Rickey A (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} rickey_a) wrote,@ 2008-07-28 08:46:00 |
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| Entry tags: | harry/ron, hp, my fic |
FIC: In Any Universe (H/R)
Title: In Any Universe
Author: rickey_a
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: AU 49. Harry and Ron are Muggles. Ron is a male prostitute, and Harry has need of his services. Written for the Harry_and_Ron Comm Fuh Q Fest
Additional Summary: In any universe they are destined to be together.
Warnings: bordering on PWP, prostitute shmoopiness that has probably only been eclipsed by Pretty Woman, maybe – I blame the bunnies.
Word count: ~5900
Beta thanks: To the ever lovely thevina (thrihyrne) and also to raitala for the extra eyes and Britpicking.
The alley was dark except for one street lamp at the far end. Harry could make out the shadowy figures of the rentboys leaning against the building, smoking and taking the occasional swig from a bottle. His pulse was racing. Was he really going to go through with it? He had to. He had to find out once and for all.
Taking a steadying breath, he walked down the alley toward the group of a half dozen young men. They had been talking and laughing, but quieted immediately as he approached. Harry stood at the edge of the light about four or five feet away and tried to get a decent look at them. They didn't look like his classmates at University that was certain. They looked too thin, but then again, so was he. Several of them were constantly twitching and kept shifting their focus to the left then to the right, probably high on something. He stepped closer so he could see their eyes – a drug addict wouldn't do.
"Looking for someone?" asked a thin boy with stringy brown hair. He couldn't have been more than fifteen. That wouldn't do either.
"Umm, I…" Harry was a second away from losing his nerve when a tall boy with messy red hair to the nape of his neck slowly approached him. He at least appeared to be relatively clean and close to Harry's age.
"Joe," the red-head said, "why don't you see if Tristan's around."
"Leave off, Ginger. I saw him first."
"He's not here for you," Ginger said softly.
Joe sighed, but returned to the other boys.
"Let me guess, first time?"
Harry gulped and nodded. "I'm that obvious, am I?"
"Yeah. I get about one of you a month."
Ginger had a confident yet soothing voice. Harry looked up at him and saw kind blue eyes. Harry thought him handsome. Maybe he could go through with this. "Umm… how much?"
"Twenty for a blowjob. Fifty for a fuck, but I don't fuck out in the street. You'll have to get a room if you want that. Anything kinky I have to charge extra, but you don't look like that's what you're after."
Hearing the fees sent a jolt through Harry's heart. It suddenly became real, very real. He was scared, but somehow Ginger— God, that name sounded so stupid— made it seem okay. He seemed almost… normal. He looked like he could be trusted.
"What if I'm not sure?" Harry asked.
"Not sure costs ten an hour. I need to earn a living," he said with a friendly smile.
"How about my place? Fifty for the night, that way you don't have to keep looking at the clock."
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Harry. Yours?"
"You can call me Ginger."
"No, I don't think I can. Reminds me of this cat this old lady who used to look after me had. Actually, I think she had three different Gingers over the years."
"All right. Ron."
Ron followed Harry, and they didn't talk the fifteen-minute walk to his flat. Harry could feel himself sweating. The whole situation was surreal. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever think he'd solicit a prostitute, let alone a male prostitute. Fucking Dursleys. He hated them and conveniently he blamed them for everything that sucked in his life, including his sexual confusion. After seventeen horrible years, he thought he was finally rid of them, but things like this made him realize how messed up he truly was. They would always haunt him. Dudley had often called him a faggot, but Harry never considered that it might actually be true.
His room had been a cupboard under the stairs. He was their nephew, yet they treated him like a servant. His cousin practically tortured him and made sure that he didn’t have a single friend. He grew up unloved, unwanted, and believing he was nothing. When he turned eighteen he finally inherited the remainder of the trust left to him by his parents. His aunt and uncle had been siphoning off it as much as they could (not that he had benefited from that money), but lucky for him, his parents had had the foresight to limit the yearly maximum withdrawal. On his eighteenth birthday, Harry visited his parents' lawyer, signed all the necessary papers, and became his own man.
