Fic for rickey_a

Dec 02, 2009 23:10

For: rickey_a
From: ella_bane
Title: The Distraction of Attraction
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Harry discovers the perfection of Ron's derriere.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns these characters.
Author's Note: Thanks to rickey_a for her great prompt. I found inspiration in bizarre situations, humor, and curses. Thanks also to (another secret elf!) for looking this over.



The day Harry noticed Ron's arse was the same day Ginny announced she'd put in an application for the University of Georgia in the United States. But that wasn't odd. It was Ron's arse. No, that wasn't odd. That was perfect. What was odd was Harry had never noticed how perfect it was before.

While Ginny and Harry were sitting in the comfortable Weasley kitchen, and Ron was filling a kettle at the sink, his back and arse to them, Ginny said, "I've put in an application for the University of Georgia in the United States."

Then Ron dropped to his knees and bent over, muttering as he rooted amongst the bottles under the sink. He was wearing muggle jeans, and they clung to his muscular thighs and arse like second skin. His bum was tight and round and undoubtedly smooth beneath the blue fabric. Harry tried to remember the times he'd seen Ron naked, but an image wouldn't properly materialize. Ron grumbled and delved deeper into the dark recesses of the cupboard, his arse up and out, his legs parted just ever so slightly.

Harry sighed a little sigh. Ron's arse was a wonderful, wonderful thing, and why Ron didn't just Accio what he was looking for was beyond Harry, but that was lovely really, because the longer Ron searched, the longer his bum would be put on fabulous display.

"Harry?" asked Ginny.

"Hmmm?" said Harry, gazing at Ron's derriere, both flummoxed and delighted. Flummoxed because, well, why was Ron's arse suddenly so delectable? Delighted because Ron and Harry were best mates, which meant Harry could get a good look at Ron's bottom pretty much any time he wanted to.

"What do you think?"

"I think it's bloody fantastic," Harry murmured.

"The University of Georgia?"

"What?" Harry tore his attention away from Ron's behind to blink at Ginny.

"Look at this." Ginny pushed an unfurled scroll across the kitchen table.

Curlicued script covered the parchment informing one Ginevra Weasley she'd been accepted for the fall semester. Sparkling, iridescent ink highlighted their Quidditch team, the Georgia Bull Dogs.

"Ginny," Harry began, "I hope you're not going for the team. American Quidditch is rubbish."

Ginny scowled as Ron grunted his agreement. Harry glanced his way. Sadly, Ron was once again upright, facing forward.

Harry drummed his fingers on the table. He couldn't very well say, "Ron, would you mind turning around? I want to look at your arse." Best mates or not, that would not be on. Glancing around the room, he noticed two brooms side by side. Instantly elated, Harry stood and grabbed one.

"Race?"

As they took off into the sky, Harry was quite pleased to let Ron take the lead.

***

After a long night of naughty fantasies involving Ron's arse, Harry turned to Hermione.

"Do you think Silvercloak put a curse on us?" Harry rubbed his broom handle with a soft cloth. Nonchalantly, he hoped.

"Why would she curse her students?" Hermione peered at Harry over her scroll, a frown on her face. "And why do you ask?"

"Hmmm, no reason. Did you hear Ginny's going to be an American bull dog?"

"What?"

***

"Good morning, trainees," announced Sasha Silvercloak. She was short, soft, and round. Her clean white robes fluttered as she strode around the classroom, showing glimpses of the shiny purple lining. Her grin was infectious as she nodded greetings to the assembled twenty young men and women. Harry had always liked her; he smiled back. Hermione was right. Silvercloak wouldn't put a curse on them.

"Today begins your third of five practicums. Unlike the first two," her eyes were bright with amusement, "you will be given the freedom to complete your task in an uncontrolled environment."

Beside Harry, Ron--he of the perfect arse--said, "Cool." Then he dug through his pockets, pressing his thigh next to Harry's. Feeling the warm pressure of Ron's leg made Harry bite his lip.

Hermione, on Harry's other side, set her quill to rapid note-taking. From the sound of it, Harry thought the scratching excessive. "How many notes can you take," he muttered, glancing down at her scroll. Instead of the looping penmanship he expected, a caricature of Silvercloak was being doodled. "I didn't know you could draw."

