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Monday, December 28th, 2009 10:09 pm
Title: Latin For Lovers
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Harry still has a lot to learn about Wizarding customs.
Word count: 4,229
Warnings: rimming, canon character death
Disclaimer: I don’t own. Property of J.K Rowling.
Notes: This was written for bestmates_xmas 2009 for triomakesmehot!  I was so excited to wrote for her!   Thank you so much to my betas, [livejournal.com profile] nolagal and [livejournal.com profile] knic26 , and my brit-picker [livejournal.com profile] emzlovesharry !

Latin For Lovers

Harry was incredibly uncomfortable. All around him were Weasley’s in various states of mourning, from openly crying to stone-faced. Harry had an awkward hand pressed against George’s back, while he leaned against Harry’s shoulder. George just seemed to need someone to help keep him standing. Otherwise, he appeared to be keeping it together. Which Harry found impressive, as they were at his twin’s funeral.

“Fred was more than a friend, more than a son and brother…” Harry was barely paying attention. He had several more of these to go to in the next few weeks. Harry looked around at all the people. Weasleys and Prewitts and Aurors and lots of people Harry had never met before. George shifted against Harry. It seemed the funeral speaker was almost finished. Thank Merlin.

“Beatus nos per liberi.” Harry felt a wave of magic wash over him at those words, and looked around with worry. No one else seemed to be panicked, so he relaxed a little. The speaker continued.

Harry glanced over at Hermione standing on his other side and reached out with his free arm and snagged the sleeve of her robe. He tugged her lightly towards him. She slid her other arm from around Ron’s back and stepped towards Harry.

“What is it?” she asked, wiping a tear from her cheek with the palm of her hand.

Harry watched with envy and shame as she wiped her face. He felt like he should be feeling more emotion right now. He had spent numerous summers around Fred, the twins had given him the Marauder’s Map, he had given them his Triwizard’s earnings, and they had frequently sent new products to him at Hogwarts. He loved them like brothers, but he just felt so numb right now. All the deaths he had experienced in the last few years. He was almost more sad about the fact that he couldn’t be sad than he was about Fred’s death. Which only served to make him feel even more guilty.

“I was wondering what that last part was. The Latin,” Harry whispered.”

“It’s an incantation,” Hermione whispered in answer.

Harry looked at her pointedly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I’ll explain later,” she said, sweeping her hand, palm up, in front of her body, indicating the funeral still going on around them.

After a few more minutes, the funeral was over. Molly gathered George into her arms, despite his struggle, leaving Harry and Hermione free to take a seat under a large tree nearby.

“It’s an incantation,” Hermione said finally, after they watched in sorrow as Molly clung to George and wailed into his shoulder and Arthur firmly pulled her off of him and spun her around to hold her tight to him. “To balance the loss of magic, it compels couples to, basically, procreate, or attempt to, as often as possible. It’s a strong compulsion meant to balance loss and grieving with life and celebration.”

“It compels people to have sex?” Harry asked, incredulously

“Well, yes, I suppose,” Hermione said, blushing. “Wizarding funerals are based on Nordic superstitions. Viking Muggles were afraid of death, and while Wizards knew better, some of the fear did carry over into their funeral traditions. So they would make appeals to Gefjan, the Norse Goddess of fertility, to bless them with more magic.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “So, why didn’t this happen at Dumbledore’s funeral?”

Hermione scoffed. “They can’t do that incantation on Hogwarts grounds with so many children attending the funeral, can they? It’s against Wizarding Law to do so.”

Harry nodded, slightly embarrassed about his question now that he’d heard the answer. “What happens if you are single? You don’t just feel compelled to have sex with some random person, do you?” Harry asked, voice cracking slightly with worry.

“No, not at all.” Hermione smiled and her eyes glazed over slightly. “It really quite fascinating, actually. The balance in that situation would be that it compels you to admit your feelings to the person you love. While one life is lost, others are compelled to live theirs to the fullest.”

Harry was appalled. He wanted to fight his attraction, not feel compelled to admit it. “But that takes consent away. Especially the sex thing. If magic is compelling you to have sex with someone, isn’t that akin to rape?”

Hermione laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Harry. The compulsion is all about love and procreation, not meaningless sex. People aren’t forced to have sex, only compelled.”

Harry looked up to see Ron and George walking up to them. They had apparently caught the end of Harry and Hermione’s conversation.

