Wanting and Belonging

Harry zoomed down after the glimpse of gold that had caught his eye. He held one hand outstretched, ready to reach out for it, when Pigwidgeon collided with his chest. The little owl nuzzled Harry’s stomach a moment as Harry grabbed his broom with both hands to stabilize, then Pig zoomed back off, flying a circle around Hedwig who was fluttering around the Weasley twins. Harry, looking about with a careful seeker’s eye, realized again that he’d lost the snitch. He looked about, scanning for it, and evaluating the field.

Hermione was whizzing back and forth in front of the large hoop goal as keeper for Harry’s team. Ginny was goalie for the Weasleys, and doing an only slightly better job than Hermione who had let one hundred and twenty points fly past already. The twins and Ron were matched by Gryffindor’s chaser Jordan Lee, dreadlocks and all, Seamus Finnigan, and Harry of course. Both teams missing players, but playing for fun so it mattered not. And the owls did their part to make up for the difference. It was the Weasleys against the rest of them… well, the rest of them who were at school for the holidays and wanted to play. The owls were out with them as well, to give them some exercise, and make things more fun and exciting on the field.

But Harry was not watching the owls now. No, his gaze rested upon Ron, who was doing his best to dodge and catch what all he could. His cheeks were flushed red, and white wisps of breath puffed from his mouth in the icy winter air. He wore a knit cap, hiding the red-orange hair for the most part, though a few strands poked out, stuck to his forehead with sweat.

Just then, Seamus sailed past him, and the bludger meant for the boy struck Harry, who toppled off his broom. Just too many hits at once. Or perhaps… perhaps if Harry had been keeping his eyes more upon the game and less on a certain player…

The young man fell through the air, though not terribly far or fast as he was near enough to the ground. He could see his firebolt falling down above him and he reached out, closing his eyes to brace himself and hope he could catch the broom before it fell right on top of him. Instead, his hand grasped another object and, as he hit the ground with a hard thump, the cheers of his teammates made him suspect the object was the golden snitch.

“Way to go Harry!”

“Great catch, Harry!”

“We still win by twenty points!” Fred announced, landing with a high-five to George.

“You all right, Harry?” That, Harry realized as he picked himself up, had been Ron’s voice. Concern, even through victory. Though not to make the boy seem too noble, Harry did note that all four Weasleys were jumping and hugging and laughing, as a blur of a tiny young owl circled over their heads chirping in happiness.

Harry nodded, handing the snitch over and dusting himself off.

“Oh Harry… your glasses.” And that was Hermione, who stood as a defined blur in front of him, holding out the remnants of his glasses. “These aren’t so easily fixed by tape,” she said, handing them over.

The pieces crumbled into his hand.

* * * * * * *

“You know,” breathed Ron who fell upon the bed beside him, “You look very sexy without your glasses.” Light lips on his cheek. “You know that?” Harry meant to answer, then stopped as Ron continued. “Some people look completely different without them on. But not you.”

Harry chuckled, “well, thanks!”

Ron shook his head, gathering the covers and wrapping his arms around them with a squeeze. “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, you still look like Harry. You are still my adorable, sweet, sexy Harry Potter.”

Raising black eyebrows, and raising his hand to count the points on each finger, “ First adorable, then sweet, then sexy. Only three?” He crossed his arms over his chest then rolled from his back to his side, back to Ron. “If I didn’t know you any better, I’d have thought you wanted something from me. But it doesn’t sound like you’re trying too… hard…” he trailed off as the soft, wet tugging on his ear answered for him. It was a difficult thing to resist under normal circumstances, but naked in bed together, it was entirely impossible. “Ron, love…”

Ron’s mouth worked its way from earlobe to nape of neck, caressing with gentle, sensual kisses that took Harry’s body over completely. Ron answered to his name with heavy breathing, and a hand down Harry’s arm. The hand worked its way back behind the man’s body, easing it up off the bed. As it rose, so did the bed. And as Harry sat up, the bed began to levitate. First a foot, then two, rising higher, to three, and finally stopping four feet off the floor. It rocked gently back to front as the men rolled with each other, Taking turns to kiss, to touch, to explore territory they had charted many times but still found excitement in discovering again. The fact was very simply that they were not simply lovers, nor were they simply in love. Rather, they belonged together, and they belonged to each other. Every curve, every word, every action. Every breath, every touch, every look. Every smile, every move, every heartbeat.

Harry dug his head out from between Ron’s legs, and from beneath the blankets for a gasp of fresh air. Ron squeezed his shoulders, wanting more, and Harry pounced upon him like a cat does a mouse. But Ron was far from being mousey. If he could transfigure, what would he be? Remus and Sirius were Wolf by misfortune and Dog by nature. Perfection in a rough canine matching. But Ron, Harry always believed, would not take the same sort of persona as Harry. They were different, they two. Not opposites, just separate. They were not the same person, not together in the same way Remus and Sirius were. They belonged to each other, they possessed each other in body, mind, and spirit. Like human and faithful dog. Or a bird on the back of a water buffalo. But no animal pairing Harry could think of matched them so well as they matched each other. They were already their own sorts of animals, Ron and Harry, Harry and Ron. Loyal and passionate.