Within one week he moved into his own flat and never looked back. One of the benefits to having no friends growing up was that he had plenty of time to study. He did well on his A-levels and enrolled in University of London after his first summer of freedom. For the first time in his life he had made friends and could live his life without the overbearing scrutiny of the poor excuse for relations who had raised him. This freedom, however, forced him to examine a few things about himself that he had never had the opportunity to previously, or maybe it was just spring making him feel especially randy – call of nature and all that rot.
"This is it," he said to Ron, and led the way up the stairs to the entrance to his building. He had a comfortable one-bedroom flat on the second floor. It was almost midnight, so Harry tried to be as quiet as possible until he was inside.
"Nice place," Ron said, as Harry turned on the lights. "No flat mates?"
"Nah. I like living alone."
Ron nodded.
Once again the reality of the moment hit Harry quite heavily. "I…"
"How about a drink?" Ron suggested.
"Oh, what would you like?"
"I wouldn't say no, but I was thinking more for you."
"Oh. Yeah. I’m kind of nervous," Harry mumbled. "I've got some beer in the fridge."
"Sounds great."
Harry grabbed two ales from the refrigerator and offered one to Ron. The cold drink felt good and Harry quickly drank half the bottle.
"So," Ron said. "Do you want to be in this room, or is there a bedroom?"
"Umm, bedroom I think."
The bedroom wasn't anything special, but it had a double bed, and Harry always found the space comfortable considering much of his life had been spent crammed in under a staircase. Harry turned on a small lamp that provided dim lighting.
"Why don't you put the money on your chest of drawers?" Ron suggested.
"Right. Right." Harry took out his wallet and placed the notes on the chest of drawers, then put his wallet into the top drawer of his bedside table.
"You said you get one of me a month?" Harry asked as he sat on the edge of the bed. He was a pile of nerves.
"Yeah," Ron replied with a friendly smile. "Uni bloke. First year away from home. Thinks he's gay. Figures he needs to try it out. Doesn't dare ask his friends or try and pull someone from school. Rentboy sounds like a good idea. How'm I doin'?"
"Pretty good." Harry tossed back the rest of his ale and felt the beginnings of a slight buzz. "You've had a few like me."
"Like I said, about one a month. So I've had about a dozen or so."
"You've been a— doing this for a year?"
"About."
"How old are you?"
"How about I get you another drink?"
"Okay."
Ron was gone and back in under a minute with another ale. Harry took a swig and noticed that Ron's first was still half full.
"You don't drink much?" Harry asked.
"I drink a little."
"I picked you because you seemed sober. A lot of those guys seemed high."
"I don't do drugs."
"So why are you—"
"Look, Harry, I get that you're curious. I get that you're confused. This isn't about me. We're not on a date here."
"Right."
"Finish your drink."
Harry took a long pull on his ale. Ron sat next to him on the bed. The sheer proximity of the other young man's body made Harry's pulse start to race.
"Relax," Ron said. "I know what I'm doing."
"Glad one of us does."
Ron chuckled, then placed his hand on Harry's thigh. "What do you want, Harry?"
"I… I'm not sure."
"How about a blow job? See how that feels? Yes?"
Harry closed his eyes. "Yes."
Reopening his eyes, Harry watched Ron slide to his knees in front of him and press his face against the zip of his jeans. This was moving so fast, but then Harry supposed Ron was trying to get his job done, get his fifty, and get out of here as quickly as possible. Harry finished the rest of his ale and Ron reached to take it from him, letting their fingers brush before he set the empty bottle down on the bedside table.
Experienced hands opened Harry's jeans and worked their way into his pants.
"Oh God," Harry sighed.
"Shhhh. It's okay. Just stand up a bit and I'll pull these down."
Harry complied, and a minute later his jeans and pants were around his ankles and another man's mouth was over his cock.
"Oh fuck." Harry need to hang on to something. He gently placed his hands on Ron's sturdy shoulders and leaned forward a little as Ron worked his mouth up and down Harry's shaft. Harry didn't know if it felt so good because Ron was professionally sucking and licking or whether any blowjob by anyone would feel this amazing. Harry didn't last long, but he was losing his virginity, so he didn't fucking care. He squeezed his eyes tight and bucked up into that hot wet suction. He was falling and completely out of control. His body tensed of its own accord and he came, hard.