“I think a lot of sex will have to be had to catch up to old Fred,” George said, winking at Hermione.

Hermione blushed. “That’s not how it works, George, and you know it.”

George smirked, ruffled Ron’s hair, and walked away backwards, saying, “Have fun, you guys.”

“Git,” Ron muttered, smoothing down his hair, and sitting beside Hermione.

Harry shook his head, ignoring the interruption. “Hermione, what about the ‘compelled to tell your feelings’ part? How set in stone is that?”

Hermione scrutinised Harry’s face, the worry evident there, and shrugged. “Well, the strength of the compulsion is equal to the strength of the feelings.” Harry winced. “Why are you so worried?”

“What? No, I’m not,” Harry lied.

“What are you two on about?” Ron asked, throwing away the blades of grass he had been tying in knots.

Hermione turned to him and leaned forward, mock whispering, “It seems our Harry is madly in love with someone and is afraid to tell her.”

Ron laughed deeply while Harry hung his head in his hands. “Mate, just tell her. You’re Harry Potter, handsome hero and Savior. Who would say no to you?”

“Plenty of people. Now, can we just drop this?”

“Yes,” Hermione answered, “but just so you know, the compulsion only gets stronger with time, forcing you to admit more than you would if you just come clean now. You probably only have a day, at the most. By the way, Ron,” she said, turning back to him. “I really like you.”

Harry watched in amazement as she admitted her feelings without embarrassment. Granted, it was general knowledge by now, much like…

“I like you, too, Hermione,” Ron said, smiling from ear to ear.

…that.

And that was the problem.

No, not Hermione. Ron. Harry was in love with Ron; had been for about a year. But he knew that Ron didn’t feel the same way. Ron loved Hermione. And Harry only wanted them to be happy.

