Warning(s) References to canon character deaths and Voldemort's reign of terror and torture through the Carrows at Hogwarts in DH, but only briefly. Oral sex, frottage, manual, and anal sex. Alcohol use.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended. The song lyrics quoted are traditional, although they were made popular by The Pogues, whose influence I gratefully acknowledge.

Notes: I am hugely grateful to starstruck1986 S for her suggestions which were what finally got this fic going, and to nerak_rose for an inspiring prompt, ( A is apparently the only gay boy at Hogwarts - but how come the other guys are so interested in buying a blowjob or hand job from him? He's approached by B one day, but refuses to sell him sexual favours. B insists, A relents, but doesn't accept payment. Romance please. Happy ending a must. :)) and to the mods for running the hp_sexstars fest on Live Journal and the wonderful comm and finally to starstruck1986 again for being a brilliant beta.

"My round! All drinks are on me. Now, what are you all having?" Ron called out as they entered the Three Broomsticks.

It was the last Hogsmeade weekend before Christmas and was all so different from the start of term. Then, Ron had been scrounging drinks apologetically; it had been like the old days and Seamus had been comforted by the familiarity. Where had Ron got his money from? He hadn't left the castle since September, as far as Seamus knew.

The Owl Order deliveries had started about a month ago – smart clothes, Quidditch gear, booze and snacks to share around the Common Room. Ron looked tired but elated. At the start of the year he had been grieving as much as anyone – maybe even more than some. Three months later there was a bounce in his step and a confident smile. And the money; Seamus' thoughts returned to the mystery of the money.

Ernie MacMillan winked from the other side of the room and slipped into the Gents. He had all the privacy spells up by the time Ron had got the round in. First he dropped the coins into Ron's palm. Ron counted them out of habit, he knew he could trust Ernie; he held twice as much as he'd just spent at the bar.

"Sucking again then?" Ron checked.

Ernie nodded.

"You don't want to try a bit more?"

"I want to. After Christmas. I'll have more money then."

"I'll look forward to it. Now, are you looking forward to this?" Ron slipped his hands down Ernie's sides as he lowered himself to the floor.

"Fuck, yes!" Ernie managed as he watched his fly being unzipped.

"If you close your eyes you can pretend I'm Hannah."

"Can't. You're too good."

Ron grinned. Then he got down to work. It was nice to be the best at something.

Seamus wondered whether Ron had bowel issues. He seemed to spend so much time in the loo these days. Last time he'd been like that, it had turned out that he and Hermione and Harry had been brewing Polyjuice. There couldn't be any heroic mysteries now, though, surely? Wasn't the war over and Voldemort defeated?

Perhaps all that hard living last year had left Ron with some long-term health issues? Or maybe it was the grief? Mourning could take a body in strange ways, Seamus had found. Or perhaps Ron was just crying privately in there.

Dean asked him what was up. Seamus just smiled and changed the subject. He wasn't ready to talk to Dean about Ron. Not yet.

"I'm not gay," Theo Nott insisted.

"Nobody said you were, mate."

"You're the only filthy little queer in the school, aren't you, Weasel?"

"Apparently," Ron muttered.

"What did you say? Tart?"

"I said, 'Yes sir, that's quite right, sir.' You know I charge a reduced rate for friends and the blokes I fancy?"

"Really?"

"I just wanted you to know, you're not getting it. You pay full price."

"Shut up, Weasel, and get your hand in my pants."

Sometimes Ron disappeared for long periods of time. He missed some lessons. What was the point of returning to school of your own free will and then dossing off? He'd maybe had second thoughts about getting the N.E.W.T.s after all. Maybe he'd not be back after Christmas. That would be a real shame.

Seamus needed to talk to Ron before the end of term. Just in case. He might never have the chance again otherwise.

"Not here." Ron looked out into the dorm.

"What are you scared of?"

"Getting caught, of course."

"Like everybody doesn't know what you do already!"

"Not everybody. Come on." There were private nooks all over the castle, and Ron was getting to know them pretty well. As they snuck down the stairs he asked, "Now, what'll it be?"

"Blow job."

