“This isn’t a time for sad faces, dear. It’s your birthday.”
Harry’s musings were interrupted by a motherly hand on his shoulder. He instinctively placed his hand upon hers.
“I’m fine, Mrs Weasley,” Harry automatically responded as he tried to muster a smile. Her eyes were twinkling, but Harry noticed that the grief for her deceased son was still dormant in the way she smiled. He knew. He felt it every time he laid his eyes upon George. Harry saw him chatting with Hermione and Luna, but the look on his face was betraying his discomfort. He knew how he felt. He wanted to be alone. Alone with his grief. People were trying to cheer him up, but it was no use. When a part of your soul dies, the agony caused by it will fester in your heart for the rest of your life. He knew.
He saw Ron dancing with Lavender. Harry admired the cheerfulness she was radiating, despite being crippled for life. He developed a soft spot for her, because she pulled Ron back on his feet after his breakup with Hermione. He knew. He knew how Ron must have felt. He had felt it, too, after he and Ginny split. The war had bounded them into believing that the love between them was more than brother-sister-love. War does that to people. Harry felt Mrs Weasley’s hand squeezing his.
“It must be hard when the one you love has only eyes for your friend.”
Harry turned his head in surprise, looking her into the eyes, but he quickly regained his mask of indifference.
“I like Lavender, but she’s just a friend.”
“I wasn’t talking about Lavender, dear.”
This time he felt his mask crumpling down. Tears started to form in the corners of his eyes and he turned his head, refusing to face the truth.
“Don’t be ashamed, dear,” Mrs Weasley said, pulling Harry into a hug. “What mother would I be if I didn’t notice the pain of rejection every time you laid your eyes upon Ron?”
Her kind words eased some of the burning pain, which he had felt for all those years. There was nothing worse than unrequited love. He had to watch his two best friends growing closer together. He had tried to suppress his feelings, but nor Cho nor Ginny could make him forget the piercing eyes and the freckled skin. Their smiles were nothing but a shade compared to Ron’s energetic chuckle.
“Have a drink, dear,” Mrs Weasley whispered as she disentangled herself from Harry. “Your time will come. Have faith.”
She put a glass on the table, patted Harry on the shoulder and went to Bill and Charlie, who were duelling with the tables again. He straightened his shoulders, took a sip from his drink and he made a mental note to stop being depressed.
Mrs Weasley was right. It was his eighteenth birthday for crying out loud. He had wasted enough time being moody. The war was over. He stared at the young woman in the wheelchair, smiling and having fun. Despite everything, she still embraced the bright side of life. Today was the day to make a change.
Suddenly, Harry felt a rush of happiness breaking through the dark clouds inside his head, as his friends started a verse of "For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow". He was blessed. He emptied his drink and walked towards the crowd in the middle of the huge garden, his hands in the air as Charlie started the pumping music with a flick of his wand.
~*~
Harry closed his eyes as the music ensnared his senses. He felt countless hands clapping his shoulders, female lips caressing his cheeks and words pampering his ears. Overconfidence was radiating from Harry's pores as he demonstrated a clumsy version of The Macarena. He saw Ron raising his eyebrows, but still joined him, waving his arms in all directions, nearly knocking Fleur out cold. Soon, the whole bunch was on the improvised dance-floor, even Mrs Weasley. For the first time since the war ended, Harry became one with the people he loved. All they needed was a stupid song and an even stupider dance.
Charlie started in a power-ballad from the eighties and Harry's smile grew with each sung word. He saw Luna dancing with several imaginary friends, Hermione was slowing with Hagrid, who nearly snapped her spine with his hands like small dolphins and Ron just stood there, his arms dangling besides his rank body, not knowing if he belonged there. Harry should have felt sorry for him, but Ron looked so cute in his unease that, for only just a moment, Harry ignored his gut-feeling, stepping forward and laid his hand on Ron's shoulder. His best mate glared at him, rekindling Harry's fear, but the stone in his stomach was vaporised when Ron's expression softened, blushing furiously.
Countless stars enlightened the darkening sky, but Harry had only eyes for the ginger boy standing before him.
“Dance with me,” Harry whispered. “Please don't think.”
