Author: Mosh Title: That Day on the Hill Note: You may not archive, re-post, or alter any of my stories without my permission. Please contact me first. Thanks! |
Ron flicked a baby dragonfly off his trouser leg, watching it flutter to the ground and land clumsily on its back. There were swarms of them this time of year, all colours and sizes. Them and an epidemic of bloody Scottish midges. Nasty little bastards, they were. Harry rolled over on the grass beside him and sat up, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. He stared out across the hills in the direction of Hogwarts, which was nothing more than an odd, hazy shape in the distance. He hardly blinked, lost in his thoughts, unseeing. "So how's the castle going?" he said after a while, still staring ahead. Ron glanced at it, and even after spending practically every day there for the last two months, it still hurt him to see the dark outline of scaffolding that held the north side up. He dared not think about the interior. "Still needs loads of work," he answered, turning away to look instead at the lake. "I don't reckon we'll be done in time for September." "That bad?" Ron nodded, then said: "Yeah. Pretty bad." Silence fell, broken only by the hushed breath of wind in the grass and the aged creak of nearby trees. "I hate that I wasn't there to help defend it," Harry said at length. His hands fumbled with the hem of his t-shirt. "Things might've been different." "Nah mate," said Ron. "There were too many of them. You were needed elsewhere, anyway. And don't talk bollocks - things are different. You made things different." "Hm." Ron could clearly remember the sound of the Hogwarts doors being broken down, flying right off their ancient, sturdy hinges. Followed by the crashing as giants stormed inside the castle, maiming stone statues with their swinging fists, roaring dismally, breaking unfortunate students who happened to get in their way as they fled to the safety of their common rooms. If Hermione hadn't figured out how to put extra wards on the door to Gryffindor tower and buy them some time - well, it didn't bear thinking about. None of it did. "I hate that I can't help rebuild it." Ron had nothing to say to that. Harry inhaled deeply and turned towards him, frowning. "Do you hear that?" "Hear what?" "Sounds like... phoenix. No, it can't be." He let out a sigh and picked at a blade of grass. Something in the dip of his eyebrows and pinch of his mouth suggested annoyance, maybe even anger. "He hasn't been back for years." Fawkes. Ron was surprised Harry still mourned the phoenix's departure. But then, Harry had been rescued by Fawkes before - plus, it had been Dumbledore's bird and all. He supposed it probably was still alive. God knows where, though. "Something's singing in the forest." "I can't hear a thing, mate," Ron said. "'Cept these fucking midges buzzing around my face." He smacked himself in the neck loudly and Harry let out a snort. Pulling his hand away, Ron stared down at the small black smudge on his palm with a scowl. "I don't get why they attack me and not you." "Skin type, maybe?" "Must be." "I've got something to tell you," Harry suddenly said. Ah. Ron had wondered why he'd insisted on coming all the way out here - why he'd even shown up at Hogwarts in the first place. Shortly after the war he'd told Ron he wasn't ready to return to the school again, not yet. When he'd turned up out of the blue earlier that day Ron had been more than surprised. At first he'd figured Harry must have grown too bored to stay at their flat on his own, but now he wondered if it was because this was neutral ground. He had an inkling about what Harry was going to say, which just made his stomach twist up. "Oh yeah?" he answered casually. "You're not going to like it." An ant climbed lazily up Harry's t-shirt, completely unaware that it was about to bear witness to news Ron wasn't going to like. Ron was half-tempted to flick it away, but held still. "Um, try not to hit me without some warning, yeah?" Harry gave a half, humourless smile. "Is this about Malfoy?" Harry's head whipped round. "You know about...?" "Yeah," said Ron. "I don't like it. Not one bit. You were-" He gestured between himself and Harry, uselessly. "You can say it was just the once, a stupid mistake, all that." "It was just the once. And a stupid mistake. Things were really crazy and I didn't know what was going