"I can't. Not really." And then, "I can't help myself."

"Bloody hell, I can't find it," grumbled Ron, pushing against Harry even more as he searched his pockets. He then leaned over Harry to look at Hermione's notes. "Hmmph, not bad."

"Thanks." She sounded miserable.

"I said, not bad, not that's bad!"

"I know!"

"Ron, could you please stop hump--bumping my leg!" Harry said in a rather loud voice. He winced when the room went silent.

"Mr Potter. Mr Weasley. Ms Granger. Whatever is wrong?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked up as one to see Silvercloak watching them with a small smile. For a moment Harry felt as though he were back at Hogwarts, awaiting admonishment from Professor McGonagall.

"Nothing," muttered Ron. He jerked his leg away, scowled at Harry, and proceeded to dig through his pockets. Again.

Hermione clutched her quill, unrolled her scroll a bit more, and began sketching Harry, lightning bolt and all.

Silvercloak, pleasant as ever, simply nodded and turned to address the whole room. "Your task involves the retrieval of three unique objects. In two days' time, at midnight, we will convene at Butterbrush Manor. Once there, you will be given a list with your three items. You will have two hours. You may work in teams or alone. As a bonus, the first person--or team--to find the items will receive a voucher for 50 galleons, usable at participating shops in Diagon Alley. A portkey will be available for travel in my office ten minutes prior. You are free to fly if you wish, however. The weather should be fair. Until then--yes, Mr Potter?"

Harry was confused. Their last practicum had been torture. "That's all?"

"Yes, Mr Potter. That is all."

"That's our assignment? We must find three objects in a house? We can use our wands? We can search with a group?"

"Yes."

Several others in the room appeared to agree with Harry. "What's the catch?" said Justin Finch-Fletchley.

"Catch, Mr Finch-Fletchley"

"What makes this assignment difficult?"

"Ah, that's the trick isn't it? What makes an assignment difficult?" She tapped her temple. A few hands shot up, but she tutted them away. "In this exercise, you will discover that even a simple assignment can become monstrously hard, impossible even, if you are unable to concentrate." Her cheerful demeanor dropped as she gazed at each student in turn. "Once you become aurors, it is imperative that distraction, any distraction, be dealt with. Your lives may depend upon it. I shall see you in two days." She Disapparated.

Harry promptly pulled out his wand and cast Finite Incantatem on himself, fuming at his distraction. Silvercloak had some twisted sense of humour. He glanced at Ron surreptitiously. It seemed obvious to him now that everyone could tell he couldn't stop staring at Ron's bottom.

"I already tried that," said Hermione.

Justin Finch-Fletchley sauntered over. "As did I." He sat down next to Hermione. "What's your--what did Silvercloak call it-distraction?" Hermione grimaced and passed her scroll to him. "Ah, a compulsion to draw. Not bad."

"Yes, can I have it back, please?"

"I can't bloody find what I'm looking for and it's driving me mad," Ron said, slumping down.

"Well, what are you looking for?" asked Justin.

"I don't know."

Justin jerked a thumb toward Jessie Beaumont. "She's in the same predicament."

Harry looked across the room and watched as Jessie dumped her satchel out on the floor. She tossed back her waist-length, wavy black hair as she sifted through the contents, pausing to scrutinise each tube of lipstick.

"Maybe I should talk to her," mused Ron. "The two of us could figure it out."

"Be practical. You might be looking for two different things," said Hermione. She turned to Justin. "What's your distraction?"

"Mine? Oh." He smiled in a way that Harry supposed was charming. "I'm distracted by the need to be around beautiful women."

"But you're talking to us," Ron said. "Why aren't you with Jessie?"

Hermione huffed and Justin said, "But I'm already with a beautiful woman. Are you blind?"

Ron grinned and stood up, blocking Harry's view with his bum. He stretched his arms way over his head and yawned. "I'll talk to Jessie. We have the same distraction. Couldn't hurt, anyway."

