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Friends and Lovers	By : KohakuShadow Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Snape/Ron Views: 3977 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. Not making any money of of it. Big surprise there.

Chapter List
- 1-Friends and Lovers
- 1
I'm a bit late in uploading all of this year's christmas gifts, so there will be several uploads in pretty quick succession. Here's the first.
Pairing: Severus x Ron
(Yes, I do have a mailing list. Check my profile for details if you're interested.)
Friends and Lovers
Things had started off bad. Now, they were worse than bad; they were complicated. Severus paced. He chewed his nails – a habit he thought he'd broken in primary school, before he went to Hogwarts for a proper, wizarding education. He paused. He frowned. He paced some more.
Footsteps on the stairs startled him out of his reverie.
Ron raked his fingers back through his tangled hair, yawned, and mumbled 'morning' around a mouthful of air. He was barefoot, topless, and his day-old jeans, while freshened, could use a proper wash. Severus found there was not a thing he could say to make this situation any less cumbersome.
“...”
“Any breakfast plans?” Ron asked after the pregnant pause.
“...” Severus responded in precisely the same way.
“Right then. I'll rummage through your cupboards and scrounge something up.”
“Take away,” Severus answered abruptly, after a moment of forethought. The last thing they needed was for Ron to mistake the dragon's heart blood he was leaving to gel in the cupboard for marmalade.
Ron blinked at him. “You don't much seem the take away sort,” he observed.
“There is a time and a place for everything. The menus are in the drawer beside the sink.”
“Right then,” Ron answered. He paused, and stared hard at Snape. “Bit weird, innit?”
Severus arched a brow elegantly to inquire, if only to pretend he didn't think so, too.
“Morning afters. All that rot. Not bad, mind,” Ron said. “But, a bit weird.”
Ron wandered into the kitchen, muttering about being half-starved, 'after last night.'
Severus turned his gaze just enough to watch the redhead carding through the menus as if he belonged here. Complicated didn't even begin to cover it.
It began a month earlier, shortly after his breakup with Harry. The press had not been kind. Severus flipped open the morning Prophet, as was his custom, with a sharp flick of the wrist. The Headline? 'Dark Prince More Dark than Prince'. And the subheading? 'Potter devastated by Snape's betrayal.'
The danish and tea Severus had at ready for breakfast lost their temptation. It was a shame, because he'd been rather looking forward to that danish. He should have expected this, really. Harry had ever been the Golden Boy of the Wizarding World, but it irritated him all the same. Not only was the headline misleading, the article itself was all but entirely false. The only thing that seemed to have the least bit of truth in it was a quote of Harry saying the breakup was caused by “irreconcilable differences.” That was true. There wasn't much else to call it when one partner wanted oodles of children – adopted or otherwise, and the other... Well, sufficed to say after so many years of teaching at Hogwarts, if Severus never saw another child for as long as he lived, then he thought he might just be able to die happy.
Those 'irreconcilable differences' were really only the icing. They'd had a relationship that was as much drama as it was affection. They fought, made up, fought and made up again. Three years had gone on like that. It was stressful, but Severus didn't hate it. But, when Harry started talking about children, there was just no way to move forward. It had been a mutual decision to put an end to it while they still had a few good memories left. If one's only source of information were the Daily Prophet, they would be led to believe he'd sacrificed a goat to cast a curse on Harry that would make him think he loved Severus. While Severus couldn't deny the attraction of such a young man to a crotchety old fool like himself was bizarre, he hardly thought it was cause for deigning him the next Dark Lord.
The papers went on and on like this. It got to the point he was receiving so much hate mail that he had to move in the dead of night to a highly cloaked flat to get some peace. He was forced to take a rather circuitous route home and often had to spend several hours at muggle coffee shops, to ward off Harry's fans, who seemed dead set on attempting him harm. By virtue of the fact that his face terrified even the smallest, most adorable of animals, he'd avoided any confrontations.
It was after a month of this that a ray of light emerged through the gloom.
He'd continued reading the Prophet, as he felt it was in his best interest to know what new lies were being spread about him, lest he should start expecting a lynch mob the next time he had to leave the house for groceries and the odd potion ingredient, which he could now only purchase in Knockturn Alley, since, as his reputation among reputable wizards diminished, he was once again heartily welcomed down those dark pathways. It was in his best interest not to burn any bridges he didn't have to, so long as he still needed basic wizarding implements.
