Daily Deviant
- there is no such thing as 'too kinky'
Kinky Kristmas Fic: A Certain Magic (Harry/Ron) 
11th December 2014 19:00
Kristmas Wish Fulfilled for: [info]wallflowergirl
From: [info]hogwartshoney

Title: A Certain Magic
Characters/Pairings: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley
Rating: Explicit / NC17
Kinks/Themes Included: Kissing, hand-holding, non-verbal magic, soul bonding
Other Warnings/Content: anal, first time, UST, angst
Word Count: approx 19,400
Summary/Description: There’s a certain magic to New Orleans.

~~~


“We are not talking about this.”

You’re thankful that your legs are so much longer than his, and your strides eat up the street as you walk past Jackson Square. Lisa had listed the Jean Lafitte Visitor Centre on Decatur Street as somewhere potentially worth checking out, and you’d planned to visit it today, maybe have some lunch down by the waterfront, but that was before-

“Ron, honestly, how is this my fault?” Harry’s voice is just slightly breathless, and you stop, turning so quickly that he almost walks into you.

“Was there any point during the night, Harry, any point at all at which you thought ‘Hey, this might be a bad idea’?”

The blush on his face might be adorable in any other situation. It might be adorable now, but you’re RESOLUTELY NOT THINKING THAT.

“I didn’t think much, to be honest. Ron-”

“NO, Harry!” Christ, how do you make him understand what he’s done to you, how he’s changed your life? Again! “Magical Bonding isn’t a joke, mate, it’s… ”

It’s for life.

“Look, I’m sorry, all right? There must be some way we can undo it.”

Oh, and that shouldn’t hurt as much as it does; the knowledge that Harry can’t stand the thought of being Bonded to you, his best friend. He’s not making eye contact, which is fine, since you don’t know how to look at him anyway. For a moment last night, before the crushing reality came thundering down on you, you’d been happy. You’d felt his magic through the bond, felt a sense of completeness and of… belonging, different to the way you feel about your own family, where you’ve always had to struggle to be seen, be heard, but have always known you were loved.

The Bond is different. This is pure, it’s knowing you’re seen, and heard, and the love- Well, you know how it feels from your side, but Harry obviously doesn’t return those feelings. Your bitterness is insidious, creeping inside, unwelcome and unwanted, but you’ll push through this, you always do. You’ll find a way to handle it.

“-find that old wizard. I’m sure he’ll know something.”

“We don’t even know who he is or where he’s from, Harry. What are you going to do, go back to the bar and question everyone working there? Hope to find some or all of the men who were there last night and ask them whether they recall seeing an old wizard? In a night club? In New Orleans? You’re out of your bloody mind!”

“OI! Just calm down, Ron, there has to be a way. You’d think I’ve done something hideous to you, being Bonded.”

You don’t have an answer for him – he couldn’t be further from the truth if he tried. You’re all twisted up inside with whatever it is you’re feeling and you can’t get a grip on things, but you clamp down hard on your emotions; it wouldn’t do to have them bleed through the Bond and show Harry how miserable you are.

You sigh heavily, the feelings of failure and worry thrumming through you; your own, and what feels like an echo of Harry’s. There’s confusion there, and regret, and something that’s very much like despair, but you know Harry, and he’s not one to give in to those negative emotions. You need to clear your head; the two of you have been so close, physically, especially since the Bonding, that your head feels muddled by the chaos of thoughts and feelings.

“Do whatever you like, Harry. I’m going back to the hotel.”

You walk away, barely noticing the way he just stands there in silence and lets you leave. You feel so very tired, and yet restless with some unnamed emotion. Perhaps you just need to lie down for a while.

As you walk, memories return, unbidden, of the Horcrux hunt and that terrible, terrible day when you’d stormed out of the tent, awash with bitter, burning anger and jealousy, leaving Harry and Hermione and safety behind. You’d realized it the moment you’d stepped beyond the wards, but still driven by anger, you’d Disapparated, and, well, you’d been occupied for a while, and then you couldn’t find them.

You’d been lying in bed, awake before the dawn, when you’d heard Harry’s voice whisper your name. The sound had come from your chest, and you’d gone very still, your hand over your pounding heart, not sure if you’d been dreaming or not. Just then, you’d felt the Deluminator, and the light that came on when you’d clicked it went into your chest, a warmth right over your heart, and in an instant you were ankle-deep in snow on the side of a hill. You hadn’t known why you were there, only that you had to be there, but there was only snow and silence. As darkness fell at day’s end, you’d once more clicked the Deluminator and found yourself in the woods, still confused, but trusting in the feeling of inevitabliity.

Moments later, you’d been stunned to see a bright silver light heralding Harry’s Patronus, a sight so familiar that it had set off a burst of happiness in your heart. Harry’s here!; you’d been certain of it, thank Merlin you’d found him. There was something slightly off about the creature, though, something different, but for all that you’d been careful for months now, the thought of seeing Harry and Hermione outweighed your caution as you had followed its path down to the water where you’d watched, open mouthed, as your best friend had jumped into the freezing depths.

You could never properly describe the dread you’d felt, the absolute certainty that Harry was in mortal danger, and you hadn’t hesitated before plunging in after him. The hideous aura of dark malevolence was difficult to get through, but with one hand on Harry and the other on the sword, you’d pushed off from the bottom and kicked for the surface.


~~~


The hand running through your hair feels nice, soothing, comforting, and you know without opening your eyes that it’s Harry. He’s sitting on the couch where you’d fallen asleep, your head in his lap, and his happiness is evident in the inner parts of you where the Bond connects you both. You smile, knowing that he’s doing the same, and the feelings of contentment and happiness are so strong that they fill you up, expanding to soak through every cell, every fibre of your being, until you’re both surrounded by love and light.

