Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Stray	By : KohakuShadow Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 8044 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own harry potter, nor am I making any money off of it, If i did, it would have been a MUCH gayer series.

Chapter List
- 1-Stray
- 2-Ch. 2
- 3-Ch. 3
- 4-Ch. 4
- 5-Ch. 5
- 4
- 5
V. (Epilogue)

It was past two in the morning when Ron finally found himself back in London, rounding the corner toward his flat. The fog was heavy, and there was a bitter chill in the air. The light jacket he'd left the house with earlier in the day and Charlie's black t-shirt

weren't nearly enough to fight it off, and he didn't dare cast a warming spell until he was further away from the muggle part of town. Even once it was safe, he decided to endure the chill, figuring it might well be the only thing keeping him conscious. He walked quickly, rounding the corner toward his flat, eager to get inside and get a fire going, change into a pair of flannels and burrow himself under covers, sleep for the next ten hours, at least, and fixate on the rest later.

When he reached the front of the house, he startled, blinked. Who was sleeping on his steps? He narrowed his eyes, pulled his wand, and slowed his approach. It was a burly sort of man in hooded robes with his head down. He walked carefully, quietly, got close. His pulse started to race. Burly, arms crossed over his chest. That build, could it be? It coudln't be. He carefully used the tip of his wand to lift the hood enough to see the face...

The man startled, damn near jumped out of his skin with a snort that was half a snore as he woke, banging his head against the iron banister.

“Ow, fuck n' shite,” Oliver whined, uncrossing his arms, rubbing his forehead, blinking about owlishly. He looked up to find Ron's startled face looking down at him, and his face broke into a huge grin. He jumped to his feet. “Thank Merlin, you're finally home! Was freezing my bollocks off out here waiting for you.”

Ron's heart thundered in his ears. He wanted to say something sensible, but strings of syllables stumbled past his lips. “You...I...I was...out.”

“Yeah, rather noticed,” Oliver said, the grin never breaking, his hands coming up to Ron's biceps. “You look good,” Oliver said, reaching up to caress his cheek. “Real good.” His smile faltered when he felt Ron's hair, wet. And he smelled like shampoo. “Oh. You meant...out. Ah, right, I...” he let go of Ron abruptly, pale but for the cold flush to the end of his nose, and licked his chapped lips.

“Well, I...shit,” Ron sighed. He'd been dying to see this man, and when does he show up? Right when he's off in Romania having a shag, of course. Bloody perfect. “Come inside,” he said, unlocking the door. “I'll make tea. You must be freezing.”

“Little bit,” Oliver admitted. “I should go, yeah?”

Ron took a deep breath. “You should have owled, like you said you would,” he complained. “I'd have been here.”

Oliver sneezed as Ron fiddled with the door. “Yeah?” he asked hopefully.

“Yeah,” Ron confirmed, flipping the lights on and fumbling out of his shoes beside the door. This was surreal. Why in the hell did Oliver just show up out of nowhere like this? And, to find him sleeping on his doorstep! “You've been here a while?”

“Yeah,” Oliver answered tactlessly. “Hours. Ate dinner on line at the floo, lost half of it on the way over. Think I beaned someone with a danish on the way through.”

Ron grinned. “I got someone with a burger once. I'll never get on the floo with food again.”

“Lesson learned,” Oliver replied before abruptly changing the subject as they climbed the stairs. “I meant to owl,” he said. “Sat down to write you dozens of times, but everything I put to paper sounded shit. Lame. Just bloody stupid. And, I mean, I got so busy with practices. There's a chance I might be able to get off the reserves next season – it's slim, but it's there, and I've got to be at my best,” he insisted with his usual fervor, fist clenching in front of his chest.

“Oliver, shut up,” Ron laughed. Merlin, he was cute, but if they spent the whole night talking about quidditch, they'd not get anywhere in talking about them. They needed to do that; they really needed to talk about what they were to each other, or what they wanted to be. Ron hated those sorts of conversations, but Oliver was here now, and they had to get it squared away.

“Sorry, you know how much I love quidditch,” Oliver replied.

“Yeah, everybody knows,” Ron replied, stopping at the landing.

Oliver nearly walked straight into his back. He wrapped his arms around Ron's middle and pulled his back to his chest. “So, about this bloke you were with...” Oliver asked abruptly.

Ron sighed. “It was just a one off. It wasn't anything,” he answered. “I didn't go looking for it, but someone took more n' a month to owl, and someone else made an offer. There was no reason to refuse.”

“Refuse next time,” Oliver said, holding Ron close.

It felt so good, to be held like that. “Owl next time,” Ron answered. “Or at least firecall.”

“Firecall!” Oliver declared to the empty hair. “I should have thought of that!”

