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Train Loving	By : em616 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Ron Views: 5727 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Train Loving
- 1
“So that’s why you didn’t come down to the front of the train for the prefects meeting.” Hermione exclaimed as she walked in on Harry and Ron kissing passionately, in an otherwise empty compartment of the Hogwarts Express.
Ron flushed and he moved the shorter boy, slightly to the left, to hide the bulge that had been developing in his Muggle jeans. Harry wrapped his arms around the blushing boy’s waist, mistaking his movements for an invitation.
“No, I’m not a prefect anymore.” Ron gave an explanation as to why he wasn’t at the meeting, hoping to give his mind something to think about, other than Harry’s body pressing up against him.
“Why!?”
“I told McGonagall I didn’t think I would be the best person, after… the things I’ve seen…the things I’ve done.”
“Maybe I should -” Hermione looked sadly down at the thing she was clutching in her hand.
“NO!” Both Harry and Ron spoke forcefully.
“You’re a great leader Hermione. Imagine if Princess Parvati-”
“Or Lavender.” Ron added groaning.
“- replaced you. There would be people in detention for wearing the wrong dress robes!” A joke the three of them would normally have laughed at, went by without even a smile. Hermione nodded.
“Well in that case-” She opened her hand to reveal what she was clutching. “I was made Head Girl.”
“Wow! That’s fantastic Hermione.” Ron spoke without the enthusiasm he had intended to express.
“It doesn’t seem so important anymore.” She walked to stare out of the compartment window. “Not after the war.” At her words, Harry stepped suddenly backwards, away from where he had been standing with his hands around Ron’s waist. He held his arms across his chest protectively and sat in the farthest corner of the carriage. Get a grip! He told himself inside his head. We have to talk about it eventually.
“It feels strange, going back to Hogwarts doesn’t it?” Hermione said, trying to change the subject. She stared out of the train window and watched the landscape rush past.
“Yeah.” Harry spoke gruffly.
“I thought for sure that I wouldn’t be able to complete my N.E.W.Ts.”
“Is that all you think about, school work?” Ron stared at his hands gloomily, ignorant to the fact that they were avoiding the topic of war, he continued. “You still may not be able to complete them. There’s no guarantee the Death Eaters won’t attack the castle again.” Hermione paled slightly and spoke in an unconvincing voice.
“They wouldn’t. Not without him.”
“They’re angry. Absolutely livid, that Harry defeated You-Know-Who-”
“Really Ronald, you can say his name now. He’s gone. For good.”
“You didn’t say his name either. Face it, it you’re still scared.”
“I am not! Okay fine -” Hermione hesitated and breathed in sharply. “V-Vol-Voldemort! There! I said it.”
“STOP IT! Both of you!” Harry glared at them from the corner of the compartment. He appeared exhausted, his face was sickly white, dark shadows under his eyes, expressing his many sleepless nights and he sat with his shoulders hunched. Both Hermione and Ron had the grace to look ashamed. Taking a shuddering breath, he bravely broached the topic he had been trying to escape from. “Hermione’s right. The Death Eaters are nothing without Voldemort, they have no reason to attack us.” He sighed as if he was tired of repeating the same story. “Voldemort’s followers are fleeing, or else pleading insanity, that they were put under the Imperius curse and had no control. Only a few refuse to believe that he is really dead, they are the ones who will keep fighting.” He tried to smile reassuringly, but only managed a grimace. “They are no threat to us.”
“Are you sure we got all the Horcruxes? What if –” Ron paused and looked warily at his best friend. “What if You-Know-Who … split his soul again, when he realised what we were doing?” He voiced the fear that he had been longing to discuss ever since he regained his full mental health in St Mungo’s, a little over one week ago.

~
The trio had not been at the hospital long when Ron’s mother raced into the intensive care ward, which had been created especially for war victims. Her forehead creased as she anxiously searched for the three heroes, squinting through the crowded room of stained red beds, occupied by the suffering. Healers pushed past her with worried expressions as they struggled to attend to everyone. Behind a closed curtain a woman could be heard wailing.
“No! Come back Colin! He was only sixteen. He was only sixteen.”

“Dad?” A young voice quivered.