This. This is being Bonded.


You’re awakened by a loud noise and whirl around, already crouched fully ready into battle stance beside the couch that you’d fallen asleep on, only to see Harry standing in front of the now-closed door. He’s angry in a way that you’ve not felt before, hurt with a taste of humiliation, but it goes as quickly as it came, taking its intensity with it.

He slumps to the floor next to the couch.

“I tried, Ron, please believe me I tried. I thought I could- well, it doesn’t matter really, but everyone I’ve talked to says it can’t be undone unless we both want it.”

“O-kay,” you say slowly as you sink onto the couch, trying to calm your breaths as the adrenaline rush subsides.

“I’m sorry, though, and I mean it, because I know you don’t want- you don’t want this, obviously, but, well, I could try to undo it, I’d try really hard if you wanted me to, you know, to fix things, but, Ron,” and his eyes are luminous, and you never thought you’d say that about him. “Ron, I don’t want to unBond, and I feel terrible for having put you in this situation. Please tell me what to do. Tell me you want this undone and I’ll do it – I’ll find a way, I swear.”

Your heart’s breaking, the emotion too big to be contained just inside your own body. You can’t possibly deal with the pain this has brought with it, but Harry’s on his knees in front of you, flayed open to the world in a way you never thought you’d see, and you realize that this is hurting him more than it’s hurting you. You can’t believe that he’s actually serious, that he’d hurt himself just to see you happy.

“Harry,” is all you can manage before he’s crawled right up to kneel beside you, practically in your lap, all urgency and desperation, and despite yourself, you like him there.

“Ron, Ron… I know this is so much to deal with, I really do, I wouldn’t have had you find out this way or at ALL – it’s only going to ruin everything.”

Wait, what?

“Find out what, Harry?”

“Err,” and he’s suddenly cagy, evasive. “I- The Bonding. Have you find out that we’d Bonded. I wasn’t really even all that conscious, being off my face that way, so technically it shouldn’t have happened at all. The Shaman said that it was because of prior magical exchange, some sharing of spirit and/or magic, but I didn’t-”

Suddenly, Harry’s eyes are huge, and you know that he’s remembering that night in Sirius’ room, the night when he gave you comfort and strength, the night when you first shared his magic. Your stomach plummets, a dawning realization that’s not your realization at all, except that maybe it is, a bit.

“Jesus,” he whispers, running his hand through his hair the way you like. “Jesus, Ron. I have made such a bloody mess of this.”

“Harry, what are you talking about?”

“When the Shaman talked about sharing of spirit, he looked at me as though he knew something, almost as though he was expecting it, but how could he?”

“I don’t understand. What do you mean, expecting it? This was most definitely NOT expected!”

“No, I know! Only-”

“Only?”

He looks at you and suddenly you feel it; he capitulates, almost a surrender. He shifts to sit beside you and he’s all hesitancy, there’s no other way to describe it. You feel it, and you’re confused.

“You’re my best mate, Ron.”

“Yeah, ’course, and you’re mine, Harry, you know that.” The fact that he’s so much more than that to you isn’t something that you want to speak aloud, but you’re feeling him through the Bond, and you hope to hell he’s not feeling you back-

“I- I feel safe when you’re with me… touching me.”

“What?”

“When your arms are around me, I feel settled. I can’t describe it, Ron, but ever since that night at Grimmauld-”

You know exactly what he’s talking about. That night, when you confessed that you were afraid of the unknown, of what the hunt would entail, worried whether you’d fail and what that would mean to the war effort on the whole and to you personally, to all of you, and you’d vowed to do whatever you had to in order to succeed. He’d hugged you then, and you him – you’d held each other for the longest time, acknowledging your fears, spoken and unspoken, and when he’d shared his magic with you, perhaps he’d begun the bonding process then and you hadn’t even realized it.

Of course you’d bonded, bonded over the quest, the hunt, the singularity of purpose, the need to get things done, but you’d honestly thought that that was all there was to it, and you weren’t assured of even surviving the entire ordeal anyway. So you’d allowed your love for him to bleed into the embrace, to just wish for a moment that you could just be with each other, as friends but yes, more than just friends, to have a time when circumstances weren’t pulling you apart. You knew that it wasn’t to be, certainly not then, but, oh, how you’d wanted…

“So you’re saying that our magic had already bonded?”

“I think so.”

“But, Harry, that was years ago!”

“I know.” He hangs his head.

“And what about that time with Dolohov?”

“Err. I might have had an inkling about it then.”

This is all moving entirely too fast. You know how you feel, how you’ve always felt, but this – to have Harry sitting there, telling you that he- that he feels the same way… no, it’s not possible. How likely is it that everything you’ve wanted could suddenly be yours?

“How?”

“I couldn’t see you hurt. It was as if my body moved on its own, my magic sought to protect you first, before doing my own bidding, before protecting me, before any defensive spells.”

“That’s insane.”

But you know he’s telling the truth – you’d felt the power of his spells that day, and they were far in excess of anything you’d ever felt him cast, even in the heat of battle.

“I think I fully realized it then, but I couldn’t believe that I’d-”

“You’d what?”

He gusts out a heavy sigh. “Gotten what I wanted. And in such a roundabout way. I tried to keep busy, tried working on other things, threw myself into researching what Bonding meant and just hoping that keeping a bit of distance would help things, but it didn’t. I couldn’t sleep properly, my magic would call for you, seek you out.”

Christ, and all this time you’d thought that Harry was obsessed with work when it was you he’d been obsessed with.

But then… his feelings for you, surely they must be… Bond-related, and not honest, not true feelings.

You’re suddenly more miserable than you thought you could ever be, the sinking feeling of humiliation that while he’d bared his soul to you, you’d thought the entire time that he wanted you, that he lo- that he cared so much for you ‘that’ way, and, oh, Merlin, it’s all a lie!