Harry gulped. An urge to reach out and grab Ron's hips was damn near irrepressible. It was a horrible shame they couldn't fly together in here. He imagined Ron mounting his broom: Ron would throw his leg over the shaft, his powerful thighs shifting as he settled his arse just above the polished wood. He would then lean over, readying for the signal to shoot ahead, his body tensed and trembling with effort.

As Ron walked away, dispelling the fantasy, Harry shook his head and blinked. He saw Justin staring at him.

"Ah, what's your distraction, Harry?" Justin glanced at Ron, then back to Harry. "Mmm?"

"Idon'tknowmineyet."

"Yes, you do," said Hermione.

"What--how did you--what do you know?"

"I don't know what it is, but you did ask me just two days ago if I thought Silvercloak had cursed us. Remember?" She bent to her task, starting a new drawing.

"Oh, that. Yeah, it was just a feeling."

"Well, you were right. When you do figure yours out, let me know, will you? I might be able to help."

Harry didn't answer; he was too busy staring at Ron, who was down on the floor with Jessie, on his knees, poking through Jessie's clutter.

"Harry?"

"What?" Harry snapped.

Hermione and Justin were looking at him expectantly. In a gruff voice, Harry said, "Look, this is not a proper exercise. Silvercloak's use of dark magic to keep us from completing our assignment is unconscionable. No auror can be as distracted as we've been under normal circumstances. This is a cheat." He nodded with great emphasis. "Come on, Hermione. Silvercloak is using dark magic! That can't be right. This is bonkers. Really."

"You just said you didn't know what your distraction was," Justin pointed out.

Hermione added, "This isn't dark magic."

"I don't know what it is," Harry said with his teeth clenched.

"You said, 'no auror can be as distracted as we've been', right, Hermione? That implies you do know what yours is."

Ron stood up, drawing Harry's eye, then absently scratched his arse. Harry's cock actually twitched and he gave an involuntary groan.

"Harry?"

"WHAT!?"

Justin gave a smarmy, knowing grin as he too looked at Ron.

Harry grabbed his broom and left.

***

"Auror Silvercloak?"

"Yes, Mr Potter?"

"I wanted to talk to you about the curse."

"Certainly. Come right in. My office is always open."

Harry chose a comfortable red armchair, one he'd sat in countless times in his early sessions with her. Slivercloak sat behind a rickety metal desk. The words 'spellovision spectacles' were stenciled across the front in electric blue. No less than three plates overflowing with pastries were stationed within easy reach for visitors. Harry started to take one, as usual, then stopped. He took a deep breath and looked at Silvercloak steadily.

"About this curse."

"Yes?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

"I do?"

Harry threw up his hands. "Are you going to make me say it? Fine. My distraction is unacceptable."

She raised a pudgy finger, concern clear upon her face, and said, "One second." She pulled out a blank parchment and tapped it with her wand. "Declaro." Running a finger down the squiggle of text that slowly appeared, she said, "Harry, I don't see a problem."

"How can you say that? Of course it's a problem."

"I don't see why it should be. Your time at Hogwarts shows that this would be quite an easy distraction for you to overcome. You're very lucky. Consider your friend Ms Granger. If your distraction was hers, she'd have a very difficult time."

Harry looked at Silvercloak in disbelief. This didn't sound right. Not one bit. Hermione would never have a difficult time with Ron's arse.

"I can see you're uncomfortable, but I can't fathom why you should be."

"Isn't this distraction a bit . . . immoral?"

Silvercloak's concern melted into comprehension. "Mr Potter, your distraction may be manifesting itself in unusual ways--it is a very complex bit of magic--but I can assure you, no distraction curse in my lengthy tenure has ever resulted in immoral activities." She sat back in her chair and added, "Have you considered that what is distracting you has nothing to do with this curse?"

Harry thought about Ron and his suddenly stunning arse. "Impossible."

***

"Harry! Ron!" Hermione's voice was all delight. "Come and see what I've done."

Harry and Ron had just entered Hermione's neat little flat, fresh from an exhilarating bout of afternoon of flying. It was true that Harry's thighs were aching from the amount of flying he'd endured the past day and a half, but the sight of Ron on his broom was worth it.

Spread out before Hermione on her squat, sturdy study table was an enormous map. It looked like blueprints for a house. A very large house.