When Harry opened his eyes, he saw Ron still in front of him on his knees, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Good?" Ron asked.
"Wow."
Ron smiled and Harry simply tried to get his breathing under control.
"I guess this means I'm gay."
Ron laughed. "Harry, you knew were gay the minute you entertained the thought of— never mind. Yes, Harry, you're gay."
"No, you're right. I knew. I guess this was about wanting to finally feel it rather than just think it. To have the experience of it. You know?"
Ron nodded and stayed on his knees in front of Harry.
"Now what?" Harry asked, honestly not knowing what to do next. "Umm, do you… should I?" Harry gestured down to Ron's crotch.
Ron laughed again. It was warm laughter, and Harry enjoyed the sound of it. "You know, Harry, I've had a lot of first timers, but you are the first one to ever inquire about me. No, you're the customer. I'm yours to do with what you want. You want to try something, just tell me."
Harry could feel himself blushing what was probably a furious shade of red. "My friends are always telling me how naïve I am. I grew up a bit sheltered."
"That's okay. Why don't we undress and we'll go from there?"
Harry nodded.
Ron pulled off Harry's shoes and then removed his jeans and pants while pulled his shirt up over his head. Ron stood and proceeded to remove his clothing as well. He stood naked before Harry, almost posing and allowing Harry to take in the sight.
He was a few inches taller than Harry and had beautiful milky skin covered in freckles, all over. Harry wanted to touch it and it took a moment for him to realize that he could. He reached out and hesitantly ran his fingertips over Ron's flat stomach and through the wispy patch of red hair around his navel. He was thin but didn't look emaciated in the least. Ron was well defined with lean muscles. His legs and arms looked strong and sturdy.
Ron grasped Harry's free hand and pulled him to his feet. Looking him straight in the eye he said, "Touch me. Anywhere. It's okay."
Harry let his hands roam and wander all over Ron's body, touching every last expanse of that freckled soft skin. He ran his hands down Ron's neck and over his smooth chest. He squeezed at the muscles in Ron's arms and felt the bones in his hips before sliding his arms around Ron's waist and running his fingers up and down his back. Harry could feel himself getting hard again as his hands found Ron's arse and kneaded it, soft and compliant like dough. Harry pressed his erection against Ron's thigh and delighted in the touch of warm skin.
Looking up into Ron's eyes, Harry couldn't help but smile in awestruck wonder. Harry had expected some dirty quick fumbling— 'fuck me and get it over with', but this, this was beyond his expectations, beyond his fantasies. Ron was patient and let him explore, take his time, and feel every moment of it. It made no sense. Harry wrapped one hand around Ron's neck and pulled him down into a kiss. It was exhilarating. Harry pushed his tongue into Ron's mouth as he continued frotting against his thigh. Ron's large hands felt fantastic simply resting atop his hips.
When Harry pulled back to get a deep breath, he knew what he wanted. He reached into his bedside table drawer and took out a condom and some lube. He clasped Ron's hand in his own and led him back to the bed. Harry pulled back the bedclothes and Ron climbed on, settling himself on his side facing Harry.
Harry kissed Ron again savoring the other man's supple mouth against his own. The feel Ron's hard length against his own was brilliant. Two completely different sensations; each was intoxicating in its own right. Harry wouldn't last like this and he wanted to experience what being inside someone felt like, so, so badly.
As he put on the condom, he saw Ron roll onto his stomach and tuck his knees under.
Ron turned his head to Harry. "It'll be easiest for you like this."
Harry stroked some lube over the condom and knelt behind Ron. Oh fuck, he looked amazing.
"And don't worry about me, I come prepared," Ron said.
Positioning his cock at Ron's entrance, Harry took a deep breath. He was really going to do this.
"Hold yourself at the tip and guide yourself in," Ron said softly. "That's it," he said in encouragement as Harry started to push inside.
"Oh. Oh. Fuck," Harry moaned as he felt tight heat squeeze around the head of his cock. He pushed in a little farther, and then a little farther. When he was finally inside, his balls resting against Ron's arse, he started to lose it. He took several deep breaths.
"Relax. You're doing fine." It was the most amazing sounding words Harry had ever heard, practically euphoria inducing.