You feel panic building inside you, unbidden, rising like bile in your throat; your chest is tight, it’s harder to breathe, you have to get out of here, but suddenly Harry’s rabbiting for the door, his eyes wild, and you realize that he’s the one really panicking, that he’s just as upset and unsettled by this as you are.

Your reflexes are still as quick as ever, and you’re off the couch and able to grab his elbow as he’s almost at the door. Your grip is firm as you stop his forward motion, bringing him around until he’s held against your chest, his heart beating wildly as he struggles for a moment before falling into stillness against you.

You wrap your arms around him, much as you had in the dance club, one hand automatically cradling his head against your shoulder, the other around the small of his back. He’s tense for a long moment, and then he sighs and relaxes against you, his arms coming cautiously around your back. You feel the heat of his palms as he presses them against your shoulder blades, and it’s as though a circle is complete, the two of you standing together amidst a feeling of utter calm.

All this time! All the months of misreading the signs, of feeling so certain that you knew what was going on with your friend. Some strategist you are!

Harry chuckles. “I can feel you.”

Uhh…. Shite, you’re not exactly aroused yet, but there’s a certain tightening in your groin at having his body firmly against yours.

“I can feel your brain ticking over with all those recriminations. Stop it, Ron, I’m as much to blame.”

Oh, thank fuck!

He turns his head into your neck, and you feel the curve of his smile against your skin for a moment before he bows his head, resting his forehead on your shoulder. It’s such an incredibly intimate moment for all that it isn’t really, and you feel him taking strength from you, strength that you gladly give.

“We have to fix things,” he mutters.

“We will,” and you’re absolutely certain of it. Together you’re a formidable team, always have been, but with combined magical abilities… surely the sky’s the limit.

Harry releases you and you both return to the couch, the silence between you comfortable, easy.

“After you…left, I went into that Visitor’s Centre on Decatur. There was a lot of history about New Orleans in general, but nothing specific to Jean Lafitte. He was a pirate, and it’s believed that he died in Central America back in the 1800s after an attack on Spanish ships went wrong.”

“Any idea why he’d haunt the Blacksmith’s Shop?”

“Not really, just that he used to spend time there in the early days of his ‘career’. Like Gus said, there’s the rumour that he’d hidden gold in the fireplace. It’s been searched a thousand times though, nothing was ever found.”

“Okay, so the likelihood of it actually being Lafitte is slim to none. What else did you find?”

“Some truly excellent shrimp at a place next door called ‘Bubba Gump’.”

“Seriously?”

“What! I was hungry!”

You shake your head in amusement, thankful that the day wasn’t a total loss as far as research is concerned. Without moving far, you reach over to the coffee table and gather the various sheets of paper with your notes. Between the two of you, you’ve managed to establish that it’s most likely not a Boggart, or, at least, not only a Boggart, that the ghost probably isn’t really Lafitte’s, that major ley lines run along the length of Bourbon Street, and that you’re magically Soul Bonded for life. It’s been a hell of a few days.