"Ok, then. Cash?"

"There you go. That's the last of what Gran gave me for beheading Nagini."

"We're all properly grateful for that, Nev. In fact, I'll do you a freebie at the Christmas party in recognition." Ron cast a cushioning charm on his knees.

"If I don't get lucky I'll call you on that."

"I'm safe, then, Nev. All the birds love a hero."

Neville said nothing. Ron didn't catch the sad look that passed over his face. He was too busy pulling out his friend's half-hard cock. Ron licked at the tip and then began passing his flattened tongue all over it. He reached in to fondle Neville's balls.

Ron liked the money, he couldn't pretend he didn't. He'd hated being the pauper all his life. At Christmas, he was going to treat everyone he knew to some properly cool presents. He was going to be wearing his coolest new clothes – clothes which had never been worn by anyone else.

He liked the cock, too. He was getting all the pricks he could handle. It was the best start to his sexual life that he could imagine.

At the time he'd been terrified, but he was glad now that Zacharias Smith had caught him with that old copy of Playwizard. They had never liked each other, and Smith had vowed to make his life hell. Which was probably the opposite of what it had actually become. Word had spread and opportunity had come knocking. When Smith had tried to buy into the fun, Ron had taken great pleasure in throwing his coins back in his face. He did have some standards.

Neville's grip tightened on Ron's hair. He had been stroking it.

"I'm gonna, I'm gonna -"

Ron grunted his understanding and the vibrations sent Neville over the edge.

"Jih ... Jih... Jih ... Oh, fuck!" he exclaimed as Ron's mouth was filled with hot saltiness. Ron swallowed.

They both pretended Neville hadn't said anything.

The castle was heavy with the lack of those who had died or run away. Seventh year had been horrible. Seamus had been in the resistance, of course, and all of those who had been had become close to each other. It had been difficult to trust anyone else with the Carrows in power. He had missed Dean. And Ron, Hermione, Luna and Harry, of course. More than anyone, though, he had missed Dean. There had been a time when he and Dean had talked about everything. They had an awkwardness to work through this term. They were getting back to where they had once been. Slowly. They still weren't telling each other everything, though.

Dean pulled Ron behind the Greenhouses and shoved the coins into his front pocket.

"You're addicted," Ron said with a grin.

"Just not getting any. A man's got needs."

"Quidditch practice in ten minutes."

"So make it a quickie. I can't fly with a stiffy like this. Bloody Parkinson in skimpy robes leaning over the cauldron like that."

"Hand job?"

"Ten minutes. Get on with it."

Dean unzipped and Ron took hold.

Ron seemed to be providing most of the booze for the Christmas party. Maybe it was because of saving the world – maybe there was money in it after all. Seamus wondered how he could get hold of some of it. He carefully placed his offering of poitín among the bottles on the table in the middle of the Common Room. There was every chance they might explode. Fergus' moonshine had a reputation for it.

The little kids had been packed off safely onto the Express that morning, so those who were old enough to Apparate had the place to themselves for the night. They were going to wander down to the school gates together when they woke up tomorrow, and spin off to their various homes from there. It was going to be a good night.

Hermione and Ginny were having a whispered conversation as they hung up decorations. There was no sign of Ron. Again. He was always missing. The thing about Ron in the old days was that he'd always been around. He'd have been scrounging something and looking embarrassed about it, but he'd have been around. He was good craic, was Ron. Seamus missed him.

Dean wandered in looking happy about something.

"Merry Christmas, Seamus."

"Should be better than last year anyway, eh?" Seamus replied.

Dean pulled a face. "Just about," he said. "Look, mate, I know what I'm gonna get you and everything, but I haven't got your present yet. Alright?"

Seamus shrugged. "Sure. You'll be over for New Year, won't you? I was thinking we'd do gifts then."

"Yeah, yeah, mate. Yeah." Dean clapped him the back. "I was all set to get it, like, only – me money's all gone. Y'know?"

Seamus shrugged a shoulder. They'd always swapped presents at New Year. It hurt that Dean thought he had to make excuses. Neither of them ever had any cash until after Christmas.