He especially didn’t want to lose his best mate of eight years over a stupid confession. Yet he could already feel the niggling in the back of his mind, lightly suggesting he tell Ron how he feels.

~~~~~~~~~~
Later that evening, the Weasleys and Harry played an impromptu game of Quidditch in the field out back. Hermione watched occasionally from below, three books opened at her side, and one in her lap.

Every time Harry swooped past Ron on his broom, he felt the desire to say, “I love you,” so he stayed at the far side of the pitch, allowing Charlie to claim the Snitch for the other team. When they finally were called in for dinner, Ron had pulled off his sweaty shirt and was gathering up the brooms to return them to the shed. Harry was staring at him walk away when Hermione caught up with him and said, “Why don’t you just tell this love of yours. It’ll be easier in the end.”

Harry grabbed Hermione’s hand and spun her around quickly to stare earnestly into her eyes. “Honestly, Hermione, you of all people don’t want me to admit my feelings.”

He felt Hermione’s eyes on his back as he walked away.

The dinner table was incredibly crowded. The whole immediate Weasley family was home, along with several cousins and friends. He was pressed tightly against Ron the whole time they ate, and he felt every movement his mate made. When Ron’s fingers grazed the back of his hand as he reached for the butter, Harry had to close his eyes tightly and swallow several times to prevent traitorous words from flowing out of his mouth.

He opened his eyes to see Hermione staring at him from across the table, head cocked to one side and a quizzical look in her eyes. Harry blanched and turned quickly to his other side and struck up a conversation with Mr. Weasley, which quickly turned to thermometers.

The urge to tell Ron was getting noticeably stronger.

That night was even harder. Ron darted around the room in only his boxers as he pantomimed Quidditch moves. Harry sat on the bed, only half listening. His desire to tell Ron the truth was becoming too strong.

Ron went to show Harry the Woollongong Shimmy, tripped over his own feet, and fell to the floor. Laughing, Harry rushed over to help him up. Harry gripped Ron’s hands and pulled him up. He must have used more force than he meant to, because next thing he knew, Ron was tight against his chest. Harry stared at Ron’s lips, and unconsciously said, “Ron, I lo-“

“Ow, I think I twisted my ankle,” Ron interrupted to Harry’s delight, hopping up and down on one foot and grasping the other in his hands. After fetching Hermione to do a healing charm, Harry quickly climbed into the camp bed and pretended to be asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~
Harry had a plan. And it was a bloody good one, if he did say so himself. Hermione constantly accused him of not thinking ahead, but not this time. His plan was fool-proof.

He was going to avoid Ron at all costs.

Which proved harder than he expected.

It was easy at first. Harry slipped out of bed before Ron woke up that morning, avoided looking directly at Ron, and left the room. Weasley and Prewitt family members were constantly trickling in and out, and Ron was occupied by them.

But Harry underestimated Ron’s need to be near him. Harry would find excuses to leave, but Ron would always find him within twenty minutes. Harry would sneak off while Ron got stuck talking to an old Aunt or a distant cousin, but Ron would escape quickly, come up behind Harry, throw an arm around him, and lean on him heavily.

Once, while out of Ron’s sight, Harry slipped through the kitchen door and turned to find George sitting at the table, a half-empty Firewhiskey bottle in front of him.

“Mate,” George exclaimed, throwing an arm in the air and letting it drop to pat the chair beside him, indicating that Harry should sit down.

Harry sat, and George Summoned a glass from the cabinet, tipping the whiskey into the glass, and staring expectantly at Harry.

And how was Harry to say no to someone whose twin had just died?

“Cheers, thanks,” said Harry, lifting the glass in George’s direction, throwing his head back, and downing the glass in one. Harry sputtered at the burn and doubled over with coughs.

George pounded his back, grinning while Harry got himself under control. “Atta boy.”

Harry wiped his watering eyes. “George, mind if I stayed in your room tonight? Camp bed’s uncomfortable,” he lied. There was no way he could sleep next to Ron again after his near miss last night.

“Sorry, mate, Charlie’s claimed Fred’s bed. Bill and Fleur are going at it like rabbits, and while Charlie wouldn’t mind, Bill doesn’t want him watching.” George grinned. “Or joining in.”

Harry grinned back. George refilled Harry’s glass, despite his protests, and they proceeded to have an amusing, slightly drunk conversation about Fred.

Harry knew the last thing George wanted was for someone to ask him if he was alright. He knew George wasn’t alright. Just like Harry himself wasn’t alright. Losing Remus and Dumbledore and Sirius, he only grew more and more angry every time someone asked him how he was holding up. It just reminded him that he had lost so much. So he kept the conversation light and they discussed some of the products currently in testing at the Wheezes.

Harry also knew a bad thing for George right now would be a crying Molly. She would see George drunk and wail about how he isn’t grieving properly. Harry, however, thought alcohol was exactly what George needed. So when he heard Molly heading to the kitchen, he motioned his head to the back door and pulled George up and outside before she could find them.

Unfortunately, Ron did find them.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Harry groaned to himself. Just seeing Ron’s brilliant smile nearly made him blurt out his love. He literally had to bite his tongue.

