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Devonshire and Crown	By : KohakuShadow Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2030 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, and I'm just as poor now as I was before I wrote this fic.

Chapter List
- 1-Devonshire and Crown
- 1
Warnings: slash, incest, piercings, anal sex, angst-induced drunkenness, references to promiscuous behavior, reference to character cannon death

A/N: Written as a Christmas Gift for Starstruck86. I will be attempting to keep up with the uploading on aff.net, but am libel to lag behind the LJ depending on how busy I get at this time of year. I expect to upload a fic per day today through Friday.

As I have been writing these since October, warnings are to the best of my memory. If you feel there is something important I should list that I have left out, please feel free to notify me and I will correct the oversight.

Yes, I have a mailing list. Check my profile for details.

Inspired by Devonshire & Crown by Tony Sly, and to a lesser degree by When She Walked By by Mike Errico. I am well aware that the actual 'Devonshire and Crown' is not in London, but actually somewhere in Australia, if memory serves, but this suits my purposes, so you'll forgive me, I'm sure, for inventing a few landmarks. I have made committed far greater 'crimes' in the name of fanfiction. :)

* (below): reference to the song 'When She Walked By' by Mike Errico

Devonshire and Crown

The trouble with people up and dying on you is that it really makes you question your priorities. At least, that's what Charlie thought. It really was a nuisance, because he'd figured what he wanted out of life by the time he was fifteen – excitement, adventure, dragons – because, really, how cool were dragons, right? Right. It was a no-brainer. With Bill off in Egypt being Mr. Amazing, as his inner sense of suave demanded, that left Charlie to lead the pack of rambunctious little miscreants he called siblings, and as he thought on that, as much as he loved them all to bits, he wasn't up for it. He knew himself, and he knew he didn't fake respectable, good role model as well as Bill. There were always the late nights out, and the blokes... 'And there were bloody well plenty of blokes,' Charlie smirked bemusedly. Good times, those. No, if those little rascals wanted a role model, he'd better to be one from a distance, where they couldn't see who he was going home with, or how often. In letters, Charlie could lie.

Of course, that isn't precisely why he decided on Romania. If that was it alone, he really would be a sorry excuse of a sibling! Still, the freedom of it didn't hurt, and the work was brilliant. It was hard, sweaty, grueling, chaotic, dangerous, and there were days he scarce got three hours sleep before having to get back out there and hatch a baby that was the size of his childhood home, but he loved it. He'd always told himself there wasn't a bloody thing in the world he could ever love more than his job, and he figured that made him the luckiest bloke alive.

Trouble was, he was wrong about that. There were one or two things he loved more. Family, for starters. He always figured that was the trade-off for his freedom – it meant he didn't see his family but over the holidays, and there were times he missed them terribly, but the only way to work with dragons back on home was to join the Ministry, and he well knew what the Ministry really thought of dragons. They coded them as 'D.M.E.' - Dangerous Magical Entities. That meant they were to be tamed when possible, and eliminated the other 95% of the time. His father worked for the Ministry, so he knew they weren't all bad, but the people in charge, the people who made the rules – there wasn't a good thing about the lot of them so far as Charlie could see. In all his years away from home, his opinion of the government only got worse. The reserve was way better. It meant he got to butt heads with the government as often as he wanted, so long as all the curses he threw their way came from his mouth and not his wand.

Really, it was a good life. No matter how he looked at it, he had a good life. 'Better 'n most. So why am I still here?' He stared up at the signpost. 'Devonshire St. & Crown St.' It was in the middle of a seemingly vacant parking lot, or, so it would appear to the muggles tromping about London. The wonderful thing about muggles, was that they had this amazing talent for seeing odd things like signposts in the middle of parking lots, nowhere near corners where they by all rights ought to be, and just walking on past, completely oblivious to the fact it was actually the door-corner of his favorite pub – three stories high, and dodgy on it's best day, with a cracked window on the top floor which marked off the room where he'd been standing the first and only time he'd told his baby brother that he loved him in all the wrong ways.

Somehow, every time he was home visiting, he ended up here. Usually, he was seeking a one-off. Anyone would do – someone pretty, with a nice arse, who could distract him from all the things he wanted to do to Ron now that he was grown and all shaggy-haired and tall and sexy. Most especially, someone who didn't know him, and didn't know that the name he might accidentally moan out at the height of passion was his brother's. It was just too damn wrong. What was even more wrong was that Ron loved him, too, in just the same way – the way that siblings really oughtn't.

He leaned against the post, ran his hand over his face, and tried to talk himself into or out of going inside. Either would do. Standing on the corner with an overnight bag with his every worldly possession on his shoulder wasn't doing anyone any good.

Thing was, today was different. He wasn't out for a shag, not this time. He was in a sort of emotional limbo, really. It just kept hitting him over and over again – Fred was dead. Every time he thought it, it felt new, like a surprise. He kept having to remind himself it wasn't just some sick dream. He kept expecting to wake up back in Romania with a vicious craving for his mother's mince pies to blame for the nightmare. Fred couldn't be dead. It was impossible. And, if he was dead – and here was the rub – if he was actually, really dead, and with stray death eaters still floating about, and Ron filling out the paperwork to take the auror examinations, how in the hell could Charlie go back to Romania? They were dragons, but they were just dragons. They weren't family, as often as he convinced himself they were. They were just dragons. They weren't set on chasing down every last death eater, or going down trying. How could he leave now, knowing that the danger hadn't past? How could he leave, and risk finding out by firecall, or worse yet, by owl, that he'd lost another sibling? And, if he stayed, how could he explain that with a smile and a laugh. How could he make that seem normal? How could anything ever be normal again?

'Just need a drink to calm my nerves,' Charlie told himself. 'It's just nerves. I'm still in shock, is all. I'll go back home, and I'll firecall way more often than usual for a while, and then things will taper off to just the way they've been all these years. I just need a drink first. That's all.' He swallowed a lump in his throat and pushed off the post, spun the signpost to the other direction, and stepped around it once, twice, and, there it was, his favorite dive in the whole world. He stepped in past the bright yellow door to the sound of something acoustic. 'Oh, it's a live night. That's a treat. Maybe some chips, then. Didn't have my usual appetite at dinner, and it's a long trip home.' He knew he was procrastinating as he ordered the first drink. He didn't care. He needed to work up a good buzz to free himself of that niggle of guilt that right after Fred's service, all he could think about was Ron. He just wanted to pull him close, to hold him tight, and the more he thought about it, the less the reasons not to seemed to matter. Because they were brothers, and he was a fair deal older (which really was a shit excuse when compared to all the others), and because it would devastate their family to find out, and because because because... 'Because neither of us can ever be happy as long as we keep saying 'because'.'

