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Dirty Little Secret	By : starstruck86 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Ron Views: 8625 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 1-Dirty Little Secret
- 1
A/N: Hello all! I’ve had the spell which happens in this fic in my mind for several years and never written it out,
for some reason. I remembered it the other day and thought about how I could work
it in and keep it DH compliant. There just needed to be a bit of scene
insertion, which, I think, fits well if you imagine it shortly before the final
battle.

This takes me back for a bit of nostalgia as I haven’t
written a Harry/Ron for years :D

/ *** / indicates the beginning and the end of the
flashbacks. Please review and rate if you fancy!

-------

Looking in the mirror, Ron saw the face of a tired
twenty-four year old peering back at him. He’d had a long day at work and the
night ahead was really the last thing he had the energy for, but body parts
were going to get painful if they left it much longer. He brought his hands up
to rake through his red hair, making sure his fingernails scratched against his
scalp to try and alleviate the tension in his head, although it did not work.

Humming boredly he turned and
looked at the hotel room, which was pleasant enough but the cheery yellow décor
didn’t really fit his mood, or the occasion for which he was there. He kicked
out of his shoes and left them where they fell,
knowing Harry wouldn’t take a blind bit of notice as to the state of the room
when he finally arrived from whatever he’d been caught up with.

Being Aurors together, and each other’s work partner, did
not mean they were together every single second of the day. Ron had been
disappointed with that, he had been glad that he and Harry had entered the
Auror programme together and had something solely to share between them.
Something very different to the other
thing they shared, which they never talked about, except one night a month. And
most certainly, it was not mentioned in public.

He flopped down on the bed on his back and looked up at the
ceiling, seeing a cobweb stretching along the top border of the room, sincerely
hoping the spider which spun it was no longer present. Harry would no doubt
tease him about it later, when their anxiety had abated for another month and
they could talk like normal again.

Without really thinking he grabbed the remote of the
television and turned it on, and trained his eyes on the moving picture which
had once fascinated him so much. Now it was just something he associated with
their clandestine meetings. The hotels were always muggle, they had decided on
that early on. And they were always in random parts of the country, never the
same place twice. The United
Kingdom was big enough for them to be
blessed with that opportunity.

Ignoring the television he looked out of the window at the
rain running in rivulets down the pane of glass, finding them more peaceful
than the pseudo-human company on the telly, though he did not move to turn it
off. Instead, as usual, his thoughts turned to how they ended up meeting in a
muggle hotel in the first place. He resigned himself to his usual monthly
re-living of the night which cursed them both.

/ *** /

The harsh concrete
scraped against the skin of Ron’s knees through ripped jeans, making him hiss
with pain as the soft flesh was grazed repeatedly. A tight hand was in his
hair, tugging every so often and making sure his head was properly tilted back,
his throat left exposed. His chest was thrust forward by the way his arms had
been secured behind his back.

“Not so brave now, are
you?” The Death Eater holding him sneered and gave a particularly vicious yank
backwards, so hard that Ron thought his spine might break from the impossible
angle.

“What I don’t
understand,” a female voice spoke, “Is how he looks surprised. He does not
understand that, as a Blood Traitor, this is what he deserves.”

Ron couldn’t hold back
his scream as a deep knife slice slashed straight across his chest and the
blood instantly seeped down his pale torso, bared by whoever had bound him. The
cut hurt more than it should have and he guessed it had probably been tainted
with poison so the wound would not heal properly.

“Where is he?” He
managed to spit, writhing hard against the Death Eater holding him, although he
knew without his wand and everything bound, there was no way he would escape.

“Around,” the woman answered
airily. “Though… I do have permission to play with you both… would you like to
perform for me, Blood Traitor? Would you like to have some waking nightmares
with your very bestest of friends? It can be
arranged…”

“Just tell me where he
is,” Ron growled, though he was cut off in his anger by another sharp yank on
his neck.

The knife flashed
again and this time it landed across his belly, stinging much more than the
first time.

“I have permission to
do anything I want –except kill you. My orders are that you leave here
coherent,” the woman whispered, much closer than Ron had thought. “And I intend
to have my fun. I intend to leave you miserable, Weasley, and when Potter dies
at the hand of my Lord you will have nowhere to turn and you will end your own
life in desperation to escape the pain.”

Ron stayed quiet. He
didn’t see the point in goading the woman any further.

“You want your
precious Potter? You can have him for the rest of your damned life, Weasley.
And you won’t enjoy it.” There was a harsh snap of fingers and seemingly out of
no where another Death Eater brought a struggling, similarly bound Harry into
the light.

Ron’s mind flared up
with questions –had Harry seen everything that had happened to him or had he
been hurt too? But, as unclothed as his best friend was, Ron was relieved to
see there were no gashes on the slight olive-skinned body. The only thing wrong
was how terrified Harry looked, how utterly frightened he appeared now they had
finally been caught with no hope of escape without modification first.

“Put them closer
together, it needs to be that way for this spell to work.”

“Are you sure the Dark
Lord has sanctioned this?” There was a low, deep voice that Ron thought he
recognised. There was a quirk of interest in Harry’s emerald eyes which told
him he was thinking along the same lines. “This is dangerous work, and if it is
botched-”

“You dare to question
me?” the woman hissed, and turned her wand on the speaker, who fell silent.
“You dare to question my authority? I, who am more loyal to our Master than any
other? He has told me to have my fun. He wants a scene, there would be no point in killing Potter here,
locked away, where the world cannot see him fail…”

Ron had an inkling
then of who the woman might be, with her self importance and grandeur. His eyes
locked on Harry’s and tried to discern what his friend was thinking, but all he
could see was the fear, and had to wonder if he looked the same.

