(no subject)
*clears throat* Um, no one's posted in awhile, so I thought I'd put up a little Ron/Harry snoglet I wrote awhile ago. It's based on this loffly F/G fic The Last Evening that I read *facepalms*...who was that by? It's up at Fictionalley anyways. Right, so here be ficcage.
Author: Danielle
Title: Finishing Together
Rating: PG->PG-13 (heated kissing of a slashy nature)
Pairing(s) (if applicable): Harry/Ron
Summary: It's the boys' last night at Hogwarts and both are feeling rather nostalgic. Add butterbeer and a homosexual attraction to Harry...and you have my fic ^^
Ron and Harry lay sprawled on the red couch in front of the fire. The common room was empty. It was the last night of seventh year, and Harry had elected not to go to the celebratory Pub Crawl with all the other seniors. Ron had insisted he not stay alone, and here they were. Hermione had been disappointed initially, but had left about three hours ago, debating Ancient Runes with Terry Boot and looking as though she was quite enjoying herself. That left the two of them. Harry stared contentedly into the fire.
“It’s fitting, in a way”
Ron glanced over at him.
“What’s fitting?”
“Well, you know,” Harry made absent gestures with his hands “we started Hogwarts together; we should finish it the same way.”
Ron grinned.
“Yeah” he stretched out, leaning his head back on the arm of the sofa.
Harry was lying prone on the other side. Both boys had their red-and-gold silk ties undone around their necks, crumpled white shirts unbuttoned to the collarbone. They were depressingly sober Harry thought, firelight flickering in the round lenses of his glasses.
“Although” Ron began “technically you spent our first night here wide awake with me hiding under the covers and worrying you wouldn’t be good enough and you’d get kicked out of school.”
Harry made an indignant noise in his throat and sat up to glare at Ron.
“Me? You woke me up because the Bloody Baron scared you witless”
“Then why were we in my bed?” Ron asked happily.
Harry lunged at him, and there ensued a quick but vicious pillow fight which ended with both boys winded, Ron on the ground and Harry sitting smugly on his chest.
“Gerroff” Ron growled. Harry just looked at him, green eyes filled with malicious glee.
“No”
“Bastard”
“Personally, I don’t think you’re in much of a position to be name-calling” Harry remarked, pretending to examine his nails.
“I can’t breathe” Ron wiggled futilely, trying to lessen the crushing weight on his solar plexus. It was remarkable how a skinny boy like Harry could be this heavy.
“Oh you’re no fun” Harry rolled over, his elbows meeting Ron’s ribcage in a way that he was sure was probably painful, but Ron didn’t say anything. In fact, Ron didn’t seem to be doing much of anything except turning purple. Leaning on his forearms, which were on Ron’s chest, Harry smiled beatifically at his friend.
“You’re actually rather comfortable”
“Harry?” Something like panic flashed through the taller boy’s eyes.
“Oh come on, you know you’d be enjoying this if I was Hermione”
“Not if she was crushing my lungs into my spine I wouldn’t” Ron retorted.
With a reluctant sigh, Harry slid off of him and gazed laconically towards the ceiling.
“Our last night at Hogwarts” he tried it out.
It sounded odd on his tongue; Hogwarts had been his home for what seemed like forever. Just like Ron, who hadn’t been his home precisely, but more like…well, just his. Harry didn’t know any other way to describe their friendship. He glanced at his friend, who was leaning against the back of the couch and looking at him strangely. Was that sadness?
“Sickle for your thoughts” Harry offered.
Ron bit his lower lip, as he often did when he was thinking, and winced as his teeth tore into the soft tissue. There was a constant sore spot there, but Ron could not seem to stop biting his lip no matter how hard he tried. Harry had always privately thought it was rather adorable. Quickly he looked away again and back up at the ceiling. Ron sighed.
“I’m thinking- d’you want to go up to the dorm? I mean, I think I still have some Butterbeer from when Fred and George visited- I know it’s no Firewhiskey, but-” he trailed off.
Harry grinned. It was one of the things Ron loved best about Harry, his smile. Mainly because he had a chipped canine tooth that the Dursleys had never bothered to get fixed, and it gave Harry’s smile an endearing lopsided quality.
“It’s good enough for house elves” Harry said, sitting up and startling Ron out of his reverie. “Come on, I bet if we drink enough of them we’ll feel it eventually.”
Six Butterbeers later, Harry was started to doubt his theory. He toasted Ron with his seventh.
“These are completely useless alcohol-wise….but they really do taste good.”
“Yeah”
The boys were sitting on Ron’s bed, Harry up against the headboard, Ron close by. They grinned at each other. The dorms were still empty, which spoke well of Gryffindor’s alcohol tolerance as a whole. Harry was glad, as for some reason he was finding himself reluctant to share his and Ron’s final night. Looking hungrily around at his dorm, wanting to memorize every detail; he ended up on Ron, who was looking sadly at the canopy above the bed.