Ron's lip curled a bit. He almost looked amused, or was that just Harry's imagination playing games with him? Harry's heart skipped a beat when Ron shrugged off his timidity and stepped forward, offering his hand.
Harry had never been this nervous, though he was still able to form a smug smile. He felt several eyes piercing the back of his head. He understood, but didn't care. Ron's scent slowly consumed him as he felt his best mate's warm body against his. He laid his head upon Ron's shoulder, while two lanky arms pulled him closer into his private space. Despite not being professional dancers , Harry thought they were able to get away with their slowing. He was relieved that he didn't step on Ron's big feet.
Time seemed to stand still. Harry felt perfectly content, until the closeness between the two friends became overheated and Harry's lower body lost control. He wasn't the only one.
“Merlin, Harry,” Ron groaned into Harry's ear. “This is very inconvenient.”
“Lavender,” Harry blurted out, his eyes still closed, feasting upon the feeling of bulge against bulge.
“Lavender is a friend, Harry,” Ron whispered. “It is you that I want.”
And Harry was done. Before Ron could do say anything, Harry had drawn his wand, muttering some words. His friends were still dancing and laughing, like nothing had happened.
“What did you do?” Ron exclaimed, a hint of doubt audible in his voice.
“Magic,” Harry purred while laying his hand on Ron’s crotch, squeezing teasingly.
Ron groaned loudly as Harry pulled Ron closer to him, his hand still pampering the huge bulge between his best mate’s legs.
“Shed?” Harry whispered huskily in his Ron’s ear.
“Shed.”
Both boys sprinted towards Mr Weasley’s shed, while the music grew louder and louder. It only took a moment before Ron was lying on his back on an old mattress, his zip opened and his cock being engulfed by Harry’s lusty hunger. His head bobbed up and down, suppressing a giggle when Ron’s pubic hair tickled his nose.
“Need to taste you!” Ron panted, almost animalistic.
Harry’s lips curled into a cheeky grin. He unzipped himself, exposing his leaking member, turned around and groaned in pure ecstasy when he felt Ron’s lips on the tight heat.
Both boys sucked fervently, stroking burning flesh while feasting upon the pleasure they were giving each other.
“Harry...”
Harry’s arousal breached his sanity. Although he had never heard this particular tone in Ron’s voice, he knew that his best mate was approaching orgasm fast. He sped up his movements on Ron’s thick cock, tonguing the slit, lapping up all Ron was giving him. He felt Ron’s hands on his clothed arse, urging him to fuck his mouth. His best mate took it without even gagging once. The wetness, lips squeezing hard flesh and Ron’s talented tongue were too much to handle and the point of no return was closing in.
“Ron...”
And the words were gone. Both boys cried in unison, intense pleasure racing through their privates, as they filled each other’s mouths with their release. The taste was bitter, but Harry kept focussing on the fact that it was liquid Ron he was swallowing.
He rolled off his lover and looked into his eyes. He opened his mouth, but Ron silenced him by putting a finger on his lips. A small amount of come was slowly trickling down Harry’s cheek. He felt Ron’s finger on his skin, taking it, and caressing it into his scar.
“What are you doing?”
“Burying the past,” Ron whispered as he placed a soft kiss on Harry’s lips. “It’s just us now.”
Harry felt a deep emotion pooling in his chest. He pulled Ron in for another kiss. When their tongues met halfway, his instinct kicked in and felt the urge to give himself to Ron again. Without clothes this time.
~*~
“Are they still in there?”
Molly smiled as she put on her night gown listening if her children were asleep.
“The last time I checked, they were, dear.”
“Shouldn’t we do something about it?” Arthur asked, a bit taken aback by the nonchalance of his wife.
“We have to talk with them of course,” Molly said, enjoying the warmth of her husband as she crawled into the large bed. “But it can wait.”
“I had never expected this to happen,” Arthur said, putting an arm around her. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have anything against them being together, but...well...it’s a surprise.”
She smiled mischievously as she thought about the contents of her pocket. Luck was scarce in times like these. Sometimes, people only needed a gentle push. She did what she had to do. Now it was time for her own piece of happiness and disappeared under the blankets to awake something she had been craving for the whole evening.