So it was, that one Sunday morning, glowering at the Daily Prophet – surely they must have some news of note, that didn't involve his hooked nose on the front page every bloody day! - he reached the editorial section. Of course, several of the editorials were about him. One Anonymous crackpot – Severus suspected a Lovegood – claimed that Voldemort had never been the Dark Lord in the first instance, and was only a front for Snape himself to move freely. It infuriated Snape to know how he'd suffered the inquisition of the Ministry and been found innocent of all charges, only to have this thrown back at him now over something as trite as a break-up. He hadn't been able to keep a single personal thought to himself in that trial! It was, admittedly, those personal thoughts that first found his former lover in his bed, but it was still a brutal blow to his pride. Several other articles called to have him arrested and thrown into Azkaban, as if there was a single charge they could arrest him on.
Surely, they'll invent something properly evil.
But, then! Oh, then, he saw a little ray of light. The grammar was flimsy, the cliches abundant, the analogies repetitive, but the message, clear as the morning sun, was 'stop giving this poor man hell.' It was also, rather curiously, intimately aware of the reality of the situation, with phrases like, 'not everyone wants the same things', and 'if Harry can respect that, why can't the lot of you?'
By the time the page long editorial reached its climax, Severus found himself utterly wooed. He read it five times. This stranger seemed to be his only friend in the world. Over the next few days, he couldn't help but think on it, read it over and over. He'd – rather foolishly – clipped the editorial from the paper and taken to carrying it around in his pocket, as if it were a shield against all the indignity and unfair treatment he was facing.
It had become impossible to let this person, his personal crusader, remain anonymous. He had to know who had written the letter. He used every spell he knew to gain some clue to the writer's identity. When he finally finished a potion that could trace those words back to their source, and found himself uncertainly entering a ratty little tavern called The Sloth and Toad on a dark dirt road three miles out of London, he questioned the wisdom of his actions, but he needed to know. He couldn't rest until he could put a face to the only person who seemed to be genuinely on his side.
His heart rose so quickly into his throat when he saw that familiar dash of red hair behind the bar, that he thought he might choke on it.
Ronald Weasley. Why was he here? For that matter, why in the bloody hell was one of the so-called saviors of the wizarding world working in a dirty little pub? It was too late to turn around now. He wanted to find out who wrote the letter more than he wanted to avoid being recognized. The latter was impossible with a face like his, anyway. He sat at the most secluded corner of the bar he could find. He just needed a moment to think.
“Something I can get for you, Professor?” Ron asked.
“I've not been in that particular employ in years, Weasley. That particular form of address is somewhat out of date,” Severus muttered. Merlin! This was awkward.
“Force of habit,” Ron answered with an awkward little smile. “In any case, I'm here to serve.”
“I rather noticed. The Auror business not as lucrative as you'd hoped?”
Ron could chat, apparently, since there were only a handful of customers in the building. He shrugged. “I decided it wasn't for me,” he said. “Would have been brilliant to work with Harry, n'all, but I figure, I can't keep chasing after my friends, just because I'm afraid they'll forget about me if I'm not always at their heels. Maybe I'll never make my millions tending bar, but I kind of like it. How about a House Special, then? We call it the Finnigan.”
“Finnigan?”
Ron smiled, and Severus found he suddenly understood what people saw in him. He'd always considered the boy witless, but he had a smile that could melt icebergs. Odd, that he'd never noticed that before. The Weasley pulled down a highball glass, and half filled it with Lemon-Ginger ice cubes. That was chased with a few teaspoons of butterbeer, muggle vodka, something that Snape thought might be grenadine, a whole lot of firewhiskey, and the tiniest drop of something in a neon green shade, that caused the bar to rattle for several seconds, a flame to shoot straight up, and explode half a foot above the glass, then sprinkle back down like fairy dust and turn the entire concoction a shimmery kelly green. A few patrons at the bar applauded, as if this show was the one thing that gave their lives a bit of excitement. Ron topped it with a slice of lemon and pushed it over to the old potions master.
“Is it safe for human consumption?” Severus asked, not sure he wanted to drink something that had just combusted. He could see little sparks of silver lightning where the ice cubes floated around in the glass, and realized the end result of the concoction was actually rather Slytherin. He nearly smirked at the realization.
Ron shrugged. “Well, it's not killed anyone yet, in any case. It's good,” he assured, charming Severus with that smile again. “Strong, but I imagine you could use a good, strong drink what with everything that's been going on of late.”
That was a rather understanding statement, but as Harry's best mate, Ron would be more intimately aware of the situation. 'Wait a damn minute!' Was it? Could it be? Severus wondered if it wasn't unwise to chase that figment of hope here after all.