After a few moments, Harry got up his nerve and started to move, slowly at first, but then with long strokes and more force. He was fucking and it was fucking incredible. He only lasted a few minutes, but he didn't care in the least. His whole body shuddered as he came and rested arms on Ron's spacious back. After he had slipped out, Harry tossed the condom into the bin and then collapsed onto his back.
"Pretty good for your first time," Ron said, lying on his back next to him.
"I bet you say that to all the boys," Harry teased.
Ron laughed that brilliant, gentle laugh again. "Probably so, but it doesn't mean it's not true."
Harry turned his head to look into Ron's eyes. "You're not what I expected, not at all."
"Just doing my job," Ron quipped.
Harry couldn't help but wonder if that was true. Sure, he was doing what he'd been paid for, but he didn't have to be so nice about it, so warm, so thoughtful. "There's something else I'd like to do," Harry whispered.
"Yeah?"
Hesitantly, Harry reached over and took Ron's erection in his hand. "Can I? I've never…"
"Be my guest," Ron answered with a sly smile.
"And tell me… tell me what you like," Harry said as he turned onto his side and started to stroke up and down Ron's shaft.
Ron eyed him curiously before he said, "Okay."
Harry hung on Ron's every word. He liked the sound of his deep voice and the way his breathing became more strained as Harry did as he was instructed. "Yeah, like that. Stroke over the top with your thumb. Cup my bollocks with your other hand. Get some lube. A little firmer. A little faster. Faster. Yes. Like that."
Harry felt like he was musician in a symphony and Ron was his conductor. He was creating something, bringing something beautiful to life. There was this innate sense of power as Ron bucked up wildly into his fist. Harry gasped when Ron came in his hand and wondered if it felt the same for Ron as it did for him when he had climaxed.
"Mmm. Thanks," Ron said a minute later.
Harry fetched a wet flannel from the bathroom for Ron to clean himself. "Do you usually not get to…" Harry started to ask as he handed Ron the flannel.
"Sometimes I do. Not always. This was good though. Easy. You're a sweet guy, Harry. You don't need a rentboy."
Harry could feel the blush spread across his entire body. Ron handed back the flannel and Harry brought it back to the bathroom. When he returned, Ron was halfway dressed.
"Oh," Harry said, surprised.
"It's getting late. I assumed we're done. Are we?" Ron asked, and seemed concerned that perhaps he was mistaken.
"No, you're right. I suppose I need to get some sleep and you…"
"Okay." Ron nodded and finished getting dressed.
Suddenly feeling very exposed, Harry located his dressing gown that had been tossed over the back of his desk chair and put it on. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Ron tuck the fifty pounds into his front pocket.
Harry followed him to the door and if it was possible, felt more awkward than he had in his entire life. "Umm. Thanks."
"Sure thing."
"It was lovely." Harry wanted to kick himself the moment he said it. The man was a prostitute, for Christ's sake. He bet he sounded like the world's biggest idiot.
"You're lovely. Goodbye, Harry."
The answer was a bit of a shock and Harry didn't register that Ron had opened the door and was headed down the hall. Ron was gone before Harry thought to ask how he could find him again.
The club was pretty full for a Wednesday. Being summer holiday, Harry preferred to go out on a weeknight and avoid the weekend crowds. Why on earth Hermione insisted on going dancing at the gay clubs, he would never understand. He only wanted to dance and cut loose, he wasn't trying to meet anyone so she might as well have the opportunity. No, for some reason she enjoyed the gay clubs of Canal Street. He hated the term fag hag, but he suspected deep down that it was the proper title for his best friend. She wore it proudly.
They had met their very first week at Uni and immediately hit it off. In addition to being a great study partner, she became a close friend. After a few months of studying together he wondered why he didn't feel anything romantic for her. She was most definitely good looking. There hadn't been the slightest spark even when they had fallen asleep together studying on his sofa. She woke up the next morning unfazed, took a shower, borrowed a pair of his sweatpants, and made tea.
It was a month later that Harry got up the nerve to ask her why she never worried that he might take advantage of her.
"Because you don't like girls," she stated as if a matter of fact.
He was utterly gobsmacked.
"Oh," she said, panic stricken. "You don't know, do you?"
"I guess I never thought about it either way."
