The Platonic, Sane Level -Part Six-
Post Note
Visiting the Burrow was hard for awhile.
When Molly first saw Harry, she foremost pictured Ginny's heartbreaker. It took a while for her to remember that he was her surrogate son- and Ron's love interest.
In late April, Ginny and her Ravenclaw buddies became famous after discovering a black unicorn, the first one spotted since the Middle Ages. Afterwards she personally invited Harry to the Burrow for the celebration. All seemed forgiven.
Hermione was the hard one.
After Harry told her about the development with Ron, she wouldn't answer Harry’s owls for a week. Then she needed to see Harry every day. When Harry came back from his visits, Ron would ask how she was doing, and Harry would look ashamed as he answered, "Bitter, but trying hard not to be."
She really loved me, I guess, Ron thought. Don't know why.
"Maybe I should have known," Hermione said when Ron finally saw her again.
They sat on a park bench in park holding tea-filled thermoses. It was the first warm day of an exceptionally frigid spring, and Hermione's nose kept running into her scarf.
"I am the smart one," she said. "I should have picked up on it."
"Whether I was gay or whether I was going to wind up with Harry?"
She smiled, a bitter twist of the mouth that was very unlike her. "The gay bit."
"What? What do you mean by that?! Everyone's been shocked that I'm gay!"
"Oh, hush. You aren't a walking ad for WonderWitch or anything. I'm just saying, sometimes your jokes sounded a little more bitchy than the average boy's. Like who says that Goyle looks like a baboon's backside? That sounded like something Parkinson would say."
"Now you're saying I sound like a Slytherin girl. Thanks," he said, trying to keep his tone good-natured.
This was the tone of their first few meetings. Hermione struggled to stay civil but would usually snap with a few well-aimed jibes at Ron's manliness. He endured. The worst part of it was watching Hermione deal with her ugliness, how she blushed after every careless remarks. They clearly embarrassed her.
But it would it get better. Easier.
Harry and Ron had their own issues to work out, too, although Ron reckoned they were minor. For one, they needed to get a better color scheme for Grimmauld, and perhaps even hire an interior decorator. Two, apparently they had a couple of issues that two young men weren't equipped to handle on their own.
Ron never quite figured what his issues were, but he had Brad to guide him. Still Ron was quite sure Harry was a few bludgers short of a Quidditch set. Sex with Harry was great-but odd.
Since Ron wasn't sure if Harry was acting strange or if it was just how gay men acted, Ron had to read books on the subject, and when he grew more sure of himself, he even spoke, ears burning red, to Brad about it.
"Harry likes to get me angry before sex, sometimes. I think he likes it violent."
Brad hmmed while the Quill flew off, returning minutes later with a pamphlet titled Spousal Abuse dangling from its tip.
So that was how they both wound up in matching wingbacks with matching sulky expressions facing off with Dr. Brad. Couple's therapy, twice a week. Harry picked at his cuticle and muttered about how "Psychotherapy felt worse than Occlumency."
"And Ron, why do you think that Harry engaged in the sadomasochism lifestyle?" Brad asked.
Ron rolled his eyes. "I think Harry’s always had his life controlled by bad men, and he wants that same kind of bullying in the bedroom."
"I liked you better when you had the emotional range of a teaspoon," Harry grumbled.
"As did I," Ron growled. "It's a bloody headache dealing with all these emotions and motivations."
*___*___*___*
Roger Davies performed "Phoenix's Symphony" at the Ministry's gala for the War's second anniversary. With dramatic flourishes of his wand, he conducted an orchestra comprised of four flubas, an organ, half of a sitar, two stand up basses, twenty cowbells, and a harmonica that was the size of a dragon.
"I think Dumbledore would love it," Harry said. He raised his champagne glass dizzily and toasted the atmosphere.
"Yes. I especially like how the cowbells have little wings and are fluttering around the harmonica," Ron commented. "It's like they're chicks clucking around the mother hen."
"Roger said that flight helps with the acoustic qualities," Hermione said. "He designed and attached the wings himself."
"Roger, is it? We're on first name basis?" Ron picked, lifting his eyebrows. Then he winced. His remark had been a tease, and Merlin knew if they were on "Ron gets to tease Hermione about her love life" terms yet.
However Hermione only smiled, tracing her forefinger around the lip of her glass. Ron remembered that gesture from while they were dating. It meant she was being secretive and flirty about something. Only now the gesture was meant for Davies.
All-in-all, it was a good night. He had worried before coming out. Neither him or Harry were comfortable with public displays of affection, so hardly anyone knew they were together, and on top of that, Harry had to spend half of the night mingling with a besotted public. Combine that with Ron's tendency to get jealous, and Ron was certain someone was going to wind up on the couch tonight. Wonder of wonders, Harry got a little handsy when he was inebriated, constantly slipping a finger into the front of Ron's waistband and pulling his ear to his mouth so he could whisper stupid, hot things.
Hermione rolled her eyes at the display, but Ron could have crowed in triumph. Even if they were acting a little ridiculous, Ron was new at this being in-love thing. Some days he felt completely secure with Harry, and some days he didn't want to let Harry out of the house because he was afraid someone would... yeah. Still, even Ron knew that he couldn't act like an obsessive maniac, so when he saw Blaise by the bar, he went up to him and offered him an apology. He even rehearsed it in his head beforehand so that it came out sounding half-sincere.
He was rewarded.
Harry yanked his arm while Ron was telling a circle of matrons, "No, I don't think the war proved that we need a standing wizarding army-" He hustled him into a dark coat room. When Ron finally cottoned on, Harry was already tugging his robes open.
"You're kidding," Ron said, grinning as he tried to help loosen the ties of his trousers.
Harry pushed him against a rack of minks.
"The room just looked so comfortable." He slid down Ron's body until he was nuzzling his belly-button. "And Christ, all that tripe we had to listen to. Do me a favor and leave a memento on their jackets."
His fingers slipped through Ron's boxers and clasped his turgid prick. He stuck a maroon tongue out-stained from wine-and ran it along the underside of Ron's cock.
"That's-" Breaking off in a gasp, Ron sunk deeper into the furs and widened his stance, angling for a better view of Harry. "-terribly rude."
There was little light in the narrow room, just the thin bright strip under the door that illuminated Harry's profile. The light caught weird flashes. Ron watched a vein on his prick bob in and out of shadow as Harry sucked at the tip. Soft fur bristles encased his neck and ears, muffling the din of the gala. When he needed to come, Harry pulled him out and held his cockhead before his nose. Spunk gushed all over his face, and Harry took it, mouth parted slightly.
Transfixed, Ron watched as a bit fluid collected on his bottom lip.
Harry was still a little freak. Ron's little freak, he thought now with affection. Now that they were together, Ron reckoned that he could tolerate and learn to love almost anything from Harry-would do anything for him, short of dressing like Voldemort or Pettrigrew. And they'd talked about what was going on with Harry during The Bondage Episode, as that time period's come to be called. Harry talked about how "anything can be addictive, even pain" and that sex had become a "punishing compulsion."
When Harry said things like that, sometimes Ron thought there was a universe inside Harry that he didn't know and that he'd never reach. That intimidated him.
Made him afraid.
Then again, maybe Harry was just regular bloke with some complex shit about him, and Ron would have to spend the rest of his life figuring him out.
-fin-
Author's Note: Manic Depressive heroes pull Mankind into their cycles and carry everybody away is a quote from Saul Bellow. Alcohol increases the desire but diminishes the performance is Shakespeare's. Thanks for reading!