My Life at Hogwarts
Written by Faradhi
This story is a work of fiction. I do not know the sexuality of the characters mentioned, and wouldn't tell you if I did. I'm good at keeping secrets. Harry Potter, Hogwarts, etc. are property of J. K Rowling, Scholastic and WB.
I realize that in my stories, I tend to forget the use of condoms. Often that's because my characters find their true soul-mate and stay together in a healthy, monogamous relationship. This isn't always the case in reality, so please, remember to be safe.
MY LIFE AT HOGWARTS
Unfortunately, the rest of the Christmas holidays weren't so special: at least, not for me. I did notice that Ron and Harry were constantly standing, sitting or walking closer and closer together. We spent the day making food, eating food, and just all around enjoying each others' company.
It was after dinner, however, that things got a little strange. Ron and I were in the living room, playing a challenging game of chess when he started to stare at his pieces. I figured he was thinking, since I had him in a particularly tight spot at the moment, but he continued to stare. Soon, his pieces were yelling at him to do SOMEthing, and mine were getting antsy.
Exasperated, I finally snapped, "OK, Ron, what is it?"
He looked up at me for the first time in nearly twenty minutes, and his eyes were more vulnerable than I'd ever seen them. Looking quickly around, I made certain that we were alone, then wrapped us both in a wall that wouldn't let sound pass through. I flicked my left hand at the game pieces, which fell silent and still. "All right," I said a little more gently. "It's safe to talk now, if you want to."
He shook his head.
"OK. Then I'll let you be alone."
He shook his head again.
"You want your boyfriend?" I was grasping at straws.
He started to shake his head, then stopped. "Not for this."
"Then what IS it? You're acting like a child, Ron!"
"It's just...well..." he blushed a deep maroon. "I wanted to give Harry a...you know...more PERSONAL present tonight."
"Oh." I grinned. "So, what's the problem?"
"I don't know how," he hissed.
"I would think it's instinctive," I chuckled. He gave me a look saying that wasn't funny, and I got a little more serious. "Haven't you seen any...examples?"
"I'm not stupid," he snapped, his nerves obvious. "I know WHAT to do, I just don't know HOW to do it."
"Well, I'm not an expert by any means, but I've read a lot. I'll tell you what I've read..."
We talked for probably half to three-quarters of an hour. He looked a little less nervous, and had an obvious bulge in his jeans when we were done. "Just remember," I finished, "one of the best parts of a relationship is discovering what your boyfriend likes, and how he likes it done."
He nodded. "Gotcha."
I stood and stretched. "We can finish this game later. I'm gonna go and see if Harry wants to work with his new sword."
"Have fun," he called, his attention already on the night ahead.
I shook my head, bewildered, and looked around for Harry.
I found him up in the bedroom, talking quietly with Wills. Both were very serious, and I stopped at the doorway, rather than intrude. I let them go and went into the library, feeling strangely alone. Of course, Hermione was there and I watched as she pored through books.
"How's the language thing going, Hermione," I asked.
She looked up with a frown. "How did you even learn this stuff," she asked.
"I dunno," I shrugged. "When I went looking for spellbooks and history books, I tried to find them in languages I can speak. I passed over books in German, Japanese, and stuff like that, but Anglo-Saxon and the Old Tongue came as naturally to me as Spanish and English." She glared at me for my not very helpful answer, and I shrugged again. "Ok, just tell me what you've gotten so far, and I'll help," I offered.
"I don't need help," she snapped.
"Really," I asked a little sarcastically. "Fine. Then figure this one out." I touched a rune on the book cover: one that I hadn't been able to translate before. She rubbed her finger over the rune gently, and suddenly it started to sing.
"What'd you do," I gasped.
"I don't know!" she fretted. "I didn't do anything!"
I shushed her. "Listen!"
In a thin, wavering voice, the rune began to sing, a melody I'd heard not that long ago.
Túlsénneth, mapuvan lenava...
Túlsénneth, lumë i ulien tyalia...
Si mi cirbannya na gul.
Túlsénneth, lindelya lirralë...
Lastayen sí, gulsen.
Valyë i turamamarth.
Colindos na iarwain lukë.
Ilembyen wo syad dar ar syad gond...
Yassë uwárthalyë an gul.
"What was that," she asked, when it'd finished.