He banged his head morosely against the bar.

“Another, then?” the bartender asked knowingly.

“Make it a double,” Charlie groaned.

XXXXXXXXXX

'Why do I always end up here?' Ron sighed to himself as he looked up at the lonely, misplaced sign for the Devonshire and Crown. It hadn't been planned. He'd just needed some air. He wanted to walk a while to clear his thoughts. Somehow, clearing his thoughts always left him more muddle-headed than ever, and found him standing right here in front of the very bar where Charlie had told him he loved him, and where they'd kissed for the first, and last, time, because they were brothers, and that just couldn't happen, no matter how much they wanted it. Family was family, and lovers were lovers, and you were either one or the other. Since they had no choice about being family, the rest was impossible from the start. It still hurt, though. Knowing Charlie felt the same way he did should have eased the ache, but it only made it worse. It meant that not only was the person he loved unattainable – Ron could have dealt with that – but also, that the person he loved was unhappy. That was harder; that was something he didn't know how to fix, or even how to ignore. There were days he could fantasize four hours about running away together to some completely deserted island where they had nothing but coconuts, salt water, a shoddy lean-to, and the clothes on their backs. Then, he would laugh at himself through his tears, that even his fantasies were so completely miserable.

Charlie was off now, anyway, back to his dragons. Even the brief visit had been more than enough to leave Ron unsettled about not just his love life, or lack thereof, but about his entire path in life in general. He was stumbling his way through this auror paperwork, but it wasn't like Harry – he wasn't set on the idea of it. He didn't eat, sleep, and dream auror examinations like it was his life's one true calling. He was mostly just following along because he had no other real plans or goals, and hey, working with his best mate would be grand, wouldn't it? It would be just like Hogwarts, but without the homework, or something. When he realized that's what he thought of it, it just made him feel pathetic. Charlie, at least, had his dragons – something to distract him from the fact that they'd not been able to look one another in the eye in years. Ron figured, if he couldn't wake up naked next to the man he loved, that man ought hurry up and fall for someone else, so he could at least have his brother back.

“It's all shit,” he muttered, leaning back against the sign, looking up at that cracked glass window. He remembered it too clearly. It had been complete chance that he'd found Charlie up there. He'd been looking for the loo, made a wrong turn somewhere, then heard a familiar voice. A bloke stormed out of a room in front of him, and he just happened to look in and see Charlie there, pulling on his trousers like he hadn't just made some gangly trick run off in tears. He'd said, 'haven't lost your charm, I see,' and was stunned when Charlie looked up, aghast, and genuinely in tears. He'd never seen Charlie look like that, neither before, nor since. His heart ached all the more as he remembered that all the stuff that spilled out of Charlie that night had been bottled up and stoppered tight by the next morning, and might be fit to burst again at any given moment. At least, Ron felt that way. He imagined Charlie did, too. If he'd got over it, things wouldn't still be so awkward, right?

Ron frowned. 'I guess I'll go in for a drink. I hate this bloody place, but after a couple of pints, I'll forget that.'

If only it was as easy to forget his heart as it was to dismiss his senses.

XXXXXXXXXX

Charlie dragged his hand over his face. He didn't know how many times he'd gestured to the bartender, but he hoped not enough that he was set to be cut off just yet. He used to love this place. Now the walls felt oppressive. He just needed some air. Yeah, a little air, maybe a smoke.

“Had enough?” the bartender asked as he got up.

Charlie blinked at him. Fit, really. Dark hair, fine arse. There was a time he'd have jumped all over that. Now, he'd been sitting here for Merlin only knows how long, and only just noticed. He tried to act nonchalant, but the crack in his voice ruined it for him. “Bit of air. Best slow down a bit. Keep my seat warm for me.” He winked.

Then, he half-stumbled over a chair on his way to the door. 'Smooth, Char. Real smooth.'

The door opened, slammed into his nose, and sent him in a heap to the ground. Extra smooth. “Ouch! Bloody twat!” he slurred, cupping his bruised face and his stubbed toe both.

Ron blinked. Nothing to warm you to a place like being called a twat before you even had both feet in the door. But, when he saw the source of the insult, his blood ran cold. “Charlie?! What the fuck? Shouldn't you be halfway back to Romania by now?!” What in the hell was Charlie doing at a seedy London bar when he'd supposedly taken the three o'clock floo?

Charlie blinked the pain out of his eyes and slowly lowered his hand. His blood ran cold. “Ron. Shit. I didn't...my fault. You're not a twat,” he stumbled awkwardly. “Just a bit...” he stumbled awkwardly to his feet, clumsy enough that it prompted Ron to step forward to catch him, pull him away from the door so the other patrons could get in and out. “Stopped for a drink, had another one or ten waiting for chips that never came.”

Ron lowered him into the chair that he'd stumbled over. “You left hours ago,” Ron said. He reached up to pet the hair out of Charlie's eyes, but stopped mid-gesture and lowered his hand impotently to his side.

“Never imagined you still came around here,” Charlie answered. 'Not after what happened upstairs,' was unspoken in the building tension between them.

“Yeah, my least favorite place in London,” Ron admitted. “Somehow I find myself here at least every other week, all the same.”

Charlie's heart pounded in his chest. It felt like Ron was saying he also felt like they'd left things unfinished. “I always say I'm taking an earlier floo than I actually take,” he admitted. “I like to come by for a drink or two before heading off.”

“And a shag?” Ron filled in.

Charlie couldn't look at him when he answered. “Sometimes. State of the heart aside, the body's got needs, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ron answered, kicking his toe against the floor and looking down uncomfortably. He wouldn't deny he'd relieved some of the tension in just the same way – whatever pissed, nameless bloke would have him – but it still made him nauseous to think that's what the two of them had been reduced to – lies and one-offs. 'We're that fucked in the head,' he thought. “That's all there is for us, right?” he asked, finding himself suddenly exhausted and sinking into the chair beside his burly brother.