“He’s gone Denis.”
Mrs Weasley clutched her hand to her heart as she moved as quickly as she could through the mass of bodies. Please may it not be too late.

The last section of the room was sectioned off and she roughly pushed the curtain aside, hoping desperately that all three children would be there. Her face softened as she saw her son, smiling dopily, a bag containing murky liquid floated beside his bed, pumping a calming draught into his veins. She looked uneasily at the empty bed next to him, Harry’s name clearly written on the clipboard hanging on the end.

“It’s okay Mrs Weasley.” Hermione reassured her from the third bed. “He’s just being interrogated.” The older witch turned, stifling a scream. Her expression morphing into a look of terror as she saw that the skin had been ripped from the right side of Hermione’s face. It was a horrific sight; parts of her skull were visible, beneath the exposed muscles and nerves.
Hermione had truly proven herself as a Gryffindor, continuing the battle against Bellatrix after she was wounded. Between aiming the curses at the evil witch, she cast hasty healing charms at her own face to keep herself conscious. She did not fully understand the extent of the damage until later, when the fighting had ceased.
She stood in a field, surrounded by the dead, both Death Eaters and members of the Order. Ron came up beside her and gently touched her on the arm. Hermione jumped and turned, pointing her wand at the bloodied and burnt wizard. Ron took one look at her face and retched, heaving nothing but stomach bile onto the crimson ground.
The night that followed, was the longest of the war. The pair had sat in silence, Ron unable to look into the face of his friend, waiting anxiously for Harry at their pre-determined meeting spot. Harry’s final instructions echoed in both of their heads, his breathless voice speaking in urgent tones.
“If I’m not back by dawn, flee. Don’t wait for me. It means he has won and he will be coming for you next.” Harry’s dull eyes pleaded with them. He turned to Ron, his face softening, the difference in his tight-faced expression was barely noticeable but the other boy could see it. “Ron I -” He faltered, unable to finish.
“I know Harry.” Ron touched his hand to Harry’s chest, feeling his beating heart speed up. Hermione watched them, swallowing hard. “I’ll see you soon, right mate?” The raven-haired boy nodded and walked away, never turning back to look at them. The pair watched him leave, until he became nothing but a silhouette in the smoky grey of dusk.
~
They waited past dawn. Neither of them could bring themselves to move from where they lay hidden in a Muggle barn, sharing the space with a rather large pig. A horse whinnied from the stall opposite, the noise sounding lonely and depressed.
“He’s gone Ron.” Hermione whispered, her voice cracking from emotion and lack of water.
“He isn’t. I know he isn’t.” Ron repeated in a crazed cycle, shivering psychotically. Hermione shook him roughly, rasping out words between dry sobs, unable to cry real tears.
“He’s gone!” She screeched at him, shaking him more violently. “Harry’s dead!”
“He isn’t. I know he isn’t.” Ron continued his mantra. “He isn’t –” Hermione slapped him hard across the face. He sat still, stunned for several minutes, before raising his hand to his stinging cheek. “Dead.” He croaked and then collapsed on top of the deformed witch, wailing hysterically into the unnervingly warm and cheerful morning.
~
A shadow loomed over the stall, blocking the sun and pulling Hermione from her sickly stupor, she reached sluggishly for her wand. She didn’t care anymore, she’d had enough.
“Expelliarmus.” The figure disarmed her, in a weak but familiar accent.
“How’d you know we’d still be here?” Hermione asked after she finally registered that Harry was alive. Ron sat next to her in a stunned shock; he stared at the pig, without blinking.
“ ’Cause you’re both stubborn bastards.” Harry said half-heartedly and collapsed next to Hermione in the straw. Ron started to laugh hysterically, his whole body contracting with a deep humourless cackle. Hermione and Harry waited for him to stop, but after an unknown period of time, the young witch spoke seriously.
“I think he’s lost it.”
“Help me take him home?” It took the combined effort of both the witch and wizard’s exhausted powers to Side-Along Apparate their mad friend to St Mungo’s Hospital.
