldn’t help but murmur.

“Yeah, love, I know.”

FIN (and Finally!)
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~Slutmuffin

A little more 'feely' then most of my other stuff. Just wanted to see how it would go over. Title is a Radiohead song.