He merely took a sip of the drink so he didn't have to answer. It was good. And, it was strong. Severus decided he'd better pace himself, or he could become far too intoxicated, far too quickly. Somehow, he lost all sense of time a quarter through the glass. Three-quarters in, people started to leave the spinning pub.
“We're about to close up. How about you polish that off and I'll walk you home,” Ron said.
Severus actually was rather tipsy, from one bloody drink! He wasn't tipsy enough that he couldn't string together thoughts and sentences, but certainly enough that having a compatriot would be well advised, as he'd not be properly able to cast magic when he felt as though he were standing on a ship out at open sea when he stood. Ron caught his arm when he swayed.
“I'm well enough,” Severus said, not noticing he'd left a few letters off of that last word. “You need to get home to Granger, no doubt.”
Ron winced. “Haven't heard then, huh? We've called it off.”
“Have you?” Severus asked, surprised. “Tired of her nagging?”
Ron laughed weakly. “Well, being without it is a bit of a nice change of pace, but I do notice my flat's gone a bit to hell without her constantly riding me to do chores.” Another weak laugh followed. “No, that's not why. Actually, it's about the same reason as you and Harry broke it off. I grew up in a house filled to the brim with kids, you know? She sort of assumed we'd have gobs of 'em, but...I don't know, I guess now that I have a bit of space, and some money, things that are mine, and that were mine first, I'd be mad to give that up. I like kids well enough, but I think maybe I'm happy to be Uncle Ron, you know? When I think about my future, most people imagine a pretty little cottage, some children, pie baking in the oven... But for me, I think I'd just be happy with a flat big enough that I can have a dog – Crookshanks has turned me off to cats a bit – and maybe invite guests for dinner now and again. Well, I'd not turn down the pie, of course.”
There was that smile again. Severus felt his heart skip a beat. It was the liquor, surely, but it skipped all the same. “I've rather had enough of children, after teaching them for so long,” Severus admitted. He didn't know why he added, “Dogs I don't particularly mind. Big ones are friendlier.”
Again, that grin! Again, his pulse stuttered. Yes, it must be the liquor. He only realized after the half-mile walk to the nearest floo that he was leaning a bit too heavily on Ron's shoulder, that Ron's fingers were curled lightly around his waist. He was unwilling to admit that the warmth he felt was the beginning of arousal.
“I was thinking of maybe an Irish Setter,” Ron mused. “They're so...I'm not sure what, but it's awesome,” he declared.
Charming. Cute. Didn't want kids. Ron was looking more and more appealing by the minute, which was dangerous, and surely the result of intoxication paired with a fair share of loneliness. Severus knew it, but knowing it wasn't enough to stop him from inviting Ron in for tea. “You've come all this way,” he explained. “It's only good manners. I also have a pastry I've been meaning to indulge in. I've only the one, but it's large enough to split over a cup.”
Ron agreed. Severus suspected it was the promise of sweets, but he'd only offered it as an added incentive in the first instance, so it didn't matter. He mentally decided to give Ron the larger piece as he stumbled out of his shoes.
An hour later, he found himself at the door while Ron was reaching for his jacket to head home. He was looking for any excuse not to let him leave. The company and conversation had been so pleasant, he didn't want the evening to end. He hadn't realized how much he missed having someone to talk to.
“It is rather late. I would not be disadvantaged if you wanted to sleep here tonight,” he blurted.
Ron stopped. He stared. Severus feared he'd pushed the subject too far, but oh, how he wanted the young man to stay! He wanted other things of him as well, but he didn't dare attempt them.
After an pause burdened with awkward uncertainty, Ron asked frankly, “would we actually get any sleeping done?”
Severus felt his heart rise to his throat again and forced it back to its proper position – attempting to pound its way out of his chest cavity. “Eventually,” he answered, taking a rather daring chance.
Ron barked out a laugh.
“In all seriousness, Ronald, it has been...pleasant...to have someone to talk to who understands my position. By the time you return home, it will be halfway to morning.”
Ron shifted from one foot to the other pensively. He bit his lower lip. Severus couldn't help but watch the gesture. His fingers twitched with the restrained desire to pull the ginger in close and see if those lips tasted half as sultry as they looked right now.
“You're drunk,” Ron observed.

“I am,” Severus answered frankly. “But not terribly.”
“Just enough, eh?”
“Hn,”Severus answered.