Of course, he thought about it a lot after that. He started to pay close attention to both the young men and women in his classes. He took a fresh look at his friends. Hermione was right, not that he had ever known her to be wrong.
Hermione was also a lot of fun out on a dance floor and that's what he wanted to do – dance. He wasn't interested in any of the older men constantly trying to buy him a drink. That wasn't what he wanted at all. In fact, he hadn't wanted to have sex with anyone else since the night he lost his virginity. It was something he had wanted to do and he did it. Now he wanted to concentrate on his studies. He didn't want romantic entanglements and he didn't feel right about having sex just for the sake of having sex. He had enough emotional problems leftover from his childhood, thanks very much. He needed to get himself sorted out first. That's what he kept telling himself, at least until he looked over Hermione's shoulder and saw Ron out on the dance floor a mere few feet away.
It was the first time he'd seen him since that night. Harry didn't expect ever to see him again. He certainly had no intentions of going back to that alley to hire him again. There he was, absolutely gorgeous and dancing with carefree abandon.
"Who's that?" Hermione asked, perceptive as ever.
Harry leaned over to yell in her ear, "That's the bloke."
"Who?" she mouthed.
"You know… from…"
She clapped her hand to her mouth as if screaming. She turned to get a better look. "You're kidding."
Harry shook his head.
She started dancing them over towards Ron.
"No. Don't."
"Why?" she asked.
"It's embarrassing enough."
Harry had waited a few days, but then gave in and told Hermione all about his encounter. He had to tell someone, and she drew every graphic detail out of him she could. He even told her how it didn’t feel forced or like he had paid for it. He also confessed that he'd found Ron attractive and wondered what the young man's life was like and why he was selling himself.
Hermione was ruthless. She danced closer and closer to where Ron was dancing with another young man that Harry didn't recognize.
She bumped hard into Ron's dancing companion and purposefully knocked his arm that was clutching a bottle of Heineken. The bottle fell to the floor.
"Oh my God!" she yelled. "I'm so sorry."
"It's okay," the man said. "It was almost empty." He reached down and picked up the bottle.
"Harry?" Ron asked.
"Umm, hi. How are you?" Harry asked nervously.
"Still, let me buy you another. It's the least I can do for being such a klutz." Hermione tried to usher Ron's dancing partner to the bar.
"You two know each other?" the man asked suspiciously, looking at Harry.
"Yeah," Ron said easily. "Harry, this is… umm… sorry, didn't catch your name."
"Michael." He looked over at Hermione. "You know what? I will take that drink."
Hermione smiled brightly and led Michael away from the dance floor.
"Sorry 'bout that. She means well," Harry said far too quiet to be heard over the dance music.
"What?" Ron asked.
"She means well," Harry said a little louder.
"Wanna dance?" Ron asked as he started up dancing again.
Harry didn't answer. Instead he began dancing with Ron. At first he was hesitant and kept his distance, but with each song he grew bolder and let himself go a little bit more. Twenty minutes later, they were dancing close, both of them lost in the music. Ron was so beautiful and Harry could smell him as their bodies practically touched. Harry looked up into Ron's eyes and something sparked deep inside him. He reached around Ron's neck and drew him in for a smoldering kiss. It was surreal. The music thrummed. The lights were a whirling blaze of color. Ron's mouth was opening and closing against his own.
And then reality crashed all around him. He was kissing a rentboy, a prostitute who probably expected him to pay to take him home.
Abruptly, Harry pulled away. "Oh, bugger. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."
Ron looked confused.
"I better go." Harry didn't look back as he rushed off to find Hermione.
She was sitting at the bar nursing a martini. He tapped her on the shoulder.
"Hey," she said with a surprised smile.
"Can we get out of here?"
"You sure? It looked like things were going well."
"No," Harry said, exasperated. "I'm the world's biggest git."
"Harry?" Ron was behind him.
Harry turned around. "I'm sorry. I'm… I have no idea what I'm doing."
"Are you okay?" Ron asked sincerely.
"I'm fine. Again, I'm sorry." Harry turned to Hermione. "Let's grab a cab."
"Okay, Harry." She downed the rest of her drink in one go.
"I don't live too far from you. Mind if I shared?" Ron asked.
"You're not staying?"
"Nah. It's getting late." Ron looked at Hermione and smiled. "Hi, I'm Ron."