“Well, there's always pie,” Charlie joked, managing to force it in the middle of the tense moment as he rested his swimming head in his hand.

It was a stupid joke, but it made Ron laugh all the same. “Yeah,” he answered. “Pie is grand, but I rather don't think it's quite enough in this case.” He chewed his lip. He had what he fancied was a really poor idea, but his worst ideas usually turned out to be his best ones. And, anyway, they couldn't go on the way things were. If things kept going like this, he was going to become a crazy old man who throws shoes at small children.* “Charlie, if we're here anyway, do you think maybe we can get a room? Just to talk!” he quickly amended. “Maybe if we really talk it out properly, we can, I don't know, figure out how to move on, or...” Ron stumbled awkwardly. He didn't think talking was really going to make the problem vanish from their lives – being a wizard, he knew too well that things that vanished from one place always turned up some place else, and that place was rarely any more convenient than the first – but he knew they couldn't keep going the way they were. Something had to change. “I'm shit at that sort of thing, you know, but ignoring it just seems like it's making it worse, right?”

Charlie fought his muddled thoughts, which were mostly focused on the strong line of Ron's jaw, the length of his fingers, his shaggy hair, and the sound of his voice, even if he was barely registering the actual words. He snapped to full attention at the words 'get a room', though, and his eyes widened in shock for an instant before Ron explained himself. He raked his hand back through his hair. “Yeah,” he said, “ 'spose we ought to, for whatever good it'll do. I'm not much good with words m'self,” he slurred. “But, you already know that.”

'Only too well,' Ron thought. He remembered the last time he was in a room in this bar. It had been an accident, his stumbling across Charlie, bare arsed and making boys cry. Charlie had ordered him inside and told him to close the door. Ron didn't know if it was the booze or some remnant of lust that had him do it, but Charlie'd cussed and pulled him close, and when Ron asked what had happened, Charlie had only been able to reply 'he wasn't you' and confess how in love with Ron he was. For a moment, Ron's heart soared, and before his brain caught up he'd confessed in kind. He'd, like an idiot, smiled, as if telling your brother you wanted to shag him and spend every waking moment in his arms could ever lead to a healthy relationship, and then Charlie had crushed their lips together in the most brilliant kiss of his young life. Trouble was, when Ron had come upstairs, he'd been looking for the loo. He had to excuse himself a moment, both for that, and to stop his swimming head, just for an instant, get it all sorted, that this was actually happening. When he'd come back to the room, Charlie was gone, and the only evidence he'd been there at all was the money he'd left behind to pay for it. Ron had spent the next several days getting viciously ill, unable to keep anything down, and utterly disgusted with himself as the reality of their situation crashed in on him. They'd never spoken of it again, until now.

“You just stay put a minute. I'll get a key and a sober-up for you,” Ron said, patting his brother's hand.

Charlie thought he'd much rather do this drunk, if he had to do it at all. He remembered kissing Ron, how perfect it had been, and he remembered Ron's bladder interrupting. In those few moments when he was alone it had all come crashing in on him, how sick and wrong it was, how young Ron was, and how he couldn't ruin his life by forcing his way into it in a way that wasn't meant for him. That led to thoughts about how Ron probably barely knew what love was, and that he was probably a virgin, and if he was, that wasn't something his own brother ought to take from him. In short, he'd panicked. He'd run away. It was a very un-Gryffindor thing to do, but he felt like he'd been running away ever since. Ron was right about one thing, for better or worse, it was time to face the music. “Not afraid I'll run off on you again?” he quipped.

Ron gave him a sad sort of smile that broke Charlie's heart. “As if you could,” Ron answered. “You can barely walk. Running is out of the question.”

It was a true enough statement, but as he watched Ron move to the bar, the only thing that kept him rooted to his seat, aside from his swimming head and a bit of stubborn pride, was the jealous roiling in the pit of his stomach when the bartender leaned in too close, and was too slow releasing the room key, and that saccharine smile that ill-concealed the fact that his Ron was being flirted with. 'And, not making any moves to dissuade the bastard, either,' Charlie sulked.

“Making new friends?” Charlie asked with that same fake smile when Ron returned. He felt like he could go for another drink, but the sober-up potion Ron handed him wasn't what he had in mind.

“Don't get all jealous,” Ron said quietly. “You might be able to go on without a hitch in these parts, on account of you were off in Romania during the war, but the rest of the family gets recognized when we go about these days. Especially me, on account of Harry's my best mate. You'd not believe how many candid photos of Harry caught me acting like a git in the background.” He rolled his eyes. “Somehow, blokes have taken to calling it 'charming'. That mostly translates as they want to shag someone famous and have a story to tell their friends. It's alright to use that once in a while to get a free meal, I s'pose. Besides, bartenders gossip. I had to play along long enough to make sure whatever he says about us isn't the truth. If anyone asks, your girlfriend of five years has been cheating on you. You just found out and are a right mess about it. Her name is Maggie.”

Charlie chugged down the sober-up and winced. It felt like he'd just been kicked in the gut and his eyes teared. It wasn't a gentle potion, to be sure, but it always made him question nights like this one, when he drank a bit too excessively, and if they were worth it, if this was the end result. It stopped him from getting too arse-faced, too – for a while, until the memory of how atrocious sobering up off such a night made him feel – depressed, lonely, and like he'd just been trampled by a herd of centaurs.

He grunted as Ron pulled him to his feet. “When did you become so smart, eh?”

“Never. I'm still just as much of a dunce as Hermione always told me, just a more careful one these days,” Ron sighed.

Charlie thought it was more than a bit sad that Ron thought of himself as a dunce, but knew enough to let the topic slide. They had much bigger concerns than how much abuse his brother was willing to take from one of his so-called best friends. If she wasn't a girl, Charlie thought, he'd have given her a good, solid right hook years ago for wreaking such havoc on Ron's already impaired self-esteem.

XXXXXXXXXX

Charlie just sat on the edge of the bed staring at his knees. He picked at a loose string he found along a small tear, which he knew would only turn it into a large tear, but it was better than figuring out what he was supposed to say. He'd let Ron sling his arm over his shoulder and bear near on half his weight to drag him upstairs, even though he really could walk on his own. He felt guilty about that, but it was a small pleasure just to be so close, almost embracing like that.