All three of them were admitted for a week, under the care of Britain’s top Healers. The trio underwent extensive psychological and physical treatment. The most horrific scenes of the war were Obliviated from their memories and they were forced into long interrogations, a form of psychotherapy. The treatment’s purpose was to release their thoughts, which would otherwise eventually destroy them. These therapy sessions were conducted separately. Harry, Hermione and Ron had not spoken to each other about the war until this moment, on September first, as the train raced the familiar route to Hogwarts for their final year.
Ron looked over at Hermione who was sitting on the bench seat opposite, wringing her hands. She shrugged at Ron’s question and repeated it for Harry who appeared not to have heard.
“How do we know that Voldemort didn’t create another Horcrux?” Harry was running his fingers across his forehead. He stood up and walked the couple of steps over to the other side of the compartment and sat down next to Ron, their thighs pressing together. Ron sighed relaxing against the other boy, Harry’s touch always calmed him. It had been Harry who had kept him sane in the last week of summer, after they had been released from St Mungo’s. It had been he, who had soothed away his nightmares, when he awoke screaming, and had held him until he drifted back to sleep. Harry had never voiced that he himself needed the time they spent together in bed, just as much as Ron did.
Sitting pressed together on the train, Ron’s hand slid to link with Harry’s. Hermione pretended not to notice, and instead watched Harry’s other hand trace along his forehead. She waited for him to answer.
“My scar.” He said simply, pushing his untamed hair away so the other two could see the gash that had once linked him with the most feared wizard in magical history. The formerly blazing red lightening bolt, had become nothing more than a faint black line.
“Voldemort’s dead.” He spoke with finality, which was the reassurance all three of them, including Harry himself, had needed to hear. Many neglected emotions surfaced in the trio’s faces. Relief being the most prominent one, but other more discreet feelings also emerged. Admiration, pride and love were among the unfamiliar sensations, bringing colour and light back into their bodies. Ron pulled Harry into a long embrace, wrapping his freckled arms around him. Harry buried his head in the side of the taller boy’s neck. Hermione smiled, a rare occurrence in the aftermath of the war, as she looked adoringly at the pair. The ugly scar on her cheek, tinged with green, contracted oddly as she grinned. The Healers had done an excellent job reconstructing her face, yet could do nothing to rid her of the blatant physical reminder of her trauma.
“I’ll leave you two alone. I’m going to go and find Ginny.” Hermione stood up and ruffled both boys’ hair affectionately as she passed on her way to the compartment door.
“Oi! I spent ages doing my hair this morning.” With her hair as bushy and untamed as ever, Hermione just rolled her eyes and smiled cheekily before exiting out into the train corridor.
Ron felt something wet touch at his neck and he realised Harry’s tongue was stealthily licking its way up to his jaw line. Ron glanced nervously at the door Hermione had just left through and voiced his concern.
“Do you really think we should be doing this here?” Harry ignored him and began to nibble at his earlobe instead. “So…” He searched around for a topic to distract him from Harry’s delightful little bites and kisses that were finding their way over his body. “Hermione’s been spending a lot of time with Ginny lately.” The kisses ceased as Harry pulled his head away from Ron’s collarbone to speak.
“They’ve always been good friends.”
“Yeah I know. But don’t you think that they’re suddenly closer?”
“That’s what war does.” Harry said darkly. “It either brings you closer, or … pulls you apart.” He relaxed his head back onto the broad chest, breathing in the masculine smell. Ron continued the conversation, relieved that Harry was distracted from his assault on his body. Ron, although quite happy to be shagged senseless by his companion, was a little reserved with the idea of doing it on a train with very uncomfortable wooden seats.
“I just get the feeling that they’re too close. I swear Hermione’s cot hasn’t been slept in since we got back.”
“So you think they’re sleeping together…well that’s - kind of hot!” Harry grinned, something he would now only do in Ron’s presence.
“Harry! That’s my sister!”
“You’re the one who is so curious as to what she’s doing with Hermione.”
“I’m just confused that’s all. I kind of guessed that Hermione was gay, what with her going out with the most unsuitable boys at Hogwarts last year. She was trying to prove herself. Just like I was with Lavender.”
“Oh Won-Won!” Harry teased. “You and your gaydar!”
“Oi you, don’t knock the gaydar! Without it you and I would never have found each other.” Harry’s head strained up to brush their lips together lovingly. “You were pretty clueless.”