"That's fantastic! How did you get plans for the Butterbrush Estate?" Harry threw his broom down and joined them.

Sitting nearby in a deep blue armchair was Justin. He laughed.

"She probably drew it herself," Ron suggested, settling down on the couch. "This is Hermione."

"Did you?" asked Harry.

"I did."

Justin laughed again. "I couldn't believe it. When we got back here last night, she drew like a woman possessed, it was unbelievable how well--"

"Hold on now. Last night? What were you doing here last night?" Ron demanded.

"Oh, hush," said Hermione. "Listen, I went on a tour of the estate yesterday--Justin went with me--and we took notes--"

"And you came up with this from that little outing?" asked Harry.

Justin interjected,"Not exactly. There were brochures available and the plans are public, you know."

"Yes, Harry, the plans are public, you know." Ron mimicked Justin's upper-crust accent to a T.

Justin gave Ron a sharp look. "Find what you're looking for?"

"No." And then, without venom, as he began sifting through Hermione's scattered copies of Witch Weekly. "Shut it, will you?"

He sounded weary and frazzled; Harry knew exactly how he felt. Already, after just minutes of not seeing Ron's behind Harry could think of nothing else. In the back of his mind he knew Justin was talking, he knew Hermione was watching him, but he couldn't focus. He gazed around the room trying to find something, anything to latch onto. When he saw his broom, relief flooded him, leaving him dazed with happiness. He could take Ron flying again! He could see his arse!

"Accio broom. Ready, Ron?"

Ron looked up from the floor. He was sitting in a sea of books and magazines. "Again? We've just come in."

"If we're going to fly to the estate, we should practice the route at least once."

"You're flying tomorrow night?" asked Justin. "Bad idea. It's a new moon. You'll be flying blind."

"We've flown in worse," said Ron, fixing on Harry with an odd sort of focus, his mouth agape.

"Yeah, we have," agreed Harry. He glanced at Justin then back at Ron, unnerved by his stare. Did Ron know about Ron's arse? "What?"

Ron gave a faint smile. "Nothing. Let's go."

"Wait, I've more to tell you!" Hermione practically squealed.

With great reluctance, Harry paid attention to Hermione. Holding his broom helped him concentrate, he noticed. Thinking of the view Ron provided each and every time they flew was a heady comfort.

"I've dealt with my distraction! Drawing this map did it. I can think again. It's absolutely lovely." Sighing in deep contentment, she sat back against the couch cushions, her brown hair spread out in a fluffy cloud behind her.

"Yes, very lovely," said Justin, staring at Hermione.

Harry and Ron left.

***

Harry stood in the doorway of Ron's room, broom in hand. It looked as though a whirlwind had spun through. In its normal state, the room was messy, but the diversity of debris today was impressive. Not a single surface, including the floor, was untouched.

In two hours, it would be midnight. They had to be at Butterbrush Manor by then, and even with Hermione's detailed plans, Harry doubted he'd be able to find his glasses, let alone some random objects on a list. He had to figure out a way to deal with his distraction now.

"Ron?"

A thump followed by a drawn out 'ow' pin-pointed Ron's location.

"I take it you haven't found it -- whatever 'it' is?"

Ron crawled out from under his desk, rubbing his head. "Not yet." He flopped onto his bed. Harry sat on the edge.

"About my distraction . . . "

"Yeah?" Ron leaned up on his elbows, looking at Harry, earnest and eager. "Anything I can do?"

Harry imagined saying, 'Yes, there is. Take off your trousers and roll over. That would be brilliant.' Then he imagined Ron replying, Of course, mate. Anything for you.. Then Ron would do it and Harry could run his hands over Ron's willing body and then--

"Harry?"

Jerking his head out of his reverie, Harry focused on the fully-dressed Ron. "Sorry. " He dragged a hand over his head. "I'm--"

"Distracted. Yeah. Believe me, I know." Ron lay on his back again, giving Harry an interested stare. "You know, I feel less itchy with you here."

"Itchy?"

"Anxious, I mean. I don't feel like jumping out of my skin. Dunno why." He met Harry's eyes and was quiet; he seemed content to just gaze at Harry.

