Current mood:

accomplished

Finally finished, my Ron Ficathon story. :D

Written for mooders
Challenge: Ron/Dobby or Ron/Animal


Title: Love Potion No. 12507935639
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ron/Dobby, with cameos by Aberforth and Goat
Warnings: Fluff, Mpreg, Cross-species,
Notes: Thanks to Leah for betaing.






Love Potion No. 12507935639


The last days of the school year were coming fast. With all the revising Hermione had set for them, Ron was starting to feel quite stressed.

At home when he felt stressed he had a surefire was of relaxing, but at Hogwarts Ron never felt safe enough to have a proper wank. The midnight rub and tug sessions, leaving one ear open to ensure none of his roommate's snores changed pitch seemed to just wear him out more. He wanted somewhere private to really let go, he thought as he walked back frustratedly from the occupied Quidditch locker rooms. No, not wanted, thought Ron, needed. And then he knew exactly the place.

Ron paced the seventh floor corridor across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. He was concentrating, and hard, on what he needed. When the door to the Room of Requirement appeared, Ron wondered what he would find inside.

The first thing he noticed about the room was the grass. The room was much smaller than when they'd used it as the DA headquarters, but the smell of the grass and the sponginess of the earth beneath his feet was what registered with him first. What did the Room of Requirement think he needed with grass?

Ron thought back to what he'd been concentrating on. He couldn't recall either the grass, or the goat.

The goat?

Ron stared at the four legged barnyard animal standing before him. She stared up at him with large yellow eyes, and Ron knew exactly why he'd needed a goat. She was the most beautiful goat in the world.

She walked up to him bleating softly and he took her head in his hands. He caressed her nose, stroked between her eyes, scratched between her ears. She nuzzled up to him, butting her head up against his side. His hands traveled down her back into her long silky hair. She turned and Ron noticed her udder was very full. He looked to his left and saw a small stool and a pail just within his arm's reach.

Ron had never milked a goat before, but living in the country he'd seen it done. He rubbed her udder a bit before grabbing her teats, one in each hand. He tugged, squeezing down on the teats and was rewarded by the sound of milk pinging off the pail.

Leaning forward, he bent under her and aimed a teat at his open mouth. He squirted, missing his mouth at first but finally getting a taste of the warm milk. It was different than he'd expected, but Ron knew the goat was uncomfortable so he returned to milking her.

When he finished, the pail was more than half full. He looked to his left and spotted a small tin cup. He picked it up and dipped it into the bucket, taking a long drink of the cooling milk. It was sweet, and thicker than he was used to.

Ron nearly dropped the cup at the cracking sound behind him. He whirled, and found himself knee to nose with Dobby the House-elf. Dobby, his maroon top clashing horribly with his orange trousers, stared at Ron with green saucer-like eyes.

"Harry Potter's Wheezy!" he squeaked, "What is you doing here, sir?"

"Nothing," said Ron, "Erm, milking a goat?" Dobby let out a startling howl, and Ron jumped.

"Dobby knew he shouldn't have left goat here all by goat's self!" Dobby reached over and grabbed a large wooden mallet, "Professor Dumbledore will be most upset with Dobby. Bad Dobby!" he cried, bringing the mallet crashing down to his foot.

Ron caught the mallet on the upswing, and he knelt down next to Dobby.

"Hey, don't," he said, "It's okay. Tell me what's wrong, Dobby." Dobby sniffed.

"Aberforth Dumbledore said Dobby was to stay with goat, and that goat must not be milked, sir."

"Aberforth? Professor Dumbledore's brother? Why didn't he want you to milk her?"

"Aberforth Dumbledore did not tell Dobby why," he wailed, "Aberforth Dumbledore told Dobby to mind the goat, sir, and not to milk her. Aberforth Dumbledore will be back soon for his goat and he will see she has been milked." Ron sat down on the grass and motioned for Dobby to do the same. He handed Dobby the half full cup of milk and Dobby drank it back swiftly.

"We'll just wait for him then," he said, slipping his arm around Dobby's shoulders, "I'll explain it was all my fault, and I'm sure he'll understand."

"Thank you, Harry Potter's Wheezy," said Dobby, leaning into Ron. Ron picked a bit of lint off Dobby's chest, and then realized what he was wearing.