“I was trying to work out how to defeat Voldemort, idiot!”
“You were not. You were too busy being a self-absorbed prick.” Ron spoke jokingly. “Oh poor me, I’m a bloody fag. Oh there’s Ron’s sister, she used to like me. I better screw her just to make sure!”
“I did not screw her!” He punched him lightly on the arm, a singular laugh escaping.
“Whatever, I don’t want to know about Ginny and your sexual habits. That’s why I’m confused though. See, I’m pretty sure Hermione and Ginny are shagging, but Ginny likes blokes.”
“There is such a thing as being bisexual, you knob.” Ron’s cheeks turned a dark pink and Harry giggled at him. “I think you need your gaydar checked.”
“Oi you, that’s it!” Ron pushed him roughly, causing Harry to slip off the bench and onto the floor. The redhead lunged down after him, lying over his body, and held himself up by his arms, which were resting either side of Harry. They crushed their mouths together hungrily, bumping their teeth painfully in their enthusiasm. Tongues darted between them, fighting for dominance. Ron pulled his head away for a split-second before lunging forward to assault Harry’s neck.
“Ron, careful! There’ll be evidence!”
“I don’t care.” He responded simply and continued to plant angry bite marks over the exposed skin. Ron’s slender hand slid inside Dudley’s old shirt. They had yet to change into their school robes, as there were still many hours remaining on the long journey. As thin fingers tugged at his hard nipples, Harry let out a little high-pitched noise. Ron raised his eyebrow.
“Did you just squeak?”
“No!”
“You so did.” Ron teased, twisting the firm nub again.
“Eeek! No I didn’t!” Ron just laughed, pulling the shirt off, tousling the already messy black hair. Running his hands smoothly up the torso coated with ginger-brown freckles, Harry pushed Ron’s own shirt off, groaning as his groin collided with the one powering down from above. The feeling of the two prominent bumps in their clothing pressing together, ignited a new sense of urgency in both their bodies. Grinding into each other, their hips thrusting erratically, their lips could only bump clumsily together.
Harry lay stretched out on the compartment floor, his arms above his head and his muscles rippling on his now bare chest. Ron moved his hand to intertwine with his lover’s, using his Quidditch-built left arm for support as he continued his thrusts. The intoxication of each other’s bodies dampened their inhibitions, forcing them to forget that they were on the school train, with windows and an unlocked door.
Still rocking his hips forward, Ron bent his neck down to nibble at Harry’s ear, breathing gently into the shell-like shape, whispering dangerously illicit words. A hand found its way to tug gently at ginger hair, the one that was not being held securely above his head. Harry half-heartedly tried to pull the tongue away from lapping at his sensitive ear.
“Fuck! You know that drives me completely mad!” Ron responded by raising one eyebrow seductively and smiling the lopsided grin that Harry had come to miss during the war. Deviously he continued to lick, nibbling gently at the tender skin. Harry growled deep in his throat and thrust upwards desperately. Pausing, Ron sniggered, pressing up so the contact of their groins was lifted. Harry whimpered, humping his hips against the empty air. Looking up into his lover’s face, his eyes pleaded with him, a green ocean of arousal and desire.
“Please.” He begged, his body still searching for the heat and pressure that had been abruptly taken from him.
“Please what?” Continuing to torment him, Ron found a new erotic pleasure from hearing the pathetically adorable voice beg. He felt his already achingly hard flesh jolt behind the denim. Taking hold of his zipper, he dragged it carefully down, never breaking eye contact with the one at his mercy, teasing him.
“Please, I need it.”
“And what might that be?” Smirking crookedly, Ron removed himself completely of his jeans, deliberately dawdling in the process of taking off his bright orange boxers. As soon as the excited and fiery flesh was freed, Harry reached out a hand to touch it. “No you don’t!” Ron trapped both his hands above his head, pinning him to the ground.
“Fuck Ron, please!” Pointlessly he tried again to find something to thrust against.
“Answer the question!” The dominant boy growled, biting a tender place on the neck beneath him. “What is ‘it’?
“I need to…” Harry stammered, his face becoming very red. “I need to –” He dropped his voice, embarrassed. “come.”