“Um,” George said, blinking at Harry. “Excuse us, Ronald, I just need Harry for a minute. Won’t take long.” Ron opened his mouth to speak, but George interrupted. “That’s a good boy.”

Pulling Harry away from Ron, he took him around the corner of the shed and pushed him up against the wall. Harry huffed as his back hit the wall and he looked at George with furrowed brows. “Oi, what’s that for?”

“If you wait any longer to tell him, you’re going to crack and say some embarrassing things that you don’t mean to say. Things of a more sexual nature. Your fantasies.” George looked serious for the first time in Harry’s memory.

Harry geared himself up for a denial, but sighed as George released him and crossed his arms across his chest, indicating he wouldn’t accept Harry’s lies.

“It’s just… how do you tell your best mate that you’re in love with him? It’s unfair that I am being practically forced to do this. Because I am. There is nothing I want more right now than to tell him. I can feel the pull. It’s like a tug in my mind. It’s horrible. I can’t. I’ll lose him. I’ll…” Harry stopped abruptly as he attempted to control the unexpected tears that tried to spring up.

George put a hand on Harry’s shoulder and looked into his eyes. “I think you’d be surprised. Hermione may be a know-it-all, but she didn’t I’m sure she didn’t mention that, though this is strong magic, it won’t compel you to do something that will ruin your life.”

Harry shook his head. George patted his shoulder, and pulled him under his arm. “Just think about it,” he said, leading Harry back around the shed.

That night, Harry stayed up late, waiting for Ron to go to bed, and he curled up in the armchair downstairs in the living room. He refused to go upstairs and face Ron. He had had enough bravery by this point, and his Gryffindor courage was squelched by his fear. He finally fell asleep in the chair, a homemade throw covering his legs.

“Harry,” someone said. Harry blinked his eyes open to see Ron standing above him, in only his boxers and a tee shirt.

Ron was frowning, and looked a bit sad and confused.

“Ron?” Harry asked, straightening up in his chair and wiping the drool from his mouth.

“You’re cross with me.”

“No!” denied Harry, quickly. Ron looked so sad, and Harry knew that he had done that to him. “No, I just… know you needed to be with family.” The desire was so strong now, and Ron’s sorrowful expression was not making it any easier. Harry felt his tongue slipping.

Ron gave him an incredulous look. “Harry,” Ron started.

“I love you!” Harry blurted. “I love you, and I want to be with you forever. And I don’t mean ‘I love you’ like a brother. I mean ‘I love you’ like I want you to bury your cock in my arse and fuck me until I can’t see straight. I want to lick every part of your body; your cock and arsehole, and I want that beautiful cock in me and I want to ride it until you explode deep inside of me.” Harry could hear himself speaking, he just couldn’t control it, and once he had finally broken, everything he had ever thought about Ron came tumbling out, unrestrained. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see Ron’s wide eyes or his bright red face and ears. “I want to spend my life in your arms.”

Harry finally got control of his voice and realized that the compulsion was gone. He pulled his knees up to his chin and buried his face in it, pulling the blanket over his head.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

He peered through a small hole in the raggedy blanket and watched Ron swallow several times.

He felt the blanket being pulled off of him, and he looked up into Ron’s wide eyes. Harry expected his friend to at least be kind about the rejection, because that’s the type of person Ron is, but he didn’t expect what came next.

“Fuck, Harry, let’s do all of that! Right now.”

Harry winced. “Ron, that’s not a good way to make light of the situation.”

Ron leaned back and grabbed his crotch, leading Harry’s eye down to Ron’s obviously hard erection. “Does this look like I’m making light?”

“Nothing light about that,” Harry joked, unsure of what was happening.

Ron laughed, then stopped suddenly, and taking a sharp breath in, leaned forward and pressed his lips softly against Harry’s. Harry froze. Ron pulled back and looked curiously at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s… well, I’m not sure what’s going on.”

“I’m trying to kiss you.”

Harry’s heart felt like it was about to drum out of his chest, and he swore, if Ron was taking the piss right now, his heart would probably stop from misery. “Ron, you’re with Hermione.”

“What gave you that idea?”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Just yesterday, the compulsion forced you to tell her you liked her.”

Ron scratched his chin and looked at Harry curiously. “What? Oh, you mean when she told me she likes me? I like her as a friend. What am I supposed to say?”

“She loves you, though.”

“She does, but she knows I’m not interested. She knows who I am interested in, though.”

Ron stood up, looking over at his sleeping cousin on the couch, and taking Harry’s hands, pulled him hard against his chest and Apparated them to his bedroom. “Now, I think you said something about your tongue and my body.”

Harry was already hyperventilating from being pressed so close to Ron’s body. In a surge of Gryffindor bravery, Harry leaned up and kissed Ron softly. Ron returned the kiss passionately, and it soon became frantic and needy. Ron’s hands were roaming over Harry’s chest and up underneath his shirt. Harry gasped, breaking the kiss, as Ron grazed a nipple with his thumb. Harry marched Ron back to the edge of the bed and pushed, tumbling them both into the bed and causing Ron to “oomph” when Harry landed hard on top of him. Ron slid to the middle of the bed, and pulled his shirt off over his head. Harry followed suit. Then, per Ron’s demand, Harry set to work running his kisses all over Ron’s body. He kissed down his neck, and sucked on his clavicle. He bit lightly at his Adam’s apple. He took one pebbled nipple into his mouth and tugged softly with his teeth. He ran his tongue inside Ron’s navel and traced each rib with the tip of his tongue. Ron moaned and thrashed slightly, spurring Harry on.

