"Wear and Tear" (Harry/Ron with Hermione, PG13)
Title: Wear and Tear
Pairing: Harry/Ron, with Hermione
Rating: PG13
Words: ~1700
Requestor: libgirl
Prompt: Harry shows up at Hermione's door unexpectedly--needing help
A/N: Thanks to iulia_linnea for lightning-beta. :D There is mentioning of smut-worthy behavior, but none explicitly in the ficlet.
Wear and Tear
Hermione knotted her robe around her as she staggered from the bedroom in the dark, hoping whoever was pounding on her door at whatever time it was had a damn good reason.
She turned on the porch light, then put her eye to the peephole and frowned. It was Harry, though he was standing at an odd angle, grimacing. She slid open the Muggle chain and turned the deadbolt, then opened the door. "Harry?" She squinted at him in the bright light, trying to determine what was wrong.
Harry leaned against her door frame bent at the waist, pale. "Hermione! Can I come in?"
She stepped back and gestured him in, then turned the light back off and cast a gentle Lumos charm in the general direction of the lamp next to the sofa. It came on, dimmer than the porch light, as Harry hobbled toward it. "Harry, what's wrong? Do you need to go to St. Mungo's? Did someone attack you?"
"I can't go to St. Mungo's."
"Why not?"
"They'd tell Ron." He sat down gingerly, shifting his weight toward the left before he relaxed.
Hermione felt her face wrinkling in confusion. Finally, she said, "Why would they tell him?"
"I don't have family, exactly. Flatmate is the best I can list as my emergency contact, you know?"
"I assume there's some reason that would be a problem?"
"Yes! You can't tell him either."
"Tell him what, exactly? What's wrong?"
"It's. Look, do you have some tea? Or coffee? Or really anything at all? Also, ice?"
Hermione sighed and pointed her wand in the direction of the kitchen--well, what served as a kitchen in her little flat. A moment later a little tea service levitated toward her, with a dish of ice and a towel resting on the edge of the tray. She settled it on the table before Harry and started the water heating. "There. Will that do?"
He wrapped up the ice in the towel and set it in his lap, blushing furiously.
"Harry, what's wrong? Look, just say it."
"IthinkIbrokemydick," Harry mumbled.
"You think you broke your …penis?"
Harry picked up his cup of tea and gulped it down.
"I don't really think that's--"
"I know. I mean, I looked up the, um. There's no, um, bones? I mean, um. Also, ligaments?"
"Right. It's just sort of spongy flesh. Though I suppose there must be some sort of tougher tissue support, but still, I've never heard of a sprain…." Hermione blushed slightly on realizing she'd just gone off on a tangent regarding penile anatomy. "But what does any of this have to do with Ron?"
Harry winced. "Just, he's going to. See, it's. Shit. Uh, itmightbeasortofoveruseinjury?"
"Because of Ron?" Hermione's eyebrows rose.
"No! I mean, yes. I mean. Not exactly, but he's using his all the time, so for me to have this problem, and he knows it's not from anything less lame because after all we share a flat and besides, I hear him sometimes, he does it in the shower or well, I hear his bed --"
Hermione held up a hand. "I don't know whether I want to know this level of detail."
"Hermione! Shit, who else am I going to go to?"
"Well, if the object of your interest is Ron, perhaps you should go to Ron? Also, is the ice helping?"
"Not much." He shifted the bag of ice slightly with a wince. "I don't suppose you know any charms for repairing a man's--"
She sighed. "Merlin. Well, I know some general charms, though I can't say how well they'd work on…anyway. What sort of injury does it seem to be?"
"There's swelling. Er, I mean, not like that. I mean, you know, the uncomfortable kind. Also, the skin's all, sort of, I mean, red and rough and kind of gross, and…" He grimaced. "Look, you've seen a cock before, haven't you?"
Hermione scowled. "Harry. Honestly. Of course. I'm not a hermit, and you're certainly aware I've dated a number of men. For heaven's sake, I've certainly seen Ron's--that might not have been the best example, given your frustration."
Harry whimpered. "No, likely not. My point was, can I just show you? I mean, I know, it's a little weird to show up at this hour and ask if you mind having a go at my cock, but maybe you know something that would help? I tried some Muggle ointment stuff that was supposed to soothe, but I mean, the ice, and it just. Shit. I should go."
"No, just. Fine. I'll have a look. And then we'll forget this entire event, yes?"
"Yes. Yes, because honestly, Hermione, seriously, I love you and all, but thinking on a regular basis about you examining my cock would probably mean, um, never having this problem again."
"Thanks. I think."