“Take me, Potter,” Ron commanded as the bed began to spin clockwise, slowly at first. He bent on all fours, head hanging down loosely, unlike his firm parts on the other end. He offered his rear up for the taking.

And the taking was good. Potter met his ass with a kiss, then a lick, then a contented, purring sort of growl. “Take you, my Weasey?

Memorize. There were so very many terms, so many definitions, and they were all floating about in his head every which way. He would never be able to get them all sorted out in time for the exam. Trudging up the stairs just behind Harry certainly did not help his remembering skills in the least. They all filed into the classroom and took seats at the desk.

As things turned out, it wasn’t nearly as bad as he had anticipated. Professor Lupin had taken pity on them and selected many of the more obvious questions to ask. And Ron felt rather relieved that his attempts at memorization had served him well. He finished early and set to work reading over his answers.

However, his mind was not on the test, but elsewhere. And his gaze strayed from his parchment to a certain student a row over and a desk forward. He could see Harry from the side and back, catching glimpses of his profile, writing with such diligent concentration. He could see the rims of the young man’s glasses. He could see the soft glow of his cheek. He could see—

“Keep your eyes on your own exams, please.” Lupin announced, looking straight over at Ron. Their eyes met for a moment. Warning eyes, confronting eyes, accusing eyes... meeting guilty eyes, scared eyes, apologetic eyes. And Ron quickly looked back down, a bit ashamed.

Half the class looked up at the sudden announcement in the silent room. They looked around just to see who was the violator, but Ron had already gone bright red in the cheeks and ears and was furiously scribbling in the margins to seem busily occupied.

Finally, the time was up and they all filed out. Or tried to at least. Hermione and Harry were murmuring about possible answers to questions and Ron was picking up the rear when he was called back... by professor Lupin, of course, “Ah, Ron, could you stay behind a moment with me, lad? I’d like to have a brief word with you.”

Embarrassed, but glad the call had come when most of the class including Draco Malfoy were already out of the room, Ron turned around. He hugged his books to his chest as he nodded. He told them he’d catch up later, then leaned against the professor’s desk until they were alone.

Lupin closed the door of the classroom for privacy and cleared his throat to sound more regal. But before he could say anything, Ron quickly apologized. “Professor Lupin, I wasn’t looking at anyone’s paper. I mean, I know I was looking, but it wasn’t to cheat or anything, I promise—“

He reached out and patted Ron’s head. “I know, lad. I could tell who you were looking at. I just wanted to make sure nothing against the rules happened.” Which was his disguised way of saying that he wanted to make sure no one else saw the look.

The boy, blushing terribly now, not a flattering color for him against his orange-red hair, ran his hand over the back of his neck. “You could tell?”

Lupin nodded. “I could tell for I have been down that road myself.” He perched on the edge of the desk, legs spread casually, arms between them, a bit hunched over. He looked warm, understanding, the sort of chap Ron would expect to get tea from and sit down for a chat. The sort of man he could talk to about anything.

Yet, Ron was worried. He and Harry were very close, Harry had lived with him for the last four summers in fact. “You’re, um, not going to tell him, are you?”

He shook his head. “Harry’s like my son, you know that. But it certainly is not my place to spread rumors or deliver unwanted news.”

Ron bit his lip. Oh, the news was wanted by half the party. He just wished the other half would concur. Better yet, for the half to concur without making a fool out of Ron.

Kindly, reassuringly, “You will tell him when the time is right. And things will just happen, fall into place. If you want them to.”

Ron looked into his professor’s warm brown eyes, knowing that he not only spoke the truth, but spoke from experience. He and Sirius had managed a love while at school, and that was years ago. Why was he so hesitant now? He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip harder, for he knew why. Because this was Harry. Harry Potter, the great, the boy who lived. Harry Potter, defeater of Voldemort. Harry Potter the sweet and caring and sexy and smart and handsome and kind and adorable and— and he was blushing again. “Thank you Professor Lupin.”

“Anytime, Ron. This discussion stays between us for as long as you need it to.” He ruffled the boy’s hair with a kind smile. “You’ll be all right?”

He nodded, fighting back a bit of a tear. “I always have been.”

“Good lad.”

They exchanged goodbyes for the moment, and a joke about grading Ron’s paper better now that Lupin knew what emotional stress he was under. And then they made their separate ways out, Lupin looking tired and worn out, with a bunch of papers tucked under his arm. And Ron trudging back down the stairs to the main halls, feeling somewhat lighter now that he had talked with someone. Better yet, a someone who understood.