“You love each other
so much, you are welcome to one another,” the woman hissed, and all of a sudden
dipped her wand down to point in between their two bodies, which were close
enough to touch as they kneeled. “Rigor Connubialis.”

Fear coiled in Ron’s
belly as he felt his cock begin to stiffen with absolutely no stimulation
whatsoever. And he wasn’t just getting hard; he was painfully hard, pressing
against the confines of his jeans. One look downwards told him Harry was in the
same state and their eyes met, desperately trying to communicate.

“Well, that won’t do,”
she hissed, and then the tension was gone as the button of his jeans opened,
his zip fell down, his underwear melted away and his erection tumbled forth.

He jumped when it
grazed against Harry’s, soft hot skin meeting soft hot skin. One of them
whimpered but neither was sure quite which it was. It made the female cackle
and she stalked around them.

“Nostrum Immunda Parum Specialis…”
she hissed, and flicked her wand.

Again, Ron couldn’t
tell if he had screamed or if it was Harry, but what fell from the witch’s wand
was terrifying enough to warrant it, regardless of who broke first.. A fluid
yet translucent impossibly thin snake spiralled from the end of the wood and
headed straight down between their bodies, aiming for their batting erections.
When it reached them, the snake formed a circle around them both together. Ron
couldn’t tear his eyes away. And then he felt the snake moving against him in
cool, watery movements and he couldn’t help it –he groaned. His shame was
evaporated when he heard Harry mimic the sound only seconds later and couldn’t
hold back another when the snake wrapped double around them, seemingly
squeezing their cocks together.

Teemed with the
sensation of the spell and the feel of something so warm and silky pressing
against his cock, Ron only grew harder. Terrified and heterosexual as he was,
as Harry was, it was obvious neither of them were getting out of whatever the
Death Eater was doing to them.

Pleasure quickly
turned to pain as the squeezing of the snake grew too intense and it was not
long before both of them were begging for the sensation to stop, desperate
moans melting from their lips, which seemed closer than they were before.

“If you love your precious Potter so much, Weasley, why don’t you give him a
kiss, hmm?” he was asked in a dangerous voice, which told him if he did not
obey he would be forced.

“Must you play with
your food so?” the deep low voice came again, sounding disgusted, and Ron tried
his hardest to think who it belonged to, but the snake squeezed so hard he
screamed as he had when he had been cut.

“Kiss,” she hissed
again and Ron finally raised his eyes to look at Harry.

The woman obviously
grew impatient at their reluctance because Ron then felt a hand pressing his
head forwards into Harry’s face, and they met clumsily at the lips. Thinking it
was just for the best, Ron closed his eyes and imagined it was Hermione, but
his chin was brushing against stiff bristles and the angles were wrong. His
long nose breathed against Harry’s and all he could smell was the masculine aroma
of the other boy’s skin, and it threw all images of Hermione from his mind. No,
he was very obviously kissing Harry Potter and he didn’t understand why he was
still hard.

The snake squeezed as
if to remind him of its presence, and then everything seemed to speed into
action. The snake loosened it’s grip and they both breathed a sigh of relief
too early, for it then seemed to curl around each of them with the opposite
ends of its body, close to the heads of their cocks, forming the glans into prominence. Harry was gasping against his lips
and Ron tasted the remnants of his dinner in his breath. Soon he was panting,
too.

“Fuck!” Harry’s cry
rent the air first and then Ron felt why. The loose end of the snake crept over
his head and dug into his slit, and moved with precision which told Ron what it
planned to do.

His own yells mingled
with Harry’s as the coolness slipped inside him, pressing where he thought
nothing was ever meant to intrude and he was overcome with an intense need to
urinate.

“Feeling the need to
piss yet?” someone laughed. “Don’t soil my floor. You’ll lick it up.”

Harry’s chest was
juddering with the effort of keeping silent and Ron felt it against his own,
whilst he battled down his own urge to scream and thrash about as a mix of pain
and pleasure stole over him whilst whatever monstrosity had been conjured slid
deeper into his prick.

There was a tug down
south and Ron’s eyes flashed to see the translucent snake snap in half and
disappear completely into his shaft. But then he couldn’t look any more, as
white light exploded behind his eyelids, which had shut involuntarily, and then
he was coming hard, with more volume than any single one of his masturbatory
efforts had ever produced. And it just would not stop, his hips were moving back
and forth, rubbing against Harry (though he did not realise that brought him pleasure)
desperate for more touch, because it sent him off the planet.

Groans met his ears
and only then did he realise that they must have been Harry’s, and felt the
solid column pushing against him. Whatever was happening, he at least knew he
was not alone in being unable to fight it.

And then, suddenly, it
was gone, the white light faded in his eyeballs, he sagged, and all he could
hear was the cackling of the woman who had cast the spell.

/ *** /

Harry unlocked the door to the hotel room, well aware that
he was an hour late, but it wouldn’t matter. They were ‘scheduled’ on a top
secret mission and he knew that neither Ginny nor Hermione would bat an eyelid at
them being away for better part of the night, or indeed, all of it.