“Ron?”
His head flew up as if he had been shocked.
“What’s the matter?”
“I think there’s something wrong with me” Ron said quietly.
“How? What are you talking about?”
The redhead looked down, dropping his bottle on the bedside table.
“Harry, you love me right?”
Harry thought about this for a minute.
“Of course”
His friend looked at him, his blue eyes lit with something that inexplicably made Harry’s heart speed up. They were sitting so close.
“What would I have to do to change that?”
Harry pretended to think about this for a minute.
“Become a Death Eater, kill Hedwig- no, scratch that, she bit me the other day.”
He trailed off as Ron leaned towards him, and Harry was abruptly very glad for the solid support of the headboard. Slowly, tentatively, Ron pressed soft lips to his. Harry felt something like an electric current run through him.
“What about that?” Ron’s voice was hoarse. He was sitting half on the bed, arms on either side of Harry. The room was silent, but Ron was sure Harry could hear the pounding of his heart through his thin cotton shirt.
“No-” Harry’s voice cracked and he tried again. “That was-”
He never finished, as Ron leaned in again, raining kisses on Harry over and over; his mouth, along his collarbone, tracing up his neck and gently nibbling at his earlobe. Harry gave a strangled kind of moan, and Ron ceased. He gazed almost shyly at Harry.
“This? It’s alright?”
Harry answered by pulling Ron in by his tie, causing him to fall against Harry, which had kind of been his plan. It was not at all like their first kiss. Harry kissed him furiously, and Ron clutched at the dark-haired boy’s shirt, making little noises in his throat. On a wild-half formed thought, Harry wondered if he should gently pull on Ron’s bottom lip. Immediately Harry tasted the unmistakable tang of blood, salty and metallic. Worried he had hurt Ron, he tried to pull away, only Ron leaned closer towards him, not letting the kiss end. His lip was now bleeding and painfully being smashed into his teeth, but somehow Ron didn’t care. He whimpered softly as pain and euphoria made him lightheaded. Finally, damning the biological need to breathe, they broke off, and Ron collapsed against Harry, panting.
“Didn’t take you for a biter Harry”
Harry made a little noise of contrition.
“Sorry about that” he looked around the room. “Looks like we end our nights at Hogwarts just how we started them, in your bed and all…”
There was a sudden flurry of activity downstairs. The two boys sat immobile as Gryffindor house filled again with chattering seventh years. Loud, extremely drunk chattering seventh years. Ron groaned, hoisted himself up and pulled the bed’s curtains shut.
Author: Danielle
Title: Finishing Together
Rating: PG->PG-13 (heated kissing of a slashy nature)
Pairing(s) (if applicable): Harry/Ron
Summary: It's the boys' last night at Hogwarts and both are feeling rather nostalgic. Add butterbeer and a homosexual attraction to Harry...and you have my fic ^^
Ron and Harry lay sprawled on the red couch in front of the fire. The common room was empty. It was the last night of seventh year, and Harry had elected not to go to the celebratory Pub Crawl with all the other seniors. Ron had insisted he not stay alone, and here they were. Hermione had been disappointed initially, but had left about three hours ago, debating Ancient Runes with Terry Boot and looking as though she was quite enjoying herself. That left the two of them. Harry stared contentedly into the fire.
“It’s fitting, in a way”
Ron glanced over at him.
“What’s fitting?”
“Well, you know,” Harry made absent gestures with his hands “we started Hogwarts together; we should finish it the same way.”
Ron grinned.
“Yeah” he stretched out, leaning his head back on the arm of the sofa.
Harry was lying prone on the other side. Both boys had their red-and-gold silk ties undone around their necks, crumpled white shirts unbuttoned to the collarbone. They were depressingly sober Harry thought, firelight flickering in the round lenses of his glasses.
“Although” Ron began “technically you spent our first night here wide awake with me hiding under the covers and worrying you wouldn’t be good enough and you’d get kicked out of school.”
Harry made an indignant noise in his throat and sat up to glare at Ron.
“Me? You woke me up because the Bloody Baron scared you witless”
“Then why were we in my bed?” Ron asked happily.
Harry lunged at him, and there ensued a quick but vicious pillow fight which ended with both boys winded, Ron on the ground and Harry sitting smugly on his chest.
“Gerroff” Ron growled. Harry just looked at him, green eyes filled with malicious glee.
“No”
“Bastard”
“Personally, I don’t think you’re in much of a position to be name-calling” Harry remarked, pretending to examine his nails.
“I can’t breathe” Ron wiggled futilely, trying to lessen the crushing weight on his solar plexus. It was remarkable how a skinny boy like Harry could be this heavy.