Harry’s musings were interrupted by a motherly hand on his shoulder. He instinctively placed his hand upon hers.
“I’m fine, Mrs Weasley,” Harry automatically responded as he tried to muster a smile. Her eyes were twinkling, but Harry noticed that the grief for her deceased son was still dormant in the way she smiled. He knew. He felt it every time he laid his eyes upon George. Harry saw him chatting with Hermione and Luna, but the look on his face was betraying his discomfort. He knew how he felt. He wanted to be alone. Alone with his grief. People were trying to cheer him up, but it was no use. When a part of your soul dies, the agony caused by it will fester in your heart for the rest of your life. He knew.
He saw Ron dancing with Lavender. Harry admired the cheerfulness she was radiating, despite being crippled for life. He developed a soft spot for her, because she pulled Ron back on his feet after his breakup with Hermione. He knew. He knew how Ron must have felt. He had felt it, too, after he and Ginny split. The war had bounded them into believing that the love between them was more than brother-sister-love. War does that to people. Harry felt Mrs Weasley’s hand squeezing his.
“It must be hard when the one you love has only eyes for your friend.”
Harry turned his head in surprise, looking her into the eyes, but he quickly regained his mask of indifference.
“I like Lavender, but she’s just a friend.”
“I wasn’t talking about Lavender, dear.”
This time he felt his mask crumpling down. Tears started to form in the corners of his eyes and he turned his head, refusing to face the truth.
“Don’t be ashamed, dear,” Mrs Weasley said, pulling Harry into a hug. “What mother would I be if I didn’t notice the pain of rejection every time you laid your eyes upon Ron?”
Her kind words eased some of the burning pain, which he had felt for all those years. There was nothing worse than unrequited love. He had to watch his two best friends growing closer together. He had tried to suppress his feelings, but nor Cho nor Ginny could make him forget the piercing eyes and the freckled skin. Their smiles were nothing but a shade compared to Ron’s energetic chuckle.
“Have a drink, dear,” Mrs Weasley whispered as she disentangled herself from Harry. “Your time will come. Have faith.”
She put a glass on the table, patted Harry on the shoulder and went to Bill and Charlie, who were duelling with the tables again. He straightened his shoulders, took a sip from his drink and he made a mental note to stop being depressed.
Mrs Weasley was right. It was his eighteenth birthday for crying out loud. He had wasted enough time being moody. The war was over. He stared at the young woman in the wheelchair, smiling and having fun. Despite everything, she still embraced the bright side of life. Today was the day to make a change.
Suddenly, Harry felt a rush of happiness breaking through the dark clouds inside his head, as his friends started a verse of "For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow". He was blessed. He emptied his drink and walked towards the crowd in the middle of the huge garden, his hands in the air as Charlie started the pumping music with a flick of his wand.
~*~
Harry closed his eyes as the music ensnared his senses. He felt countless hands clapping his shoulders, female lips caressing his cheeks and words pampering his ears. Overconfidence was radiating from Harry's pores as he demonstrated a clumsy version of The Macarena. He saw Ron raising his eyebrows, but still joined him, waving his arms in all directions, nearly knocking Fleur out cold. Soon, the whole bunch was on the improvised dance-floor, even Mrs Weasley. For the first time since the war ended, Harry became one with the people he loved. All they needed was a stupid song and an even stupider dance.
Charlie started in a power-ballad from the eighties and Harry's smile grew with each sung word. He saw Luna dancing with several imaginary friends, Hermione was slowing with Hagrid, who nearly snapped her spine with his hands like small dolphins and Ron just stood there, his arms dangling besides his rank body, not knowing if he belonged there. Harry should have felt sorry for him, but Ron looked so cute in his unease that, for only just a moment, Harry ignored his gut-feeling, stepping forward and laid his hand on Ron's shoulder. His best mate glared at him, rekindling Harry's fear, but the stone in his stomach was vaporised when Ron's expression softened, blushing furiously.
Countless stars enlightened the darkening sky, but Harry had only eyes for the ginger boy standing before him.
“Dance with me,” Harry whispered. “Please don't think.”