Stepping inside, Harry immediately saw Ron with a dark look
on his face as he stared, transfixed, at the rain through the window. Harry
couldn’t blame him that every month he relived the nightmare; it had been,
after all, far worse for Ron. He chucked his bag on the floor and shrugged out
of his coat and put it over the back of the chair at the desk.

“Hey,” Ron said quietly, finally turning to look at him.

“Sorry I’m late,” Harry sat on the edge of the bed and
kicked off his shoes, not moving when the base of his spine connected to Ron’s
thigh as the mattress dipped.

They couldn’t be reserved around one another, not after so
long. They had been living with their condition for enough years that it was
now too much to try and pretend the reality didn’t exist. It had taken them a
long time, fraught with shameful, fumbling, awkward moments, but they could at
least now accept touching one another.

Harry stood up again and looked down at his long, lanky best
friend, whose hair spilled on the crisp white pillow of the bed. Neither of
them smiled but then they never did on these nights of the month, at least not
before they had finished. Ron had even given up trying to make jokes. Harry’s
eyes took in the broadened shoulders and chest he knew to be decently defined
beneath the thin long sleeved t-shirt, slim narrow hips leading to thicker
thighs than one would have imagined considering the rest of Ron’s body, and
long shins connected to thin but undoubtedly huge feet.

He knew there were far worse people he could have been
forced into the connection with. Ron was his best friend and they knew each
other inside and out. But the point was he was never meant to survive, the
curse had merely been placed as a kick in the gut for Ron, who, when he found
Harry to have died, would have gone slowly insane without his touch, a
torturous reminder of what he had lost.

Remembering that fact caused a hard rock to form in Harry’s
throat and he croaked out his next words. “I’m, uh, going to have a shower
first…”

“Sure,” Ron shrugged with a tiny up curve of his lips which wasn’t quite a
smile.

“Back in a bit,” Harry turned into the little en-suite
bathroom which led off the main room.

He closed the door behind him –just because he was forced
into the situation with Ron every month didn’t mean he liked to be naked in
front of him when it wasn’t necessary. Especially when, Harry scowled catching
sight of himself in the mirror as he stripped, they were so very different in
physical stature. Harry was slight but still miles off Ron’s height, his body
had never filled out with the same breadth and he couldn’t help but feel in the
redhead’s shade.

Harry turned on the water and let it heat up, and turned
back to the mirror. His chin was dusted with dark stubble which seemed to grow
faster than he could shave. His face had undoubtedly grown up –how could it
not, with everything they’d been through? But still he saw himself as scrawny,
child-like and even slightly feminine compared to Ron’s angular jawline, long nose and accenting cheekbones.

Quite why he found himself wrapped up in juvenile physical
comparisons every month, Harry didn’t know. He had a girlfriend who loved him,
appreciated him and placated every insecurity he could suffer. But, confronted
with her brother, they all flew back to the surface. Harry chucked his glasses
on the sink and stepped into the streaming hot water, letting it drench his
body, carrying away a day’s worth of grime from tramping around the city.

Losing himself in the sensation, he fell back against the
wall, hissing as the cold tiles sucked at his skin. He ignored them and stayed
put, letting the water tumble down his front, washing his genitals thoroughly.
There was no need to make it any more unpleasant between them than it already
was by factoring in bad hygiene.

He licked his lips free of water and sighed. Ron had somehow
coped with everything he’d suffered that night miraculously well. Harry was not
sure he would have been able to do the same. He knew at first it had merely
been pushed aside by the final battle, by the grief of losing a beloved brother
and the friends who had fallen alongside him. But afterwards, confronted with
the fact that they were both still alive, Ron was obviously hit by the torment
he suffered that night but Harry could never understand how the redhead was
able to stop it from consuming him. It had been horrible enough to watch, let
alone experience.

/ *** /

Harry gasped through the aftershocks of his orgasm, wondering
just what had been set upon them. He was vainly hoping the humiliation of being
forced to climax, together, as two straight boys, was all that the caster
wanted to achieve –but a dark, niggling force in his mind told him he should be
so lucky. She was still cackling. In front of him Ron was slumped with his eyes
closed, his breathing ragged.

“Well, as you both
enjoyed that so well, you can have some more,” she laughed. “Considering that, by
some fluke chance Potter lives, you’ll be fucking until the day you die anyway…
the only question is, which one of you should it be? We deserve some fun… I’d
prefer Potter…”

Harry felt cold,
delicate fingers tilting up his chin and then Ron seemed to spring back to
life.

“No, don’t. Don’t hurt
him. Do what you want to me, but not him.”

The cold fingers
vanished from Harry’s face and he stared, mortified, that Ron was walking blind
into torture meant for him, but there was nothing he could do.

“Your loyalty is
touching. Stupid, but touching,” the woman moved behind Ron and dangerously ran
her fingers through his hair and it was obvious, observing, that his back
stiffened, but nothing else. “Have you ever had it up the arse, Weasley?”

Harry shouted his protests
in horror but someone had wordlessly forced him into a Silencio
and all he did was gape in front of his best friend. Ron was undoubtedly
straight. There was just something about him which screamed heterosexual and
Harry couldn’t even think of a time where he’d seen Ron interestedly peek at
other men in the showers at Hogwarts, let alone engaging in sex with another
man.

Looking at the set jaw
of the redhead though, Harry felt sick at the fact that his friend was not
going to back down, just to save him.