“I've been just drunk enough more than my share. Usually regret it in the morning,” Ron observed.
“I would imagine it might be a nice change of pace to regret something I've done, rather than something I haven't.” In matters of attraction, it was always the chances he hadn't taken that left the most bitter aftertaste.
Ron found the logic impossible to argue. He put his jacket back on the rack. “Alright, then. Let's make a few regrets.”
Severus found his heart swell at the speedy affirmation, and was uncommonly abrupt in pulling the redhead to him and kissing him passionately.
Ron, also, offered no hesitation. He opened his mouth to the overeager kiss.
“Shit,” he breathed when it broke at last. “No wonder Harry was so mad about you, in spite of how much you fought, if that's what he got when you made up.”
“Ronald, Harry has nothing to do with this.”
“Sorry,” Ron smirked. “He was always on about how different you were behind closed doors. Always figured it was bollocks before now, is all.”
“I must insist that he not be mentioned, or you will ruin the atmosphere. Must I find other ways to silence you?”
“Please do,” Ron grinned playfully.
The grin banished the affront of talking about Severus's ex. Severus swallowed it with another kiss. Ron's arms wrapped around his shoulders, his fingers curled into the older man's tangled hair. It was easy to get lost in that kiss. It was easy not to worry about tomorrow when there was someone in his arms again. It was remarkably easy to lead Ron upstairs between stolen kisses, leaving a trail of clothing in their wake: Ron's shirt over the banister, Severus's outer robe dropped on the desk as they passed it on their way to the bed, his tunic cast carelessly to the floor.
Ron kissed his shoulder, caressed his stomach. Their lips joined again as the Weasley worked eagerly on getting Severus out of his trousers. They tumbled to the bed, and Ron laughed. His laugh was as charming as his smile. The laughter in his pale eyes out-charmed anything his lips could do, or, so Severus thought until they latched onto his earlobe.
It was a manic dance, tumbling one over the other, to get Snape's trousers and pants to the floor. There was no more patience or grace afforded to Ron's. Severus was so dizzy with the lust and heat of it all that he blinked up at Ron, straddled across his hips, tousled and breathless, when the redhead spoke.
“What?” Severus asked. It sounded as stupid passing his lips as it did inside of his head.
Ron smiled again, and Snape's cock throbbed. “Lubricating potion?” Ron repeated with a soft laugh.
Severus stretched out his long arm, which was only barely too short to reach the top drawer of the nightstand.
Ron's angle was more conducive to retrieving it, and with a bit of stretching and scrambling he managed to grab it and quickly seat himself back on Severus's thighs. “Homemade, I see.”
Severus pursed his thin lips. “Harry always accused me of being cheap.” It was a bitter recollection.
“Nah, they work better,” Ron said, uncorking the bottle. “And, I thought we weren't talking about Harry,” he smirked.
“We aren't,” Severus replied tersely.
Ron distracted him quite skillfully from the souring of the conversation by grinding his hips forward. Their cocks slid together, and Severus found himself breathless. He gripped the slender hips – a good match for his own. “You've done this before,” he observed, with what little air was in his lungs.
Ron tossed his head a bit to get his hair out of his eyes. “You thought I'd not done anything before Hermione?” he laughed again, then sniffed the potion. “Pegasus fur?” he asked.
“Hipogriff,” Severus answered quickly. “It is finer. And, I recall you being far more interested in women than men,” he answered. No one could forget the sickening relationship he'd had with Lavender Brown when they were young.
Ron grinned. “You'd be amazed what a late night game of Wizard's Chess can bring about in the boys' dormitory when you've not a sickle to spare.”
“Excuse me?!” Severus replied as though affronted.
Ron laughed again. “I'll leave the rest to your imagination,” he purred as his lips ghosted over the long column of the older wizard's throat. “Top or bottom?” he asked.
Severus sputtered at the frank question, and the warm laughter rolled over him again. “I'll bottom, if you don't care. I've not had it that way in a good long while,” Ron said.
Severus nodded dumbly. Why was he still such a fool about sex? Surely, he was old enough that it should not be such a concern! He was stunned by Ron's amiable chatter and his warm laughter and his charming smile, even as the effects of the liquor began to dim. He didn't recall ever having such friendly, leisurely intercourse. Harry had always treated it like a project – something with a definitive beginning and end. While it was pleasurable, it lacked the idle banter and friendliness that Ron brought to the bedroom with him. Ron's casual charm and meandering caresses, which seemed to have no particular destination in mind, surprised Severus by their stark contrast to what he was accustomed to. They swept him up, and made him forget himself as the young man coated Severus's fingers with the lubricant.