Harry said nothing in return. Staring back into Ron's blue eyes was comforting, but his own itch demanded a scratch. A frisson of terror shot through him. There was no reason he couldn't tell Ron the truth. Ron would understand. He would. Really. It would be a laugh. What's the worst that could happen? Harry shuddered, realizing he was terrified to act on the impulse. He didn't want to scare away the person who meant the most to him.

He glanced away, desperate to stifle the desire. Ron's fingers closed on Harry's then. "Huh," Ron said. "This is even more calming." He let go and laughed. "What a curse, eh?" He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Maybe what I need to find is right here." His voice was softer than Harry had ever heard it.

Harry's fingers tingled with warmth. That felt extraordinary. "What did you say?"

Ron opened his eyes. "I said I need to find you. You're here and I don't feel the need to search. What else could it be? I can relax. You know how it's been."

"Yeah, I do." He ran his fingers through his hair again. Another shiver ran through him. Could he tell him?

"You sure then, you don't know what yours is yet?"

Harry made up his mind. "I know what it is."

Ron sat back up. "Yeah, what is it? Why didn't you say before?"

Harry's face felt hot. "It's embarrassing."

Ron laughed. "How can it be more embarrassing than what I just said?" He pitched his voice. "I found you, Harry Potter!" He grinned, eyes flashing, his expression open and unguarded. "Tell me."

Harry took a deep breath. "Ron, please understand this, I have to, I must, it's driving me mad, I have to --"

"Harry!"

"What are you doing here?" Ron asked, sitting up and looking behind Harry.

Hermione stood at the foot of the bed with her broom. She was combing through the bristles with a broom kit comb as she spoke. "I thought I'd join you. You said you were flying instead of using the portkey. It'll be dangerous without light. Three Lumos spells are better than one-- or two--for that matter." She continued fussing with her barely used broom, oblivious to Harry's frustration.

Harry wanted to scream. Ron would have understood. He would have shown Harry. He would have let Harry do anything! If it wasn't for Hermione, he would be feasting his eyes on Ron's arse in the actual flesh right now. He might even be touching it, using his hands, his lips, his--

"Besides," Hermione added, "this flight to the manor might finish off Harry's curse."

Ron started. "What, you know--"

"What are you talking about, Hermione?" Harry interrupted. "What does flying have to do with my distraction?"

Hermione looked up from her broom. "Harry," she said pointedly, "Flying is your distraction. Anyone who's been with you for more than twenty minutes in the past two days would have figured that out." She put her hand on one hip. "You didn't know?"

"Flying is not my distraction. I was using it to . . ."

"To what?"

"Harry was about to tell me when you came in," Ron said.

"Well, what do you think it is?" Hermione asked.

"It's not flying."

"What else could it be? You've flown more in the past two days than when you played Quidditch. Honestly, Harry, I don't know how you can stand there and--"

"It's Ron's arse, OK! I'm distracted by Ron's arse! I kept us flying because I wanted to see Ron's arse."

For a second, it seemed as though all the air was sucked out of the room by Ron and Hermione's gasps. Harry sat down, glared at Hermione, but was careful to not look at Ron.

"Did you say Ron's arse was your distraction?"

Harry knew he was beet red. He forced out, "Yes," from between clenched teeth.

Hermione exploded with laughter. She grabbed the bedpost for support. Gulping for air between giggles, she said, "And you, you really believe that? That Ron's arse is your curse?"

Harry stood up, feeling indignant. "Well, what else could it have been? I couldn't stop thinking about it!" He grabbed for Ron, who was now standing with a dopey grin on his face. "Turn around. Show her!" It took all of Harry's might to not run his hands over him.

"Whatever you say, Harry," said Ron. He turned slowly, arms lifted. His smile was beatific.

"There are other ways of seeing Ron's bottom, Harry. I'm certain flying is your distraction. If you fly to the estate, the curse will be over, just like mine ended after I drew plans for the estate."

"Hermione," Ron said firmly. "I think two Lumos spells will be enough. We'll meet you at the estate in two hours."

Harry stared at Ron with rising hope. Ron must have felt Harry's gaze, because he gave Harry a quick nod and a grin.