"That's the jumper I gave you last Christmas, isn't it?" he asked Dobby, who nodded. "It looks much better on you than it would have on me. Maroon absolutely clashes with my skin tone, but it goes well with your colouring."

"Thank you," said Dobby, "Sir is too kind."

"Nonsense," said Ron, his hand slipping casually from Dobby's shoulder to his waist. He looked down at Dobby and smiled at him. He paused, a little unsure, then leaned forward and kissed him.

Dobby's lips were rough and chapped under Ron's, but they felt nice. Ron pulled Dobby up into his lap. He twined his fingers with Dobby's long ones, sliding his thumb from the inside of Dobby's palm up his finger and back again.

"I'm not really Harry's Wheezy," Ron whispered into Dobby's ear and Dobby shivered. He closed his lips over Ron's again, pressing his tongue into Ron's mouth when it opened eagerly.

"What in the name of Merlin's blue bollocks?!"

Ron and Dobby sprung apart at the hoarse shout and turned to see the goat run up to a familiar looking old man. The man knelt down and hugged the goat fiercely, murmuring into her ear. He looked up again sharply, and peered at Ron and Dobby.

"So, you drank the milk I see," he said, "I'm only gone for a matter of hours and already my goat has been milked."

"It's all my fault, sir, Mr. Dumbledore," Ron said quickly, "I didn't know not to milk her, I'm terribly sorry."

"Well, it would have been fine had you just milked her, but you had to go ahead and drink it too, didn't you." said Aberforth.

"Is that bad?" asked Ron, "Is there something wrong with the milk?"

"It's not often you find one of the students snogging a house-elf, is it?" said Aberforth. Ron flushed.

"Well, I suppose not," said Ron.

"Her milk is a powerful love potion, you see," Aberforth explained, "There's been no cure found, yet."

"Oh," said Ron quietly. He looked down at Dobby, and managed to snatch the battleaxe away before Dobby could bring it down on his skull.

"I'll go tell Albus then," said a weary Aberforth, "Maybe he can have the house-elf transferred."

"No!" said Ron a little too loudly, "Er, we can tell Professor Dumbledore what happened ourselves, no need to trouble yourself."

"Fine," said Aberforth, not convinced in the slightest, but not really caring either, "Then I'm leaving." He turned to his goat, petting her head lovingly.

"Let's go home, my love," he said and she bleated an affirmative.

"Uh, see you later," said Ron, and Aberforth scowled at him before walking out the door, a hand possessively on the goat's neck.

When the door slammed shut Ron reached over and took Dobby's hand.

"A love potion," Ron said, "I couldn't even tell."

"Dobby is terribly sorry," he said, pulling his hand from Ron's and turning his back to him, "Dobby understands if Ha… if Wheezy wants Dobby to leave Hogwarts." Ron bent down and picked Dobby up, crushing him into a hug.

"Dobby," he said, "I love you. I don't care if it's a stupid potion, I've never felt this good in my life. You are not going anywhere you don't want to."

"Wheezy, I love you too," whispered Dobby, pressing his lips to Ron's ear. He traced Ron's ear with his tongue sending shivers up Ron's spine. When Ron opened his eyes he saw a bed just behind them.

He sat down on the bed, sitting Dobby in his lap.

"I think we can work things out on our own, can't we Dobby?" said Ron, grinning as he saw the table beside the bed that was covered in many useful looking items.


**


If Molly thought it was strange that her youngest son wanted to learn how to knit over his summer holidays, she didn't mention it.

If she wondered why all he wanted to knit was socks, she didn't mention it. Nor did she mention when the socks started becoming very small, tiny even.

If she noticed a loud crack come from Ron's room every night after he went to bed and every morning before he came downstairs for breakfast, she simply attributed it to the ghoul in the attic.

**

Tonight the couple lay drowsily in bed. Ron stroked his lover's extra round belly paternally.

"He won't work at Hogwarts," Ron said, pausing to kiss Dobby lovingly on the nose, "He'll go to Hogwarts, my love."

"Or she, Wheezy," said Dobby, a tear of joy sparkling in his eye.

"Or she," agreed Ron.

*fin*