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by Resonant

Sometimes Harry thinks it's the Burrow itself that he loves.

Summers, looking out the barred window of the Dursleys' smallest bedroom, it all gets mixed up in his head. Pick-up Quidditch and roast chicken and swimming in the pond, flirtatious glances from Ginny and hugs from Molly and the way the twins treat him like a business partner. Magic all around him, not locked away in his trunk. Every good thing lives in that house, everything that's the opposite of the silence and suspicion of Little Whinging.

The first day of the visit is always pleasantly disorienting. He doesn't know which way to look, which voice to listen to. He eats too much, talks too much, stays up too late. Soaks up everything he's been missing.

Lying in the dark, mouth still tugging into a smile that doesn't want to get away, he's thinking it's perfect, it couldn't be any better -- and then the bed sags and the sheet lifts and Ron's voice says, "All right?" and his heart swells even more. The bed's smallish for one and much too small for two, and Ron seems to have about twenty knees. He's almost dizzy with the perfection of it, and they haven't even touched yet.

Oh, he'd forgotten, how could he have forgotten? Ron's skin is warm against his, long arms and legs wrapping him up completely, one big hand on the back of his head and the other pushing up under his pajama top. Ron's voice is deeper than it was in the spring, groaning, "I missed you" against Harry's throat, and how did he survive without this for two and a half months? How hasn't his skin just dried up from lack of contact?

Ron's frantic already, and it's a bit of a wrestle to get their bottoms off while Ron not-quite-consciously fights him. He could get them off with magic, here, except that he can't keep his brain together enough to remember the spell. He gets both pairs down to knee level before Ron runs out of patience and just rolls him and pins him, and he feels completely surrounded -- Ron's even pressing their feet together.

Under his hands he can feel the muscles in Ron's arse clench and release as he rubs his cock against Harry's, panting in his ear: "Thought I'd go mad -- thought you'd never get here -- dunno why you've got to live with those stupid Muggles anyway --"

And Harry whispers back, "It's not really living, not till I'm here."














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August 2, 2004