Dean laughed then. "Just like the old days, innit?"

Seamus grinned. "I've spent all me money on whiskey and beer," he sang.

Dean looked at the floor. "Not quite," he muttered.

Seamus waited for him to sing, for the signal that things were getting back to normal.

Ron was in the dungeons with Malfoy. He didn't feel safe.

Draco's hand was shaking with nerves. He swallowed. "Extra if you dress up a bit," he said in one long rush.

Ron took a deep breath. "How pervy?" he asked.

"Not perverse at all!" Draco snapped. "Just a pair of glasses."

Ron gaped at him. "You want me to borrow Harry's glasses -?"

"No!" Draco looked physically sick. "For Merlin's sake, Weasel! Not the Potter freak's unsightly little pebble-lenses."

Ron glared at Malfoy and tried to think himself down from losing his temper. Malfoy was rich, he told himself, he could be a good source of income. Especially if he was interested in something a bit specialist. How weird could it be? Everyone had a kink after all. There'd be extra for the costume, and then a bit more for keeping quiet about it. On top of which Malfoy was pretty fit. For a git. And he wasn't nearly so unbearably cocky since he'd lost a war.

Malfoy sighed impatiently and snatched up a piece of twisted metal from one of the piles of rubble which could still be found dotted about the castle. This one made a convenient hiding place out of a dark corner. He Transfigured the debris into a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles.

His curiosity swallowed his anger and Ron put them on. He felt a warm tingle at the back of his neck and watched some of his hair fall to the floor.

"Oi!" he remonstrated.

Malfoy shoved some more gold into his hand. "Facing away," he commanded.

Ron braced himself against the wall and lifted his robes. Coming home with a neat haircut would make his mum happy, anyway. He passed back the lube.

"When I say stop -"

Malfoy cut him off. "I'm not a monster, Weasel." He smoothly pressed one lubed finger into Ron. "Or a virgin. This won't hurt a bit. Now shut up."

When he was sure that Malfoy was completely absorbed in screwing him, Ron cast a sneaky reflective charm. Yep. Just as he'd suspected. He looked like Percy. Malfoy's fingers ran over his face, over the spectacles. Well, his brother had been away from the family for a long time, who knew what he had been up to? With Malfoy of all people. Ron didn't want to know, not really. He ended the reflective charm.

He closed his eyes and absorbed the sensations. Malfoy slammed into his prostate. Certainly not a virgin; he knew what he was doing. Ron allowed himself to enjoy his work.

"... and it's no, nay never!" Dean banged three times on the arm of the chair. Seamus joined him. "No, nay, never, no more!" they both sang. "I'll play the Wild Rover, No never, no more!"

Dean had started the song. Dean had remembered. Seamus felt like his life was falling back into shape.

"Shut up!" Harry and Padma shouted over in unison.

Just like the old days. Seamus and Dean laughed naturally and sat back against the sofa. Seamus smiled to himself. Only in the old days it would have been Ron, too, but Ron was missing again. The Common Room was looking grand. It was going to be a fine party. He was distracted for a moment by Hermione and Ginny's conversation. The whispers had become hisses; they were disagreeing about something.

He caught Hermione's abrupt "Don't you dare say anything!".

When he turned away from the women in embarrassment, he found Dean looking at him.

"You wanna know where all me money's gone?" Dean looked shame-faced.

"Not if ye don't want to tell me."

Dean sighed. "You're me best mate. We used to tell each other everything. I've got to tell someone. Tell the truth, mate, I think I'm addicted."

Ginny stormed past them and out of the room.

Ron was climbing the stairs with a slightly sore arse, a happy heart, a pocket full of galleons and a bonus tidy Christmas haircut, when Ginny appeared above him. She looked furious; he hoped she was looking for Harry.

"Merry Christmas, little sis'!"

"Don't you 'Merry Christmas' me!" she stormed, looking appallingly like their mother. It wasn't Harry she was mad at, then.

"Look, whatever it is, I'll make it up to you. I've got you a brilliant present -"

"I don't want your gifts. I don't want anything to do with your money, Ron. I know where it's come from!"

