Chapter 8
Author's Note:
The following account would not have been available to the world without the cooperation of one of the most important personages in the entire Harry Potter saga. I am grateful to her for her generosity in sharing something that not only shows us a new and very intimate side of Harry and Ron Weasley's friendship but also suggests to us how her sexual relationship with Ron began.
To whoever is reading this, I know you know who I am. I mean, there were only three people there then, and since it obviously wasn't Ron or Harry doing the observing, it could only have been me. Of course I'd never dream of telling anyone about what happened if I didn't have permission from both of them. When you asked me about that night in the tent I was shocked that you had any suspicion, and I was frankly a bit outraged at the idea that something so personal would be published for the whole world to read about. And honestly I was sure that Ron and Harry would refuse, but I did ask them. Out of respect for you, really. Of course by that time they knew I'd seen what they'd been up to, and naturally were aware of -- what happened afterward. Still I was a bit uncomfortable at bringing the whole thing up. And I wouldn't have done if it had been some sordid, purely sexual thing -- you know how boys can be sometimes. But they surprised me. They both said it was fine -- they had a big laugh about it actually. Honestly, as old as I get I don''t think I'll ever understand men.
Of course you know the situation, but perhaps there are readers in need of a bit of a recap. It happened during that awful time the three of us were on the run. It was not long after we'd gotten away from Voldemort in Godrick's Hollow. We were camping in the forest, and it was nighttime, and so cold. It was the dead of winter. Ron was missing, still off on his pout I'm afraid, and I was asleep in the tent. Harry was on watch.
As you will remember, Harry's patronus suddenly appeared and led him to the frozen lake where the sword of Gryffindor lay. Naturally it would have been wiser if he had returned to the tent and gotten me to help him figure a way to get the sword, but Harry can be a bit impulsive, as you certainly must have observed. So he took off his clothes and dove right in. Then he nearly died because that awful locket was strangling him -- imagine how horrible those moments must have been for him! After all this time I still can barely stand to think of it. If I'd only been there to help somehow! Thank goodness Ron was nearby, and came running to Harry's rescue. He has such courage, you know.
Once he had rescued Harry, retrieved the sword from the bottom of that pool, and cut that locket from around Harry's neck and destroyed it he and Harry returned to the tent. I realize that readers of the story were told they had both dressed completely before returning and I suppose it's a minor detail, but readers should know the complete truth. The fact is, they were in such a hurry to return to the tent and get warm they just bundled their clothes about them, hugging them against themselves as best they could as they ran back to the tent. At least they must have done, because when they woke me up they were both shivering and stark naked.
That was a strange moment for me, I must confess. I don't know whether I was more stunned to see Ron turn up, more furious with him for him for leaving us for weeks at a time, or more shocked at their, well, nudity. I admit my fury with Ron won out -- at the time I had no idea that he had immediately regretted leaving us but was unable to return. I simply pulled away from them in disgust, threw my blanket over myself and feigned sleep. But of course I was far too angry to sleep.
However, as the minutes went by, overhearing Ron quietly giving his full accounting to Harry of all that he had been through -- the Stan Shunpike thing he'd done to elude the Snatchers was really quite clever -- my anger began to subside. Finally I carefully drew downward the blanket, which had completely covered my face, to see what was happening, with every intent to rejoin them.
However, what I saw paralyzed me with surprise. As they were talking, the two were huddled against each other, in a sort of awkward embrace, and they were still naked. Although it wasn't that chilly in the tent they both still shivered now and again, and I could scarcely keep from noticing that Ron was really rather muscular as he held Harry against himself, as they apparently tried to warm each other with their bodies. I had scarcely begun to watch them when Ron's narrative dwindled to a close, they seemed to stare into each others' eyes for awhile, and then suddenly Ron clutched Harry to himself in a fierce grip. Being so tall and lean he may not appear to be but he really is frightfully strong, and I couldn't help but notice how his bicep bulged as he tugged Harry against himself.
Ron began sobbing a bit then, muttering about how sorry he was, and I admit I teared up a bit myself when he said how much he regretted abandoning me. Harry was facing away from me -- and I was unable avoid noticing how small his, well, bottom seemed to be as Ron's hand gripped it -- but I could hear Harry murmur something to Ron too. Harry never really shows a softer side -- at least not to me -- but his voice seemed to have some sort of emotion in it too.
