What Ron Did-Part 5/6--R--(for wave two)
Title: What Ron Did
Author: Flaminia Grisandole
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Words: 14, 325 total
Rating: R--for language, sexual references and wanking...
Written for wave two of the Third hprwfqf
POST-WAR: 12. In the last moment, it was Ron who defeated Voldemort, but the world won't believe it no matter what Harry says. Harry figures it'll be impossible for him to act on his new-found feelings in this situation.
Thanks to my two wonderful beta's for the quick and thorough job. You both Rock!
sabine91175 and
mr_yer_on_fire
What Ron Did--Part Five
The match against the Arrows only lasted a half hour. I wasn’t going to give Levy and Brody the chance to botch things up and went for the Snitch straight away. Without the fog or Ron in the game as a distraction, I was able to perform almost admirably.
We had another week of practices and then we were going on the road for six weeks, coming back right before the Christmas holidays.
At the last practice before we hit the road, Levy didn’t turn up. As we rounded up for the day, Wyligby announced that Levy would not be joining us on the road due to an accident landing him in St. Mungo’s for a while.
How anyone could hex themselves getting into the bath was beyond me.
“Weasley, looks like you’re in. Potter, you’re still in, too. And Brody…” Wyligby bit back a smile, “Let’s give you a rest for the first few games and let Depot have a go.”
Ah, maybe someone had been listening to me.
Depot was much better than Brody and we actually got a few goals the first game against the Falcons. Of course Ron blocked almost all the goals, only letting one through when he had to duck out of the way of a Bludger.
Good thing they had done so well, because I had been watching Ron a few times and missed the Snitch. It took me over an hour to finally get it together and find it.
Of course, the papers still swelled with my name, hardly mentioning the other players again.
With each game, Ron got better and better.
And as he got better, it took me longer and longer to catch the Snitch.
In fact, in the third game I was so busy watching Ron make another great save from my perch above that I missed the Tornados’ Seeker dive down for the Snitch. We lost the game.
Still Wyligby kept me in.
In the fifth game, I missed catching the Snitch again, as I was too busy watching Ron lick his fingers before expertly catching the Quaffle. I went after it, but was too far behind the Magpies’ Seeker to catch it. Luckily we scored at the last minute with a great play by Ron’s impeccable pass to Depot, leaving the score 160 to 150.
Ron was surely the star player, with Depot close behind. But still I got all the mention, Depot got only a little mention and Ron got no mention at all in the papers or on the Wizarding Wireless Network.
Wyligby wouldn’t hear of it when I asked to be pulled from starting lineup. He just clapped a bony hand on my back and told me to practice more.
When I complained to Ron (as I tried not to stare at his bare freckled chest as he lay sprawled out on his bed browsing a Quidditch supply magazine), he told me that maybe I was just in a funk or didn’t like the stress of being on the road.
“You were brilliant in the match against the Arrows, why don’t you find that zone again?” he suggested. (I noticed he ignored my comments about his lack of publicity.)
How could I tell him I could play better when I wasn’t distracted by watching him play? I wouldn’t want him not to play because of my insatiable desire and adoration of him. Instead I nodded and headed for a shower (wank).
I was pulled out of the sixth game against the Kestrels.
Well, technically, everyone else would say it was the Bludger that knocked me out of the game…and off my broom.
Luckily I hadn’t been far from the ground. I had been trying to stay lower than the other Seeker so I would be sure not to miss him going into a dive for the Snitch.
It had been the perfect spot.
I could see right up under Ron’s robes, his tight trousers defining his arse and legs most wonderfully.
I was thinking things I shouldn’t about the broomstick between his thighs when…
Wham!
Right to the head. Blacked out a bit and slid off my broom five feet to the ground.
I guess I hadn’t heard Fischer calling out to me.
When I opened my eyes, I felt like my head had expanded three sizes. The Mediwizards came over and levitated me from the Pitch. Wearily I looked over to briefly meet Ron’s worried look.
I think I might have blown him a kiss.
Maybe I could still blame it on the Bludger.
Five minutes later I was much more coherent, yet had a painful knot at the back of my head. They put Weinchek in and I watched from the sideline with a charmed cold press on the back of my head.
At least I now got to watch Ron without making a complete prat of myself.
The game turned out to be a long, scoreless one. The Kestrels’ Keeper was almost as good as Ron and Depot seemed to be having an off day. But Ron kept their Chasers at bay, not allowing one goal in.
The Snitch didn’t seem to be anywhere in sight.
Finally, as the sun began to set, Weinchek went after the Snitch, closely followed by the Kestrel’s Seeker, Jacob Truman.
They were neck in neck when Weinchek pulled a perfect Wronski Feint, sending Truman barreling into the ground as Weinchek snatched the Snitch for the win.
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It was our last night on the road before we headed back to the Burrow for a long break. After one last check from the team’s Mediwizard, I headed back to our room with Ron.
My head was still a little foggy, but after a warm shower I felt much better. I stretched out on my bed, resting as I waited for Ron to finish his shower so we could go down and grab a bite at the hotel clubhouse.
I was not thinking about Ron, naked, wet, and lathered in soap right through the door less than ten steps away.
Nope, I was not.
Until I heard the low moan.
Then I heard it again.
My overactive imagination made me imagine I could hear the slapping of skin on skin.
Made me think that Ron might be wanking.
Naked, wet and lathered in soap Ron--wanking.
Through the door just ten steps away.
Bloody-fucking hell.
I was not going to slide my hand into my trousers.
I would not unzip them to free my hard-as-a-diamond cock.
I could not stroke and tease and pull myself off while listening to my best mate showering (and wanking).