"Oh." He was several steps below her. He wanted his height advantage back. Not that it was going to do much good.

"Hermione was just telling me what you're planning to give Mum and Dad for Christmas-"

"Well, after the year we've all had, I thought it might be nice to-"

"You prat! You don't think they'll start asking how you can afford it? They've just lost one son, they really don't need to find out that the one they thought was a hero is actually a whore!"

"Mind your own bloody business, Gin." She had a point, though. He hadn't thought of that. He tried to push past her but she grabbed his elbow.

"How could you, Ron? Where's your self-respect? Nobody's going to care about you being a poof, but this is... it's..."

"Disgusting?" he offered.

"Yes!" she spat back.

"It's easy for you! You've got a rich boyfriend. I don't see you turning down all the little love tokens Harry gives you all the time!"

"Don't you dare compare my situation to yours! That's completely different." Her grip loosened.

"Is it really, though? You know Neville's in love with you?"

She shrugged, like she did know, but she chose not to think about it.

"But he's not as wealthy as Harry is he? Is that why you chose my best mate? So you can use him?"

Ginny slapped him hard. Then she turned and stormed back up the stairs.

"He says your name when he comes in my mouth!" Ron screamed after her.

She was through the portrait hole before he realised that she might have thought he meant Harry rather than Neville. No, Harry had never been a client. He'd never judged him, but he'd never wanted to be unfaithful to Ginny either.

Where she had hit him it was really starting to burn now.

Seamus could hardly believe it. Except that it all made sense. "Is he any good?"

"Brilliant!" Dean said. "Best I've had. Not that I'm gay or anything."

"Right. So, better than his sister?"

"Oh, yeah. Better than his ex. And Lavender was one of the best." Nobody knew where Lavender was now.

"That good?"

"I s'pose blokes, they've got bigger mouths. He gets more in, anyway. And he knows what it feels like so he knows what feels good. He's the best I've had."

"Well, you'd know." Seamus paused. He wouldn't have any comparison, of course, not like Dean. "So," he said slowly, "Would that be a recommendation, like?"

Ron stumbled through the portrait hole after Ginny, only to find that the Common Room was full of people. He'd forgotten all about the party. He took a deep breath. Never mind, he could do with a drink. He had provided most of it after all. And that felt good; he wouldn't let Ginny stop him from feeling good about that.

He found a drink and then he found Neville. Hadn't he promised him a freebie?

"Merry Christmas, Neville."

"Ernie and Hannah have split up."

Ron nearly said that would be because Hannah gave crap head. He was glad he hadn't when Neville added, "So I asked her out and now she's my girlfriend!"

"But I thought... Brilliant, mate! Well done. The party's only just started and you've pulled already. What did I tell you?"

"So, thanks for the offer, but -"

"Freebie no longer required. I get it."

Neville scampered away and, as he watched him go, Ron caught sight of Seamus and Dean, deep in conversation. Seamus looked up and looked straight at him, before blushing and turning his head away sharply. Shit! Dean had told Seamus. Ron hadn't asked him not to; it had only been a matter of time, but Ron really hadn't wanted Seamus to know.

He might defend his choice to Ginny, and laugh it off to Harry as the best job in the world, but when he thought about his Mum knowing, or McGonagall finding out, or Seamus, then he was full of shame. Why Seamus? Why him more than anyone? It didn't make sense. There were loads of blokes he fancied, Seamus was just another one. He might even be a new customer. The thought turned Ron's stomach.

When one of Fergus' poitíns did explode, Seamus decided to make himself scarce. He had enough Dutch courage inside him by then to go and get what he wanted anyway. Ron had sloped off to the bedroom soon after the party began. He had one inflamed cheek and Seamus wondered whether he'd got that when he was working. The idea made him feel queasy. It was hard enough to think of Ron pleasuring someone safe like Dean. The idea of some sicko knocking Ron about or something was more than Seamus could cope with. His mind pushed off the images, refusing to absorb them.