I was busy humming the melody, trying to translate it. She had to ask me three times. "I'm not sure. Maybe you can translate it. Good luck." She stared at me as I left the library, my thoughts whirling. I couldn't forget that song.
Come, little children, I'll take thee away...
Into a land of enchantment.
Come, little children, the time's come to play...
Here in my garden of magic.
Come, little children, my song calls to thee...
Hear it now, children of magic.
You have the power to change what will be
If you but hear my enchantment.
Come, little children, you are not alone.
Wielders of ancient enchantment.
You'll be together through flesh and through stone...
When you surrender to magic.
Now, why did that song come from the book? And why did it happen when Hermione touched it? Too many questions, not enough answers.
I continued downstairs and saw James in the practice room. I watched him for a few minutes, trying to gather my thoughts. He finally noticed me and stopped, breathing heavily. "Hey, Matt," he puffed, "wanna spar?"
"Not right now," I declined. "But I needed to talk to you for a second."
"Look, Blade, I appreciate your coming to check on me and all, but after the New Year, I'm going to go back to school with the others."
"So, you need to go back to the US and tell them I won't be coming back."
"But Matt!" he protested.
"Shut up. I still outrank you," I snapped.
His sky blue eyes looked surprised and hurt. I gritted my teeth.
"Listen to me. I underestimated this Voldemort, and I've already spread myself thin. I can't look after anyone else."
"You don't have to look after me," he flared.
"Don't I? Do you know what Voldemort is?"
"He's a necromancer. A powerful one."
"That's one way of putting it," I muttered angrily, upset at my failure to capture him. "And what are you, huh?"
I finally smiled. "You never were stupid. I'm sorry."
He lowered his head for a few minutes, clearly thinking it over. "You're right," he admitted.
"As usual," I added.
"That's what your boyfriend's for. And speaking of which, haven't you been away from him long enough?"
He flushed a little. "Yeah, I guess so. I miss him a lot."
"Then stay the rest of the week and go home. You've got a LOT of work to do if you're gonna take over my place," I joked.
"Thanks for agreeing with me. Anyway, I'm going to the casting room. Don't go in, ok? And if anyone asks, warn them not to come in there."
"Ok," he said uncertainly.
I walked into the casting room and sealed the door. Only a powerful Word of Command would be able to open THAT seal. Then, grabbing some of my books and other implements, I stepped into a circle on the ground and vanished.
Ron sat there for a while, his thoughts racing and forming coherence. It was a few hours later when he heard his love's voice. "Ron? Ron?"
"James is going to give us another lesson. You want to come?"
"Not right-" he stopped as two words hit his head. Sweaty and shower. "Sure! I'll be right there. Let me change into something suitable." He raced up to the room he shared with Harry and practically flung off his clothes. This would be perfect! He threw on a pair of maroon short pants that were a little too small, and a tight black t-shirt. Then he ran down the stairs and joined the others in the practice room.
James looked a little subdued to Ron—not at all his exuberant (often annoyingly so) self. His blue eyes flashed with repressed anger as he snapped to the others. "OK, we've only got another couple of days before I won't be seeing you, so I'm going to get you into some habits now. Ask Matt to teach you more, but for now, this is our routine to warm up."
He led them with some jumping jacks to warm up and "get the heart pumping." Ron felt his heart was going to burst after the first hundred. One-hundred later, the group stopped, panting. Except for James, of course, thought Ron bitterly.
"Good," he said, "now that we're warmed up, it's time to stretch."
Ron groaned "thank God" as they sat down to stretch. Hamstring stretches, side stretches, back, quads, calves, and, to Ron's enjoyment, glut stretches. He particularly enjoyed that one because Harry's butt was almost in his face the entire time.
"OK," James said once he had them relax their newly-stretched muscles. "Pushups."
"What," groaned Harry. Ron felt the same way and the two of them shared a quick grin.
"Aw, it's not so bad," Harry replied. "Good for ya," he grinned.
Wills looked at his little brother like he'd lost his mind. "Glad you think so, Harry," grinned James, "'cause nothing's better than a good hundred pushups."
"You've cracked," Harry, Harry and Ron all yelled simultaneously. Will looked amused. "You DID ask for it, Harry," he reminded his younger brother. "Ah, James, none of us are really used to this. Do you suppose you could tune it down a mite?"
