disclaimer: I am borrowing these characters from the Harry Potter books, and am in no way receiving money from them. I do not own any of them.


rating is nc-17

Warnings include slash, non-con, violence, hurt/comfort




Possession of Harry




“Coming down to breakfast with us?” said Dean. He sat up and watched Harry wrap a towel loosely around his slender hips as he walked over to his bed. Tiny beads of water ran down over his sun kissed chest, teasing the boy’s eyes as they disappeared past his hips into the absorbent towel. Shaking the sweet vision from his head, Dean stood up from his bed and walked over to Neville and Seamus waiting at the door.


Harry shook his head rapidly, spraying excess water droplets out in every direction from his soaked locks of messy black hair. “Nah, I should try and wake Ron up soon, he’ll probably want to stay up here all morning,” He placed his glasses over his nose and saw the three broad grins staring back at him, each looking very sly. Harry grinned back, crinkling up his nose in curiosity. “What’s so funny?”


Neville rolled his eyes. “He shouldn’t have drunk so much. Everyone knew the Hufflepuffs were trying to get us all drunk. Oh yeah, and was Malfoy drunk when he sat down with you on the couch? You two looked pretty comfy!” he teased.


Harry gasped. Seamus and Dean sniggered under their hands. “We were not comfy. I left right after he sat down,” he protested, but all three boys wagged their fingers at him.


“We saw his face stuck to your neck. Get any good love bites?” asked Seamus, scanning his eyes over Harry‘s semi-nude body.


Harry chuckled and waved them off. “You guys are mental. I’ll catch up with you later,”


Harry walked casually back to his bed area, and kneeled down in front of his trunk. “Clothes... Gods, I need new clothes... all these ones are Dudders,” he said to himself, sifting through the pile of mostly oversized flannels.


A sudden shove to the back of his head propelled him forward, knocking him off balance directly into his trunk lid. His glasses struck the metal lock with such force; they cracked at the bridge, cutting into the skin over his nose. Righting himself quickly, Harry rolled over from his falling spot and looked up at a very angry redhead standing over him.


“What did you do that for? What’s the matter?” he shouted in a panic. A line of warm blood ran down over his cheek. He wiped at it quickly, looking at the smear of crimson coating his fingers.


Ron glowered down and clenched his fists. “You were snogging Malfoy? I knew it! You couldn’t wait for me to leave so you could get into his pants!”


Harry gasped and held a hand up defensively.


“No, that’s not true! I never did anything,” he cried. Wearing only a towel and now half blind, he began to scoot back, trying to gain any distance he could from his friend. Ron would have nothing to do with that and reached out, pulling Harry to his feet.


“Tell me you fucked him! I know you did. I want to hear you say it,” he hissed, grasping Harry’s upper arms roughly. He shook him as hard as he could, but Harry wouldn’t balk.


“I didn’t! I didn’t do anything, Ron. Please believe me,”


A hard slap across his face stunned him into silence; but Ron wasn’t quite satisfied enough with that. He shoved Harry onto Dean’s bed and held him down as he checked his throat for any marks that might have been left. “What’s this?” he roared, pointing to a tiny and discoloured blemish under Harry’s right earlobe. “There’s a mark here. Did he give you this? You let him bite on your neck in front of Neville!?”


“No!” exclaimed Harry, “Ron, listen to me, please. I swear to Merlin I didn’t do anything. I would never do that.” He didn’t struggle under him, but he wanted to. He hated being held down. “Please let me go, I‘m not lying to you.”


“Who else saw you with him? I know all our ‘supposed’ friends here did. Did you do this in front of everyone? Answer me!” he screamed, lashing out with another brisk slap. Harry’s senses dazed for a moment. He began to struggle as panic began to finally set in. His mouth felt like it was on fire from the blows and the coppery tang of blood filled his mouth.


Ron grabbed his hands flailing about before he could get a hold on anything he could use to his advantage and shoved them down at his sides, pinning them both behind his back with his knees on Harry’s elbows. “Don’t even think about it. You‘re not going anywhere until I have the whole story. Hold still!” He locked his ankles around Harry’s thighs and pushed down with his weight as Harry fought desperately to get up. “Stop fighting me!” he yelled, taking one of his hands to the boy’s throat.


Harry gasped as the hand began digging into his neck, pressured over his windpipe. His eyes widened in surprise as the realization set in that Ron was going to kill him. His bloody teeth ground down as he fought harder, pulling his arms back as hard as he could to extract them from behind his back. The hold on him was fierce, much stronger than his reactions to it.