“Do you want this
one?” the woman suddenly asked, turning her head to the male Death Eater who
had asked her to stop taunting them earlier, the voice both Harry and Ron
thought they recognised. “I know you’ve got a, hmm…shall we call it, a thing for
redheads?”

“Absolutely
not. I won’t be party to
this.”

“Sure? He’s not bad to
look at, after all… and we both know how much you enjoy first-timers.”

“Shut up,” the man
hissed. “You know nothing.”

“Fine,” she muttered,
and stepped back, flicking her wand.

Ron was all at once
free and completely naked and in his surprise and shame he fell sideways onto
the floor, one hand shooting out to brace his fall, his long legs out
haphazardly to the side.

“You can have him,
then,” the words were spoken to someone else who laughed cruelly. “I don’t envy
the poor little ginger,” she carded through Ron’s hair again, Harry saw his
shudder. “I wouldn’t want you my first time.”

And Harry had to agree
as he sat and tried not to vomit over the floor. It was very clear the show was
to torment him, frozen up on his knees and forced to watch as his best friend
was brutally molested on the cold concrete floor.

How Ron was managing
not to scream and break down, Harry wasn’t sure –he was barely holding on to
himself and he was not the one being raped. He didn’t know when he started
crying, but there were suddenly tears on his face. Their tormentor noticed.

“Look what’s happening
to him,” she hissed in his ear. “All for you. You’d best
be worth it Potter, eh? Shame I know that you are not.”

She flicked her wand
and Harry screamed silently as a nasty knife slice separated the skin on his
sternum and began to bleed. Another scratched down his spine.

Something in Ron
seemed to break suddenly, and the wail echoing round the room made Harry cry
harder as his body ached and stung, but he just knew it was nothing compared to
what Ron was going through, and he was faced with the suffocating realisation
he could not save him.

“Enough,” the low,
deep voice ordered, just as whoever was manhandling Ron climaxed, and he threw
the shivering heap of bones resembling the redhead face down on the concrete.

Ron didn’t move and Harry gulped a painful breath, straining his eyes.

“You are wanted elsewhere,” the low voice said again and there was a shuffling.

“Make sure they are released properly,” the female commanded, before swooping
from the room.

Properly, what did
that mean? Bleeding, broken, obviously tortured? Harry watched as the low
voiced figure suddenly ducked next to Ron, and turned him over. His back was to
Harry but he thought he heard the low whispering of spells and then he heard
Ron groan whilst his limbs came to life again.

Relief washed through
Harry at the sound.

/ *** /

“Harry, you alright?” Ron’s voice
snapped Harry out of the memories and he jerked off the tiled wall. “You’ve
been in here ages…”

“Yeah, sorry, I got caught up… thinking,” he sighed, and
reached for the complimentary bottle of shower gel.

Ron turned and walked back into the room, leaving the
bathroom door slightly ajar so the warm steam Harry had created could escape.
He walked to the window and stared out at the sodden car park, seeing a massive
puddle forming across the entrance.

“Did you have a good day at work?” Harry’s voice floated
over to him as the dark-haired man left the bathroom, clicking off the light.
“I didn’t see much of you today?”

“No, I got assigned to a bloody trial as soon as I walked through the door. Boring as hell.”

Ron looked back to the bed were Harry was sitting with a
towel around his waist.

“Put some clothes on, you’ll catch your death in this,” Ron
shivered slightly, looking around the room.

“Nah, what’s the point?” Harry shrugged, and then got under
the duvet, chucking the towel out onto the floor. “I paid for this room; I’m
going to use their bloody bed whilst I’ve parted with money.”

Ron snorted derisively and reached up to tug off his
t-shirt, letting it fall on the floor with everything else as he moved on to
his jeans, which fell easily from his slender hips.

“Those new?” Harry asked for
something to say.

“Yeah,” Ron slid in next to him. “Not sure I’m ever going to
get used to this new clothes business… it doesn’t feel right if someone else
hasn’t worn it for a year first.”

Harry gave him a tiny grin and fell back against the
headboard, looking at the wall opposite.

“What’s on your mind?” Ron asked. “You’re not normally this
quiet anymore.”

“What’s usually on my mind?” Harry asked him sarcastically.

“Snape?” Ron tried with a roll of
his eyes.

“Well, I wasn’t… but now you mention him,” Harry muttered. “I just wish he was
alive, Ron. He would know how to help us, he knew their magic, and he was right
fucking there.”

“For the millionth time,” Ron sank down, tugging the duvet up to his chin. “I
can’t be sure it was Snape. But it sounded like him, and what I saw through the
mask looked like him. And it sort of smelt like him too but I was so out of it
I could have been seeing anyone.”

“He healed you,” Harry said quietly. “You could be a bit
more grateful.”

“I’ve always been bloody grateful,” Ron muttered mutinously. “I wouldn’t have
been able to walk if he’d not healed me and helped me hide it, if it was him. But I’m not up for the whole
Snape Worship everyone else seems to have fallen into… he was a bastard, in
case you’ve all forgotten.”

“With good reason,” Harry said indignantly.

“Well, he doesn’t appear to have been much nicer at school-”

“He had a horrible childhood from what I’ve learnt-”

“And so did you,” Ron levelled with piercing eyes. “You were
treated like shit and yet you turned out alright mate.”

“You’re too harsh,” Harry shrugged.