You’re starving, so you order room service, and even though Harry’s recently eaten, he still helps himself to a slice of pizza and then joins you in some chocolate torte for dessert. There’s a strange calmness to the energy between the two of you now that your mutual attraction has been acknowledged, but there’s no actual rush to carry things any further. You know that you’re holding back too; in your own mind, you’re still not entirely convinced that Harry’s feelings for you aren’t influenced by the Bond, and you just can’t allow yourself the luxury of believing. Your heart won’t be able to take it, and the case will simply have to take precedence over everything else for now.


~~~


Wednesday is overcast and dreary, and you spend it mostly at the library doing more detailed searches on ley lines and sources of old magic in the state. Cynthia is mercifully absent, although you notice a certain set to Harry’s jaw when the librarian asks you to fill out a customer satisfaction survey and asks who’d helped you during your last session. You resolutely stare directly at the paper and fill out the little ticky boxes before placing it in a small box marked ‘Survey says!’

Muggles are odd people sometimes.

The rest of the week yields little results. You visit a few cemeteries, but you don’t find any relevant information regarding Jean Lafitte or hauntings of the blacksmith’s shop.

You also visit two other libraries but are met with little or no information. Magical sections of the libraries also don’t have useful information.

The days pass quickly enough, despite the frustration at being stymied by this case. You return to Lafitte’s one day to meet with Gus and go over what you’ve discovered, which admittedly isn’t much. He’s able to give a few pointers on where to try in terms of the actual history of Lafitte’s shop, and another afternoon is spent searching through the Department of Records, but then Saturday comes and all government offices are closed, so you’re forced to abandon your research until Monday.

It’s awkward being around Harry sometimes. You don’t know whether the way he’s being is because he has finally confessed his feelings, but you can’t, just can’t let yourself believe them. It’s the Bond talking, making him feel more for you than he’d normally do, and since there’s no way of undoing the Bond, there’ll never be a time when Harry will be truthful about how he feels. It’s not his fault, and you try so hard not to assign any blame for that part of things, even though the arse is the one who got you into this situation in the first place.

And you need not have thought about arses, because Harry has a fine one. Oh, you’d known about it in the theoretical sense from years of casual (and not-so-casual) observation, but to have it pressed up against your highly-motivated morning wood is almost insult to injury.

There’s also the problem of the Bond strengthening. Harry’s said that he feels safest when he’s touching you, holding you, being held by you, and even though you’re not used to sleeping in a bed with another person, and even though the blanket-like way that he drapes over you – and all right, you over him, let’s not pretend otherwise – is completely unlike the way you normally sleep, Saturday morning you wake to find yourself lying across his back with your face mashed against his neck and shoulder, your right arm trapped between his chest and the bed, his hair tickling your nose, one leg slung over him as your body presses his into the mattress.

The warm sleep smell of him is delicious, and although you try to move away slowly, he shifts and stretches beneath you, his body moving in a slow roll as he tilts his head to the side and arches his back, pushing his arse against you in just the right way to let your already-hard cock slide against him.

You might have managed to deal with all that were it not for the guttural, sleepy sound he makes, seeming all desire and satisfaction at the same time, and he takes your trapped hand in his and moves it lower, sliding under his body as he rocks up onto one hip, bending and raising his right knee towards his waist, basically opening himself up to you for the taking. Your joined hands creep closer to his groin and you can only imagine what you’ll find there – his cock, easily as hard as your own, probably damp with anticipation. Belatedly you realize that he’s not wearing anything at all-

You push away and try to roll off of him, but in a move too swift for him to have been merely half-awake, he’s on his back beneath you, legs parted wide enough that your body fits snugly between them, your hands bracketing his head, his hands gripping your biceps in a mirror of that night at Oz.

Surprised, you hold your body away from his even as you yearn for him with a vibration of excitement and need that thrums through you. He looks up at you for a long breathless beat, then turns his head and presses slow, very slow, cautious kisses to the inside of your arm. Your body shivers at the electric feeling of it, the moist heat of his breath against your skin, and you look down at him, the air between you strung tightly in the moment, as though the slightest sound or movement will break the magic. You stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, hardly daring to move, and he makes the softest growling noise deep in his throat, and your body feels like it’s breaking down into its parts, on fire with an intensity that you’ve never experienced before.

Your entire being wants him, your chest tight with desire as you lower yourself onto him, tighten your arms around him, hold him closer, and finally, finally capture his lips with yours.

It’s better than anything you’ve ever dreamed of, his lips soft and desperate, opening to you with another growl, this one louder and much more possessive. He angles his head and parts his lips, taking from you even though you’re ready to give him everything. The kiss rapidly turns hot, slick and dirty as he grinds up against you, and the juddering feeling inside you wants him moving like that always. You’re so fucking turned on by the way he’s pressing up against you, thrusting his hips against yours, licking into your mouth as you battle for dominance as easily as breathing, the give and take as heady as the sheer heat rising between your bodies.

You break apart, inhaling deeply, and take a moment to let your brain catch up with what’s just happened. Harry looks wrecked, and that’s just from kissing, but-

“Harry-”

Fuck, Ron…

“Harry, wait, we can’t.”

“WHAT? What do you mean, ‘we can’t’, Ron? Because from where I’m lying it seems as though we bloody well CAN!”

It’s as though you’ve been doused with cold water. You slide off of him, your body protesting with every functional cell, but you can’t do this when he’s-

Harry’s staring at you with an expression that can only be described as thunderous. Maybe murderous. Definitely not happy.

“Ron, you need to tell me what the hell is happening here.”

“Harry, look, you’re obviously impaired.”

“I have NOT been drinking, Ron! It’s just gone eight o’clock in the morning!”

“No, I mean because of the Bond. You know it makes us do things and want things that we don’t really-“

“Wait one bloody minute.” Harry sits back against the pillows, and despite your life going to shite right about now, you still can’t help but admire all that naked skin right there for the taking “Are you seriously trying to tell me that you think that all of this is just because of the Bond?”