* * * * * * *

“I think you could use a bath,” Ron suggested, stroking a finger along the young man’s shoulders.

Harry was sitting, hunched over some papers. His ink had been running low and he was going over his words again and again to make them show up well enough, rather than just down to the alley to buy more. The work was stressful, thick, dull. And he had been looking forward to taking a break to relax all night. Harry, as always, understood. “Is that a fact, or an offer, Ron Weasley?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in playful suspicion.

A warm, delicious kiss on the back of his neck accompanied by a luring whisper of “Both” was all Harry needed to abandon his work for a while in favor of a bath. He was pulled sensually along, down the short hallway and into the bathroom, where water was already running, bubbles were already bubbling, and candles were already burning in a ring around the circular tub. “I had a feeling you might say yes,” he explained as he kissed and stripped Harry at the same time.

“Oh, you had a feeling, did you?”

“MmmHmm.” Accompanied by a gentle, arousing kiss on his cock, then gentle easing into the warm water. “Have you never had such a feeling?” He mumbled a few words on the side with a wave of his wand and bathtub filled with bubbles.

Harry closed his eyes, relaxing, feeling. “More times than I’d care to recall,” he replied.

“Me too,” he said breathlessly as they slipped into the water, side-by-side. “But that’s all over now… now I have you… “ He sunk his teeth into Harry’s neck, and his hands dug into Harry’s sides. Harry grabbed him back, wanting it to stop, wanting it to continue. “And now that I have you…. I will have you…” His mouth overtook Harry’s, as wet hands struck the back of his neck and slopped against the hair on the back of his head. He was transfixed, he was overtaken, he was immobilized, but he really didn’t mind being any of those. In truth, it was rather enjoyable.

Harry felt himself slowly slipping down the slick side. But with that he felt Ron straddle him, the man’s cock gently rubbing his waist, smooth and sensual beneath the warm waters. He felt himself scooted over a foot so that he was sitting on a bubble vent. The bubbles shot out against his rear

* * * * * * *

Ron shoved his hands into his pockets as he navigated past the dance floor to the refreshments table. Harry was probably out dancing with Ginny or Hermione or some other girl. There were certainly enough who wouldn’t mind dancing with him. And while the same could be said for Ron, there was only one person Ron really wanted to dance with.

“Ron?” a voice so soft and familiar, enchanting.

He wheeled around with a look of excitement that he tried to hide. “Hey Harry,” he replied, trying to stay casual as always. “How’s it been going?”

Nodding, keeping it simple, “Good. It’s been good. And yourself?”

“Oh, fine, indeed.” This was insane! Harry was his best friend. He had never had such troubles before. What was wrong with them tonight? Nothing had changed, aside from it being only a few days until graduation. Only a few days until… He sighed. “Look, Harry—“

Just as Harry began, “Ron, I—“

Silence a moment as both boys exchanged looks of wanting, of understanding. Then slowly, they both leaned in. Their eyes closed but their lips found each other anyway, and their lips knew just what to do once there. It was not the most romantic kiss in the world, not the most sensual, or the most loving. But it was the most perfect kiss either lad had ever dreamed of. Their lips pressed and slipped with inexperience. Their noses brushed, then bent against each other awkwardly. Their heads tilted one way then the other, and heavy puffs of heated breath were expelled through the nostrils. And yet, it was pure perfection.

Without a word, they finally parted, and Harry put his wrists over Ron’s shoulders, pulling him close. Ron wrapped his arms around Harry’s back, going in for a sweet embrace. Harry laid his head on Ron’s shoulder, closing his eyes once more with a deep, contented sigh.

So Ron did the leading, holding the man close as they slow-danced little circles on the floor. There were looks, he knew. He could feel them. But nothing said, and nothing threatened. He caught Lupin’s eye, as they made one turn to the left, rocking slowly. The man, looking worn out and ragged was in fine robes, and had a very pleased smile on his face. He gave a nod and smile to Ron, who grinned back.

When the music ended, they began to back out of the position. The instruments needed a break, and the refreshments needed to be eaten. But as soon as they had parted, they went right back into it again, with a stronger hug, arms wrapped tightly around each other. “Oh Harry. I wanted to tell you so badly. But I was scared by what you might say.”

Harry nodded, his lightly scarred forehead against Ron’s shoulder, face staring down at the ground and their feet. “You should never be scared around me. You don’t need to be ashamed or hesitant or scared.” He paused. “You just need to be my Wheasey.”

Ron nuzzled Harry, despite himself. “Do you really mean it, Harry? I mean, I didn’t know, er, I don’t know—“

“Well you do now,” Harry replied. “And you always will. Now kiss me again.”

Smiling, unaware of pairs of eyes upon them or stares in their direction, “With pleasure.” They were the only two that mattered right now. The only two who belonged in that room. The two who belong to each other.