Finally, Harry fell limp, his heart felt like it was beating so fast it might burst, and his lungs were aching for oxygen. He knew the only way to be free was to stop fighting. That’s how it was.


With a nod, Ron sat up on his haunches, moving his hand from his throat up to his chin. He held Harry’s head steady as he dug his fingernails into the boy’s jaw, but at least he allowed him to breathe again. “Are you ready to tell me about it now, you fucking slut?”


“H-he just a-asked me why I q-quit Quidditch. I s-swear,” said Harry fearfully, stammering over his words through heavy breaths. 


“Did he, now? From what I just heard, he was all over you and you loved it!” he screamed. “I knew I couldn’t trust you. I knew you’d do this. Why do you do this to me?” cried Ron, screwing his eyes shut in mental anguish.


“Ron, please!” sobbed Harry, “Please believe me...”


Ron balled up the hand holding his chin, striking Harry as hard as he could with a solid right hook. Harry’s world shifted into black, then blurry crimson. His muscles slacked under Ron’s weight and he went limp, letting the pain of the final blow overcome his consciousness.


Ron hadn’t hit him in so long, but this was worse than before. Harry never thought he might die before to Ron‘s anger.


“Tell me you’ll never do this again. I swear if you ever touch him again, I’ll kill you, Harry,” said Ron with eerie calm in his voice.


“I won’...” whispered Harry, as best he could through the pain. His sobs subsided, his heart rate calmed, and Ron let him up.


“I wish I didn’t have to do that, but you just won’t listen. Now, go wash your face and come right back. You have five minutes,” he commanded, pointing to the door.




Forcing himself into an upright position, Harry pressed his fingers over his temples, holding in the throbbing pain of a searing headache he developed. His airway felt blocked and his jaw felt like it might be broken, but he said nothing as he stood. Walking into the bathroom, he refused to look at himself in the mirror. He couldn’t bear to see how bad it was yet. Not with all the dried blood on his hand, not with his fresh blood dribbling down his chin. He knew he’d have to go to the infirmary the second he tried to close his mouth, finding it hurting so badly it wasn‘t possible. “Ah Gahd..” he cried, ghosting his fingers over his jaw, almost afraid to touch it.


“What’s taking you so long?”


Icy panic set in again as the voice flooded the bathroom. He couldn’t turn around. He couldn’t look at him.


“Harry?” Ron was more careful with his tone now, worried about the boy wavering on his feet at the sinks. He walked up behind him, feeling slightly panicked by now when Harry wouldn’t look at him. Had he been too hard on him? Maybe a bit, but he shouldn’t have done that. He knew how jealous he was of Malfoy.


Ron rested his hands on Harry’s shoulders. Harry flinched. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked, feeling slightly angry as the reaction to his touch. “Harry, answer me.”


He looked into the mirror in front of them and saw the pained look under the swelling cheeks of his boyfriend. Harry’s jaw was swollen and jutting forward, and his trembling hands hovered over it.


“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it,” he said.


Harry kept his eyes closed, not ever wanting to see anything ever again. Ron’s hands on his shoulders felt tainted over his skin. He loved him so much, and yet there wasn’t any way possible that Ron could love him back. Ron said he loved him, but how could he do this to someone he loved.


“I love you, Harry. I just go mad; I didn’t mean to blow up like that. Please talk to me,” He walked over to a large pile of towels, grabbing one up. Rinsing it under the sink, he gently wiped the excess blood from Harry’s face. He mimicked the pain everytime Harry winced in pain.


Harry refused to speak, even if he was able to. He stood defensively back against the sink, arms pulled up over his bare chest, eyes cast downward.


“Wait here. I’ll get my wand,” said Ron, jogging from the room. Harry let out a heavy breath of air and sagged back against the sink. He wouldn’t cry. No more crying today, he told himself.


Ron re-entered quickly and waved his wand over the boy, healing the swelling and the bruises.

“Look what your glasses did. It’s a bad cut,” observed Ron, frowning over the deep punctures refusal to heal. Harry’s jaw looked no better and the swelling remained there as well. “You’ll have to go to the infirmary, I guess. My healing charm isn’t very strong. Come on, Harry, talk to me,” he said pleadingly.


“Why are you ignoring me like this? Why are you standing there like that? You’re not that hurt,” 


“I ha-ah go oh ah iherery....” muttered Harry finally, at last focusing his eyes on the door up ahead of him.


Agitated, but more sorry than anything else, he nodded. “Fine, go,” said Ron, stepping aside. “But I won‘t be here when you get back.”