You nod miserably yet firmly, you hope, and Harry takes a deep breath. Oh shite, here it comes.

“Are you off your tree? Where did you even come UP with that theory, Ron? For Christ’s sake, I’ve faced down dragons and Death Eaters and your bloody sister on her worst day; I cannot believe that you think that I’m compromised!”

“Harry, you’ve never-”

“Neither have bloody you! But I didn’t see you objecting too terribly to what was going on just a moment ago! Bloody hell, Ron, do you-” and suddenly, he deflates. “Do you really not want this, then?”

And you just can’t…. you can’t let him think that, especially when it’s so completely the opposite of everything you want.

“I want this more than anything, Harry. I just don’t want it to be a mistake.”

“Then why are we even having this argument?”

He crawls out of the bed and walks around until he’s standing in front of you, naked as- well, naked, and a not-so-distant part of you really appreciates that. He grips your shoulders and shakes you a little.

Ron,” and he sounds so broken. “Why are we having this argument?”

The turbulence inside you makes your head spin, your own emotions blending with Harry’s in a jumble of hurt and want and fear and- you have to leave. You have to just get some distance, clear your head, try to make sense of what you’re feeling.

“I have to go.”

He reels back as though slapped, but releases you enough that you can grab a shirt and slip out of the door. You know you’ve left him just standing there, his pain is blinding through the magic that connects you. You don’t get too far past the closed door, though, resting your head against the smooth wooden surface as you just breathe, both your heart and mind answering the pull of the Bond. Even the small distance between you is enough to prove that you’re hurting as much as he is, and you can’t, you just can’t deny this any longer. Merlin!, you can’t!

You stand back and put on your shirt, realizing that you’ve left the room without a key, and you’re about to blast it open anyway when the door opens and Harry rushes out, half-dressed and clearly coming after you. He stops, one arm through the sleeve of his shirt, his pyjama bottoms barely holding on, his feet bare, his eyes wild with a desperate burning that you feel as much as see.

Ron.” It’s barely a whisper.

Harry!” and the Bond hums between you, the pull so strong that it’s all you can do to step forward into his arms.

“I’m sorry, sorry-”

“No, I’m sorry, I should never have-”

“Can’t do it without you, Ron-”

“Harry-”

And his kisses are desperate, he’s clawing at your back, holding you so close there’s never the thought of anything between you. Your blood sears at the touch of his skin, and the want in you… How you want him! He stumbles backwards as you guide both of you to the bed, falling onto it in a careless jumble of limbs. It’s a mirror of this morning, only the passion burns brightly and true, and you bite and lick at his neck as he pulls your shirt off, barely pausing to remove his own before Vanishing the lot. You groan as you finally feel all of him, warm flushed skin sliding against yours as you kiss him deeply, your hand under the small of his back as you kiss down his chest and down his stomach to his cock, hard, leaking, yours. He spreads his legs and you nestle there, burying your face in his groin and rubbbing your nose against the base of his cock. The need to have him is almost overpowering and you cradle his cock with one hand as you run your tongue up the side to the tip, licking a long hard stripe across it. Harry cries out, bucking into your mouth even as you hold his hips down, raising both his legs to his chest and positioning yourself at his entrance. You’ve barely the presence of mind to slick your cock and his entrance, but his moan and arched back tell you that you’ve done it properly. His eyes are fever-bright as he spreads his legs even wider, begging you with face and voice and body and magic. You push against him gently, the tip of your cock holding for a long agonized moment against his tight ring of muscle. There’s a long moment of stillness, even as the Bond clamours for completion, and then Harry exhales and your cock slips inside. He cries out, as do you, the joining of your bodies the beginning of a completion that taken you decades to realize and finally accept. You slide into him slowly, carefully, even though all you want to do is claim and be claimed, and soon Harry is making tiny movements, trying to raise his pelvis and coerce you deeper.

You lean into him and slide inexorably home, your cock deep inside him, firmly seated. You both breathe together, eyes fixed on each other, hearts beating and echoing as one. He wraps his legs around the small of your back and thrusts upwards with his hips, giving you all the signal you need to start moving inside him.

The heat and friction is so intense, the feeling like nothing else ever. A steady hum sounds in the room, a vibration heralding the joining of two magics, the cementing of a Bonding, and you thrust into Harry as he arches up to meet you, his mouth open, oh, oh, oh, Ron, eyes wide, yeah, God, never looking away, fuck, Ron, never breaking contact, ah, Jesus, yeah.

He’s gripping you harder, almost enough to hurt, and you lower yourself onto your elbows, either side of his shoulders and kiss him deeply, with as much passion as your body fucks him, Fuck, Harry, and you’re close, so close, fuck, fuck, Merlin! and he’s crying out into your mouth as he comes, his body clenching around your cock and the burst of magic dragging your orgasm out of you as you empty yourself into him.

A crescendo of light and emotion, of sheer magical power bursts through you combined with Phoenix song, and you’re left with a feeling of completeness that you’d never dreamed possible. You’re still kissing Harry, you can’t stop, nor do you want to, desperate kisses that gradually slow to soft, languid, lazy kisses, raw passion still there but banked.

You both try to catch your breath and he barks out a short laugh.

“I guess you wanted it then?”

There’s amusement in his voice and you have to laugh at yourself for doubting him, for allowing yourself to be so convinced of the wrong thing.

He’s right. You can feel it in the deepest parts of you that he’s right, that the Bond will sort itself out, and that there’s nowhere better for you both to be right now than together.


Later that day you venture down to Lafitte’s to let Gus in on your theory.

“Gus, we think that there’s a convergence of magic here. Bourbon St is a major ley line and there may be a sort of magical conflict with the ghost and whatever else has come through. The Katrina disaster probably destabilized the ancient protective spells put in place and they’ve continued to erode over time.”

“Okay, but Katrina was years ago, and it affected the east, and the Lower 9th Ward. The French Quarter was relatively undamaged.”

Harry points to the map. “Sure, but see here; the ley lines don’t only run along Bourbon Street. The Mississippi River is a major player in the supernatural, and as New Orleans sits at the mouth of the river, the city aligns and connects like nothing else. It’s literally a river that joins all as one.”

“Jesus, so what do we do?”

“Well, it’s more what do we do. Harry and I are going to try to separate the native magic from your ghost and whatever else has become entwined with them both.”

“That’s- that sounds dangerous.”

Harry grins, and you love him so much for it.