Hermione looked thoughtful. "Well, all right then." She turned to go, murmuring, "I don't like flying much anyway." Turning back, she added, "Do be on time, please. My plan requires four people, not two."

The door clicked shut and Harry and Ron were alone.

"Well, Harry," said Ron, pulling off his shirt. The muscles of his chest moved beautifully as he completed the maneuver. He lay back on the bed, hands folded neatly on his stomach. "What can I do to help you?"

Harry stood over him, filled with an overwhelming desire to see all of Ron. Now. All he got out was a hoarse, "Your arse."

"My arse, you say?" Ron sounded eager to please. "You've got to see it?"

Harry nodded. His mouth was dry. He watched as Ron's hands dropped to the zip on his trousers, watched his fingers deftly unfasten and pull down the offending fabric, watched as Ron shoved the material down his long, long legs.

The prominent bulge revealed by Ron's actions was a revelation. Never mind Ron's arse! Ron was huge, glorious and rising still. Harry dropped to the bed, landing near Ron's torso. "Ron," he whispered. "I'm not so sure it's your arse I need to see."

Ron grinned, and he settled his hands behind his head. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to take off your pants."

Ron moaned, "Fuck," and slipped his fingers under the waistband of his pants, pulling them down. His breath caught when his cock sprang forward, its tip already glistening.

"Touch yourself," whispered Harry. "Let me see."

Ron brought his hands down. He ran a finger along the crown of his cock, gathering the gleaming liquid and spread it around. "Fuck," he said again as he began to pump his shaft, his eyes never leaving Harry's.

Harry groaned and stood up abruptly. Why did he have his clothes still on? Ripping off shirt, trousers, and pants, he landed heavily back on the bed. His skin was hot and when his leg touched Ron's, he knew he had to feel even more of him. He wanted to cover Ron's body with his own, wanted to feel his cock pressed to Ron's, wanted his hands filled with Ron's arse.

"I want you," he said.

"Take me."

Harry moved quickly as a lightning strike; he grabbed Ron's wrists, pinned them to the the pillow and rolled onto him, flesh to flesh, cock to cock, breath to breath. Ron whimpered and licked his lip and Harry was lost. He thrust against Ron, felt the rigid length of him slide against his cock, and it hurt, it fucking hurt to be so turned on so fast. He groaned and closed his eyes, then felt Ron's lips touch his own. Their tongues met and that sent a shockwave through Harry.

Their kiss deepened, their moans grew louder. Between tongue thrusts, Ron kept saying 'fuck' and each time he did Harry was amazed at the effect it had on him. Each utterance had him on the edge and thrusting faster; sweat slicked their chests and they slipped, missing their cocks, hitting hipbones instead. Harry groaned and grappled for greater purchase, just as Ron did the same.

When Harry gripped Ron's hips, he knew what he wanted. His hands curved down to Ron's arse, cupping that firmness at long last. He pulled Ron up against him, tight and hard and hurtled down the inevitable path of release, moaning Ron's name when it came, shattering him with intensity. Ron breathed 'fuck, fuck, fuck' in Harry's ear as Harry collapsed against him, overcome and spent.

Harry rolled off Ron and simply listened as they breathed deep and loud. He was sure Ron could hear the triple-time of his beating heart.

"Harry," Ron began. "That was--"

"I know."

"Are you still--"

"You mean--"

"Was Hermione right?"

The itch to fly began. Harry sighed, not surprised and not worried. The itch was there, but he was satiated beyond any measure he could have imagined.

Ron rolled over then, stretching out his long, lithe body. He laid a hand on Harry's cock, idly stroked it, and kissed him on the mouth. He whispered, "Ready to fly?"

The idea of flying put Harry at greater ease, and it felt almost as good as the balm of Ron's kiss. "Yeah, let's go."

***

"Congratulations to the winning team of Mr Weasley, Miss Granger, Mr Finch-Fletchley, and Mr Potter!" announced Silvercloak the next morning. "Twelve objects were discovered in less than ten minutes. Excellent work."

Hermione smiled. Ron and Justin gave each other a firm handshake.

Harry said nothing. He was too busy staring at Ron's arse.

THE END

rickey_a, fic

Previous post Next post
Up