He felt the bed sink beneath him as Ron took a cautious seat at his side, and his interest in the hole in his trousers became all the more exaggerated, because he honestly didn't know how he was supposed to sit in a bed, where countless blokes had shagged before and would shag after, beside the one he loved beyond all others, and just talk. He didn't have anything to say. He was still in love with Ron, and they were still siblings, and he was still twisted because the more time that passed, the less it seemed to matter. “You know, if we were in Romania right now, there'd be more raised eyebrows about us both being blokes than about us being brothers.”

“Yeah?” Ron asked tensely at the statement.

Charlie cursed himself for saying it, but it was the only thing that came to mind. “Yeah, well, you know. There's a lot of old blood in Romania. Plenty of inbreeding to keep the lines pure and all that shit. Can't say as I agree with it, necessarily – sounds a bit too Slytherin,” he offered a small grin at that bit, which Ron returned, “but I won't deny, for purely selfish reasons, that I like they're like that, because I can daydream about you coming to see me there, and...” Charlie choked on his words. What could he say 'living a normal life, as lovers'? It was too cliché, and still too impossible. “But, that's just a fantasy. You know it's impossible to hide anything from Mum.”

“Mum sees what she wants to see,” Ron answered. “I bet if I moved out there, she'd lecture you for hours about taking proper care of me.”

Charlie couldn't help but laugh. He could easily imagine it. “She'd say, 'he's your little brother, so make sure he eats proper, and stays out of trouble, and writes his mum.'”

They both laughed at that. It was really too true. Something like this, if she hadn't already noticed, it would take a hell of a wake up call to make her. It was too insane to think of normally. “She probably just thinks your my favorite brother, you know,” Ron said. “Can't quite say she's wrong, if the reasoning's off.”

“Always figured Bill was your favorite,” Charlie answered.

“Well, yeah, he is,” Ron didn't hesitate to say.

“Don't answer so fast. You might hurt my pride,” Charlie complained.

“Don't be stupid. You know what I mean. You're my favorite in general, but as a brother, Bill's my favorite. It's the same for you, right? Because, the way I see you isn't really all that brotherly, Charlie. You know that. And, Bill's always been great. He never lectures me, or gets on me about stuff. He just accepts whatever there is of me, even the shit parts. He's always looked out for the lot of us. I guess that'd probably change, if he knew about this...”

“He knows,” Charlie stated.

“What?!”

“I mean, he must, don't you think? He's Bill. That arse always knows everything about everything, been trying to keep up with him my whole damn life,” Charlie sulked. “Leaving the country was the only way to save face.”

“Charlie...”

“I'm kidding about that last bit, of course. Mostly. But, I'll let you in on a little secret about Bill,” he tapped his finger against Ron's chest. “He's not so perfect as he pretends to be. He figures if he judges other people too harshly, then he'll have to lay down judgment on himself, too, and he's doesn't much fancy the thought of that. Doesn't think he'd come out of it too well. At least, he's said as much to me once. It was a long time ago, don't know if he still thinks so, but he's just that sort of guy. Of our big mess of a family, Bill n'George, they'd probably understand. It's the rest of the lot.” He flopped back against the bed, lacing his fingers behind his head and sighed.

Ron looked down at him and forced himself to swallow. Even now, Charlie was so utterly perfect. He was gorgeous, and his shirt riding up his torso when he lay like that just made Ron think horrible thoughts. He had to tear his gaze away.

“I guess...” he answered awkwardly.

“I don't much fancy keeping big secrets from the family, you know?” Charlie answered. “Little secrets are okay. A new tattoo, a piercing or two, but something like this is... it'd make the holidays hard.”

Ron was trying to focus and be serious about this. It was a serious thing, but where did his brain get stuck? 'A piercing or two.' Damn brain. “You don't have any piercings. Do you?”

Charlie grinned and quirked his eyebrow, propped himself up on his elbows. “Want to look for them?” he teased.

Bollocks. He was sexy. “More than you know,” Ron admitted dryly.

Charlie licked his lips. His mouth felt like a wasteland. “I wouldn't stop you, you know,” he said.

“I know,” Ron answered. “Which really isn't helping me deny the temptation. Thanks for that.”

Charlie pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing to give into temptation now and again,” he said.

“Eh?! Wh-what are you saying?” Ron blushed and flailed his arms a bit because words failed him and he didn't know how to compensate for the lack.

Charlie pushed himself to sit upright. “Now, hang on and hear me out here,” Charlie said, feeling as if an epiphany suddenly hit. “The way things have been up to now, we both agree is shit, that it's not working and only making things worse. So, maybe, without making a big deal out of love and all that, we should just...you know,” Charlie cleared his throat awkwardly. “Go with the instinct of it, now and again. So long as we're careful about the where and when of it, there shouldn't be any harm in that much, right? It'll get some of the tension out, that way, and we can maybe go about our lives without all the...” It was his turn to gesticulate non-sensibly as he struggled for words. “You know, the pomp and circumstance of it all.”

Ron felt the tightness in his chest ease. Charlie made sense. If just, now and again, they had at it, all casual-like, it would relieve some of the tension and such. He didn't want to admit it only made sense because he wanted Charlie so badly that any excuse would suffice. “Just, now and again,” he echoed. “Like, friends, who sort of have a mutually beneficial arrangement,” he hedged.

“Yeah, exactly right. Because, between brothers and friends, the difference is pretty small, yeah?” Charlie added, his pulse racing a bit. Could this work? Could they have at least that much? Between brothers and lovers, the gap was huge, with so many little things in the way, but between brothers and friends – that was much less significant, wasn't it? If they thought about it that way, as long as they were careful about where they had at it, didn't do anything 'round home...

“Yeah, it's pretty small,” Ron agreed. “Barely worth fussing over.”

“So...?” Charlie asked, his stomach in knots with the thought that he might, actually, by some freak chance of twisted logic, be able to have his beloved, even if only in an offhand sort of way.

Ron was silent for a long few moments, mulling it over, but his mind was already made up, really. He tried to talk himself out of it, but the desire had built up over such a long time, that any chance to release it was one he couldn't turn back on, even if Charlie came to his senses tomorrow and ran out on him again. Tomorrow was tomorrow. If he'd learned anything from the war, it was that the future was never certain, but the present... in the present he'd locked himself in a silence-charmed room with his brother and a lie to keep them safe, and he could find no reason whatsoever that was strong enough to dissuade him from the only thing in the world he was sure he wanted. “So,” he gulped. “About those piercings...”