When Seamus walked into the bedroom, Ron was sitting on his bed with a pot of dittany and a mirror. Their eyes met in the mirror and the back of Ron's neck flushed. Neither of them spoke and Ron didn't turn round. Seamus went over to his own trunk and hid his head in it for a few moments, breathing deeply to try to calm himself. When that didn't work, he decided that the only thing he could do was to take the bull by the horns. He scraped his fingers into the corners until he was sure he had gathered every last one of his coins.

With his cupped hands full of small change, he approached Ron's bed. He coughed to get attention.

"Yes?" Ron looked at his face, then he looked at his hands. A horrified expression froze his features.

The best course of action would be to just blurt out his request, as fast and as loud as he was able. "Look, Ron. I was just wondering whether you might be, um, I mean, I understand that you've a line of work now, a profession, is it? I was wondering if you might consider me as -"

"No!" Ron said. He swallowed and stood up. "No, Seamus. You can't. I won't. Look, excuse me, I need to wash. I'm filthy. I mean, I want a shower." He backed away. "Excuse me." Then he shot off into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

Seamus was left devastated in the middle of the room, alone, with the money warming in his grasp.

Why not him? Dean had made it clear that he wasn't Ron's only customer. But maybe Ron only went with lads he fancied: the hot straight boys, the fanciable ones who were otherwise unobtainable, but who were grateful for the outlet, who were prepared to pay for some thoughtless relief. Seamus felt his eyes sting with something, as his guts rolled and the rest of his body became ice cold. It was as he had always suspected, he was revolting. It wasn't just that next to Dean no man looked good, he really was supremely unattractive. He couldn't pay Ron enough to even consider him. The knuts and sickles slipped onto the floor and Ron's mattress.

He could hear the water running in the bathroom. Ron was under that shower, lathering his body with soap and washing off the disgusting suggestion that he might touch Seamus. Seamus had never thought of himself as handsome. He had spent his adolescence comparing himself to his friends and placing himself last in any order of preference. In dark moments he had suspected that he might have been malformed, but he'd always managed to talk himself round. Only it was true. He was so ugly that he'd just been turned down by a prossie.

His sight was blurred by something he chose not to acknowledge as he stumbled onto his bed and hauled the curtains round by hand. He yanked them so hard they might have come off their runners if they hadn't been magically secured. He shut out the world and threw himself onto his pillow.

His body shuddered. In all that time suffering under the Carrows, after all those Crucios he'd had inflicted on him, and the meagre few he had successfully been forced to inflict on others, he had never cried.

Now, though, his face was wet and his throat raw, strange sounds sobbed out of him and his ribs jerked in spasm uncontrollably.

The noise of running water stopped. Seamus hadn't been aware that he had been listening to it, but he must have been. Shock froze him and he wiped his face dry. He bit his lip, but the weeping seemed to have stopped itself. He lay on his back and concentrated on breathing as he waited and listened.

The bathroom door opened and closed. There were footsteps. The bedroom door closed heavily. So. That was that. He was alone. Ron had run back to the party. Seamus strained to catch music or something coming from the Common Room, but it was too far away. He stared through near-dark with sore eyes, wishing he'd got onto the Hogwarts Express with the children this morning.

"Seamus."

Ron's voice made him jump. It was just next to his bed. He said nothing.

"Can I open the curtain?"

Seamus didn't know what he wanted so he didn't reply.

"I want to talk to you."

"Ok," Seamus heard himself answer.

Ron wafted a smell of soap in with him, which made Seamus feel sticky and grimy. Ron was wearing new, silk pyjamas. He had already sat down on the very edge of the bed, before he asked, "May I?"

Seamus shrugged. He stared up at the canopy.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked.

Seamus made a noise in his raspy throat; even he didn't know what it meant.

"Look, I know Dean told you about my job, well, my – erm, fundraiser. Profession, you said, right? That's a bit grand. It's not like I had to pass interviews and sit exams, is it?" Ron tried a laugh, but when Seamus didn't join him, he sighed instead. "Only there are sort of rules, I suppose. Good practice. It's not written down or anything. You know me, I wouldn't read it all if it was. Only there's good practice, right? There are things you don't do."

"A Hipp-whore-crattic oath?" Seamus asked bitterly.