“Why didn’t you just say so?” In a practised fluid movement, Ron eradicated the trembling body of its trousers and - “Oh! No pants I see?” He raised that pesky eyebrow again; Harry’s breath caught in his throat. Privately, he decided that the smooth sexy action should be made illegal. The volume of his next exclamation when Ron pushed his hardness against him, earned him a sharp look.
“Shh!. We are on the train, remember.”
“Oh gods.” New excitement flared, pulsating from his groin and up through his spine to heat his face. He craned his neck up to press a forceful kiss to his lover before letting his head fall back, a little roughly, onto the floor. The noise of the train on the tracks rang loudly in his ears. Vibrations came up through the specially-designed wheels, absorbing into the parts of him that touched the colourless compartment floor. Ron thrust above him, rubbing their two erections into each other with a steady rhythm and a fast pace. Too fast. Although smooth and controlled, Ron’s speed demonstrated through his movements, gave away the fact that he too needed this release as much as his partner below him.
Both boys were too close to their orgasms for this early in their love-making, yet the war had made them dependant on each other, dependant on the release that sex resulted in, dependant on being able to let it all go. The musk of stale air, mixed with sweat and Harry’s own unique smell that no description could pinpoint, fuelled Ron as he powered down aggressively.
The lit lamp swinging dangerously above him was the last thing Harry saw before darkness clouded his vision. He took a shuddering breath and pushed up, squeezing his eyes shut and gasping in Parseltongue, as he always did when his orgasm ripped through him.
Watching his lover wriggle in ecstasy below him, was too much for Ron to be able to cope with. Harry’s release surged out onto both their chests, coating Ron’s own unsatisfied and aching hardness. The visual stimulation and the feeling of the warm liquid dripping along his cock, threw him over the edge. He held himself completely motionless, still suspended above the boy now basking in his post-orgasmic bliss, as his body took over. Trembling, the wave of electricity pulsated, starting in his groin and rippling up his spine, and down through his legs, tingling in his feet. His own mess spilled out to join Harry’s and he collapsed on top of him, the sticky mess being felt between them. Ron’s sense of smell had heightened oddly, so much so that he could taste the scent of sweat and the frustratingly indescribable taste that he was sure was Harry.
Kissing and mumbling incoherently to one another, neither of them heard the compartment door open. When the strangled yell of shock reached their ears, Ron unwisely jumped off Harry with surprise, revealing both their softening erections and their chests coated with thick fluid.
“Err um hem.” The newcomer stuttered. “I-I’m s-sorry, I didn’t r-realise any-anyone was in here.” Embarrassed, the person become aware that they had been staring at the two sweaty naked bodies and clapped a palm to their face to cover their eyes. “I’ll find another compartment.”
“Neville! Shit!” Ron’s blue eyes were alight with alarm as he looked meaningfully at Harry.
“Please don’t tell anyone Neville. You can’t…” Harry’s voice trembled.
Neville’s round face was as red as the Gryffindor team’s Quidditch robes, and the hand covering his eyes was clammy with nervous sweat.
“I won’t say a thing to anyone. I-I swear it.” Ron’s eyes drifted down to Neville’s tight cotton, and badly chosen trousers. He grinned evilly, despite the fact that his own ears were glowing as bright as Neville’s face. He nudged Harry, letting his eyes guide him to what he was smirking about.
“Bigger than I expected.” Harry commented loudly enough for the traumatised boy to hear.
“W-what?”
“Never mind, Neville.” Ron said meaningfully. “I think you were just leaving.”
“Oh right.” He fumbled sideways, still with his eyes squeezed shut and crashed into the doorframe. “Argh!”
“Open your eyes mate, so you don’t fall over.” Harry suggested kindly, taking pity on the clumsy boy. Neville opened his eyes gratefully and sped out into the corridor. He walked at a quick pace with his red face hidden, trying pointlessly to pull his shirt down past his waist.
“Poor bloke.” Ron said before stealing another kiss.
“Do you think he’s gay?”
“I had him pegged a long time ago Harry!” He replied, grabbing Harry’s hand and interlacing their fingers. “Get with the program!”
“Not your bloody gaydar again!”
- 1
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Train Loving