Severus used his ungreased hand to pull the young man close and pepper kisses along his collarbone. Ron arched his back and moaned in a near purr when the first finger breached. “Go slow,” he pleaded, even as he pushed back his hips, as if begging Severus to speed things along. “It's been so long...” He buried his face, heavy breaths, and long fingers, into Severus's hair. Severus dragged his tongue along the protruding bone of Ron's collar where it met the neck. He left a mark as the second finger slid in. Again, Ron hissed – a sound that was nearly a song, and pushed his hips back toward the intrusion. Even Ron's eagerness was in no hurry. He seemed to enjoy the fingering for the sake of the fingering, without concerning himself overly with the fact that it was merely a preparatory stage in the process. As a result, Severus found, as the young man's cock brushed repeatedly across his abdomen as he shifted and whimpered above him, that he was able to tease him more than his former lover was ever willing to stand. It was almost more than Severus's neglected organ was able to endure, but how content Ron was with foreplay felt almost like a reward for surviving the war, the ministry, three years of a relationship that brought sorrow in equal parts to joy, and the bad press that followed it.
“You certainly are easy to please,” Severus said, as he twisted three fingers inside of the youngest of the Weasley boys.
Ron cried out in delight as Severus located his prostate. “It's not hard to be easy with a partner that's so eager to please,” Ron returned, eyes full of mirth sparkling down at Severus.
“I simply...” Severus stumbled, embarrassed to be called out on it.
“Needed a friend tonight, yeah?” Ron said kindly, kissing the bridge of his prominent nose. “Well, I'm plenty friendly, if you haven't noticed.” The smile returned, and with it, something Severus thought he'd lost when he was a child: laughter, his own. A chuckle escaped against Ron's mouth.
“I wonder if you're so friendly with all of your acquaintances,” Severus answered, and found he had been drawn in to Ron's idle banter.
“Only the sexy ones,” Ron whispered into his ear before latching onto his lobe again. Severus groaned.
“And the stubborn old men who you take pity on,” Severus answered, dragging his digits along Ron's prostate again. He couldn't let this drag out much longer. His own body was practically quivering with need, but he found it difficult to bring their encounter to its climax, if only because he was hesitant to let go of the moment.
“Same difference,” Ron moaned against his throat. “Sexy old men who are almost as deserving of pity as they are of some understanding, and who can't seem to catch a break are always the best lovers, didn't you know?” Ron smiled down at Severus again, and the kiss that followed surprised the old wizard. It was not the playful, lusty kisses they'd been sharing, but rather so frank, and so honest, and so very, very understanding.
Severus didn't have the opportunity to dwell on what Ron was trying to tell him with that kiss, because only a moment later he felt the young man's well-greased fingers curling around his cock. His head fell back against the pillows. It gave Ron full and proper access to his chest, which Ron took full and proper advantage of. The hand moved over his organ; the tongue and teeth descended over the taut nipple which had been standing at attention for some time. 'Oh, for love of Merlin! He can have his way with me whenever he wants!' Severus thought. Any time. Any where. Any position. Severus was in such a state of lust that by the time he pulled his fingers out of Ron's anus, his hands were shaking.
Ron lowered himself over Snape's organ slowly at first, but the impatience of both parties made that impractical, and Severus pulled his hips down to the root. Ron cried out, but it was clearly pleasure, rather than pain. He pulled the older man's face towards his own and this kiss was passionate and greedy. He wasted no time in rocking his hips. Little cries and groans escaped as the easy wit of their foreplay escaped him.
Severus wrapped his arms firmly around Ron's back and rolled them over. He was glad now for the 'unnecessary expenditure' he'd made on a larger bed at Harry's behest. It was far more accommodating to tonight's entertainment. With Ron pinned beneath him, he was able to thrust. He needed to thrust. Firmly. Desperately. It was so good! The lithe young body was brilliant, but even more brilliant was the quick rapport that had built between them, the way Ronald Weasley made all the angst and inner turmoil melt away, as if the young man's words massaged his soul. The combination of these things found Severus far more aroused than he could remember ever having been before.
It was indignity and disappointment that came to Severus most readily after they'd climaxed – loudly, between sloppy kisses and a firm embrace, and he was forced to roll off the younger man. It was over, then. Pity. He'd so enjoyed it. His body was still humming with it, but the pleasure mingled with grief. Ron was not his lover, after all. Only a friend, if it could even be said that tonight's endeavors had built that much between them.