Charlie's heart soared. It thundered on it's way, too – like a muggle jet plane, and it was gaining altitude at record speed. He grabbed Ron a little too roughly and pulled him in for a bruising kiss that made his head swim and Fillibusters go off behind his eyes. Tongues tangled eagerly. Hands curled and clung in ways that could only be explained by clumsy desperation. It was a brilliant kiss, more brilliant than the first, even. As the initial shock of finally being able to kiss Ron again wore off it became slower, more deliberate, but lost none of its passion until he had no choice but to cut it short so and breathe. He took the break as more than enough excuse to pull Ron's shirt over his head and toss it aside like rubbish, and was planting kisses along his brother's neck and shoulder before Ron had the chance to even contemplate doing the same.

“Ch-Charlie,” Ron moaned, obediently tilting his head to give his burly brother better access to the throat he was so eagerly trying to devour.

“Hmn?” Charlie asked against Ron's jugular, though honestly, right now he didn't know how good a listener he'd be. He dragged his thumb over Ron's nipple, and was pleased when the slender body jumped beneath him.

“Gah!” Ron gasped. It was a small thing, and they weren't nearly far along enough that he should be so sensitive, but after so much wanting, the rules didn't much apply. He curled his fingers into Charlie's hair and decided to let him have his way for a bit, if it could even be called a decision when his head was swimming and he couldn't think. Ron had a bit of experience, but not nearly enough to keep up with the flirtatious dragon keeper he'd fallen for.

Charlie chuckled against his throat. “Sensitive, are you?”

“Sh-shut up,” Ron squeaked in protest.

Charlie smiled up at him through his already tangled hair. “I'll put my mouth to better use then, yeah?”

“H-haah!” Ron gasped again, unable to properly answer Charlie's remark when the man suddenly dipped his head from his collarbone and swirled his tongue around a nipple that was far too perky, far too soon.

Charlie's hands were already making fast work of Ron's trousers, and Ron would have been hard pressed to try to stop him or slow him down, so he didn't try. He lifted his hips and let Charlie take his pants down with his jeans and toss them away as well, leaving him quite naked very quickly after they'd begun.

Charlie gave pause, and Ron was relieved if only because it gave him a chance to breathe and properly appreciate what was happening.

“Merlin, you really are something,” Charlie exhaled as his eyes roved over Ron's body, trying to memorize every adult inch of it.

“Don't be stupid. You've seen me naked before,” Ron protested, finding his brother's eyes roving over his bareness entirely too embarrassing when said brother was still fully clothed.

“Sure,” Charlie answered. “But not for me, and not since you sprouted. You're taller 'n me now, you know. I'm not sure if I approve of that.”

“I'm not sure you get a say in it,” Ron retorted. “So, stop staring and take off your bloody shirt already.”

“Ooo, bossy. I think I like that,” Charlie laughed, obediently pulling the garment off and tossing it aside.

It was Ron's turn to stare. He knew Charlie had tattoos – from the massive Welsh Green on his back whose wings wrapped around his shoulders and tail flicked about his hip, to the Opaleye on his left shin, the Ridgeback on his right, the Gryffin on his left wrist that often abandoned its post to meander about the empty red shield just inside his elbow, and the snitch behind his left ear that once flit so far as Charlie's forehead in the middle of dessert when a fly landed on it, much to the raucous amusement of the family, and the disdain of their mother, from whom Charlie was trying to hide that first tattoo. Ron had since seen it dance so far as the top of his foot when startled away from it's post. There was even a rumored Horntail on Charlie's arse, but Ron had no evidence that that particular tattoo existed. At least, not yet. Yes, Ron knew about Charlie's tattoos. He'd seen, and poked at, most of them, toying with the idea of getting one of his own. He didn't however, know about those. He stared at the bronze-colored bars through his brother's nipples and shifted uncomfortably to try to ease the pressure between his thighs without actually touching himself. It was a useless endeavor. Merlin! Charlie was sexy.

Ron couldn't resist sitting up and dragging a finger lightly over one of the taut buds.

Charlie bit his lip.

“Bill's influence, I imagine?” Ron asked.

Charlie laughed. “Bill, and far more whiskey than a poor, innocent fifteen year old ought to be getting himself into,” he joked.

Ron laughed. “That had to be Bill's doing as well.”

“Mr. Perfect was such a deviant. Mum would cry if she knew,” Charlie laughed. “But, enough about our big brother and his misspent youth, and how much of his entertainment he got out of corrupting me,” he said. “Let's get back to corrupting you, yeah?”

“You hiding anything under your trousers I ought to know about before I get there?” Ron asked as he pressed his thumb more firmly against the bud and pulled a moan out of Charlie.

“Do that with your mouth and I'll love you forever,” Charlie gasped.

“Nice to know how conditional your love is,” Ron quipped. “Won't love me forever anyway, eh?”

“ 'Course I will,” Charlie scoffed. “I'll just love you more if you do that with your tongue, is all.”

“You didn't answer my question,” Ron said, dragging his fingers along the band of Charlie's denims.

“I like surprises,” Charlie shrugged, leaning back with his fingers laced behind his head. “Especially when you're the one getting them.”

Ron wasn't so slow on the uptake that he didn't know very well that Charlie was giving him the opportunity to explore at his own pace. Now that he had it, and he could think, he hesitated. It wasn't that he'd changed his mind. He just didn't know what he wanted to touch first.

Charlie laughed suddenly and gave in to the temptation to embrace his brother. “You're so cute,” he said. “But this isn't Honeydukes and I'm not a wall of candy.” He kissed Ron's temple. “You get to have it all, so there's no reason to concentrate so hard on where to start.”

“Remind me again why I love you so much?” Ron snarked. Did Charlie have to tease him at a time like this? 'I already know, but he doesn't have to tease me about it?'

“Hm. Either my dashing good looks, or my winning personality,” Charlie quipped, kissing Ron's jaw.

“I remember now. I'm a masochist,” Ron dead-panned.

“Are you now?” Charlie asked as if it piqued his interest. “Then give me a minute and I'll unpack the ball gag and the cock lock,” he grinned playfully.