to happen one day to the next, where my friends were or how they were doing... and how the hell do you already know?" "People talk you know, Harry. People see things - fuck, I mean, people just guess things." He swiped his fist across his eyes with frustration. "Well, nothing ever stayed secret in this place for long, did it? At least, not that kind of thing." Harry nodded slowly. "You never liked him," Ron added. "No. Never." Good to hear, though really, Ron already knew. But that didn't make it any easier. Of all the people for Harry to turn to, even in the middle of a war, and it had to have been Draco fucking Malfoy. "Him and his mum were safehoused at Grimmauld Place," said Harry. "I was
there one night with Lupin, Kingsley, some of the others, and Malfoy was just
being so impossible." "He wouldn't tell us what he knew about Voldemort's whereabouts, and I got angry. So then he got angry-" "What's new?" Ron said again, and this time Harry's lips quirked. "And then his mum had to stick her overly-pointed nose in and have a go, too." Harry shrugged. "I was so fucked off with them. I just. That night, before we left, he tried to punch me, saying everything was my fault - as if I told him to go screw up his life and join the Death Eaters. And then he just... and I-" "Really don't want to be hearing this." Harry stopped babbling and swallowed. "Right. Sorry." "But since we're letting skeletons out of our cupboards," Ron continued. "Smith." It took a moment or two for it to click, then Harry's eyebrows shot up. "What, Zach Smith?! You mean...?!" "Yeah, so?" Ron said, slightly affronted. What, was it like Harry could have... whatever he had with Malfoy, but he, Ron, hadn't been allowed to fuck people too? "Ouch." "Now you know how it feels." "Shit, this was a bad idea," Harry said dismally. "No, it wasn't," said Ron. "And now we're sort of even, so if I did punch you you'd be free to punch me. I'm not gonna punch you, by the way." Harry nodded in agreement. "I'd probably miss your face anyway." Ron had the most horrifying urge to laugh at that, but he suppressed it. "That was a real mood killer, wasn't it," Harry said, nudging Ron in the arm with his elbow. Maybe a little too hard. True, the day suddenly wasn't so nice anymore. The sun, the quiet, Harry's presence, it was all tarnished by the little ball of fury that thrummed at the pit of Ron's stomach. Would it ever go away, he wondered, now the rumour about Harry and Malfoy had been confirmed? If it'd been anyone else... anyone. Ron bit his lip and tried not to dwell on it, though inwardly he vowed that if he ever, ever saw Malfoy again he'd break his face. And possibly some fingers, too. "Just to ruin it a bit more," Harry went on. "How's Ginny and your brothers?" "They're okay. Helping out with the rebuild." He left out the part where Ginny had spotted Harry being led towards Hogwarts by Hagrid earlier, how her eyes had teared up at the sight of him and she'd scurried back inside. There was no animosity between them - it wasn't that at all. Everyone grew awkward whenever Harry appeared nowadays. Things were still so ripe in people's minds, how while the siege had bore down on Hogwarts, Harry had been off facing Voldemort. How he'd lost his sight from a well-aimed hex and continued to fight blindly, until Snape had appeared and finished the job. Images of Harry crawling around on his hands and knees to feel for his dropped wand, bloody tears rolling down his face- Ron cleared his throat to break the pace of his thoughts. Somehow the Malfoy thing didn't seem so important any more. Harry was alive and reasonably well, as he should be, even though he couldn't do much by himself the moment. Things would get better over time. Ron knew this. People would relax around Harry, the papers would stop making such a fuss with their stupid headlines about the Sightless Hero, all that bollocks. "They said there might be a possibility I'll eventually see shapes and colours," Harry said, as if reading Ron's mind. Annoying, how he did that. "Yeah?" said Ron, unable to look at him. "That's great news!" He sometimes wondered what it was like - trying to see, to open your eyes and expect things to be there, only they're not any more. Harry continued, sounding a little more cheered. "Hermione wants to help work on the healing potions." "The St. Mungos lot would be mental to turn her down. She's got the best brain