“Sure, but what’s life without a little danger?”

You glance at Gus, who looks sceptical. “What Harry means is that we’re used to being in dangerous magical situations, so we’ll be cautious, but we’re fairly certain that we’ve got this covered.”

Gus still doesn’t seem completely convinced, but he nods, and that’s enough for you.

“Right, so we’ll need to close the place. The nexus is getting stronger and we don’t want Muggles caught in the crossfire.”

“You’ll need to be here, Gus, in case of, y’know, anything.”

“Hell yeah, it’s my place!”

You laugh at his bluster, but he immediately sets about posting notices on the door. You’ve agreed to come back in a few hours, giving him enough time to get the word out about closing and yourselves enough time to finalize the plan.

You return around 3pm and all is readiness. All the doors have been shut and bolted, the windows boarded up and sealed. Gus tells you that it’s hurricane preparedness, and you’d have to admit that it’s come in handy.

Harry walks the perimeter of the bar, examining the walls as they meet with the ceiling and with the floor.

“Hey, Gus, is there anything of Lafitte’s still on the premises? Even the smallest trinket or something he might have had on him.”

“There’s a small box with some stuff in it, yeah, mostly old papers though, and I’ve had those sealed in archival-quality plastic sleeves in order to preserve them. You’ve seen them, though, haven’t you? They’re in the large frame over the bar.”

A quick glance shows the frame in question, but Harry shakes his head.

“No, we need something more substantial than that.”

Gus excuses himself and heads up the stairs while you double-check the feel of the wards. Harry’s wandwork is always so impressive, and these are particularly careful and particularly strong spells. You can’t help the shiver of pleasure that rides up your spine at the feel of his magic cloaking the room and everything in it.

Gus returns with a small wooden box, the tiny bronze hinges and latch darkened with age. Inside is a tiny bent nail with a flat head and a couple of large silver coins.

“Pieces of eight, those are, and rumoured to be among items left in his room on the last ship he commandeered. I don’t know what became of his treasure, but if I had to bank on something being his personally, this would be it. Probably.”

You pick up a coin, the surface oddly irregular, the embossing still visible after so long. There’s the slightest tingle of magic there too, only felt at the very tips of your fingers, but you think it’ll be enough. You can see that Harry’s felt the same thing with the coin he’s holding. It’ll have to do.

It takes Harry over ten minutes to cast the containment enchantments plus anti-blast and anti-scatter spells on the walls leading to the outside as well as support and protective wards for the actual building itself. In the meanwhile, you and Gus move all the furniture into a corner near the entrance and you ward the area as best you can given the squirrelly nature of the existing magic.

Gus takes his position behind the fireplace and you cast the strongest protection spells you can over him.

With a coin each in your hands, you and Harry stand side by side facing the corner near the fireplace and together you begin to weave the phalanx of spells.

First, you build on the existing ancient enchantments, taking care to match their feel and structure as best you can. Harry will send his magic deeper, feeling out the root of the binding spells and attempting to sever them. You’d both discussed the possibility of that approach failing if the timbre of the existing magic is too different or too savage to meld with your own, and there’s the very real danger of the entire building collapsing with all three of you in it.

You send your spells across a wider margin now, enhancing their reach and layering them over and through each other. Your magic stutters for a moment and then holds firm, and slowly the new wards mesh with the existing ancient magic laid down by the first wizard settlers of the area. You can feel the earth through your wand, the almost physical evidence of the ley lines as they connect you to a wider network of a greater spiritual community, and you feel it as a living soul, lungs and blood, voice and song, mountains and rivers in an unheard yet deeply felt expression of life.

Through all of that weaves Harry’s magic, careful yet so powerful, a thin blade that excises with precision, cutting through the discordant strands of magical energy and setting free the harmonious spirit of the city itself.

You hear a distant wailing noise, nothing you can identify; nothing you’ve ever heard has made that sound, and Harry’s eyes are fixed on an ever-darkening spot growing at the base of the walls in the corner. The sound deepens, becoming more desperate, hungrier, and you break out in sweat, the physical and magical effort of keeping your spellcasting calm and even is taking its toll on you. A quick glance at Harry shows he’s faring little better, but his wand arm is steady, and so far, your combined efforts seem to be successful.

The dark energy is fighting back, its wailing now clearly audible and growing louder. The darkened spot, now as large as your Dad’s Ford Anglia, shimmers as the very air around it seems to waver. Your part is complete and you slowly ease yourself out of the earth magic, moving closer to Harry, your shoulders touching as you attempt to enclose the darkness that Harry is cutting free.

It’s too late, and for a fraction of a second, everything is chaos as a huge gaping hole rips open in the wall before you, and unbearably dank air rushes past. A vaguely arachnid-like creature stirs just inside the darkness and you feel the biting chill of horror inside your bones as you step back, pulling Harry behind you, your wand in position, defensive and protective spells already decorating the room. Harry is equally quick to action as he whirls in front of you, hand outstretched, and a burst of pure magic rips out of him and combines with yours. The word ‘NO!’ is implicit in the magic; you feel it down to your core, as though every part of your body understands his will.

The creature falls back, shrieking, and your joined magic intensifies, a warmth spreading through you that feels as though there’s new life breathed into you, as though you’re sharing a new life, and, you suppose, you are. You also feel the echoes of New Orleans herself, and her rejection of this foul dark energy. Together, you’re able to condense the darkness and enclose it in the magic-dampening containment system perfected by Hermione for the Aurors and Unspeakables. Harry keeps the spells forcefully down on the device as you perform the series of locking enchantments and then you both lower your wands and slowly turn to survey the damage.

Gus is already moving through the rubble which seems to be fairly minimal, considering the size of the creature and the hole still in the wall. You’re able to close up most of it by setting new wards on his property, once more aligning yourself with the magic of the city and clarifying the level of protections and support given to the structure. The magic seems to agree with you, and the spells flow effortlessly from your wand. You repair the opening in the wall and the bar is set to rights in fairly quick time. Harry reinforces the wards on the upper part of the structure, and binds his magic to yours for extra protection against unkind spirits.