Harry set the ice aside. "Uh. I could go take off my clothes in the other room, or, um, or you could turn your back, or--"
"Oh, for heaven's sake. Stand up." She yanked down his zip and opened the flies with a charm.
"Hermione! Where did you learn that?"
She glared and gestured toward his crotch. "I'd rather not go digging about in your pants, if you don't mind."
"What? Oh. Right." He gingerly pushed down the waistband of his underwear and pulled out his abused penis.
She brightened the light to peer carefully at the damage. "Harry. Good lord. You've rubbed yourself raw! You have blisters!"
"Yes, I know. But. Shit, Hermione. He's right there through the wall, and what am I going to do? I just--"
"--Ought to invest in some good lube. Apparently at a warehouse of some sort, so you can see whether they can deliver an entire pallet at once. How often are you… you know?"
"A lot."
"A lot is like, four or five times a day?"
"Yeah, something like that."
"I can tell. God. Didn't you think when you started experiencing chafing that really you should slow down?"
"Yeah, but then he told me he was going out dancing, and he was wearing these trousers, and…anyway, and I just couldn’t help it. Plus, you know how sometimes my magic sort of-- It's like I have some sort of feedback loop where he's concerned."
Hermione sighed and leaned forward to set the tip of her wand against the worst of the blistering. "You're a bloody idiot," she said.
"I know. Fix me anyway?"
"Yes, I know. I'm fixing you. Here." She murmured a series of charms that cleared up the redness and blisters, leaving tender new skin beneath, then knelt to touch. "Too sensitive?"
"Ouch! Yeah! Shit, can you--"
Hermione started another series of healing charms before whipping her head up as the Floo activated and Ron stepped through "Hermione, do you know where--Hermione!"
"Good knocking, Ronald."
"Sorry! I didn't really anticipate you'd be here with your hand in Harry's pants, now did I? Also, how long has this been going on?"
"Nothing's going on, Ron," Hermione said.
"You've got your hand on his cock, don't you?" Ron flushed scarlet and shoved his hands in his pockets, then took them back out, then took a step back.
"Yes, I did, but I was merely repairing some damage." Hermione got to her feet and stepped away from Harry, gesturing for him to fasten up his flies.
"What, by kissing it better?" Ron turned and picked up the little box of Floo powder Hermione kept on the mantel. "I'll just leave you to it."
"Ron, honestly," Harry said. "What did you need, anyway?"
"Was looking for you, you wanker. You weren't at home."
Hermione bit her lip to resist a giggle. "He came here looking for help, Ron."
"Dick therapy?"
"No." Hermione threw up her hands. "Harry, explain to Ron why you came here. Honestly."
"Hermione!"
"Seriously. Or I will. It can't be worse than this stupidity."
Harry groaned. "Fine. I came here because I needed something for where I. Shit. Where I wankedmyselfraw."
"Where you what?"
"Rubbed my cock so much it kind of. Broke. Or something."
Ron tilted his head. "Why the bloody hell would you do that?"
Harry slumped back on the couch, and Hermione sighed. "Because he listens to you in the shower and whatnot and it gets him, you know, excited. You might consider spending some time on your Muffling charms."
Ron blinked. "That can't be right. Harry, how can that be right? You'd have told me if you fancied--"
"What, so we could have awkward moments like this?"
"No! So we could, well, all right, there might have been a moment, but then we could have had not-awkward moments of an entirely different sort. Completely."
"Like what?"
"Like we could have dealt with it. Honestly, Harry, how'm I supposed to know if you don't tell me?"
Harry mumbled something into his chest.
"What?"
"He said, he didn't want to make things weird."
"And my showing up here with Hermione practically sucking you--"
"I was not!"
"Well, no, but it looked like, from the Floo. You have to admit that."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry, you're all fixed?"
Harry nodded, still looking at the floor.
"Fine. Excellent. I'm going back to bed. You two can take this conversation home." Hermione reached for the box in Ron's hand and dragged Harry upright, then tossed the powder and shoved Harry into the flame. She turned back to Ron. "Don't give him any shit about it."
"Why would I?"
"He's been wanking himself raw over you? Perhaps you can see the potential for idiocy?"
Ron blushed and tossed the powder, then shrugged. "It'd be bad for me, too, you know."
Hermione blinked. "So you--"
"I don't know who he thinks I'm thinking about in the shower, but--"
Hermione held up her hand to stop the detail for the second time of the night. "Right. Good. Got it." She paused. "And Ron?"
"Yeah?"
"Do me a favor. If you and he manage to rub anything raw? Take it to St. Mungo's, if you would? I seriously do not need to have to perform healing on both your bits."