Blade shrugged. "I guess so. How about fifty." It wasn't a question.
Everyone groaned and dropped to the floor for fifty pushups.
After that came the situps. THEN James began teaching them how to defend themselves. He started with the simple blocks and had them repeat them until they got it down without thinking. Side block, down block, rising block, inside block and hooking block. Kicks and punches followed suit.
The lesson lasted for around two hours, and everyone save James was bone-weary. He stayed and slammed out his frustrations on the heavy bags and makiwara.
Will and his brother retired to the master bedroom after asking about me. They shrugged and slowly walked up the stairs. "I've got dibs on the shower," Harry called. Will shrugged. "Fine with me. I'm taking a bath instead."
"Pansy," taunted Harry.
"Man enough to kick your arse," Will countered.
Ron and Harry followed them out. "Hang on a tic, Harry," Ron said. "I've got to ask James something." So Harry waited by the door while Ron spoke to James. He nodded and Ron walked back to Harry. "Come on."
They also trudged up two flights of stairs to their room and Ron immediately began to undress.
"I take it you want the shower first," asked Harry, his eyes roaming up and down as Ron removed his clothing.
Ron finished with his clothes and moved up to Harry, pressing against his body. He pulled Harry closer and their lips locked together. They could feel the heat of each others' bodies through Harry's clothes, and Harry moaned with desire, thrusting his tongue into Ron's waiting mouth.
Ron shuddered as he felt Harry's invasion and he pressed his hardness against Harry's belly. With a logic that seemed beyond him, he dipped his hands under the edge of Harry's shirt and lifted it. They broke the kiss only momentarily as the shirt popped over his head, but resumed immediately, their hands exploring each others' hairless chests. Harry caressed Ron's nickel-sized nipples and he moaned. Swiftly, Ron yanked the rest of Harry's clothes off and rubbed their two rock-hard and VERY sensitive heads together. Both shuddered and their knees buckled.
Ron, with a nervous smile on his face gently reached down to grab Harry's penis and pulled him into the bathroom like a dog on a REALLY short leash. Harry grinned and started the shower while Ron locked the door. While they waited for the water to heat up, they pulled back together, trying to press as much of their naked skin against each other as possible, their tongues wrestling for domination.
Steam rose from the water as Ron finally led Harry into the shower. Harry started kissing Ron, but Ron's mind was made up. He gently but firmly pulled out of the kiss and grabbed some soap. Working it into a lather, he pressed his hands against his friend's back and began to massage it in. Harry moaned in approval and Ron grinned. He loved feeling Harry's body. Though Harry was quite thin, his muscles were firm and long from all his time playing Quidditch. He constantly returned to the soap for assistance and pulled and prodded at Harry's neck, shoulders and back. Finally, he moved down until the pale, round globes filled his hands. Gently, wonderingly, Ron kneaded and pressed Harry's firm butt. Following his instinct, he soaped up a finger and ran it between the cheeks, into Harry's crack. Harry gasped in astonishment, and Ron stopped, looking up. Harry looked at him and smiled. Encouraged, Ron continued his exploration, finally finding Harry's tiny pucker with his fingertip. He gently brushed across the rosebud and Harry groaned. Ron saw his balls pull up into their sac a little more and so he thought it best to hold off. He had other ideas.
He washed and massaged Harry's legs, making sure to get the inner thighs, but avoiding his nuts. Then he stood and turned Harry around to wash his chest. He pressed their lips together again as his fingers roamed Harry's oh-so-great body. His pecs, especially, resisted as Ron kneaded into them with his fingertips and knuckles. Finally, they gave way, and Harry nearly collapsed.
At long last, Ron was ready. He looked into the stunned eyes of his lover and leaned in. "Merry Christmas, Harry," he whispered as he sank to his knees, taking about two-thirds of Harry's length into his warm mouth. Immediately, his tongue caught the taste of something sweet and a little sticky. Finding he liked the taste, he ran his tongue over the slit over and over again, licking it all off only to find that in doing so, he encouraged more to appear. A situation he would never complain about. Harry's breathing had become heavy and irregular and Ron decided to add a little suction. He was harder than he'd ever been before, but both his hands were busy rubbing up and down Harry's legs and squeezing his soft cheeks.