“Are you daft?” Ron asked.

“I'm preoccupied, and I'm cold,” Oliver defended. “Bring me inside and warm me up.”

“No liquor this time,” Ron said firmly. “I can't keep up with you when I'm hung over.”

“Mmn,” Oliver answered, nipping at Ron's ear. Ron wondered what it was about his ears that men found so fascinating, but it made his toes curl all the same. “That's why I'm telling you that you need to train more,” he said. “New tryouts for Puddlemere next month. If we get you in shape, you've got a fair chance at the reserve team.”

“You know I'm a Cannons fan,” Ron answered as he opened the door and let Oliver trail into the room behind him.

“Mmn, but I don't play for the Cannons,” Oliver answered.

“Selfish,” Ron answered.

“Very,” Oliver admitted, pulling Ron close again.

Ron managed to blindly get the fire going, but it seemed that tea was going to have to wait. Oliver obviously had other ideas regarding how to warm them up, and the way he looked at Ron gave the redhead a second wind. He wrapped his arms around Oliver's strong shoulders as the man kissed him, hoping he didn't taste like he'd just spent half a day bare-arsed with two other men.

If he did, Oliver didn't complain. He did, however, grope Ron's bum. He kissed Ron's throat, frowning a bit at the hickey he found there, and apparently intent to cover it with one of his own.

Ron felt his groin twitching to life. “Oliver,” he gasped. “What is this?”

“A hickey, obviously,” Oliver answered before attacking his neck again, holding him close.

“I..f.uuck. No, I mean...us.”

Oliver stopped to look seriously at the Weasley. “It's just us, Ron. And, it's good, or it will be, if you stop shagging other men. What's it supposed to be?”

“Dunno...” Ron admitted.

“We can figure it out as we go, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ron answered, giving in and letting Oliver push him down onto the couch. It was good. Or, it would be... “If you stop being a prick and owl when you say you will,” he complained.

“I'll owl,” Oliver promised. “Later. Bit distracted at the minute.” He slid his hand down over the bulge in Ron's jeans and gave his growing erection a squeeze. “But if you'd rather me go grab a quill...”

“Don't you bloody dare!” Ron insisted, pulling Oliver closer and kissing him soundly on the mouth. He melted into it as the older man took over. It was the best kiss – the kiss that Charlie and Snape couldn't give him. It was the kiss that was meant for his lips only, and he couldn't get enough of it, or the man that came as part of the package.

It was sunrise before Ron finally managed to curl up under the duvet in bed. He didn't quite make it into the flannels, but he had something better to keep him warm.

XXXXXXXXXX

The next morning, for the first time in his life, Oliver Wood skipped one of his religious early morning training sessions. That didn't, however, mean he didn't still get in a good workout before breakfast. He left his training partner exhausted in bed, took a hot shower, and headed for the kitchen with only his trousers on and a towel about his neck, intent on starting a big breakfast, ignoring the fact that it was past noon. They needed their nourishment. There was still time to get in a good few hours of quidditch practice before dinner, and maybe another round of practicing something else before dessert. He smiled to himself, drying his hair. Ron really was too cute with the way he whimpered and gasped like that. Oliver was going to have to rework his training schedule to spend more time here, lest someone snatch Ron out from under his nose. He was quite a catch, and apparently had other offers. Oliver knew he had to be amazing, or Ron would find someone else who was in no time.

“Shorter, more intensive training sessions,” he mumbled to himself, opening the pantry to see what Ron had in the place to eat. Cookies. Pastries. Cheese. “...he eats like a five year old,” Oliver complained, but some further rummaging about the kitchen found some more reasonable breakfast foods – eggs, bread, jam. He was digging deep into the refrigerator to try and find some fruit when he heard footsteps coming up the hall. Of course, he assumed it was Ron at first, finally getting his adorable arse out of bed.

“Ronald Weasley you promised me you would call last night and tell me what is wrong with your brother!”

Oliver startled and jumped, clocking the back of his head on the refrigerator. “Ow, fuck n' shite. I'm a clod,” he cussed, rubbing the back of his head as he righted himself. He blinked.

Molly blinked as the man she'd assumed to be her son rummaging about for food proved to be someone entirely different – wearing naught but a pair of trousers! “Oh. Oh!” she said, her mouth breaking out into quite a grin. “Well, hello! I'm Ronald's mother, Molly Weasley!” Before Oliver could so much as step away from the fridge she had his hand between hers and was shaking it quite violently, or so it seemed to him.

“O-Oliver Wood, ma'am. We've met before, actually. Friend of Charlie's,” he stuttered.

“Oh! Yes, of course, you're a friend of Charlie's! Were you about when Ron popped in yesterday, then?”