Ron blushed darker, but nodded as he stepped into the flame.
Pairing: Harry/Ron, with Hermione
Rating: PG13
Words: ~1700
Requestor: libgirl
Prompt: Harry shows up at Hermione's door unexpectedly--needing help
A/N: Thanks to iulia_linnea for lightning-beta. :D There is mentioning of smut-worthy behavior, but none explicitly in the ficlet.
Wear and Tear
Hermione knotted her robe around her as she staggered from the bedroom in the dark, hoping whoever was pounding on her door at whatever time it was had a damn good reason.
She turned on the porch light, then put her eye to the peephole and frowned. It was Harry, though he was standing at an odd angle, grimacing. She slid open the Muggle chain and turned the deadbolt, then opened the door. "Harry?" She squinted at him in the bright light, trying to determine what was wrong.
Harry leaned against her door frame bent at the waist, pale. "Hermione! Can I come in?"
She stepped back and gestured him in, then turned the light back off and cast a gentle Lumos charm in the general direction of the lamp next to the sofa. It came on, dimmer than the porch light, as Harry hobbled toward it. "Harry, what's wrong? Do you need to go to St. Mungo's? Did someone attack you?"
"I can't go to St. Mungo's."
"Why not?"
"They'd tell Ron." He sat down gingerly, shifting his weight toward the left before he relaxed.
Hermione felt her face wrinkling in confusion. Finally, she said, "Why would they tell him?"
"I don't have family, exactly. Flatmate is the best I can list as my emergency contact, you know?"
"I assume there's some reason that would be a problem?"
"Yes! You can't tell him either."
"Tell him what, exactly? What's wrong?"
"It's. Look, do you have some tea? Or coffee? Or really anything at all? Also, ice?"
Hermione sighed and pointed her wand in the direction of the kitchen--well, what served as a kitchen in her little flat. A moment later a little tea service levitated toward her, with a dish of ice and a towel resting on the edge of the tray. She settled it on the table before Harry and started the water heating. "There. Will that do?"
He wrapped up the ice in the towel and set it in his lap, blushing furiously.
"Harry, what's wrong? Look, just say it."
"IthinkIbrokemydick," Harry mumbled.
"You think you broke your …penis?"
Harry picked up his cup of tea and gulped it down.
"I don't really think that's--"
"I know. I mean, I looked up the, um. There's no, um, bones? I mean, um. Also, ligaments?"
"Right. It's just sort of spongy flesh. Though I suppose there must be some sort of tougher tissue support, but still, I've never heard of a sprain…." Hermione blushed slightly on realizing she'd just gone off on a tangent regarding penile anatomy. "But what does any of this have to do with Ron?"
Harry winced. "Just, he's going to. See, it's. Shit. Uh, itmightbeasortofoveruseinjury?"
"Because of Ron?" Hermione's eyebrows rose.
"No! I mean, yes. I mean. Not exactly, but he's using his all the time, so for me to have this problem, and he knows it's not from anything less lame because after all we share a flat and besides, I hear him sometimes, he does it in the shower or well, I hear his bed --"
Hermione held up a hand. "I don't know whether I want to know this level of detail."
"Hermione! Shit, who else am I going to go to?"
"Well, if the object of your interest is Ron, perhaps you should go to Ron? Also, is the ice helping?"
"Not much." He shifted the bag of ice slightly with a wince. "I don't suppose you know any charms for repairing a man's--"
She sighed. "Merlin. Well, I know some general charms, though I can't say how well they'd work on…anyway. What sort of injury does it seem to be?"
"There's swelling. Er, I mean, not like that. I mean, you know, the uncomfortable kind. Also, the skin's all, sort of, I mean, red and rough and kind of gross, and…" He grimaced. "Look, you've seen a cock before, haven't you?"
Hermione scowled. "Harry. Honestly. Of course. I'm not a hermit, and you're certainly aware I've dated a number of men. For heaven's sake, I've certainly seen Ron's--that might not have been the best example, given your frustration."
Harry whimpered. "No, likely not. My point was, can I just show you? I mean, I know, it's a little weird to show up at this hour and ask if you mind having a go at my cock, but maybe you know something that would help? I tried some Muggle ointment stuff that was supposed to soothe, but I mean, the ice, and it just. Shit. I should go."
"No, just. Fine. I'll have a look. And then we'll forget this entire event, yes?"
"Yes. Yes, because honestly, Hermione, seriously, I love you and all, but thinking on a regular basis about you examining my cock would probably mean, um, never having this problem again."
"Thanks. I think."