Ron flushed brightly. “Don't even joke about carrying that sort of thing around with you!” he protested. “Even if you had s-something like that, you wouldn't bring it home to the Burrow with you.”

“Hm, well, I suppose you have me there. Mum and Ginny are far too nosy. You know, they've been trying to reorganize my suitcase all bloody week. It's been all I could do to keep it away from them. I'd have a right hard time explaining some of the reading material I've picked up on the trip home. The Witch Weekly is one thing; there's an article – and a smashing photo, I might add – about my darling little brother in there, but the Playwitch is something I'd rather not be caught red-handed with, at least not by the likes of those two,” he joked as he nuzzled Ron's throat, planting soft kisses here and there.

Ron giggled when he hit a particularly ticklish spot, and pushed him back onto the bed. “I know you can't keep your hands off me, but try at least long enough for me to get your trousers off, you git,” Ron complained playfully.

“Yes sir!” Charlie laughed, and stealing one last kiss, stretched himself out on the bed with his arms up over his head. He shifted his hips, all too impatient. Just being able to touch and kiss Ron was fun, more than he should ever have expected to hope for, but he was rather eager to get on to the main event before his entirely too loveable baby brother came to his senses, all said. The way Ron worried his lower lip with his teeth and the spark of lust in his eyes told Charlie that wasn't likely to happen any time soon. He purred when Ron made a valiant attempt to be suave, and kissed his throat.

It was valiant in effort only. Ron cussed as he fumbled blindly over Charlie's button-fly trousers.

Charlie tried not to laugh, but his belly rumbled.

“Shut up!” Ron protested, dropping his head on the dragon keeper's shoulder. “How many damn buttons do you need?” he complained.

“Enough to make you cuss at me with that irritated look on your face,” Charlie joked.

Ron lifted his face and gave him exactly the irritated look to which he was referring.

“That's the one,” Charlie quipped, propping himself up on his elbows and giving Ron a surprise kiss on the pouty lips. “You're not used to 'em, is all,” he said. “Par for the course in my line of work. Had a zipper melt for getting too close to dragon flame once – that was all it took to change my fashion sense. Having to show a field medic your equipment so she can treat a zipper burn is not an experience even your dashing older brother can handle without blushing. Walking back to your cottage without your trousers is even worse.”

Now Ron was the one laughing. “Now this is the story you should have told last Christmas. That bit about the Ironbelly went right over everyone's head.”

“You got it.”

“Well, yeah, but I've been drinking up every bit of information I can get on dragons ever since you ran off to Romania for your dream job. Had to. You wrote about 'em so much it was the only way to translate your jokes,” Ron dead-panned. “And, well, I guess the are kind of cool.”

“Aren't they though?” Charlie's eyes lit up in that way they always did when someone was talking about his favorite subject.

Ron kissed him abruptly rather than answering. This was no time for getting distracted! He still had four buttons to go, and if Charlie started talking dragons, they'd never get to the sex! The sex was important. It was really important, because when Charlie came to his senses later, Ron wanted to make sure he at least had a memory to sustain him that was better than his brother disappearing in the time it took him to use the loo. Ah, there now! Two, and three, and...oh.

Charlie grabbed the waistband and just tugged it open. The buttons easily slipped free of their accompanying holes. “Just takes a little practice,” he murmured against Ron's lips. “Now stop procrastinating and get me out of my bloody pants before I shag you with 'em still on.” He sucked Ron's lower lip between his teeth and gave his bare arse a good squeeze.

Ron shuddered at the feel of those big, square hands on his bare skin. “I wasn't procrastinating,” he said as he looped his fingers into Charlie's trousers. Except, even as he said it, he knew he was. There was still a voice in the back of his mind screaming about how wrong this was, how they couldn't do it, even though he was naked and hard and his body was humming with the scent of the man he loved wrapped around him like a warm blanket. There was a part of him that was still waiting for Charlie to suddenly see sense, get up, and run away again. He quashed that voice once and for all. The longer he delayed, the more opportunities he was giving Charlie to do just that. He looped his fingers into Charlie's trousers and blinked. “No pants?” he asked.

Charlie grinned. “Sexy, innit?”

“Pervert,” Ron chided even as he tugged on the denim and Charlie lifted his hips to help things along.

“Actually, I seem to have packed a set short. Rest of 'em need a wash, and I'm too old to have mum cleaning my underpants for me. I'll do them when I get home. On the up side, it's one less article of clothing you have the chance to spend half a night convincing yourself to get me out of.” He kicked his legs to free himself of that last item of clothing, and watched as Ron's eyes wandered to the newly uncovered portion of his anatomy.

Ron pursed his lips. It was the only thing stopping him from licking them. Charlie was the same there as he was everywhere else, hard and thick. Hard, and thick, and pierced. Pierced! First the nipples, and now this little slip of metal beneath the pink head. Ron wrapped his fingers around the shaft carefully and brushed his thumb over the bar. “Doesn't it hurt?” he asked. “Doing this sort of thing?”

“They numb it first,” Charlie said, though his voice cracked at the attention to the lust-sensitized organ, severely impairing his ability to seem 'cool' in front of Ron – something he always did his best to maintain. He exhaled and tried not to focus too much on the way that thumb rubbed along the pierced flesh. “Besides, if you know where to go, they suck it after.” He grinned, but his mouth quickly turned into an 'o' as Ron's thumbnail grazed over his tip.

“Slut,” Ron replied, gaining courage from the raspy quality of Charlie's voice and the way his breathing deepened sharply as he stroked the hot flesh. It felt good in his hand, like it should have been there years ago. 'Not in the hands of a hundred other men who don't love him like I do, nor the mouths, while I'm on the subject.' Yes, he was jealous. And, so what? He loved Charlie, so it only made sense that the thought of him doing filthy things with other men irritated him. He let go at last and bent under the weight of the temptation to suck on those perfect nipples.

Charlie curled his fingers tightly in Ron's hair in reply. As if the hand wasn't enough, now the tongue was sliding that bar curiously back and forth like he knew exactly what would drive Charlie wild the fastest. “I like to have fun,” he answered, his voice much rougher than it ought to be. “Never saw much point in abstaining from it.” He wanted Ron to be that point. He knew Ron wanted to be that point, too. Neither of them dared say so.