Harry ran out of the bathroom, straight into his dorm and threw on a school robe, dropping his bloody towel to the floor. He didn’t bother putting on anything else, not even shoes. He just wanted out. Wrapping it around himself tightly, he ran again, down the stairs, through the empty common room, and out into the halls.




“Oh, Merlin, Pansy, I swear I’ll never forgive you for this!” giggled Blaise Zabini, a quirky sixth year Slytherin, currently nursing a bruised kneecap while she sat on the edge of her hospital cot. “You could have killed us both pulling me down with you on those stairs.”


“Remind me never to drink again,” cried Pansy, sporting a hefty muggle-looking icepack over her forehead. “I suppose we should have made hang-over helper by the gross. How can they run out after only the first night?”


Harry ran into the room then and froze as his eyes locked with theirs. “Damn,” he whispered awkwardly, and his gaze as he passed their bed.


“What happened to you, Potter?” called out Pansy, craning her neck around to keep her eyes on him. She turned back around and shrugged at Blaise as he disappeared into Madam Pomfrey’s office.


“Oh, Harry! What happened!?” huffed Pomfrey, holding her hands out in question. Harry shrugged and pointed to his jaw as speaking was practically useless, not to mention telling her the truth wasn’t really an option.


Grabbing her wand and a handful of bottles, she set to work. Within a few minutes he was back to normal, and feeling very heavily medicated. “Now, take this one in about an hour. It‘ll give you some colour; you look a bit peaked,” she said, handing him a small phial of pepper-up potion. She held up another then. “This one is for pain. Just take a small sip when your jaw starts hurting. The joints are fixed, but the muscles will ache for a few days.” A larger bottle was thrust into his empty hand then and she clamped her hand over his, giving it a squeeze.


“Mind telling me what caused this?” she asked in all seriousness.


“I fell,” he replied. “In the shower, slipped and fell.”


“You wear your glasses in the shower now, Harry?” she said sardonically, pursing her lips as she stared at him.


“Err.. Yeah. I wasn’t thinking. Pretty thick, aren‘t I?” he said. “Will I be okay to go back to the...” he stopped himself, not knowing if she’d tell Dumbledore about the supposed ‘secret’ party. He probably knew anyways, but he didn’t want to be the one to blow it if he didn’t.


“The party?” she said with a smirk, “Yes. Just mind the drinking. It won’t mix well with the painkiller.”


“Thanks,” replied Harry, leaving abruptly before she could ask him again about what happened.


Pansy and Blaise watched him run past, noting his bare legs and feet as his robes flowed out behind him. “Hmm, interesting,” said Pansy, tossing her friend a very quizzical look.





“Granger!” shouted Draco, waving at the girl as she looked up from her textbook. He jogged over to her table and dropped himself down in the chair across from her quickly, completely out of breath. “Honestly, who studies on a Saturday?” he huffed, catching his breath with huge gulps of air.


Hermione closed her book and leaned in. “What made you come looking for me?”


“I wanted to ask you about Potter’s visit to the infirmary this morning. A few of my friends were in there, said he ran in half naked, straight to Pomfrey. From what they saw, he looked like he just ran into You-Know-Who; pale as a ghost, hiding his face from them,” he said suspiciously.


“Is he still there?” she cried. She stood up, dropping all her things in her book bag, hefting it up over her shoulders.


“No, he only stayed for about 10 minutes,”


“Follow me,” she said, walking fast to the exit.






Not really believing Ron’s claim of not being there when he got back, going up to his dorms was out of the question for Harry right then. He absently pocketed his potions and slipped past numerous students walking the halls without receiving too many stares over his lack of clothing. Trotting up the steps of the tallest tower, he rested himself inside the Astronomy room. Leaning up against one of the walls, he slid down until he hit the floor and sighed. He would stay up here for an hour or so, until he had the courage to go back.






A sharp knock on the dorm room door caused Ron to leap on his bed. Why would Harry knock? He thought to himself as he got up to answer it. “Hey.. What the hell!?!” he exclaimed, rearing back as Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway looking into the room over Ron’s shoulder.


Hermione pushed past him then, crossing her arms over her chest. “Where’s Harry?” she demanded.


“What the hell are you doing up here with him?” growled Ron, glaring over the platinum blond. “And I don’t know where Harry is. I was waiting for him up here.”


“Why did he go to the hospital wing this morning?” accused Draco, throwing off a much more intimidating glare back at the redhead.