It surprised him when Ron reached out and squeezed his hand. It was enough. Just that someone was on his side through all of this was enough. It had to be.
Then, morning came, and with morning, realization and regret. He'd slept with his ex-lover's best friend. It made matters so complex, and so intensely awkward! How was he supposed to speak to Ronald now? Surely, Harry was going to find out. The bloody Prophet didn't miss a beat. How was Ron going to leave his home without being seen? The complications left Severus standing dumbly in the hall, watching Ron call in a take away order that could feed an orphanage. Eggs. Pancakes. Bacon. Sweet buns. Hash. That was only the top of the list.
It left him still standing there foolishly, secretly appreciating the redhead's body as he walked back over. “Be about forty minutes,” Ron said.
“All right,” Severus answered. “I will prepare some tea.”
He started to walk past Ron, but the redhead stopped him with a light grip on Severus's wrist. “Severus.” The way his name sounded on Ron's tongue was spicy. “About last night.”
'About last night, indeed.' Severus thought, arching his eyebrow at the young man. He started to look down to Harry's height out of habit, but corrected himself. Ron was a more comfortable height beside his own. 'Stop that,' he warned himself.
“There is no need...”
Ron cut him off with a kiss. It was quite a kiss, too. He pressed him against the wall, their bodies pressed together from tip to toe, their tongues dueling passionately.
“Ronald!” Severus gasped.
Ron grinned that charming grin. “I'm on late shift, it's still night to me.”
“Are you suggesting...?”
“A better way to entertain ourselves than with tea, while we wait for breakfast?” Ron offered. He slid his hands down Severus's arms, and lightly took his hands, pulling him toward the couch.
Severus, against all common sense, didn't fight it. He let Ron push him down. He even initiated the kiss when Ron joined him there, a kiss that had no particular destination or goal in mind, followed by several more that were quite the same.
“Ronald,” he said at last, parting. “This is...pleasant, by all definitions,” Severus admitted, “but it has the potential to become...troubling.”
Ron laughed.
“It's not funny,” Severus protested. “A drunken misadventure is one thing but...”
“But if we do it sober, it's a relationship?”Ron asked. “Stop thinking so hard. You and I both just got out of long term relationships. I don't think either of us are looking to jump right back onto that particular horse.”
It was both a relief and a disappointment to Severus, who wasn't sure how to reply. His pulse fluttered when Ron caressed his cheek. “We all dream of the life we're supposed to have. It's once we realize that the life we're supposed to have isn't the life we want, that things get complicated. From here, I think, we'll both find that things can only get easier.”
“Your best friend is my ex-lover,” Severus deadpanned at Ron's oversimplification.
“I don't remember signing any contracts saying he was the only male friend I'm allowed to have,” Ron returned.
“Is that what you call this then? Friendship?”
“Well, why not?” Ron laughed again, and Severus felt his heart soaring.
“Because your hand is down my pants, for a start,” he observed.
Ron gave Severus's cock a good squeeze. Severus couldn't help but buck up against it. “You're feeling pretty friendly to me,” he joked with that overwhelmingly bright grin that had so easily seduced the grumpy old potions master.
“A friendship, then,” Severus said flatly, though it was rather difficult to maintain that flat tone when Ron was idly palming his cock in the middle of their serious conversation.
“A beautiful friendship,” Ron agreed, leaning forward to steal a kiss that Severus, with a sigh, met him halfway for.
“A bit of an explosive friendship, I think,” Severus replied, sliding his hand up Ron's side and pressing his thumb against his 'friend's' nipple as Severus used his other hand to work open Ron's trousers, and found nothing beneath them but the silky heat he was only too eager to get to know a little better.
Ron moaned an affirmation. “Let's focus on exploding as often as possible for now,” he joked lewdly, pulling Severus's trousers down to his knees and gripping his cock more firmly. “Start with friends, work our way up.” He kissed Severus's throat as he pulled open his robes, moved onto the shoulder, the stomach.
“You seem to be working your way down at the moment,” Severus commented bemusedly.
Ron grinned from between his thighs. “I have a piss poor sense of direction,” he replied, stroking his hot flesh. Severus dug his nails into the arm of the couch when Ron opened his mouth and cried out the young man's name.
Up. Down. Sideways. Backward. With Ron, direction didn't matter. Destination didn't matter. And friendship? Friendship took on a whole new meaning, which Severus decided he would be quite happy to get used to.
~The End~
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