Gryffindor Investigations

It was close to midnight when two bone-weary wizards finally reached Number 12, Grimmauld Place. The past eight hours had been draining, both physically and emotionally; there had been tears aplenty on all sides, but Harry wouldn’t have taken back a single one. Ron was reconciled with his parents; if tears were what it had required, then Harry would have cried enough to flood the British Isles.

And the moment Harry had been dreading, when he and Ron told Ron’s parents about The Two Of Them, elicited an exactly eight-word response from Mrs. Weasley.

“So you’re part of the family anyway! Wonderful!”

*Still, Ron’s not quite whole, not yet,* Harry thought with a touch of apprehension as they stumbled through the front hallway and up the stairs. *Yes, he saved my life—but he did that when we were looking for Horcruxes, too, and it didn’t stop him from becoming depressed and morose when he and Hermione had split. Ron, Harry realized, would always be somewhat fragile emotionally, and Harry was going to have to spend a good deal of time making sure that he didn’t shatter.

*Then I will,* he said firmly as they reached the bedroom, too exhausted to do much more than strip off their clothes and collapse into bed. *It’s worth the time and the effort. It’s worth anything to have him.*

That was the only thought he knew for a while.

When he woke, he knew instinctively that the other side of the bed was empty. Harry blinked his way to consciousness, looking around for his lover. It didn’t take long; Ron was standing, naked, by the eastern window.

Harry took a moment to admire him. There was still some excess flesh around his middle and sides, but Ron was slowly regaining the blocky muscularity he’d had at school. Harry knew the light wasn’t really bright enough to see them, but he imagined that he could pick out each individual freckle on Ron’s shoulders and upper back, except, of course, for the ones hidden underneath his long hair.

“Oi,” he said softly.

Ron turned at the sound, and smiled. “Harry—come and see,” he said, gesturing.

Harry climbed out of bed, just as naked as Ron, and padded over to the window. Outside, the sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, dyeing the sky a deep burgundy. Harry and Ron stood, the curtain wrapped around them, and watched as the burgundy turned to indigo, their arms around each other, their fingers idly stroking each other’s arms.

“Feeling better?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” Ron said. “It was just……seeing those Crynes……”

“You saw a house without a scrap of love in it,” Harry told him, “and that made you think of a home with nothing BUT love. Right?”

Ron flushed. “Right.”

“So our first case was a complete success on more than one level, wasn’t it?

Ron smiled, almost shyly. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

They held each other, Harry’s head on Ron’s shoulder, Ron’s thumb tracing lazy patterns on Harry’s arm, and watched as the sun inched its way over the horizon. Harry felt more at peace than he’d ever felt before in his life, even when he’d accepted that he was going to have to sacrifice his own life to stop Voldemort.

“Let’s go back to bed,” Ron murmured.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Like small children, they walked hand-in-hand across the room to their bed. They sank down onto the mussed sheets, their arms already around each other, their lips already together in a tender kiss, their tongues already taking their first tentative steps around each other. Ron sank back on his back, and Harry slid on top of him, stroking his sides and shoulder blades.

They kissed for a long time, taking slow, sensuous pleasure in the act, their bodies slowly, almost unconsciously entwining. Now it was Ron on top, now Harry, now they simply lay side by side, making love with the comfort of two who were longtime friends as well as lovers.

Harry’s lips left Ron’s and began to kiss their way down the side of his neck; Ron responded by sliding his tongue down Harry’s throat to his tight, hard chest, stopping at the nipple. Ron’s tongue flicked out and tweaked the hardened skin, stopping only to allow his teeth a little nibble. Harry lay back in pure ecstasy and let Ron do what he did so very well.

Finally, however, Harry gently pushed Ron off of him and onto his own haunches, then sat up and bent over Ron’s throbbing dick. Ron barely had time to react before Harry’s mouth was around him, kissing and sucking it as gently as he could. Ron pushed Harry back onto his own back, then straddled him, feeding Harry his dick.

Harry’s mouth and throat were like a magnificent machine, giving Ron a blowjob that was nothing short of world class. Ron’s breath came in harsh pants as Harry sucked, until he finally withdrew and said, “My turn, love.”

He rolled over onto his back; Harry kissed him once, a long, deep kiss, before straddling him as Ron had done before. Ron took Harry into his mouth, and Harry reveled in that familiar wet, firm feeling of Ron’s lips around his dick.

Harry began to thrust, gentle, rhythmic strokes, feeding Ron his meat. Ron’s hand slid up Harry’s muscled torso and tweaked the smaller man’s nipple, and Harry nearly came right then and there.

“Mm….do that again!” he whispered harshly. Ron, with his mouth full of Harry, couldn’t answer in words—but his hands certainly answered for him, even as Harry ran his fingers through Ron’s thick red hair, massaging the other man’s scalp and temples.

Ron finally came up for air and asked Harry, “Wanna?”

“Are you kidding?” Harry smiled. Ron answered with a smile of his own, before rolling onto his stomach and getting on his hands and knees.

Harry rolled over to the bedside table, opened the top drawer, and rummaged through it briefly before coming up with a condom and lube. He squeezed a generous handful of lube into his palm, then reached over and rubbed it into Ron’s waiting hole. It did the job; Ron’s hole began to open, waiting for Harry. Harry applied a thin coating onto his bare shaft, unwrapped the condom and rolled it onto his dick, and then applied a more copious amount.

He walked forward on his knees a couple of steps until he was right behind Ron, then guided his latex-wrapped dick toward Ron’s arse. He fumbled around until he found the hole, then began to press in, a little at a time. He heard Ron grunt in mixed pleasure and pain as he entered him; when he was all the way in, he waited a moment for Ron to get used to him. “Tell me when,” he murmured.

Ron took several long, deep breaths, and Harry could feel his hole adjusting to the new entry. Finally, Ron said, “Ready, mate.”

Harry began to thrust, even, powerful strokes, driving himself deep into Ron. He heard Ron gasp in ecstasy when he hit the spot, and each gasp made him drive that much harder. His breath was coming in harsh, gasping pants, and the exertion made his body break out in hot, pungent sweat.

Ron was well beyond gasping; he was crying out in sheer rapture, louder and louder every time Harry hit his spot. His own body was as covered in sweat as Harry’s, and his hair was plastered to his face.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry had a nagging feeling that there was something else, something missing, something they hadn’t quite reached yet. He wasn’t even sure what it was, but something told him that it would come in its own time, and right now he wasn’t in any frame of mind to worry about it.

He pulled out, and Ron immediately rolled onto his back. Harry entered him again, and began to thrust as hard as he could, driving and driving like there was no tomorrow. Ron grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down, and their lips and tongues met in a dance as frenzied as the one below.

Finally, when he knew they were both close, Harry pulled out and peeled off the condom. Ron’s dick had gone limp, but the redhead quickly jerked it back to full mast, even as Harry jerked at his own member. With their free hands running over each other’s chests and stomachs, the two men jerked faster and faster.

Ron won, or lost, the race; as he roared a primal cry of pure pleasure, his dick exploded in an eruption of milky semen that splattered all over his chest and narrowly missed an eye. Harry was seconds behind him, adding his own cry and his own cream to Ron’s, before collapsing, utterly spent, on top of his lover.

They lay there, exhausted and drenched with sweat and semen, for a long while, stroking each other’s hair and backs and trading gentle, soft kisses. Finally, with the sun well over the horizon and streaming its light into their bedroom, they dragged their bodies out of bed and stumbled to the shower to clean up and begin the day.

There were more cases to solve, after all.


Next: an old friend asks Harry and Ron for help.