Already the place feels lighter and happier, and Gus busies himself taking down the storm shutters and opening the doors to the outside. Although it seems like a long time has passed, a glance at the clock puts the time at just past seven o’clock. Just in time for drinks!

You don’t really want to drink tonight, though, and from the way Harry’s catching your eye, you’d surmise that he doesn’t want to either. There’s a strange energy humming inside you, like a continuous adrenaline rush that doesn’t abate, a quickening of your heartbeat and a feeling of inevitability.

You can feel his magic coursing through you, settling into the spaces you’d never known you had, melding seamlessly with everything that you are. He’s flushed with excitement and effort, breathing still a bit irregular, his hair a mess. It’s a good look on him and you can’t tear your eyes away. You realize that it’s not just the post-battle buzz that has him that way though, it’s you; well, it’s him and you, together, the Bond settling and maturing.

Gus comes over and slaps you both on the shoulders.

“Guys, hey, that was a little insane! Thanks for doing that, wow, I can’t imagine you having a job that deals with this kind of thing all the time! Listen, whenever you’re in town, drinks are always on the house, okay?”

Your grin matches Harry’s – it’s a safe bet that you’ll both never partake of that damned purple drink again!

“Sure, Gus, thanks,” Harry says, finally breaking eye contact with you to shake Gus’ hand. “Not all of our jobs entail this level of crazy, though.”

“Still, man, wow. So how do I settle up with you?” He offers you his hand, and you shake firmly.

“Lisa will be in touch. I’ll have her send the bill by Mug- uh, by post if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, man, that’s fine.” A few people have walked through the doors, and it seems as though Gus is going to get right back into the swing of things. “Hey, let me head over there and tend to the customers.”

“Yeah, yeah, mate, sure. We’re- we’re just gonna take a walk for a while, clear our heads a bit.”

“Great. Don’t be a stranger, y’hear!”


You both walk along the middle of Bourbon Street, sort-of-moving in time with the music amid the crowd of partygoers and other revellers. Harry’s just been ogled by one guy too many and you’ve tried really hard not to be bothered by it. He, of course, is oblivious to all the stares and leers, but there’s a new possessiveness that you feel towards him that makes it difficult not to demonstrate, and you impulsively grab his hand, slowing his forward motion.

He turns to look at you, his arm extended where you’re holding hands, still grinning as he’s been doing for most of your jaunt down Bourbon Street. His face is alight and happy and free for maybe the first time in forever, it seems. You can remember the few times you’ve seen Harry truly happy, not tempered by war or near-death or because he thinks he should be; this is happiness at its purest. You’d like to think that you’ve both found happiness here.

“Ron!” he says, his voice low, and you just love the way Harry says your name, the slight emphasis on the ‘n’ making it sound so complete, so definite.

“C’mere, mate,” you grin as you reel him in, enjoying the firmness of his grip and his solidness as he bumps up against you. He’s grinning up at you, and you secretly love being bigger than him, not so much that you loom over him, but for all that he has in sheer magical power and courage, physically, he doesn’t reflect that.

He wraps his free arm around your waist, all laughter and shining eyes and you both stumble to a stop as the crowd parts around you. The music is ongoing and all encompassing, the laughter and gaiety a perfect accompaniment to the way you feel. There’s loud shouting above you, and you look up at the crowds gathered on the balconies of the bars, and there are loads of men and women dangling strings of colourful beads in their outstretched hands. You look around to realize that you’re in the middle of a large group of people who seem to be trying to get the attention of the people on the balcony.

“Show us your tits!” one of the women shouts down to the gathering in the road, and amid hoots and laughter, many people around you, both men and women, lift their shirts, blouses, whatever, showing off their chests to loud applause and cheering. Soon there’s a rain of bead garlands, and you laugh as they jump and reach for the shiny things.

You look down at Harry, and he’s still loose and easy and grinning and just enjoying himself so much, and you wish that you could capture this feeling, this exact combination of events, even as your heart beats faster having him pressed against you.

You barely hear the partiers on the balcony with their latest request “Kisses! We want to see kisses!!! Let’s go, people, somebody kiss somebody!” when suddenly Harry isn’t smiling any more, he seems very serious as he reaches up to your neck, up into your hair and pulls you down, gently, yes, but without hesitation.

Your eyes flutter half-closed despite the crashing of emotion and adrenaline through your body, but he’s closer now than ever, the frenzied shouts of ‘Kisses! C’mon, kiss, kiss’ floating around you, and you’re standing out there in public in the middle of the street and Harry’s not taken his eyes off your mouth, and oh, fuck, this is-

There’s a moment of perfect stillness as his lips meet yours, one crystal clear second that encompasses a lifetime, and you moan, you can’t help it, your body shuddering even as your arms wrap around him, anchoring you both to each other.

You fist one hand into his ridiculous mop of hair while the other grips his arse, squeezing very possessively as you pull him flush against you. His moan of surprise makes your already-hard cock throb, and it’s all you can do to not fuck him where you stand.

After forever, you pull apart, taking in huge gulps of air even though you’re still plastered to each other. The screaming and shouting and cheering all around you gradually filters back in, and you feel the wash of Harry’s Muffliato as it dissipates. His non-verbal spells have always made you sit up and take notice, and fuck, does he have to be even more attractive than he already is?

“Did we… just do that in the middle of Bourbon Street?”

His grin is incandescent.

“Looks so. How about when we get back home we do that in the middle of Diagon Alley?”

“You’re joking.”

“About us, Ron? Never. Besides, half of Wizarding Britain thinks we’re together.”

“They do NOT!”

He laughs. “Maybe not, but they will soon enough. That is, if you’re okay with it.”

Your face feels as though it will split with the force of your grin, and you’re happier than you ever thought you could be.

“You know, it takes a certain kind of magic to keep a man like me happy, Harry.”

“Oh, I think we’ve got what it takes.”

You don’t have a reply as he’s kissing you again, the crowd continues to dance around and past you, and nothing in this world could be better than the certain kind of magic of this moment.

~ fin ~


NOTES:
Laffite’s is a real bar. So too is Oz the gay nightclub. They, however, are not joined by a wall or any other structure, but are both on Bourbon Street.

I may have played fast and loose with the ancient magic of New Orleans and the principles of ley lines in general.

The song that Harry strips to at Oz is Michael Bublé’s cover of Nina Simone’s “Feeling Good”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yYe6tmrFxbw