Harry set the ice aside. "Uh. I could go take off my clothes in the other room, or, um, or you could turn your back, or--"
"Oh, for heaven's sake. Stand up." She yanked down his zip and opened the flies with a charm.
"Hermione! Where did you learn that?"
She glared and gestured toward his crotch. "I'd rather not go digging about in your pants, if you don't mind."
"What? Oh. Right." He gingerly pushed down the waistband of his underwear and pulled out his abused penis.
She brightened the light to peer carefully at the damage. "Harry. Good lord. You've rubbed yourself raw! You have blisters!"
"Yes, I know. But. Shit, Hermione. He's right there through the wall, and what am I going to do? I just--"
"--Ought to invest in some good lube. Apparently at a warehouse of some sort, so you can see whether they can deliver an entire pallet at once. How often are you… you know?"
"A lot."
"A lot is like, four or five times a day?"
"Yeah, something like that."
"I can tell. God. Didn't you think when you started experiencing chafing that really you should slow down?"
"Yeah, but then he told me he was going out dancing, and he was wearing these trousers, and…anyway, and I just couldn’t help it. Plus, you know how sometimes my magic sort of-- It's like I have some sort of feedback loop where he's concerned."
Hermione sighed and leaned forward to set the tip of her wand against the worst of the blistering. "You're a bloody idiot," she said.
"I know. Fix me anyway?"
"Yes, I know. I'm fixing you. Here." She murmured a series of charms that cleared up the redness and blisters, leaving tender new skin beneath, then knelt to touch. "Too sensitive?"
"Ouch! Yeah! Shit, can you--"
Hermione started another series of healing charms before whipping her head up as the Floo activated and Ron stepped through "Hermione, do you know where--Hermione!"
"Good knocking, Ronald."
"Sorry! I didn't really anticipate you'd be here with your hand in Harry's pants, now did I? Also, how long has this been going on?"
"Nothing's going on, Ron," Hermione said.
"You've got your hand on his cock, don't you?" Ron flushed scarlet and shoved his hands in his pockets, then took them back out, then took a step back.
"Yes, I did, but I was merely repairing some damage." Hermione got to her feet and stepped away from Harry, gesturing for him to fasten up his flies.
"What, by kissing it better?" Ron turned and picked up the little box of Floo powder Hermione kept on the mantel. "I'll just leave you to it."
"Ron, honestly," Harry said. "What did you need, anyway?"
"Was looking for you, you wanker. You weren't at home."
Hermione bit her lip to resist a giggle. "He came here looking for help, Ron."
"Dick therapy?"
"No." Hermione threw up her hands. "Harry, explain to Ron why you came here. Honestly."
"Hermione!"
"Seriously. Or I will. It can't be worse than this stupidity."
Harry groaned. "Fine. I came here because I needed something for where I. Shit. Where I wankedmyselfraw."
"Where you what?"
"Rubbed my cock so much it kind of. Broke. Or something."
Ron tilted his head. "Why the bloody hell would you do that?"
Harry slumped back on the couch, and Hermione sighed. "Because he listens to you in the shower and whatnot and it gets him, you know, excited. You might consider spending some time on your Muffling charms."
Ron blinked. "That can't be right. Harry, how can that be right? You'd have told me if you fancied--"
"What, so we could have awkward moments like this?"
"No! So we could, well, all right, there might have been a moment, but then we could have had not-awkward moments of an entirely different sort. Completely."
"Like what?"
"Like we could have dealt with it. Honestly, Harry, how'm I supposed to know if you don't tell me?"
Harry mumbled something into his chest.
"What?"
"He said, he didn't want to make things weird."
"And my showing up here with Hermione practically sucking you--"
"I was not!"
"Well, no, but it looked like, from the Floo. You have to admit that."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry, you're all fixed?"
Harry nodded, still looking at the floor.
"Fine. Excellent. I'm going back to bed. You two can take this conversation home." Hermione reached for the box in Ron's hand and dragged Harry upright, then tossed the powder and shoved Harry into the flame. She turned back to Ron. "Don't give him any shit about it."
"Why would I?"
"He's been wanking himself raw over you? Perhaps you can see the potential for idiocy?"
Ron blushed and tossed the powder, then shrugged. "It'd be bad for me, too, you know."
Hermione blinked. "So you--"
"I don't know who he thinks I'm thinking about in the shower, but--"
Hermione held up her hand to stop the detail for the second time of the night. "Right. Good. Got it." She paused. "And Ron?"
"Yeah?"
"Do me a favor. If you and he manage to rub anything raw? Take it to St. Mungo's, if you would? I seriously do not need to have to perform healing on both your bits."
Ron blushed darker, but nodded as he stepped into the flame.