“Maybe you should introduce me to the guy who did you, and I'll think about doing it, too.” He pressed his thumb against Charlie's lower piercing a bit roughly and joyed in the way Charlie bucked into his hand.

“Not even if you begged,” Charlie groaned. “If you want a piercing, that's one thing, but I'll be the frist bloke to suck you after.”

Ron shivered, Charlie's nipples forgotten thanks to that possessive tone in his brother's voice. That part of his personality that wanted to be possessed, which he normally kept deeply buried in his psyche responded before he could stop it. “You think they're sexy, right?”

“Well, you certainly do,” Charlie smirked. “As for me, I think your sexy, with or without additional adornments. And, I think we've more than covered the foreplay portion of tonight's entertainment, don't you?”

Before Ron could reply, Charlie flipped them, pushing Ron into the mattress. “Last chance to change your mind, love,” he said, grabbing the wand from the bedside table that he'd had just enough forethought to place there while Ron was fiddling with the buttons of his fly.

Ron wrapped his arms up around Charlie's broad shoulders. “Don't look to me for your easy exit. You're the one who ran out last time.”

“Alright, alright,” Charlie sighed dramatically. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry for trying to behave myself for once in my bloody life and not have at a bloke who by all rights should be the most off limits of them all. I thought for a second I was supposed to be a good role model and I panicked and made off before I could do any more damage.”

“If I wanted a good role model, I'd look up to Percy,” Ron answered flatly.

“Perish the thought,” Charlie replied. “Look up to Bill instead, then you'll remember not to judge yourself to harshly about what we're up to.”

“Not you, huh?”

“Fuck no, mate. Our current situation is proof enough that I make a shit role model. And anyway, if you started using me as your mentor, that just brings the brother issue right on back and causes too much drama. No, definitely Bill. I'll stick to being your secret lover, and I don't mind one lick if you let Bill keep his role as family mentor; he rather fancies it, anyway. It makes him feel like a rockstar. Anyway, he's the one of our troupe who's laid back enough to find out we're shagging and not fucking care.”

“We have to actually shag for that to happen,” Ron said impatiently.

“Patience is a virtue, Ronnie,” Charlie joked, waving his wand in front of his brother's face.

“So is stamina,” Ron retorted. “Which I'm not going to have much of if you keep me waiting any longer.”

Charlie kissed Ron's throat. “As long as we've waited for this, I think a lack of stamina can be forgiven, just the once,” he quipped.

Ron opened his mouth to protest Charlie's playful nature, but the words on his tongue died to a moan as the dragon keeper's deft spell slipped past the only barrier between them and tenderly plied it open. “Ha-aaahh!” He gasped, feeling his muscles stretch and relax. The ease with which Charlie performed the non-verbal spell reminded Ron of just how many men he'd shagged before him. He forced himself not to think on that. He wasn't exactly innocent of sex without love, either. He clung to Charlie's shoulders as his brother spread his thighs and lifted his hips.

“Ready or not, love, I can't wait a moment longer,” Charlie said. He hoped he'd given the spell long enough to work its magic. He didn't want to hurt Ron, but with that lust-fogged look in his eyes, and the way Ron clung to him, it was impossible to delay. He couldn't say he eased in; he plunged. One swift stroke had his balls pressed against Ron's buttocks and the rest of him encased in heat. He gripped Ron's hips too tightly as he willed his mindd to stop spinning from the rush of pleasure. He kissed Ron's jaw. He apologized for being abrupt, but couldn't endure a slow love-making tonight. Ron was right; he'd wasted far too much time on foreplay. Now, every nerve in his body was on fire and singing praises to the universe for inventing someone so perfect for him. He'd curse the universe later for making that someone family, but as he thrust into Ron, and as Ron writhed beneath him and dug his nails into his shoulders, Charlie really couldn't care less about the taboo they were casting to the wind.

They proved to have more stamina than anticipated. While it felt like he would come any instant, they'd switched position several times. Ron had been on his back, his hands and knees... and now, as he leaned back against that furry chest, toes curled into the mattress and eagerly bouncing on Charlie's swollen organ, he felt like somehow his body was holding back so that he could properly enjoy it for as long as possible. Charlie didn't seem to realize it, but he kept murmuring words of love against the back of Ron's neck, making him feel adored, special. Ron didn't want to let go of that. When magic sort of folk want things, or don't want things, magic tends to happen. He was sure that's what this was, unintentional magic keeping him up when he knew by all rights he should have lost himself near on an hour ago. His knees were starting to buckle. He knew he couldn't keep going like this forever, no matter how much he wanted this night not to end.

Charlie's hands moved from his tormented nipples down to his hips. He found himself easily lifted and turned about to face his brother, slammed down on his perfect cock again. He cried out in bliss. Charlie caressed his cheek, pulled him down into a tender kiss. Ron knew that was the beginning of the end. Charlie braced his feet beneath them, started thrusting upward into him. Ron rocked backward, his cock bumping along Charlie's stomach, and then curled into Charlie's fist, never breaking eye contact. It was an unspoken plea in Charlie's eyes. Look at me. Don't forget who you're with. I love you.

When he came, it was in tears. He wasn't that sort, really. After all he'd been thorough during the war – he could bitch and moan with the best, but wasn't generally prone to outright bawling. Even so, when he came with Charlie, he cried. He clung to his brother, and he cried. He cried as the lust sated and the love sank in. The end of their coupling hit the pit of his stomach like a physical blow, because there was nowhere to go from here, and because he was afraid this was the first, and last, time they would ever be together like this.

Charlie slipped out of him, whispered the cleansing incantation, and held him close until he'd got it all out. He pet Ron's hair, and rocked him until his mind slowed down and he came back to himself.

“Sorry,” Ron muttered awkwardly. How embarrassing was that?! Bursting into hysterics right after the best shag of his life! He was lucky Charlie wasn't the type to get easily offended.

“Welcome back,” Charlie answered. He didn't need to say anything else. They're feelings were already quite clear. What to do about them, that was a bit more difficult.

“I guess I should go. They'll be wondering where I've got off to by now,” Ron said.

“In a bit, rest a while first. You won't be able to stand so soon anyway,” Charlie answered.

Ron couldn't help but smirk at his brother. “You just think you're so good.”

“I am so good,” Charlie grinned back at him. “As evidenced by the way your knees gave out on you towards the end.”