Nope, not at all.
Oh, shite, did that feel good.
I closed my eyes and tried to match the rhythm I imagined him using.
Sliding those long, strong fingers up and down his hot, hard thick cock. Slowly at first, making sure to slide his thumb across the head on each upstroke. Across the slit to catch the drop of precum pushing out of it.
Then he would pull harder, faster. Leaning against the wall, his head tilted back as the spray from the shower rinsed away the lather he left abandoned in his passion to touch himself. How his skin would flush and his gorgeous freckles would almost radiate across his back, shoulders and chest.
Faster still, ever closer to his climax, his knees would bend a bit and the water would run in droplets down the sides of his face. Down his back. Dipping into the curve of his sumptuously freckled arse…
My hips bucked up off the bed and my hand moved faster than I could have imagined. The image of Ron’s concerned expression on the Pitch earlier that day appeared in my head. A heavy warmth exploded in my belly as I came hard over my shirt and pants, and bit my lip severely to not shout out.
I lay there, a complete mess, panting hard as I came down from my high.
Then I realized that the shower had stopped running and I heard the toilet flush.
I reached for my wand and spelled myself clean. I had just tossed my wand back on the bedside table and zipped up my trousers when the door opened.
Ron only wore his boxers.
Amazingly, my cock twitched. I shifted to sit up better to cover any upcoming anatomy.
Ron looked at me and frowned.
“You alright, Harry?”
My face was warm and I still panted a bit. I nodded and gave him a reassuring smile. My heart leapt into my throat when he headed over to me. He reached out and pushed his finger through my hair at the back of my head to touch the bump there delicately.
“Still hurt?” he asked, pulling his hand away and sitting on the edge of the bed facing me.
My voice caught throat in my for a moment. “Not much anymore.”
“You were pretty out of it for a moment,” he smirked.
“Yeah, well…” I tried to tear my eyes away from his.
“Very cute when you blew me that kiss, I bet the other blokes on the team are jealous,” he laughed.
“Ah, well…I…You see…”
“It’s okay.” his laughter stopped and his face grew serious. “Just as long as you’re alright…”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I mumbled, looking down at my knees.
“I heard Fischer call out but by the time I turned around the bloody thing was already connecting with your head.”
“S’alright, Ron. Wasn’t paying attention…” I fiddled with the fabric on the bed.
“I should have been paying more attention, too, instead I was involved in the bloody game…I’m just glad it wasn’t worse…”
I looked up and realized how very close we were. So close that I could feel the ghosting of his breath on my nose, sneaking up underneath my glasses. There was an expression in his eyes that I couldn’t read.
I should just tell him.
Right here, right now.
I took in a gulp of breath. It might turn out alright.
“Ron, I…”
The WWN clicked on then. It had been set to magically go off for public announcements by the hotel staff.
“Breaking news from Azkaban Isle. After almost three months in a comatose-like state, hundreds of notorious Death Eaters finally awoke early this afternoon.”
Fear filled Ron’s eyes before he looked away from me.
“Many claimed it was like waking up from a recurring nightmare, and could not believe that they had been a part of such treachery. The proof that they all were indeed followers of the Dark Lord rests in the strange patch of purple skin on each of their forearms where the legendary Dark Mark once resided.”
I stared at the back of Ron’s head, trying to get him to look at me. He pointedly continued to stare at the Wireless.
“Five of the most well-known Death Eaters were found at the scene where the Dark Lord allegedly met his demise. They were questioned thoroughly.
“When asked to describe what transpired, Vincent Crabbe Senior was quoted, ‘We thought we had Potter where we wanted, the Dark Lord was about to kill him. Suddenly a hard force threw me and my comrade to the ground. A bright light burst around us, making it impossible to see for a short period of time. Someone was chanting a spell and then the pain in my arm became blindingly painful. I saw the Dark Lord vanish and the Potter boy standing before him just before I passed out.’
“Bellatrix Lestrange, Theodore Nott Senior and Gregory Goyle Senior all affirmed the same when questioned. Lucius Malfoy, also present at the scene, could not be questioned as he remains in a comatose state.
“All Death Eaters are being kept in custody and carefully guarded by several Ministry appointed Aurors.
“In other news, said Boy Who Defeated the Dark Lord, Harry Potter, Seeker for the Chudley Cannons, suffered minor injuries to the head in the match between the Cannons and the Kenmare Kestrels today. Carl Weinchek came in and the Cannons still managed the win at 150 to zero. Authorities report that Potter ‘patched up nicely’ and would be ready for the next game in January.”
“Complete rubbish,” I threw my pillow at the wireless, knocking it off the table.
Ron finally turned to look at me. “Do you think Azkaban can hold all of them?”
“I sure as hell hope so. I’m not going through that crap again, “ I grumbled.
Ron didn’t respond, only slowly got up to get dressed. The moment we had before the announcement had dissipated. What was I thinking? I could never tell him how I feel.
What I needed to do was to get over this. Briefly I thought I might be feeling this way for him because he saved our lives that day. Sort of like a hero thing. Then I realized that I had loved him even before Riddle rose from that stupid cauldron. Even if it did take me until the wedding to figure it out.
No. I loved him. But I could never have him. Not like that. I guess I should just be glad that I was still his best mate.
After a long silence, he asked in an almost inaudible voice,
“What do you think’s wrong with Malfoy?”
I snorted, the image of him breaking Ron’s wand and sucker punching him making my stomach clench. “I don’t know, and I don’t care. In fact, I couldn’t be happier if he never woke up.”
It’s not like he would remember what happened. At least not correctly.
Part 6