"Please don't be angry with me. Stop acting all hurt. Let me explain."

"I'm not stopping ya."

"With people like Dean, or Neville, it's just like helping out a friend. I trust them, I don't charge them much, we both get something out of it. Then there are other people, where the money's more important. Some of them I actually fancy, but the money makes it ok to go with them, because I don't really like them. Does that make sense?"

"No."

"No. Alright then, how about this? So apparently I'm the only gay in the school."

"I don't think you are," Seamus whispered.

Ron laughed bitterly. "Of course I'm not. I wouldn't have clients if I was, would I?" he paused. "Well some, my straight mates who just want to... get rid of frustrations I s'pose. What I mean is, that I can charge my friends who are actually straight, or my enemies and acquaintances who are gay, but I can't take – anybody's money – if there's a chance that... What sort of a relationship would it be if it started out like that? With money involved?"

Ron tensed and waited. Seamus felt like something had been said, something which he needed to react to, only the fogging in his brain wouldn't let him see what it was.

"How ugly would I have to be to get turned down by a rent boy?" he asked eventually. "You fuck all sorts. Slytherins and everything. I hadn't realised I was quite that bad is all. I'll get over it."

"Are you fishing?"

"What?"

"You don't actually think that?"

Seamus looked at Ron and Ron looked incredulous. Seamus sat up and looked right back at him. What else was he supposed to have thought? He didn't understand.

"Seriously?" Ron asked. "You think you're ugly? You have heard of mirrors, haven't you?"

"Aye and I've used enough to know where I stand beside the likes of Dean and Harry. And you."

"You're still in love with Dean?" Ron looked deadly serious.

How the fuck did he know about that? "Not really," Seamus found himself answering. "I missed him last year something rotten, but not like I fancied him."

"Last year..." Ron said contemplatively. He shuffled further onto the bed, then back towards the headboard and sat against it. "Last year I used to go to sleep with the radio on."

"Potterwatch?"

"Right. The lists of the dead and missing. I liked it when I didn't hear the names of my family."

"I know that one."

"Right." Ron closed his eyes. "Only sometimes it would seep into my dreams and I'd dream that I did hear names. One night I woke in a cold sweat 'cos I'd dreamed of Lee saying your name."

There was a silence. Ron opened his eyes and looked at Seamus. Seamus didn't quite know what to think. He took a punt. He wasn't sure, but he'd suspected: "Are you still in love with Harry?"

Ron sucked in a sharp breath. "Oh. That," he said. He thought, then shook his head. "Nah. Don't think I am any more. You know how it is, when you've got a straight best mate sometimes all those different kinds of love get shuffled up."

Seamus nodded. "So you see it all wrong. It takes a while to tease it apart, to make the fact that he's fit and the fact that you care about him, stop adding up to some unrequited, tragic love story."

"Right," Ron said. He nodded. He looked into Seamus' face.

"I think there's something I'm not getting," Seamus said.

"I think there is, you thick Irish git."

"Words of one syllable, then, you cheap English tramp."

"Not that cheap."

"Dean could afford you more than once and he's always broke."

"Fair point." Ron cocked his head on one side. "Does he know? About you?"

"About me what?" Seamus only just got it out; his throat had dried out suddenly.

"I have to be the one to say it?"

"Say what?"

"Your sexuality, Seamus. Where would you place yourself? If you had to fill in a form and that was one of the questions."

Seamus found his voice had abandoned him altogether.

Ron took a deep breath. "I like being a rentboy, Seamus. The work's fun and the money's good. You get to meet new people, and get to know people better who you sort of knew before. I'm saying people, but we both know I don't mean women or children. It's good work for a single bloke. Do you see what I'm saying?"

Seamus shook his head.

"It's good but it's not ideal. If there was any chance of me having a relationship with someone I really liked and fancied and cared about, then I'd stop whoring right away. It would get in the way, you see. The prostitution and having a boyfriend, they would complicate each other. It wouldn't do to get those things tangled round each other." Ron looked into Seamus' eyes like he was attempting telepathy. "I couldn't work out why I didn't want to take you on as a client and then I thought it through in the shower and that's what I came up with."