“That's just because we were doing it for near on an hour!” Ron protested, blushing brightly. “Of course my legs got tired!”

“Try three.”

“Eh?” Ron asked.

“Did my skill make you blind, Ron? Look at the wall clock. It's been near on three hours, not one.”

Ron's cheeks flared brightly. “W-well, that's all the more reason, then!”

Charlie's embrace tightened around him. He kissed his forehead, then his lips. “You're just so bloody cute. I want to do it again already, but even with magic on our side, some things are impossible. I'm so tired. Just sleep with me for a while, would you?”

“Yeah,” Ron sighed. He didn't want to leave Charlie's side, either. They'd shagged, sure, but they hadn't really come to any conclusions. Shagging once in a while in a casual sort of way? As if that was possible. There had been nothing casual about their coupling. It had been full of passion and adoration and desire, and the thought of losing that, even if it was just to Romania and dragons had Ron cracking under the pressure. He wanted to stay with Charlie tonight, and also, forever. Consummating their mutual affection hadn't eased the ache in his chest at all; it only made it more apparent. Even if they said they would sleep, and even if their endeavors had left them both exhausted enough to sleep for days, he found himself unable to drift off. The tightness in Charlie's shoulders told him that he felt exactly the same. They needed to rest, but they couldn't.

After several tense minutes of this, Charlie finally spoke. “There are aurors in Romania too, you know.”

Ron blinked. “Huh?”

“You're studying to be an auror, yeah? But, there's no rule saying you have to do that in London. The reserve actually deals with the Romanian Auror Force on a regular basis, when we catch poachers, for starters. Also, we have a constant cycle of them doing rounds about the camp, just routine stuff. Poachers we handle mostly on our own, but for protection against the other stuff – thieves and dark wizards and vampires and such, the reserve hires out a few aurors to patrol the grounds, do some basic security and the like. They have to be specially trained so they won't rile the dragons, mind, but that'd be easy for you.”

“ 'cept I don't speak the language,” Ron said.

Charlie shrugged. “It's not so hard to learn, and you can use a translation orb until you get a proper hang of it. I have one collecting dust in my cupboard from when I first moved out there.”

Ron lifted his head. “Are you actually serious?”

“It's like I told you before. Out there, because there are so many traditionalists and such, the line between siblings and lovers isn't so wide. We could live how we want. Yeah, you're famous n'all, but moreso here than in Romania. They have their own war heroes, so they don't make such a big fuss about ours. Everybody knows Harry's name, of course, but you'll find that it doesn't mean much to be a Weasley that far from home. We'd just have to fake it all 'round the holidays when we come visit.”

“But, all my friends are here,” Ron said, his mind spinning over the possibilities, letting it sink in, how much he'd have to give up, and if it was worth it. There was Harry, and Hermione, all the guys from school, but if he was honest, now that they'd left Hogwarts and were getting on with their lives, they didn't see each other as much as they used to.

“That's what apparating is for,” Charlie said. “I've popped by for the weekend dozens of times. You know that. Can't count how many times I've crashed on Bill's sofa and been off and back at work six hours later. You can't disapparate from the reserve, same as Hogwarts, but once you get past the barrier it's only a five mile walk. Takes less than ten minutes by broom, and there's a village with a really short queue for the floo only about ten miles past that. Bit further a trip than the one from the pub to the Burrow, but not so bad, and there are plenty of port keys around the holidays.”

Ron worried his lip a bit. Could he really do that? Could he really just up and run off with Charlie? It was like Charlie was suggesting they elope!

“Just think about it,” Charlie said when Ron didn't jump at the idea. “And, while you're thinking about it, don't go shagging anyone else, and if you won't owl – I know you're shite with letters – at least make sure to firecall.”

“Alright,” Ron said.

“Good then, you'll think about it and...”

“No, I mean...Alright. I'll go.”

Charlie blinked. “You made up your mind fast.” He hadn't really expected Ron to be so easy to convince.

“Well, my mind's still in a state over it, honestly,” Ron said. “But, my heart knows what it wants, or I'd not have come back to this seedy pub in the first place. Besides, once I pass the auror exams in one place, I hear the district re-certifications aren't that much of a hassle. I'll take the exam here, since I'm already three quarters of the way through the program, re-certify over there, and be settled into a flat in maybe six months. Then we can... you know...”

“Stop making such a big fuss about it all and do as we please?” Charlie offered.

“Yeah,” Ron answered.

“Alright then,” Charlie said. “Six months. I guess I can settle for wanking that long.”

“And maybe some weekend visits? You're going to have to teach me the bloody language, after all.”

“Ooh, that is a good cover story,” Charlie laughed, pulling Ron close. He didn't feel all that tired anymore.

“Because it's true,” Ron dead-panned. “Of all the bloody languages to learn for a bloke, I get one with extra letters in the alphabet.”

Charlie grinned and pressed him down into the bedding, kissed him again. “I'm worth it,” he said.

“If you weren't, I'd have told you to sod off three hours ago.”

Charlie nipped at Ron's ear. “Want to try and go for four?” he whispered.

“You're not serious!” Ron squeaked, but feeling Charlie's length starting to bulge again against his thigh, he could tell he very much was.

“I can't help it. You just told me you'll move to Romania for me. It's exciting!”

“So is Quidditch, but I don't get a hard-on just from talking about it.”

“Speaking of, I get free tickets to tons of games, since Bulgaria is right next door. Krum hooks me up all the time. We're mates, so I get great seats to the home games free of charge,” Charlie said as he rubbed his hips down against his brother's.

“You know just how to sweet talk a guy,” Ron laughed, caving in and wrapping his arms around Charlie's shoulders. “Just don't be too rough. I'm already sore.”

“Don't worry. I've got a great salve for just that in my pack,” Charlie purred against his lips.

“You've got an answer for everything,” Ron moaned as Charlie's organ slid against his own.

“I aim to please,” Charlie answered. “Often, thoroughly, and without restraint.”

“I always knew that about you,” Ron answered, hands sliding down to ply at Charlie's pierced nipples and make him squirm.

'Often, thoroughly, and without restraint, huh?' he thought. If that was the case, Ron figured the future was something worth looking forward to, and he had a shabby little pub hiding in the heart of muggle London to thank for it.

~The End~
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Devonshire and Crown