"Hermione," she replied. "Sure, tag along."
Harry was astonished, but then he realized that he had probably cost Ron at least twenty pounds that evening. The least he could do was give him a cab ride home. Harry nodded and they made their way outside the club.
The cab ride to Hermione's flat was filled with Hermione and Ron discussing their favorite clubs and music. Harry felt as if he were in some television serial where it was perfectly normal for the rentboy, to whom you had lost your virginity, to be discussing which clubs had the best dance crowds.
When they reached Hermione's building, Harry paid the driver.
"I usually get out here and walk home," Harry said to Ron.
"Oh sure." Ron stepped out, and waited while Harry walked Hermione inside her building.
"So where are you heading?" Harry asked, when he returned.
"I'll probably go home and get some sleep." Ron shoved his hands in his pockets, and walked alongside Harry. "It seemed like maybe you thought I… anyway I just wanted to tell you that I wasn't on the clock tonight. I only wanted to dance."
"Oh." Harry stopped to study Ron's face.
"You looked upset, so I wanted to tell you."
"So you took a cab ride all the way out here?"
"I don't live too far."
Harry was surprised.
"Well, I share a two-bedroom flat with about six other blokes, but it'll do for now," Ron clarified.
"This is so strange," Harry said, and started walking again.
"Yeah. I don't normally run into my punters."
Horrified, Harry stopped in his tracks.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Ron said. "I'm not making a very good job of this."
"Of what?" Harry was completely lost.
"It was nice… on the dance floor. And you were… when I met you… I don't usually like the blokes that hire me." Ron stumbled over his words.
"So why do you do it?" Harry wanted to kick himself the second he asked the question.
"Money. I haven't found anything else and…"
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked." Harry continued walking down the street.
"T's'alright."
"Where's your family?"
"I've got five older brothers and a younger sister. There were a few too many mouths to feed. I left home when I was sixteen."
"You don't miss them?"
"Sometimes, but it wasn't exactly a good place to be – a lot of chaos goin' on. I'm better off on my own."
"Me too," Harry confessed.
"Really?" Ron said in disbelief.
"Yeah. My parents died when I was a baby, and my aunt and uncle raised me. They were pretty horrible. I left as soon as I turned eighteen."
"When was that?"
"Last summer." Harry stopped at the entrance to his building. "Well, umm…"
"Yeah. I guess I'll see you around," Ron said.
Harry thought he heard something in the other man's voice. Unsure of why, Harry suggested, "You could come up for a minute."
"I'm not trying to—"
"I know. It's not that late. We can have a drink and keep talking."
"Alright." Ron followed Harry up to his flat.
They settled on the couch with a couple of ales.
"Cheers," Harry said, and clinked the bottom of his bottle against Ron's.
Harry took a quick sip and watched as Ron took a long pull on his ale. He had so many burning questions. "I'm sorry if this is too personal, but I'm curious how you… I mean you seem so…"
Ron smiled. "You're not too good with words are you?"
"I'm just trying not to stick my foot in it."
"It was a few months after I left home. My job doesn't pay much—"
"You have a job?" Harry interrupted.
"Yeah, at a game shop. I'm a fanatical Dungeons and Dragons player. You play?"
Harry shook his head.
Ron continued speaking. "Actually, I like most strategy games. It's a fun job, but doesn't pay the bills and I'm not qualified for anything."
"Oh."
"So, one night I was dancing at a club and this older bloke propositions me to go to the back room. I told him that I wasn't interest, but then he offered me 20 pounds to suck him off. I was broke at the time, and… well… "
"So you started after that?"
"I still work at the game shop during the week, but I make extra money on the weekend nights."
"That's…"
"It's not so bad. I'm careful about who I'm with."
"I can't imagine."
"Well if you've always had money, I can believe that you couldn't." Ron winced. "Sorry, that came out harsher than I meant."
"That's okay. Besides, it's only recently that I've had any money. My aunt and uncle controlled the trust my parents left for me. I never saw a penny. They practically starved me." Harry knew he sounded as bitter as the taste inside his mouth.
"Sorry. I shouldn't have assumed."
"Well, I shouldn't have either."
"What?"
"I think I assumed some things about you."