“You’ve exonerated him, you got his bloody portrait up,” Ron
burst out exasperatedly. “And whilst it was very ugly, just like the real time
version, he couldn’t help us; he didn’t know anything about it. So just let it
go Harry. It’s in the past and Snape can’t help us because he’s rotting
alongside Fred in the memorial cemetery, Hermione can’t help us because we
won’t ask and the stupidly expensive private MediWizards couldn’t help either.
Just fucking face it.”

/ *** /

It had taken them two
weeks to be able to get the day clear to go together to the well-hidden private
medical clinic hidden in the heart of Magical London. But sitting next to each
other Harry and Ron stared defiantly in opposite directions, edged as far apart
as their chairs would allow.

“I’m afraid I do not
have good news,” the MediWizard spoke tentatively,
sensing the atmosphere between the two eighteen year olds opposite him.

“We guessed you
wouldn’t have,” Ron sighed.

“With the limited
information you managed to give me, I researched the spell which was invoked
during your torture and have whittled it down. Does this sound familiar? ‘Nostrum Immunda Parum
Specialis’?”

“That was it!” Harry
leaned forward in his chair, looking at the man intently. “What does it mean?”

“Basically
translated from Latin –Our Dirty Little Secret.”

“Is that meant to be
funny?” Ron asked hoarsely.

“No. Well, ironic.
This spell was mainly used to punish disobedient slaves. By tying them together
it kept slaves under the control of their masters. If one escaped, they both
went mad –it restricted their freedom completely. Imagine performing that with
your Master, and you’d never leave him.”

“So, what are you
saying then? It’s irremovable?”

“Unfortunately so, Mr. Potter. As you said, we can only assume the person who
cast the spell supposed you would not survive your match with
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and therefore Mr. Weasley would be cast into the wilderness.”

“So that… snake thing… it…”

“Formed a bond around you both, which means, as I’m sure you must know by now,
that you have to gain some form of sexual gratification from one another for
the pain to stop.”

“Yeah, we figured it out,” Ron growled.

“And there’s
absolutely nothing you can do?” Harry asked desperately. “Nothing?”

“You have your suspicions who cast the spell and since that person has
died, and your condition the same, there is nothing. It is made to be
permanent.”

Harry noticed Ron’s hand
shaking on the arm of his chair. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and
grabbed it, despite their very obvious evasive body language. Ron jumped
beneath his touch.

“You will have to
experiment with the amount of time you can leave it before you meet, I’d
recommend no more than a month. I should warn you –it is not just your bodies
that will ache; should you wish to couple with anybody else and deny yourselves
to each other, those other orgasms will be excruciatingly painful… which is
not…”

“So basically, meet
once a month, get each other off and we’ll be fine, is that what you’re
saying?” Ron asked bluntly.

“Yes, Mr. Weasley.”

“And do we have to…”
Ron paled at the thought of having to re-enact what had happened to him a month
and a half before.

“Well, I should think
either oral, manual or internal stimulation will suffice, and it is your choice
between the three, you may find one way satisfies the nature of the spell more
than the others. I shouldn’t think you’ll have to progress to full intercourse.”

Only then did Harry
and Ron look at one another, the skin of their faces equally blanched white.
Emerald met sapphire and each knew what the other was thinking.

/ *** /

“Shall we get on with this, then?” Ron sighed.

“Yeah,” Harry muttered, sinking down properly in the bed
next to Ron and blushing as their naked sides touched.

They didn’t have to be naked, they knew. But it just seemed
much easier to avoid mess. The first times had been the most awkward moments
they’d ever experienced as friends, even counting their fights as teenagers and
Ron stomping off halfway through the Horcrux hunt.
Having to suddenly sexually engage together blew it all out of the water.

“It’s bloody cold in here,” Ron muttered, shivering
slightly.

“Mm,” Harry agreed, and turned onto his side, bringing them
immediately closer together and he ran his hand across Ron’s stomach, fingers
smoothing over the scar earned on the same night as the curse.

They also knew that just randomly meeting to touch and suck
was never going to work for them; that much had been clear in the first few
months. Doing so left them both broken and hurting, and six years down the line
they mutually accepted they had to try and glean all the comfort they could
from the meetings, or they were going to be miserable.

And it was with that in mind that Harry pressed a gentle
kiss to Ron’s shoulder whilst his fingers crept up to play in his chest hair,
stroking softly.

They had never had actual sex and there was an unspoken
agreement that they never would unless everything else failed to work first. It
was only the thought of doing that which made Ron pale and shiver with the
memories of what had happened to him. Without it, he could lock them away and
function like normal. Harry was only too happy to acquiesce.

Ron warmed to Harry’s touch, feeling rough fingers glide
over his skin. At the start he had not been able to get over how different they
were to Hermione’s, how different Harry felt against him. He had also tried
imagining it was her, but as it had been the night the curse had been
inflicted, he could not. Harry was too angular. And Ron was too tall and
muscular for Harry to imagine he was Ginny. They were well and truly trapped
together.

“What do you want?” Harry whispered close to his ear and
kissed it.

“Whatever you feel like doing,” Ron gave his standard
response. There were things he liked better than others –namely blow jobs, but
he wasn’t going to demand them from Harry if he didn’t want to do it.

“I asked what you wanted,” Harry sighed. “You know it’s
always less painful if it’s what we want…”

“I…” Ron had been about to protest but he caught Harry’s gaze and knew it would
fall on deaf ears. “Suck me off,” he whispered, and closed his eyes.