“Mum, what are you doing here?” Ron protested as he came out of the bedroom, no better dressed than Oliver – wearing only a pair of flannel pajama pants and slippers. He had the top in his hand, but hadn't got it on as yet.

Oliver looked at him over her shoulder as she turned about and mouthed. 'Thank you!'

“I was just introducing myself to your friend,” Molly said. “Honestly, Ron, if you were expecting company, you should have told me. I suppose you didn't make it to your brother's then? I suppose I'll just have to pop by and surprise him. I'll make a pie!” she decided.

“No! Mum, no I went, just for a bit. He's rather busy, with the uh, cat, and...with work and such, is all. Really, he's fine.”

“Well, then, it can't be helped. Oliver dear, there's no need for you to do that, I'll cook! You can tell me all about how the two of you met over lunch!”

Ron paled at the thought as his mother ushered Oliver out of the kitchen. “Do put on a bit more clothing, dears. You'll catch your death of cold,” she henned.

“It's not much of a story, ma'am,” Oliver said, just as eager to avoid the subject.

Molly busily tutted at the state of Ron's kitchen, and cast some powerful cleansing spells about.

Oliver found himself at Ron's side. “You were at Charlie's yesterday?” he whispered.

Ron's face flushed. “I, uhm...”

Oliver easily put the rest together. “You Weasleys are a kinky bunch, aren't you?” he smirked, whispering in Ron's ear. “Walked in on Charlie and Bill in the locker rooms once,” he admitted quietly. “First year on the team, right before my first game. I was a nervous wreck, my stomach was in knots. Had a bit of an upchuck, coming out of the stall I saw the two of them at it. Was so dazed by it all I took a bludger to the head two minutes in. Woke up in the hospital wing a week later.”

Ron coughed. “You...”

Oliver smirked. “They found a way to make it up to me, once my head stopped spinning.”

Ron blushed brightly. “S-so, it's alright, then?”

“It was a one-off, yeah?” Oliver whispered.

Ron nodded dumbly. “He's got himself someone special now,” he whispered. “Mum doesn't know yet.”

“So you...”

Ron's face turned even brighter.

“I see. I've got quite a bit to live up to, then,” Oliver purred in his ear. “I'll try not to disappoint.”

“I...uh...so far, so good,” Ron squeaked quietly.

Oliver planted a soft kiss on his mouth – just a chaste little thing. He couldn't well do anything more, with Ron's mother rummaging about in the kitchen.

Ron's gaze turned in her direction when he heard a few pots clank together. Oliver held him in a loose embrace. “I'll tell her I met you through Harry,” he said. “That we got to talking at a victory celebration after the war, let her fill the rest in herself, yeah?”

Ron nodded vacantly. It was mostly true, except in that it left out all of the most important parts – like the booze, and Oliver's leather trousers, and Charlie's part in the whole mess.

Molly turned about in time to see them standing together in the living room in a loose embrace. She clapped her hands together. My, but they were so cute together! She cleared her throat loudly enough to startle them. “Well then, let's eat!” she declared.

The boys sat awkwardly at the small kitchen table across from the loveable busybody.

“Well then, Oliver, was it, what do you do for a living?”

“I'm a Keeper, ma'am,” he answered. “On reserve for Puddlemere United at the minute.”

Ron subtly pinched Oliver's thigh before he could ramble on. The sooner they could get Molly out of the house, the sooner they could go back to bed.

“Oh, are you then? Ron plays Keeper too, don't you Ron? He did at Hogwarts, at least.”

“I've heard,” Oliver said. “He took that position the year after I graduated.”

“Oh! Now I remember! Dorm mates with my Percy, weren't you?”

“Yes ma'am. I remember. He folds his ties. We used to tease him about that a fair bit.”

Ron suddenly burst out laughing. He couldn't help it. Percy folds his ties. Oliver also found it ridiculous. “Sorry, sorry,” Ron choked on his eggs. “Folds his bloody ties,” he gasped, chugging down a few huge sips of milk. It's just so...”

“Percy, yeah?” Oliver answered with a chuckle of his own. “He's one of a kind.”

“All of my children are,” Molly noted. “Would be rather a bit boring if they weren't, I suppose.”

“Well, we wouldn't want that,” Oliver replied.

“No, we certainly wouldn't. Ron dear, are you alright?”

“Fine,” Ron rasped. “Just fine, mum.” He meant it, wiping an amused tear from his eye. He meant it. He was fine. His life finally felt something like normal. Odd really, that he had to work his way though a bit of severely dysfunctional to get here, but he decided there was no sense in worrying about those small details, not now, not with Oliver beside him, not with his mother smiling at him like he'd finally done something right. He never knew that life could feel this good.

~The End~
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