When Harry made it to Ron’s boxers, he was nervous. He’d never gone further than this with someone. His fantasies, however, where quite adventurous, and Harry vowed to not hold back. He had also found a book on gay sex in Charlie’s room a few years back and, configuring the cover into a Herbology manuel, took it with him on the Horcrux hunt. He looked through it often, imagining doing to Ron everything that he learned about in the book. Now that chance was right in front of him, and he was going to take it. He slid up Ron’s body, dragging his abdomen against Ron’s erection, as he kissed him again. He tugged at Ron’s pants and Ron helped by lifting his hips, smile firmly in place. Harry smiled back. The smile dropped off of his face, though, when he looked down at Ron’s erection. He licked his lips at the site. Ron was glorious. Dark red cock springing from light red curls. Harry watched with lust as a drop of precome leaked out of the slit.

Harry was pulled out of his admiration by a frustrated growl and a, “Fuck, Harry stop staring at it and suck the fucking thing.”

Harry smirked at Ron and leaned down to hover over it. He breathed warmly over it, and Ron groaned. He licked experimentally at the slit. The taste was salty and so inherently Ron that it caused Harry to moan. He took Ron into his mouth and began to slide it in and out. Ron whined and thrust up, causing Harry to choke and pull off, his eyes watering.

“Fuck, Harry, I’m so sorry,” Ron said, sitting up quickly.

Harry grasped Ron by the knees, and yanked, causing him to fall back on the bed again. Harry smiled wickedly. “That’s okay, Ron. I’ll just have to avoid that until you can learn to control yourself.”

Ron huffed, until Harry leaned down and pulled one of Ron’s bollocks into his mouth. Ron’s head slammed back against the bed. “Fuck.”

Harry tongued the soft skin, and sucked one ball, then the other. Ron was whimpering as Harry moved back to his perineum, running his tongue along the crease where bollocks met arse. Keeping eye contact with Ron, Harry pulled Ron’s arsecheeks apart and swiped his tongue further and further back until he was licking at the furrowed skin of Ron’s arsehole. Ron was thrashing and muttering obscenities. Harry wordlessly Accioed a tube of lube from his bag without Ron noticing. Harry buried his face deeply between Ron’s cheeks so that he could use his hands to prepare himself. He reached back with a lubed finger and slid it slowly into himself.

“Fuck, Harry, I didn’t know this felt so bloody good!” Ron exclaimed, gasping for air. Harry alternated sucking and licking the skin, and slowly worked a pointed tongue inside of him, causing Ron to inhale sharply. Harry pulled off, a groan of protest from Ron, who moaned again in ecstasy as Harry suddenly straddled his body, aligned his cock with his hole, and slowly sank down. Harry paused to adjust to the feeling of being so full, and carded his fingers through the sparse hair on Ron’s chest. Ron’s whole body was flushed and his eyes were rolled back in his head. Harry rose a little and dropped back down experimentally. The burn was somewhat faded, so Harry did it again, accompanied by a long, loud moan from Ron. Soon, Harry was riding Ron’s cock, burn long gone, and a pleasant feeling taking it’s place.

Soon, Ron’s restraint broke, he held Harry’s hips up, and pistoned his cock into Harry. Harry leaned back on his hands to help support his weight and was rewarded by Ron’s cock pounding into something in him that made him feel like he could come without ever having his cock touched. Harry brought one hand around and stroked himself. Ron gave one last thrust up, raising Harry nearly completely off of the bed, and came. Ron’s body shuddered and eventually relaxed. When his senses came back to him, he batted Harry’s hand away from his cock, and took over. He lazily thrust his softening cock in Harry as he finished him off. Soon Harry’s back bent and he convulsed, painting Ron’s hand with his release.

Exhausted, he fell forward on Ron’s chest, attempting to catch his breath. Ron wrapped his arms around Harry’s back and soon a soft snore indicated that Ron was asleep. Harry sighed and, pulling the covers up around him, soon reached sleep himself.

~~~~~~~~~~
Harry was awoken by a loud squeak coming from the doorway. He shifted against the hard bed, which surprisingly, shifted back before Harry realized that he was still sleeping on Ron. He shifted to the side and twisted around to see Ginny and Hermione in the doorway, both wide-eyed. Ginny quickly put a hand up to cover her eyes, and said, “Mum says it’s time for breakfast. Um, so, yeah.” Then she quickly turned and fled the room.

Hermione, however, blushed a little as she surveyed the scene before her. “Well, ahem, this is… hot.”

Ron sat up and threw a pillow at her as she scampered out the door, giggling.

Harry sat very still, waiting for Ron’s reaction. He wasn’t sure if Ron was still okay with this, or if he thought they had made a mistake last night.

“Women.” Ron stretched, then quickly wrapped his arms around Harry to pull him tight against his chest. He nuzzled his neck and murmured, “That’ll save us having to tell the family, eh? If Ginny knows, they’ll all know soon.” Ron’s breathing turned to snores, and Harry sighed in contentment as Ron’s breath ghosted across his ear.

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