BACK TO PART 1
BACK TO PART 2
Comments 
13th December 2014 22:41
I adore your story. I adore your Ron and how much he loves Harry. I loved seeing Harry through his eyes and learning how his magic felt to Ron.

All those moments when they had a moment. God, amazing.

I loved it when Harry told him (at the bar) and Ron realised Harry was being serious about wanting Ron to be with him forever.

God, the miscommunication was nearly killing me. I wanted to yell, 'look at him, trust this man!' At Ron, but I knew he would see soon enough, there's no way he wasn't going to.

They are so good together, and how you wrote them was perfect. Thank you, this was amazing. <3
5th January 2015 15:30
Anonymous
Thank you! Ron wanted the world to see Harry through his eyes too. I've always felt that there has to be a special bond between them, more than merely friendship.

Miscommunication - I KNOW! Boys..... *sigh*
I'm so happy that you enjoyed it, and thanks for commenting :)
14th December 2014 20:20
I just love the way you use magic! Now, if you could use it to make Ron a little more perceptive.... Honestly, sometimes he really is dumb as a post.

Mmmm, smokin' smexing, too. Lovely story, great adventure!
5th January 2015 15:31
Anonymous
Haha, but a perceptive Ron wouldn't be quite as much fun !!! And he's perceptive enough, when he wants to be.

Thanks for reading and commenting! ;O)
18th December 2014 22:18
Where are all the comments? I need to go flail all over you and rec this everywhere.

I love this. I mean I absolutely adore this. Long plotty wonderful emotional story, and this just... it builds so well. And HOLY CRAP the second person. I've never seen it used so well in such a long piece, and honestly, I barely noticed it. I mean it WORKED. It worked so well, and it just sucked me in and held on and wouldn't let me go. It reads so quickly, it's beautiful.

I want to go back and pick out all the details, but I sadly have a brain like a sieve. I just want to say that it took me on a wonderful emotional rollercoaster ride, and I am so so SO glad I got to read this. Thank you for sharing this!
5th January 2015 15:25
Anonymous
Thanks so much for this comment - wow!
H/R is my first OTP and they just... they have so much POTENTIAL, y'know?
I'm happy that you enjoyed it, Ron demanded that the story be told HIS way and there ya go.
26th December 2014 15:35
Oooh, d'you know how long it's been snice there was a long, sexy, gorgeous Harry/Ron?????

Thank you for doing this!
5th January 2015 15:28
Anonymous
Thank you for reading and your comment :O)

I tend to prefer longer fics, somewhere in the 10-20K size, and I'm happy to see that others appreciate them too. Yay!
29th December 2014 10:16
So, I've had this comment box open all day, trying to find the words to tell you just what it meant to me that this fic existed and that I was lucky enough to find it.

I still haven't found all the words I needed... but I did find a place to spew a few of them. ♥♥

5th January 2015 15:33
Anonymous
Oh, wow, thanks. I know what it's like to want to comment but not be able to express what you want to say. That one of my fics did that to someone= glee.

And thanks for the rec!!! Really, you're making me smile SO HUGE!!!!
XX
14th January 2015 05:55
I feel like such an arse for not replying to this earlier. Christmas/New Year was hell and then I was away and once I got back I ended up with some nasty gastro thing that is still stopping me from eating over a week later. I haven't been up and on the computer much at all. And it's a crying shame too because this is one of the best fics I've read in ages. I really, really adore it. You've done so well to work in my prompts and really hit all my buttons.

Eeeee. I love Potter & Weasley, Investigators. That works so well and I love the idea of them working together like that.
And Harry seeing Ron being attacked and going a bit overboard to make sure he's safe *chin hands*
I love the way you describe Ron's feelings about Harry's magic through this, his awareness of it after they'd started the bond all those years ago.
I've never been to New Orleans though I've read about it in various fantasy books. I've always loved the sound of it and I can definitely see it being a place of old magic. It's certainly got the history for it.
I do love the way Old Magic and New Magic makes thing unpredictable. Things don't mesh right and you wonder what was lost and how. Why did magic change so much and are there still peoples out there who work with old magic. *flails a bit*

Heee, the honeymoon suite. So adorable. Poor Ron. I love Harry waking up all rumpled and slow. I can see why Ron would have such a problem *g*
I love Harry letting go and just being young and free in this place where no one but Ron knows him.
Poor boys and their hangovers. Ugh, if only us muggles had some hangover potions that worked.
I loved the tension in the shaving scene.

The boys and their battle response to a threat is beautiful. I love the way they react together and the way Gus calls them out on it. And then Spiders!! Poor Ron. I like that you aknowlede Ron's phobia. It always seems to just get played for laughs in the movies and even in the books it's sort of ignored that it's a real problem.

I love the nightclub scene. The drinking and letting go, the dancing and then dancing together. Ugh. The tension and the way Ron's pressed up against Harry's back and Harry grinning at him, holding his hand and grinding back against him. This is like the hottest thing every. I'd love this story just for this scene but there's so much more. *flails* Seriously, this is the perfect fic for me.

And then Ron tries to do The Right Thing. Oh Ron. And Harry's face falling. And then Harry on the bar and stripping. Heee. Oh I love that song too. It's hot as hell. And Ron's all possessive and Harry sliding down in front of him and gggnnnnaaahhh He NEEDS YOU Ron. Always! And then bonding. And missunderstanding. Poor boys. Ron was the thing Harry would miss most and the Dilluminator took Ron to Harry. And feelings, so many feelings. Oh and they'd started the bond all those years ago and Harry's magic protecting Ron before even himself and *happy sigh* and then more panic because, it's them. And they finally sort it out.

Except Ron is still panicking and pulling away. Oh Ron. It's fantastic when they actually do get it together and the sex is hot and gorgeous. At last.

I love them doing magic together and being totally competant. It's a great case and a great emotional journey for them. I love it so much. I like them getting to be free and easy eith each other and getting to plan their forever after. Thank you so much and I'm so sorry again that I didn't get to reply before.
17th January 2015 00:45
Hiiiiii ;o)

Totally okay with not replying earlier - I know how Christmas can be, even without gastro, oy vey!
I'm happy that you finally got to read it, though, and so many of the points you mentioned are bits that I really enjoyed too.

The entire honeymoon suite setup just makes me giggle, even to this day. Poor Ron indeed.
One of my betas DOES NOT LIKE spiders either, so those scenes made her twitchy too! Good times.

I think that the trope of 'misunderstanding each other' when it comes to Harry and Ron is entirely plausible, and there are so many variations for how it could go. I really had fun playing with it.
Thanks for your long comment, though, and again, I'm really happy you enjoyed it!
This page was loaded 28th March 2024, 21:05 GMT.