out of all of them." "Exactly what I told her." An old, longing warmth crept up Ron's spine. Almost like going home. He coughed once, awkwardly, then ran his hand along the back of Harry's neck, short black hair shifting against his skin. "Well, yeah, she's really," Ron began. "And you - you're doing. It's just. A matter of time, really. Isn't it?" Harry started to lean in, but stopped, his pale green eyes searching wildly under half-lowered lids. "I hate not being able to see this." Ron closed the distance, seeing everything; the curved shape Harry's mouth made as he finished the words, that all too familiar lock of hair that blew carelessly across his forehead, the breath that hushed warmly out of his mouth. Inch by centimetre by millimetre he drew closer. He licked along Harry's lower lip then dipped his tongue into his mouth and thought: this is still strange. Strange, but excellent. And as Harry pressed closer, kissing him harder, Ron started to unbuckle first Harry's belt, then his own. It was awkward manoeuvring hands and legs but they'd never really been particularly smooth with each other when it came to sex, so it worked for them, it was okay like this, familiar, still a little curious. With hands moving rhythmically over each other, Harry's kiss grew more urgent, his teeth scraping Ron's lips, biting the corners of his mouth as he rocked his hips up. As did his strokes, more jerky, frantic, and after a while, as much as he tried to ignore it, Ron began to feel uncomfortable. "Slow down," he mumbled. Harry didn't seem to hear him, his breath rasping slightly and fingers now pinching, clenched too tightly around Ron's cock. "Look, just - Harry, stop for a sec, okay?" I know what you're doing, he almost added. What pained him most wasn't that Harry was having difficulties leading, but that he was trying to make up for what he was missing by going too fast, too hard. "What's the problem?" said Harry. "Nothing, just- could you slow down a little bit?" "Oh. Sure. Sorry." He felt for Ron's shoulders, fumbling, and this time Ron pushed him over onto the grass, sliding his hand down into Harry's open jeans again. His cock jerked in Ron's palm and he carefully wedged his knee between Ron's legs so he could rub himself against it. Not the most comfortable position, but good enough for now. There was always later at home, where they'd have their bed and food after and then a shower. Ron gave up thinking and mumbled contentedly, thrusting against Harry's thigh. For countless moments they wound each other up until Harry came, surging into Ron's hand with a groan, his fingers clutched tightly around Ron's shoulders. The material of his boxers darkened as it grew damp and he shuddered through it, and Ron pushed against his leg more forcefully, panting now. He let his head drop against Harry's chest and could hear the thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat. He squeezed his eyes shut and gasped and jerked, the humid heat of the air making him feel woozy, and Harry muttered something, his fingers twisting in Ron's hair, and as if it'd been fingers around his cock instead Ron came, everything flaring white for a second. He swore into Harry's t-shirt and held on. He could've stayed there for hours, the thought of going back down to the castle to continue the repairs seeming like a distant and unwanted idea. But ultimately he was needed, and as much as he hated the crumbling walls and depressing mounds of debris, he did want to get Hogwarts back to its old self as quickly as possible. "Overall," Harry said, as Ron pulled himself together and sat up. "I think today could've gone much worse." "Agreed," said Ron with a nod. "We'll just forget everything that happened before we... you know. It's not really important anyway." "Right." Harry adjusted his trousers after a quick clean-up spell. Ron repeated the same spell on himself. "Is Hagrid waiting to take you home? Or I could - I mean, if we Apparate from the Hogsmeade road it wouldn't take too long." "It's fine." Harry rose to his feet and waited for Ron to take his arm. "Hagrid's waiting. I'll show him round the flat." "With his size and the size of our flat, that shouldn't take you long." Slowly, they made their way down the hill, sun-drenched grass crunching under their steps and their voices drifting on the light breeze. ~Fin~ |
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