Seamus thought he might be getting it, but he didn't dare to hope. "But you've got so much experience now," he managed. "You'd not be wanting some lame-arse virgin boyfriend who didn't know what he was doing, would ya?"

Ron paled. His freckles stood out. "But the first time should be special. I'd hate to think of anybody wanting to pay for their first time."

"How else is it gonna happen?"

"Maybe if someone fell in love with you and you managed to overlook how filthy and disgusting and cheap he'd been before you." It came out of Ron's mouth in a rush, colour flooding his face just as quick.

"In love?" Seamus asked breathlessly.

"I don't know! What would I know? I'm crap at this!"

"That'll be the both of us, then."

Ron suddenly laughed. "Hipp-whore-cratic oath. That's a good one."

"What's the rule I broke, then?" Seamus asked seriously.

"You didn't break anything. The golden rule is: don't fall for a punter. So, the thing is, that I couldn't do a trick for someone I could have fallen for. See?"

"You could fall for me?"

"Think I already did. Just now. Here."

"Good," Seamus said quietly. He crawled up to where Ron sat. "'Cos I've been in love with you for a while now. When I realised I didn't fancy Dean any more it was 'cos I'd started fancying you." He closed his eyes and carefully kissed Ron's cheek. "And then I saw you again and it was so much worse than that." He kissed Ron on the lips, and Ron kissed back a bit. "Jesus, will you kiss me now? I don't have a clue what I'm doing."

"I've never done kissing before. Just about everything else, but we'll have to work this one out together." Ron lifted his hands to Seamus' cheeks. He looked down to his lips and then closed his eyes.

Their mouths had just met when there was a banging on the door.

"Oh yeah," Ron said softly. "I locked it." That explained the sound of its closing earlier then.

"Are you going to let them in then?"

Ron wrinkled his nose like he was considering the idea. "Nah. The Tower's full of empty beds, let the rest of the boys find them."

"Why did you lock it?"

"After the shower. So I could do this in peace." Ron pulled Seamus down with him onto the bed. They wrapped their arms round each other. They kissed again.

The door was knocked again. Their lips worked against each other. Seamus stopped thinking through what he was doing and found his tongue inside Ron's mouth, dancing against his. Their bodies were heated. Whoever it was at the door gave up and stomped downstairs. Seamus ran his hands over Ron's body, over the silk pyjamas and the sharpness of newly cut hair, and the length of his nose.

"What do you want to do?" Ron asked gruffly against Seamus' chin.

A myriad of options presented themselves in Seamus' head, and he nearly started listing. Instead - because he wasn't a client and he didn't want to be treated like he was - he said, "What do you want, Ron? You choose."

After a pause full of kisses, Ron replied, "I want to see you naked."

Seamus kicked off his boots and pulled up his robes. Together they peeled off his underwear. Ron knelt above him and stared at his pale flesh and throbbing hard-on.

"And you," Seamus suggested, feeling self-conscious.

"Oh. Yeah." Ron kept gazing at Seamus' body.

Seamus reached up and yanked at the waistband of Ron's pyjamas.

Ron laughed softly. "Sorry. Distracted." He eased the elastic over his own erection and slipped off the silk trousers, then undid just two of the fancy buttons before pulling the top over his head. Something tore but he didn't seem bothered.

Ron lay down next to Seamus.

"I've never done this before," Seamus said.

"Me neither," Ron replied. "Naked in bed with someone special."

"Yes, that's grand. But I've never done anything like this before," Seamus replied, a little tetchy because of the nerves.

"One step at a time then," Ron whispered. He ran a hand from Seamus' neck to his waist.

Seamus shivered with want. "Next step!" he ordered.

Ron chuckled. "Next step, you do it to me," he teased.

So Seamus did. Then he kissed Ron again and in the dark and heat of the kiss, he let his hands roam free. He ran them over the hair of Ron's chest, and conjured its colour from memory; he stroked the scars Ron had got from the brain in the Department of Mysteries and remembered every rumour he heard about that night; he gripped the firm muscle of Ron's thighs and thought of Quidditch uniforms. Then Seamus realised that he was lying on top of Ron with his cock pressed between their bellies, and Ron's cock in his hand. Their hips were thrusting in time with their tongues. They had found the same rhythm and without Seamus knowing what was happening, they were building together towards release. Ron's hot breath panted into Seamus' shoulder.