Ron's lip curled a bit. He almost looked amused, or was that just Harry's imagination playing games with him? Harry's heart skipped a beat when Ron shrugged off his timidity and stepped forward, offering his hand.
Harry had never been this nervous, though he was still able to form a smug smile. He felt several eyes piercing the back of his head. He understood, but didn't care. Ron's scent slowly consumed him as he felt his best mate's warm body against his. He laid his head upon Ron's shoulder, while two lanky arms pulled him closer into his private space. Despite not being professional dancers , Harry thought they were able to get away with their slowing. He was relieved that he didn't step on Ron's big feet.
Time seemed to stand still. Harry felt perfectly content, until the closeness between the two friends became overheated and Harry's lower body lost control. He wasn't the only one.
“Merlin, Harry,” Ron groaned into Harry's ear. “This is very inconvenient.”
“Lavender,” Harry blurted out, his eyes still closed, feasting upon the feeling of bulge against bulge.
“Lavender is a friend, Harry,” Ron whispered. “It is you that I want.”
And Harry was done. Before Ron could do say anything, Harry had drawn his wand, muttering some words. His friends were still dancing and laughing, like nothing had happened.
“What did you do?” Ron exclaimed, a hint of doubt audible in his voice.
“Magic,” Harry purred while laying his hand on Ron’s crotch, squeezing teasingly.
Ron groaned loudly as Harry pulled Ron closer to him, his hand still pampering the huge bulge between his best mate’s legs.
“Shed?” Harry whispered huskily in his Ron’s ear.
“Shed.”
Both boys sprinted towards Mr Weasley’s shed, while the music grew louder and louder. It only took a moment before Ron was lying on his back on an old mattress, his zip opened and his cock being engulfed by Harry’s lusty hunger. His head bobbed up and down, suppressing a giggle when Ron’s pubic hair tickled his nose.
“Need to taste you!” Ron panted, almost animalistic.
Harry’s lips curled into a cheeky grin. He unzipped himself, exposing his leaking member, turned around and groaned in pure ecstasy when he felt Ron’s lips on the tight heat.
Both boys sucked fervently, stroking burning flesh while feasting upon the pleasure they were giving each other.
“Harry...”
Harry’s arousal breached his sanity. Although he had never heard this particular tone in Ron’s voice, he knew that his best mate was approaching orgasm fast. He sped up his movements on Ron’s thick cock, tonguing the slit, lapping up all Ron was giving him. He felt Ron’s hands on his clothed arse, urging him to fuck his mouth. His best mate took it without even gagging once. The wetness, lips squeezing hard flesh and Ron’s talented tongue were too much to handle and the point of no return was closing in.
“Ron...”
And the words were gone. Both boys cried in unison, intense pleasure racing through their privates, as they filled each other’s mouths with their release. The taste was bitter, but Harry kept focussing on the fact that it was liquid Ron he was swallowing.
He rolled off his lover and looked into his eyes. He opened his mouth, but Ron silenced him by putting a finger on his lips. A small amount of come was slowly trickling down Harry’s cheek. He felt Ron’s finger on his skin, taking it, and caressing it into his scar.
“What are you doing?”
“Burying the past,” Ron whispered as he placed a soft kiss on Harry’s lips. “It’s just us now.”
Harry felt a deep emotion pooling in his chest. He pulled Ron in for another kiss. When their tongues met halfway, his instinct kicked in and felt the urge to give himself to Ron again. Without clothes this time.
~*~
“Are they still in there?”
Molly smiled as she put on her night gown listening if her children were asleep.
“The last time I checked, they were, dear.”
“Shouldn’t we do something about it?” Arthur asked, a bit taken aback by the nonchalance of his wife.
“We have to talk with them of course,” Molly said, enjoying the warmth of her husband as she crawled into the large bed. “But it can wait.”
“I had never expected this to happen,” Arthur said, putting an arm around her. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have anything against them being together, but...well...it’s a surprise.”
She smiled mischievously as she thought about the contents of her pocket. Luck was scarce in times like these. Sometimes, people only needed a gentle push. She did what she had to do. Now it was time for her own piece of happiness and disappeared under the blankets to awake something she had been craving for the whole evening.