Harry gave him an understanding kiss on the lips and rolled
on top of him, squashing their bare groins together in the bed, and let out a
tiny groan. He reached for Ron’s hands and laced their fingers together,
pushing them up so they were level with his red hair. And then he kissed again,
licking once against Ron’s lips to gain entrance.

They didn’t have to kiss. But they did because it just made
it seem less desperate.

Ron kissed him back with appropriate assurance, he tilted
his head slightly to the side so they could gain deeper access and he felt
Harry’s tongue brush against his palette; a spike of lust drove though his body
to his groin.

They had never been able to pinpoint whether they reacted
that way because of the curse, or whether they genuinely subconsciously liked
what they had to do to one another. After six years they’d stopped guessing,
they both knew neither really wanted to know the answer.

Harry tacked against him a few more times before sliding
backwards, dropping his head to pepper kisses down through the almost-blonde
chest hair he’d been playing with, and continued onto the soft, inexplicably
toned stomach Ron managed to maintain despite eating his own body weight in
food daily. Ron reached down as his fingers were released and sunk them into
the damp mess of black hair moving steadily down his body.

He massaged and smiled slightly at the appreciative groan
Harry gave out as he placed a gentle lick in Ron’s navel. Harry always
responded to massaging touch and Ron knew just how to work him, although he
didn’t shout about the fact.

Harry was glad that Ron’s arms were long enough that the
fingers stayed in his hair, stimulating his scalp, whilst he kneeled down
between Ron’s thighs, bending double to nose gently at the hot erection waiting
there.

All shame was long since gone and he immediately licked out
with his tongue, making Ron stretch out beneath him like a cat with a loud
groan of pleasure. They’d left it just long enough, Harry could tell, that
neither of them were in discomfort but the feel of the release was going to be
just perfect.

If he could call their situation perfect.

Harry chased the negativity out of his mind and grabbed
Ron’s cock in his hand, prising the stiffness upwards. He slipped his mouth
over it without warning, sending his tongue out to lap slowly at the tip.

“Fuck Harry that’s good,” Ron arched up into his mouth and
Harry let go of his cock, keeping it upright with his mouth, and spread his
fingers over Ron’s hips to hold him down. “No, don’t, let me move…” the whisper
floated down.

Harry ignored him and began to suck, making sure his tongue
pressed against the slit which was so much more sensitive than it should have
been, thanks to the curse. He flitted against it, working up the spit in his
mouth so it surged around the skin. Ron pressed up again and tightened his grip
in Harry’s hair.

“Fuck it’s so good,” Ron whimpered, biting his lips to try
and keep his encouragement in.

But it wasn’t long before he was whimpering his praise as
Harry licked and sucked him towards his orgasm. It felt so strange to be sucked
by another man but Ron couldn’t deny it felt good.

“Ohhhh Merlin Harry yes,” he
breathed, stretching out his feet and curling his toes as he felt gentle teeth
graze against him. “Yes, fuck… so good…”

Harry had once been embarrassed by how loud Ron was, but
then he realised he should have expected it –the redhead was overtly loud about
everything and sex was no different. And it told him he was getting it right
–he had absolutely no experience with other blokes and he wanted it to be good
if it could be.

He prised his fingers off Ron’s hip and worked it beneath
his chest, cupping the heavy bollocks he found there in his hand, massaging
them with a gentle rolling movement which had Ron slowly flexing his hips back
and forth as he fucked Harry’s mouth.

“God, going to come…” he grunted, feeling sweat collect in
the cleft of his arse cheeks.

Harry kept going. He knew the signs and Ron wasn’t there yet
even if he thought he was. Tightening his grip on the hot balls, Harry massaged
the thumb of the hand in slow circles, giving enough stimulation to make the
redhead groan with want. Strong thighs came up to frame Harry’s face and the
fingers in his hair tightened.

“Yes…” Ron pushed up as Harry’s hot tongue swirled across
his cock, spreading his pre-come. “Come on Harry, please… just…”

Harry put him out of his misery and slid as much as he could
into his mouth, keeping his lips in a tight ring, letting his tongue lap the
underside and then he hummed, letting the motion resonate deep within his
throat to dance along the shaft.

Ron released a weak mewl and arched up, hissing his approval
as his climax began to thrum in his belly, spreading down through his groin and
seeping into his thighs. “God yes, fuckfuckfuckfuck yesssssss…” desperately he threw his head back, his back
teeth clenching together, trying to entice it out with force but failing. “Oh
fuck Harry please, I need to c-come…” he gasped loudly and his eyes flew open
to look down between the duvet and his body, where Harry looked up at him with
emerald eyes glittering.

With a final jerk of his hips, Ron managed to fall over the
edge, crying out his orgasm to the room gutturally as Harry’s lips slid off
him, and his pulses of hot come spattered down his own shaft.

“Ohhhh fuck, Harry you’re a fucking genius,” Ron
groaned, arching up again, eyes squeezed tightly together as he rode through
the throbbing in his crotch.

Harry just watched him and the look of carefree bliss that
held his features as the curse was satisfied for another month. Panting, Ron
opened his eyes again and looked down at Harry and mouthed his usual ‘thank
you’.

Harry nodded and fell sideways to resume his position in the
bed, his cock hard between his legs. He didn’t hate what they had to do and he
even enjoyed making Ron squirm and writhe his hips about, hearing him beg. But that only came of their situation, nothing more.