He ground hard against Ron's belly and Ron whimpered. Seamus shifted slightly so that their cocks were together. He let go and planted both of his hands on the mattress, either side of Ron's shoulders. They thrust onto each other, each touch sending almost unbearable sparks of sensation through Seamus' body.

Ron was talking. Seamus tried to concentrate. "Can't hold much longer. Now? Come now?" Ron panted.

Suddenly Seamus didn't know how he could do anything but. "Now," he agreed, just before the first wave burst out of him.

They came together onto their pale, hairy bellies. Then they lay quietly and Seamus realised just how sweaty he had become.

Suddenly Ron squeezed him tight. "Never done that," he whispered. "That's brilliant."

Seamus' brain was reviving and he didn't want it to. There were too many things which Ron had done with too many other people and Seamus wanted to forget all of that.

"So..." Ron said slowly. "Am I giving up the whoring, then?"

"Up to you," Seamus grunted.

"No. I said before, if I had a boyfriend then I'd stop. And it's up to you whether I do or not."

Seamus took a deep breath. Then he laughed. "You want me to ask you out? After all that?"

"Go on."

"Alright then, Ronald Weasley would you do me the honour of being my boyfriend?"

"You'll have to come out of the closet. I'm not sneaking about in secret, you know."

Oh, yeah. Seamus gave that some thought. "All right so," he said.

"You were completely right," Ron said. "I have seen the error of my ways."

Ginny looked at him suspiciously. "Huh?"

"I listened to you, Ginny, and I agree. If you want me to stop fucking for money then that's what I'll do."

They were in the middle of the Common Room which was a mess of empty bottles and poitín-soaked sofas. Sleepy, hungover teenagers stumbled around, trying to tidy and say their goodbyes and find their clothes.

"Really? You're admitting that I'm right?"

"Yes."

"And you're going to stop?"

"Aw!" Dean made a disappointed noise over her shoulder. "You can't stop! What am I going to do?"

He was yanked aside suddenly by his best friend.

"Seamus! What?"

Seamus took a deep breath. "Ok, Dean. I'm gay and I'm going out with Ron."

"What?"

"That wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Ok, Neville!"

Neville tore himself away from Hannah's adoring gaze. "Huh?"

"I'm gay and I'm going out with Ron."

"But Ron's -" Neville stopped himself and looked at Hannah. "That's great, Seamus. Great. I had no idea that either of you were, um..."

"What on earth has been going on here?"

The students all turned at the sound of their Head's horrified voice. She stood in the open portrait hole, staring at the devastation beyond.

Hermione started to speak, but Seamus cut across her: "Professor McGonagall," he said, "I'm gay and I'm going out with Ron."

"Is that so Mr Finnigan?" She looked down her glasses at him. "Merlin preserve us! What a team you two will make." She looked back up and projected her voice over the whole room. "Nobody leaves until this tower is spotless, do you hear me?"

"Yes, Professor," a mumbled chorus replied.

She looked back at Seamus suddenly. "Ah. Does that mean that Mr Weasley will no longer be, um, available for hire?"

Seamus squared his shoulders. "Yes. We're exclusive!" he said proudly.

"Oh. Filius iwill/i be disappointed. I'd better just go and break that news to him."

Seamus spun round to find his boyfriend, but Ron had already found him and was wrapping his long arms round him.

"Flitwick? Ron, what -?"

Ron stopped him. "Darling, I think we should put the past behind us and move forwards."

"Yes, but -"

"And you know, it's very sweet, but you don't have to tell absolutely everyone we know individually. We could save some time by..." He drew Seamus' face to his own and they kissed deeply in the middle of the room.

They were assailed by shouts of "Get a room!", "Get your kits off" and "Get off him for a minute and give us a hand clearing this up, will you?" all of which they ignored.