Ron blushed.
"Umm, so what else do you do?" Harry asked, awkwardly trying to change the subject.
"Well, I'm learning how to program. The owner and a few of us who work at the shop are creating a game that could be played on the internet."
"We have access at Uni, but do you really think people are going to play games on the internet?"
"Rob, that's the shop owner, he thinks so. People could play against each other remotely. He's trying to negotiate a contract with a video game company. We've got a pretty good game mapped out — fantasy, adventure, that sort of thing. We've made sure not to make too much like D&D, but it's got wizards and magic."
"That's sounds brilliant."
"If it works, I could actually make enough money to live on."
"You'd give up being a—" Harry couldn't even say it.
Ron laughed. "Yeah, in a second. Sure, I'm careful, but sometimes… sometimes I get in a little over my head."
"Oh."
"There are some mighty fucked up people out there."
"Did they hurt you?" Harry asked, and focused on Ron's sad face as he answered.
"Yeah," Ron replied, his voice hoarse. "Yeah, they hurt me."
"I'm so sorry." Harry truly meant it and remembered his own demons.
"Occupational hazard."
Harry could tell that Ron was trying to put on a brave front so he changed the subject. "So tell me about Dungeons and Dragons."
The somber mood broke almost instantly as Ron launched into a long-winded and animated explanation of the game. He spoke with such passion and it made Harry realize that he'd never held much passion for anything.
The conversation continued and they talked about when they first realized they were attracted to men. They talked about their favorite music and movies. Harry talked about his studies and Hermione. Ron talked about his friends at the game shop and his love of chess. They talked about being on their own and their hopes for the future. They talked through the night, and when their tongues were tired, they looked out the window and noticed the faintest sliver of light glimmering across the horizon.
"I can't believe it," Harry said. "It's morning already."
"I can't believe we've been talking this whole time. I don't think I've ever talked so much in my life."
"Do you want to go up to the roof? I've watched the sunrise from there before. It has a great view."
"Sure," Ron replied with a smile.
The morning air was cold causing Harry to shiver as he looked out over the city. Ron stepped up behind him and wrapped his arms around him.
"You're right. It's lovely up here," Ron whispered in Harry's ear.
Leaning back against Ron's sturdy chest, Harry sighed. "I'm probably being naïve about this, but I feel like I've known you my whole life. I've never been able to talk to anyone like I did with you tonight, not even Hermione."
"I know what you mean."
"I don't even know your full name."
"Ronald Bilius Weasley."
"Bilius?" Harry teased.
"Family name. Now kiss me." Ron spun Harry in his arms and firmly kissed him.
It was wonderful and made his toes tingle. Breathless, Harry pulled back. "I think I'm getting in over my head."
"Yeah," Ron said with a look of regret. "I haven't let myself… Well, my current situation doesn't really allow for a proper relationship."
"Would you stop?"
"I'm barely scraping by as it is."
"I'm getting a new flat with Hermione before the term starts. We both wanted to save some money. You could move in with us. Whatever you could afford."
"That's sweet, Harry, but—"
"I'm serious, dead serious. I know I'm probably crazy. Most people would say I'm setting myself up to get burned. All I know is that I want to be with you. You could work on your game. You… you don't have to sell yourself." Harry knew he was ranting, but he couldn't help himself. He wanted this. He wanted it bad enough to risk everything. "I know you and Hermione will get along famously. She studies a lot, but she truly is a lot of fun too. She's brilliant."
"Harry."
"Stay with me." Harry knew he was begging, but he didn't care. He'd spent most of his life with nothing, never feeling, never truly living. He wasn't going to let this possibility of happiness pass him by.
"I think you've been watching too many movies," Ron said.
"You don't have to be alone."
Ron looked away.
Harry took a steadying breath. "I… I don't want to be alone."
Turning his head back, Ron held tight onto Harry and looked into his eyes. Harry was certain that he had never been looked at that way by another human being.
"Stay with me." Harry pulled Ron into a deep and passionate kiss.
Ron resisted at first, but then Harry felt the other man melt in his arms and knew that he agreed.
"I don't… even know… your full name," Ron said, breathing hard against Harry's lips.
"Harry James Potter."
"Harry Potter – has a nice ring to it."
The End