“Oh you’re no fun” Harry rolled over, his elbows meeting Ron’s ribcage in a way that he was sure was probably painful, but Ron didn’t say anything. In fact, Ron didn’t seem to be doing much of anything except turning purple. Leaning on his forearms, which were on Ron’s chest, Harry smiled beatifically at his friend.
“You’re actually rather comfortable”
“Harry?” Something like panic flashed through the taller boy’s eyes.
“Oh come on, you know you’d be enjoying this if I was Hermione”
“Not if she was crushing my lungs into my spine I wouldn’t” Ron retorted.
With a reluctant sigh, Harry slid off of him and gazed laconically towards the ceiling.
“Our last night at Hogwarts” he tried it out.
It sounded odd on his tongue; Hogwarts had been his home for what seemed like forever. Just like Ron, who hadn’t been his home precisely, but more like…well, just his. Harry didn’t know any other way to describe their friendship. He glanced at his friend, who was leaning against the back of the couch and looking at him strangely. Was that sadness?
“Sickle for your thoughts” Harry offered.
Ron bit his lower lip, as he often did when he was thinking, and winced as his teeth tore into the soft tissue. There was a constant sore spot there, but Ron could not seem to stop biting his lip no matter how hard he tried. Harry had always privately thought it was rather adorable. Quickly he looked away again and back up at the ceiling. Ron sighed.
“I’m thinking- d’you want to go up to the dorm? I mean, I think I still have some Butterbeer from when Fred and George visited- I know it’s no Firewhiskey, but-” he trailed off.
Harry grinned. It was one of the things Ron loved best about Harry, his smile. Mainly because he had a chipped canine tooth that the Dursleys had never bothered to get fixed, and it gave Harry’s smile an endearing lopsided quality.
“It’s good enough for house elves” Harry said, sitting up and startling Ron out of his reverie. “Come on, I bet if we drink enough of them we’ll feel it eventually.”
Six Butterbeers later, Harry was started to doubt his theory. He toasted Ron with his seventh.
“These are completely useless alcohol-wise….but they really do taste good.”
“Yeah”
The boys were sitting on Ron’s bed, Harry up against the headboard, Ron close by. They grinned at each other. The dorms were still empty, which spoke well of Gryffindor’s alcohol tolerance as a whole. Harry was glad, as for some reason he was finding himself reluctant to share his and Ron’s final night. Looking hungrily around at his dorm, wanting to memorize every detail; he ended up on Ron, who was looking sadly at the canopy above the bed.
“Ron?”
His head flew up as if he had been shocked.
“What’s the matter?”
“I think there’s something wrong with me” Ron said quietly.
“How? What are you talking about?”
The redhead looked down, dropping his bottle on the bedside table.
“Harry, you love me right?”
Harry thought about this for a minute.
“Of course”
His friend looked at him, his blue eyes lit with something that inexplicably made Harry’s heart speed up. They were sitting so close.
“What would I have to do to change that?”
Harry pretended to think about this for a minute.
“Become a Death Eater, kill Hedwig- no, scratch that, she bit me the other day.”
He trailed off as Ron leaned towards him, and Harry was abruptly very glad for the solid support of the headboard. Slowly, tentatively, Ron pressed soft lips to his. Harry felt something like an electric current run through him.
“What about that?” Ron’s voice was hoarse. He was sitting half on the bed, arms on either side of Harry. The room was silent, but Ron was sure Harry could hear the pounding of his heart through his thin cotton shirt.
“No-” Harry’s voice cracked and he tried again. “That was-”
He never finished, as Ron leaned in again, raining kisses on Harry over and over; his mouth, along his collarbone, tracing up his neck and gently nibbling at his earlobe. Harry gave a strangled kind of moan, and Ron ceased. He gazed almost shyly at Harry.
“This? It’s alright?”
Harry answered by pulling Ron in by his tie, causing him to fall against Harry, which had kind of been his plan. It was not at all like their first kiss. Harry kissed him furiously, and Ron clutched at the dark-haired boy’s shirt, making little noises in his throat. On a wild-half formed thought, Harry wondered if he should gently pull on Ron’s bottom lip. Immediately Harry tasted the unmistakable tang of blood, salty and metallic. Worried he had hurt Ron, he tried to pull away, only Ron leaned closer towards him, not letting the kiss end. His lip was now bleeding and painfully being smashed into his teeth, but somehow Ron didn’t care. He whimpered softly as pain and euphoria made him lightheaded. Finally, damning the biological need to breathe, they broke off, and Ron collapsed against Harry, panting.
“Didn’t take you for a biter Harry”
Harry made a little noise of contrition.
“Sorry about that” he looked around the room. “Looks like we end our nights at Hogwarts just how we started them, in your bed and all…”
There was a sudden flurry of activity downstairs. The two boys sat immobile as Gryffindor house filled again with chattering seventh years. Loud, extremely drunk chattering seventh years. Ron groaned, hoisted himself up and pulled the bed’s curtains shut.