Ron gave himself a few more moments of deep breathing before
he sat up, his head whizzing as blood rushed back into it. His back was sweaty
and he shivered when the cool air of the room stung against it. Ignoring his
discomfort, he turned and positioned himself next to Harry.

“What do you want?” he walked his fingers up Harry’s chest
until the pad of his index finger settled on the other’s man’s lower lip.

“What I always want,” Harry shrugged slightly.

Nodding, Ron pressed their lips together again, forcing his
silent thanks for the blow job through his tongue as he stroked against
Harry’s. Bringing his hands up to cradle Harry’s slightly flushed face, Ron moved his body over the right side of Harry’s,
never leaving his lips as he did so. Then, making sure he was safely balanced
with his softening cock resting comfortably against Harry’s thigh, he stretched
out his leg and pushed Harry’s free one to the side, trapping it with his foot
over the bony ankle. Harry groaned into his mouth and Ron paused to kiss him a
little deeper, paying devoted attention to stroking across delicate cheekbones
with his thumbs.

Harry would never lie and say that all his life he had
longed to be cared for, to be cherished as other people seemed to be. His
childhood had been without and whilst at school he found his true friends, it
felt even there like he was pushed from pillar to post, used where he was
needed –the final battle had proved that to him. But now, six years later, he
had Ginny. And he was so happy with her touches, the way she fought with him
because she loved him… but Harry was not stupid enough to deny that in Ron’s
arms, he felt just as safe and cared for, just as loved.

Ron understood how he felt; he even empathised to some
extent. He had Hermione whom he loved sincerely, but Harry was the first person
to ever value him apart from the crowd of his family, the first person to give
him the chance to shine. Even though he’d had his resentful moments with Harry,
they were best friends. And the sordid extension to their friendship, as hard
as it was to deal with, made him glow when they met to satisfy it.

Gathering Harry’s hands up, Ron pinned them above his head,
and covered them both with his large left hand, leaving his right free to roam.
He brought it down to let his fingers pinch playfully at an erect nipple,
scraping his fingernail over the stiffening bud and watching the way pleasure
diluted into Harry’s expression. He pinched again and ran his fingers lower,
through dark chest hair, following the line of downy hair which trailed south
of Harry’s navel and pushed them into the wiry inky mass at his groin.
Scratching hard, Ron captured Harry’s lips in a kiss again and held him down,
masterfully moving his head as he thoroughly tongue-fucked the wet cavern.

Harry was moaning beneath him, pressing his hips up to
encourage Ron’s skilled fingers there faster. Obliging because he felt kind,
Ron traced along the roasting shaft, following the definition of the glans and then tickling up over the foreskin, running
through the pre-come already collected there.

“We left it just right this time,” Harry panted when Ron
released him for air. “It’s… uhhhhh,” he groaned in
reaction to Ron fully grabbing his cock. “Perfect… just enough…” he hissed as
Ron began to pump.

“Shut up,” Ron growled, and captured Harry’s swollen lips
again for another kiss as he worked the brunette into a state of frenzy trapped
beneath his body.

“Oh Merlin, Ron yes…” hips pressed up and forced the prick
further into Ron’s hand. “Please… this is… ungh.”

Harry broke off as Ron freely let his wrist wank up and down
the shaft, the tight ring he made with his thumb and forefinger stimulating all
the correct hard ridges of Harry’s cock. Hands tried to break free but Ron held
them down, stretching out Harry’s toned arms enough to make the muscles quiver.
Whatever kick Harry got out of being held down, Ron was willing to indulge it
if it helped him along, and he re-asserted the pressure his foot had on the
ankle it pressed into the mattress, shoving it a little wider.

“F-fuck… I’m going to come, Ron, I’m going to come… yes…
yes… faster, please, faster, give it to me faster…”

The babble broke out of Harry’s mouth and Ron kissed him to
stop the words, knowing they’d only shame him later when he thought back on how
he begged for release. Harry kissed gratefully back but couldn’t put the mute
button on the low, desperate groans he was making in his throat as his cock was
milked to completion.

“I need you,” he hissed through the kisses. “Make me come,
Ron, please… I need…”

Ron shoved his tongue in deeper and choked the words as
Harry spoke them, ignoring the painful ache in his wrist as he sped up even
more, sliding the foreskin back with every pump.

“Ohhhhhpleaaaase,” Harry moaned,
seemingly unstoppable despite Ron’s efforts.

Harry shuddered as Ron turned to his neck instead, licking
up his throat. His breath caught in his throat and he choked out another plea
before he felt the desperate sensation of tingling in his cock, ripping up
through his veins and then, blissfully, he was coming, sending white liquid
streaming everywhere, dribbling over Ron’s hand, his balls and down onto the
sheet whilst he cried out.

“Oh fuck yes, yes fucking hell… more I want… m-more,” he
gasped as Ron finally released his hands when his orgasm crashed about him, he
instantly grabbed the redhead and held on tightly as though he were his only
anchor to reality.

Ron raised his head once more and kissed Harry through the
aftershocks, letting his hand still as the cock leaked into it. Whimpering,
Harry sagged back into the bed in the same way Ron had, letting the lazy
pleasure curl through his blood as the curse was sated for another month.

Aching, Ron shifted off Harry’s body and fell onto his back,
which was what he normally did. As soon as Harry fought through his aftershocks
he never wanted to be touched by Ron and he willingly gave him the grace,
desperate to do anything to make it easier for his friend. It came as a
surprise, therefore, when Harry whimpered in disapproval and rolled over so he
smacked into Ron’s side, wrapping his arm and leg over his slender, hot body,
and buried his head in the crook of Ron’s neck.