Then something else began happening. Now permit me to say, right from the start, that it was wrong of me. It was wrong of me to continue to watch them after that moment, because what began happening then was something very personal. Perhaps I might have still been feeling some residue of anger toward Ron. Or perhaps it was because I wanted to make sure they were going to be all right after both being half-frozen in that pond. Or perhaps, if I am to be completely honest, it may have been that what I saw was, well, more than a bit exciting. And to be fair to myself, I was curious. I had never seen, or really even imagined, two boys having sex.
At first it was just a gentle rocking movement, but before long they were rhythmically tucking their hips just slightly against each other -- nothing wild or outlandish, nothing vulgar or lascivious. It was actually quite sweet how carefully -- one might almost say tenderly -- they held each other as they moved. Now and again one would whisper something to the other -- I was too far away to hear what they said.
Soon there began to come little sounds -- a groan here, a grunt there -- and I could tell they were beginning to lose themselves in their pleasure. Ron eyes were closed, his head thrown back, a tangle of that wonderful red hair, still damp from the pond, about his face and neck. Harry's head was bent forward, almost nestled into Ron's neck, and I watched with fascination as the muscles of his upper back and shoulders tensed and relaxed as his body moved more fully against Ron's.
Suddenly Harry squirmed against Ron more aggressively, their positions shifted, and Harry now was on top, his body writhing against Ron. They both were grunting, panting really, and didn't seem any longer to be trying to keep quiet -- they may actually have lost awareness of my presence entirely. Or perhaps they thought I was asleep. They began to squirm their bodies against each other with abandon.
At one point Harry rose up just a bit onto one knee and I was stunned for the second time in just a few minutes. I saw, for the first time, that -- thing -- that I sometimes had not been able to avoid hearing excited third and fourth year girls gossiping about. Although of course I never paid their whispering any mind at all I suppose I had assumed that they were exaggerating or making up entirely its dimensions.
When I recounted this incident to Ginny I was very ashamed to report to her that I had been unable to tear my gaze away, so amazed was I. I was afraid she might be angry, even jealous, but nevertheless I felt I had to confess. Ever the bigger person than I, she just laughed and said, "Golly it's immense, isn't it? I sometimes have wondered if he loves it or hates it! Imagine having to carry that monstrosity around with him every waking second, no matter where he is or what he's doing! Anyone would be fascinated to see it the first time! I know I was! Of course," she aded with a twinkle, "I'm well over that now!"
I must admit it was -- impressive. Even, in a way, beautiful. It jutted up from his groin in a slight, perfectly arching curve, enormous in its length, shocking in its thickness. The glans of it flared out dramatically from the rest of it. Harry's belly is so slender, his hips so little-boyish, the contrast was really amazing. There wasn't the best light in the tent that night, but I could see that it was a dull purplish-red, and it seemed to almost glow, a bit stretched and shiny. Harry didn't have much hair down there and perhaps that also made it appear even larger. Even in the midst of my shock and, I admit it, excitement, I found myself speculating on its size. Could it have been a foot long, as it banged against his concave belly, almost up to his breastbone? Or perhaps even a bit more?
And then my attention was diverted, because the boys shifted slightly as they moved against each other and now I could see Ron in all his nakedness. I got my second-ever glimpse of what he in his silly moments calls "big Ronnie." I know some would say it was unladylike of me to be thrilled at that moment-- but I was, and I'm not ashamed to say it. It was not as huge as Harry's but it was really remarkably large -- and so pink! As many times as I've seen it since I am always amazed at it! I don't want to give the wrong impression of myself, but it almost seems as if much that I love about Ron -- his strength, his excitability, his eagerness -- are in a way symbolized by his . . . erection.
My heart was suddenly, inexplicably in my throat as I saw Harry grip Ron's erection and begin stroking it roughly.
"Yah!" Ron cried, arching his body upward in response to the pleasure of Harry's stroking. His pale, narrow belly twisted and writhed as he thrust his hips hard against Harry's clutching hand. As Harry thrashed at Ron's surging organ he flattened his own body against Ron, straddled one leg with both of his own and hunched his own erection repeatedly against Ron's lower thigh.
As their passions climbed higher and higher they would occasionally mutter obscenities of the most crude sort, which I will not repeat here. I actually felt slightly gratified to realize that they apparently had not completely forgotten that I lay not ten feet away, since they kept their voices hushed as they cursed. I will never understand why males, when they are seized by sexual passion, feel the need to curse and yell obscenities, often in the most nonsensical ways. If sex is an act of love, why the need for all the nastiness?