Run shrugged, and a distinct flush began creeping out over his freckled cheeks. “He was sick,” he said in a smaller voice. “He said he’d be back much later. Anyways, you’d better get him out of here before anyone else sees him, he’s not allowed up here.” he directed to Hermione. He was growing quite tired of the questions and they had no right teaming up on him, asking questions about HIS boyfriend.


“Oh, and Malfoy...” he said, before closing the door, “Stay away from him. He’s mine,” He slammed the door, furious with his other ‘supposed’ best friend.


“Well, that was very odd,” said Hermione. “He looked awfully guilty about something.”


Draco nodded. “Yeah. Listen, I’m kind of worried now. If Harry left the infirmary and didn’t come back, and I’m pretty sure he hasn’t returned to the party wearing nothing but a robe... and trust me when I say nothing but a robe... Pansy was quite clear about that; where do you think he’s gone off to?”


“Let’s start looking,” she replied.


“Okay. I can get some friends to help.”


Hermione bit her lip. Being found by anyone other than her might be a bit much for Harry, but... what if he was in trouble? What if he had run off? What if he was so depressed and...


“Okay. I’ll get some Gryffindors to help look, also,”




Several hours later, it was Greg who found Harry, surprisingly enough. He trekked up several flights of stairs on a whim and found the small Gryffindor curled up on the floor of the Astronomy tower, very much asleep. Resting down next to him, he took a well deserved breather for a moment, before waking him up.


Shaking him gently, Harry began to flutter his eyelashes open. Giant, light-green eyes stared up at the large Slytherin in confusion. “Hey, mate, the whole school’s looking for you, did you know that?” he said, giving Harry a reassuring smile. “Let’s go downstairs and let everyone know you’re alright.”


Harry sat up slowly, feeling the stiffness in his back from sleeping on the hard floor. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. These painkillers Madam Pomfrey gave me must have knocked me out,” he replied apolitically. “I didn’t mean to make anyone worry.”


“It’s alright. Granger and Draco might wring your neck, though,” he teased, helping Harry to his feet.


“Draco?” asked Harry, cocking his head in confusion. “Why would I worry him?”


Greg chuckled hard. “That’s a good one, Potter. He’s only got the biggest crush on you, that’s all,” he replied, shaking his head. “How could you not know that? He stares at you all the time.”


“That’s not funny,” said Harry. He was dejected enough; making jokes about his crush on Malfoy would only get him in more trouble with Ron.


Greg stared back at him for a moment. “You don’t believe me, do you? I can see that you don’t. Well, it’s true. Ask him yourself when you see him. Hell, ask anyone else in this school. Everyone knows it,”


Wrapping his robe back around himself, he followed Greg down the several flights of steps until they reached the entrance. Greg snagged the first Slytherin he could find and told them to find Draco and Hermione and tell them he found Harry, and he was escorting him back to his dorm.


“Thanks for walking me here. I’m sorry I worried everyone.” he said, opening the Fat Lady portrait.


Greg waved it off. “You’re too polite. See you around, Potter,”




Ron was sitting on his bed when Harry entered. He leapt up and ran over to the boy, throwing his arms around him. “I was so worried you did something stupid. I’m so sorry, Harry. I’m so sorry,” he said, Tears began streaming down his face as he hugged him, Harry realized. Ron was crying. He’d never see him cry before.


“I’d die without you. I hate myself. I don’t know why I did it, I don’t deserve you,” he sobbed, clinging to the stiff body.


Harry broke down, sobbing along with him. “Please don’t ever do it again. I was so scared. I thought you were going to kill me,” he cried, pouring his feeling out into his tears and words.


Ron stepped back, cupping his chin gently and looked into his eyes. “I love you. I’ll get help. I don’t want to be like this anymore. I don’t want you to be afraid of me,”


“I want you to believe me. I didn’t do anything with Malfoy. He sat down and I stood up and left. That’s it,” said Harry, sobbing heavily now.


Ron nodded. “I believe you now. I do. Why am I so stupid? Why do I always screw this up?” he cried out.


He swept Harry off his feet then, holding him up in his embrace, and carried him over to his own bed. “Shh, stop crying. Let me take care of you. Let me make it better. I was so awful to you, I’m so sorry, love. Please stop crying,”


Laying Harry out over the bed, he climbed over him and closed the drapes. He undressed quickly and opened Harry’s robe, taking in the lissom body under him. He leaned in and captured the boy’s mouth with his own, kissing him passionately as their tears began to dry on their cheeks.


Breaking the kiss, Harry pushed back against Ron’s chest. “I really don’t feel well, could we hold off on this, please?” he whimpered. The several painkillers Madam Pomfrey had given him and the lack of eating made him very nauseous and dizzy, and to be honest with himself, he just didn’t want to sleep with Ron right now.