Harry couldn't take any more and he said, "Wait, Ron! I'm-"
Too late, he exploded into Ron's mouth. Harry fired shot after shot of hot, gooey juice down Ron's throat. He shot so much, he felt as though his balls were being fired through his dick, but he could do nothing more than ride the constant and repeating waves of ecstasy flowing through him.
Ron, meanwhile, had pulled back to the tip, wanting to taste his lover's love-juice. The heat surprised him, as did the viscous texture, but he found that the taste reminded him of just Harry. How he smelled, how he felt, what he sounded like. It was as though he were tasting all of who and what Harry was. It was fantastic! He felt sheer joy at just being able to please Harry so much. He couldn't get enough, and was somewhat disappointed (although a little full) when Harry stopped firing after ten solid shots. He ran his tongue over the dribbling slit, hoping to pick up the rest and Harry shuddered.
"Ouch! Ron, that hurts!"
Surprised, Ron pulled off the sensitive head and swallowed the load that he'd not yet completed. Harry leaned back, slumped against the shower wall, panting. "My God, Ron," he gasped. "That was...it was incredible! It was so great!"
Ron stood and realized he was limp, his foreskin sliding easily over his cum-drenched glans. Harry chuckled and ran a weak hand up the middle of Ron's chest, starting at his navel. Ron closed his eyes and shuddered at the pleasant touch, but Harry's hand moved quickly away. Ron opened his eyes to see Harry licking hesitantly at his fingertips, which were covered in a milky white fluid.
Harry's pink tongue flicked out and caught the whiteness at its tip and returned to his mouth. Then he smiled. "You taste great," he told his lover confidently before sticking his fingers into his mouth.
"So do you," Ron answered tiredly.
"Want me to do you now," Harry asked.
"Whatever you want," Ron replied with a smile. "If you think you're up to it."
"Isn't it more important that you be up to it," he grinned. Ron groaned at the pun.
"I'm fine with it Harry, really. I wanted to give you a special present and I did. Let's just dry off and go to bed."
"Yes," Ron answered, his emphasis punctuated by a huge yawn.
"All right," Harry answered, a little uncertain and a little relieved.
They dried each other off and climbed into bed naked. "Merry Christmas, Harry," Ron said, his voice already heavy with sleep. "I love you."
Harry smiled in the darkness. "I love you too, Ron. That was the best present I've ever gotten. Sleep well." They spooned together, skin to skin, and neither had felt so complete before. What a great Christmas present, Harry thought as his conscious mind faded into blissful repose.
Down the hall, another Harry was lying in bed. He rested his hands behind his still-damp hair and looked at the ceiling. He'd seen the look that Ron had given Harry during the lesson, and it made him think of Ekrasios. A few minutes later, Will came into the room, drying his hair with a towel. He immediately spied his brother and saw the expression on his face.
"Harry, what's wrong," he asked gently.
"Don't lie to me, Harry," he commanded. "This is ME!"
"Really, Will," Harry pressed. "It's nothing. I'm just tired."
"All right," Will acquiesced. "If you say so." He removed the towel and put on some dry boxer-briefs. Then he lay back in bed and looked up at the ceiling. "Harry," he asked suddenly, "do you like Matt?"
Harry turned to look incredulously at his brother. "Of course I do! Look at all he's done for us, and he's been so great. Fun to spend time with, smart, serious..."
"Cute," Will interrupted.
"What do you want me to say," Harry demanded. "Yes, I did really like him. He's very cute."
"Did? Since when did that change?"
"Matt's cute," Harry continued, "but Ekrasios is hot!"
Will snorted. "How could you tell?"
"I mean, how could you see him? His tongue was in your ear the whole bloody time!"
"It was NOT!"
Will laughed. "Or your tongue was in his. Same difference, Harry."
"You're dead, Will," Harry roared, flinging himself onto his brother. Of about equal size now, it was an interesting match, although short-lived as they both landed on the floor with a thud.
"Ow," Harry groaned.
They both laughed for a while and settled back into the bed. They soon fell asleep, their breathing becoming slow and even.
I arrived around three in the morning, mind numb and bone-weary. I clomped up the stairs without my usual grace and entered my dark bedroom. Without turning on the lights, I pulled off all my clothes and flung myself into the bed. By sheer luck, I managed to land right between the brothers, as I'd forgotten they were even there. I pulled the covers over me and slept, knowing I had a VERY long day ahead of me.