Indeed, as I watched my two closest friends I found myself wondering -- are they making love? I mean, of course Harry and Ron love each other -- you'd have to be deaf and blind not to realize these two best mates shared a bond that could only be described as love. And at first, minutes earlier, they had seemed affectionate and emotional. But what they were doing now -- thrashing against each other without the slightest gentleness, mauling each other's sex organs in a way that certainly had to be painful at moments, gasping obscene words that are usually used derisively, even at times as insults -- did they feel love in these moments? Or had they just become two uncaring animals rutting, each using the other's body as nothing but a tool to reach his own orgasmic pleasure without any regard for the other at all?
As I contemplated this I continued watching them as if, I regret to say, I had almost been hypnotized. After another few minutes their skin began to glow with perspiration. Ron was now on top of Harry and, gripping a hank of Harry's long locks in one fist, teeth gritted in effort, Ron pounded his erection against Harry's belly. Harry gripped Ron's shoulders so hard his fingers made red marks on Ron's white skin, and he appeared to be in an ecstasy of pleasure himself as, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut, he thrust himself as hard as he could against Ron in response.
I see no need to go into the physiological details, but I will admit I was becoming more aroused by the minute as I continued to watch this scene with, I'm sure, my eyes as wide as saucers. I will admit that there were fleeting moments when, as I got momentary glimpses of Ron's blazing erection, I may possibly have imagined what it would feel like if that huge member were -- inside me. There may even have been a moment -- again, my apologies to Ginny -- when I imagined being impaled by that terrifying, fascinating club that sprang from the small dark bush at Harry's groin. At some point it became so warm in the tent that I tossed the blanket aside as I watched.
The sound of sucked, sweaty flesh now filled the air. Ron once again was gripping Harry's massive organ, jerking it with appalling violence. Suddenly Harry stiffened like a board, and Ron gripped his organ just behind the head, making the purplish-red knob swell even further, literally the size of a small apple, and splitting the crown. The two were absolutely motionless for just a second, and then, a sharp cry ripping from his throat, Harry's whole body spasmed and I saw, seeping from his tight-squeezed glans and over Ron's fingers, a drool of white goo. Like lightning Ron stripped his fist all the way down Harry's gloriously long organ, red and glistening with sweat, and then quickly stroked up again, and an immense burst of semen exploded onto Harry's chest as he gave another cry. Squeezing Harry again as hard as he could Ron prevented Harry's orgasm from continuing. Harry still arched up from the floor, his body bent like a bow, his whole body shaking slightly, quivering with tension. Again Ron slammed his fist down and then up, and again a volley of semen that would nearly have filled a small teacup blasted from Harry's penis, flying all the way to to his face, plastering his cheek and chin with glistening cream. Again and again they repeated this, as the two boys, enacting a sexual ritual that was apparently very familiar to them, prolonged Harry's orgasm for what seemed like a minute or more.
Finally, giving a tremendous gasp, Harry flopped down on his back, panting heavily. Ron lay next to him, now gently fingering his softening organ. Harry was so covered with semen it was almost comical. A large bolt of it streaked his left chest from nipple to shoulder. A gob dripped from one eyebrow, another from one ear. A large wad of it clotted his hair. The entire right side of his belly was soaked. And his entire penis glistened from root to tip.
Ron wiped his hand on his jeans that lay discarded next to them. I noticed his own penis had lost none of its hardness, soaring upward from his coppery pubic hair. The tent was filled with that strange scent of wizard semen, a scent I had never smelled before. I remembered Professor Pratt telling us one time that in ancient days it was commonly believed that the fragrance of wizard semen could enchant wild beasts. Of course that is nonsense but, as I lay observing Harry's suddenly inert and exhausted body and inhaling the odd, captivating fragrance, a mixture of burning peat and cloves and damask rose, I could almost believe it.
After another minute Harry opened his eyes and looked at Ron. Of course he looked absolutely exhausted, which after his terrible ordeal in the pond and then this shattering orgasm he certainly had every right to be.
Ron seemed to read his face.
"Not up to it, eh?" he asked, not unkindly. Harry shook his head no. Apparently the pleasure was not about to be returned.
And then it hit me. I suddenly knew this was the time. The moment has finally come. I sat up.
"Ron," I said, in a voice that didn't sound as certain as I wanted it to.
Startled, he looked over at me.
"I'm up to it," I said.