He sank one hand into Harry’s drying hair and massaged with
his fingers, trying to calm the heartbeat he felt thrumming against his ribs.
The dark-haired man’s breathing was harsh and Ron wondered exactly what was
causing his clinginess.

The redhead didn’t mind. It was to his great disappointment
that Hermione never wanted to cuddle after sex and he always remained in the
bed feeling desolate as she left him when normality returned. She cuddled at
other times but that wasn’t enough for him. And there, curled into his side,
Harry gave him something he’d always wanted. It wasn’t exactly coming from the
right quarter, but then Ron knew Harry was as big a portion in his life as
Hermione. Believing anything other would have been foolish on his behalf.

“Are you okay?” Harry’s quiet words floated up to him and
Ron jumped slightly.

“Yeah… I uh… you don’t normally do this.”

“I know,” Harry replied. “Does it… does it bother you?” He
thought how good Ron’s hand felt in his hair.

“Nope,” Ron answered truthfully, and pulled Harry a little
closer.

They lay in silence for a while but questions whirled around
Ron’s head like a sandstorm, and eventually, he had to ask.

“Harry… you’re… don’t take this the
wrong way. You’re normally in the shower by now or already half out of the
room… what’s going on?”

“I thought I’d stay for a bit,” Harry focused on Ron’s collarbone. “I always
leave it to you and that’s not fair and we…”

“What?” Ron asked when Harry did not finish his sentence.

“We just… we work, and we do that… we don’t spend any time
alone together any more when we aren’t fighting crime or getting each other
off.”

“Well, it’s hard to do that when you don’t look at me for
five seconds outside of those situations,” Ron focussed back on the cobweb on
the ceiling.

“I know… and I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to say sorry,” Ron gave a little shrug,
causing Harry to move with him as he did so. “I understand and it’s just… all
fucked up.”

“I never expected to be… tied to you like this,” Harry
murmured, his mind talking for him. “Tied to you and going out with Ginny… I
feel so guilty that I can’t look at you, sometimes…”

“I didn’t want this,” Ron reminded him. “Neither of us asked
for it, Harry. I have a girlfriend too.”

“I know that,” Harry said quickly, cursing his stupid mouth.
“I’m not saying you don’t feel it too… you just handle it better than me. And
you were the one that was raped… I don’t really get you.”

“What don’t you get?” Ron asked in a low voice.

In six years it seemed ridiculous they had never talked about
it before, but Ron liked it that way. He didn’t want to tell Harry about how
the wrong touch of a male figure had him shivering and crying in the work
toilets –his pride refused to let him admit that.

“How you’ve never lost it,” Harry said simply. “You seemed
to absorb the trauma…”

“I’ve never lost in front of you, mate,” Ron said softly and licked his lips for something to
do.

“Have you ever wanted to tell her?”

Both of their heartbeats had slowed right down and Harry
could hear the continual gloopy thump of Ron’s even
through the join between shoulder and chest where his head rested.

“I’ve thought about it… but I just can’t face the thought of
losing her, Harry. Maybe if we’d done it at the beginning… six years is just
too long to keep a secret from someone and expect the best when you finally
spill. I can’t lose her.”

“I don’t want to lose Ginny either… she’s your sister and I…
it would be hard for her to cope with…”

“Which is how we ended up on secrecy,” Ron gently reminded him. “I would love
for this to be open, to not have to hide, to not have to make my excuses every
time there’s rough sex in the films I watch with her…”

“You… can’t watch it?” Harry breathed,
his chest constricting.

“Nope,” Ron muttered. “It really fucks me up.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“But yeah. If we told everybody, I just… from my point of
view, if Ginny wanted to end it, I couldn’t bear to watch you be alone, Harry…
I would have to… and I don’t want to…” Ron’s voice drew tighter and higher and
Harry’s eyes widened at the implication of what he was saying.

“You would consider leaving her for me?”

Ron didn’t answer but blinked furiously up at the ceiling.

“I would never ask you to do that,” Harry assured him,
suddenly feeling very guilty for lying as he was in Ron’s arms –but he could
not move.

The rain poured outside their hotel room and they both
listened to it as silence fell over the bed.

“We’ve done it for six years,” Ron whispered. “We can do
this forever, Harry. Nothing has to change.”

“It gives a whole new meaning to ‘best friends forever’…”
Harry suddenly found himself snorting with a grin. “I feel I should get you an
overly tacky necklace proclaiming it.”

Ron laughed then, a true deep laugh which made Harry’s head
bounce up and down as the sound grumbled through the creamy chest and into his
ear canal. “No way, mate, don’t even think about it.”

Harry was still laughing as he pushed himself up to look
into Ron’s face. He noticed the redhead looked so much more relaxed than he had
when Harry had first stepped into the hotel room, and wondered if his own
expression was the same.

“Are you going to stay all night?” Ron asked him
interestedly. “I normally do but that’s ‘cause I hate
the way they look at me when I leave so soon after you...”

“Is that really why you always stay?” Harry asked
incredulously, and Ron blushed as he nodded. “I’ll stay,” Harry said softly.

They met in a gentle kiss, and Harry sunk his hands into
Ron’s hair affectionately.

-fin-

Thanks for reading!
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Dirty Little Secret