Ron leaned back in, pushing Harry’s hands away and pinned them to his sides. “Come on, I’ll make you feel better,” he purred, pressing his lips down over Harry’s before he could reply.


Harry felt claustrophobic, Ron always held him down whenever he wanted to get up. He moaned in anguish into Ron’s kiss, letting his tears slowly leak out of the corners of his eyes.


“Shh. Come on, Harry. Stop crying, I’m trying to make it better. Just relax. Don‘t cry, it‘s okay,”


Give in. Just give in and it’ll be over with. He’ll be happy, and he’ll leave you alone for a while. Harry told himself this, and then explained to himself that the sex wasn’t that bad. Ron was giving him much needed attention, tending to his needs, showing him he knew he existed as something more than a punching bag or something to scream at. He could handle his wrists being pinned at his sides, and his dizziness. He could just keep his eyes closed and let Ron do all the work.


Releasing his hands, Ron whispered soft words of encouragement to him as he flipped Harry over onto his stomach. His robe was shoved up, exposing his back, so he could stare down at its beauty.


“I don’t feel so good,” Harry whispered, feeling his wrists yanked back together behind him, then pressed down against the small of his back.


“Lift your ass up,” coerced Ron, slapping his thigh with the back of his free hand. Harry struggled to lift himself, but all his strength had left him and he collapsed back down into the bedding. Ron slipped his arm under his waist and pulled him up, positioning himself behind him. He stuck two fingers over Harry’s mouth then, tapping them against his closed lips. “Suck on them, baby. Get them real slick for me.” He purred like a cat over his prey, rubbing his fingers seductively over pouting lips, coaxing them open.


Harry gave in, parting his lips slowly, feeling the long slender fingers slide over his tongue. He whimpered softly as he sucked on them, wishing it would end soon. He needed to sleep, his head was spinning and he felt sicker than before.


Satisfied, Ron pulled his hand back and began coating him, running the fingers over the cleft. “I can’t hold out much longer, I need to fuck your tight little ass.” he whispered, thrusting his finger inside of him roughly. Harry bit his lower lip to keep from crying out, but relaxed a bit as Ron became gentler with the second finger. His head was clouded with fog now, and even keeping his eyes closed couldn’t block out the constant spinning.


Extracting his fingers, Ron pulled Harry closer into his lap and entered him, hissing between his teeth at the sensation. “Oh god... I swear you do this to me just so I’ll fuck you like this,” he moaned out, screwing his eyes shut, holding himself inside to lessen the euphoria. He reached around Harry’s waist, and grasped his length, stroking it to hardness as he began to move inside him. Harry let go of his senses, letting the pleasure flow over him.


He would hate himself for it later, but right now he needed it. Even as his arms were twisted up over his head, the thrusting strokes of pleasure overwhelmed him. He was weak; a weak-minded little slut; just like Ron always said he was.


He was getting so close and he needed to tell Ron; he wasn’t allowed to come too far ahead of him. “Ron.. I.. I’m.” he cried. Understanding, Ron thrust harder into him, feeling his own climax coming steady.


“Okay... come for me, Harry. Come for me, baby,” he whispered sweetly.


Harry cried out in a breathy sigh, spilling out over Ron's hand.


Harry’s sexy cries always pushed him over and Ron gritted his teeth as he came, hissing under his breath as waves of nirvana splashed over him. He lifted the exhausted boy up, pressing his back into his chest. Raising his lolling head up with his fingers, Ron captured Harry’s panting lips with his own, tasting the sweetness of his tongue one last time before they slept. “So beautiful...” he mused aloud, staring into his lover’s half-lidded, glowing green eyes.



“I love you, Harry,”



“I love you too, Ron,”




Falling asleep in each other’s arms, they never heard Hermione sneak in. She pulled back the drapes and saw them, and sighed heavily. She tip-toed out and met Draco down in the common room. “He’s asleep. Him and Ron, both.” she said. She didn’t want to mention the ‘in bed together, naked, in each others arms’ part, so she left it out.


“Oh. Well... bring him to the party tonight, I really want to see him, Hermione,” he pleaded, and Hermione’s jaw dropped open.


“You just called me Hermione. Are we friends now, or something?” she teased, waiting for the ‘mudblood’ insult to come into play.


Draco gave a weak smile, “I guess maybe we could be. You’re pretty cool for a Gryffindor,”


“Yeah, you too, Draco,” she replied.





Part 4