Drarry One Shots

The Red King

A/N Due to a number of requests and also some ideas I had kicking around for the start of another story, I decided to make a part 2 to 'The Red Queen'.

Warning: This story turned out darker than I initially intended. It refers to abusive and non-consensual sex. If you will find this triggering, please skip.

Necessary disclaimer: this work is entirely fictional and a product of my imagination. Any resemblance to real people/events is entirely coincidental.

***

Ronald Weasley looked across the year-seven dormitory at his best friend and wondered if he actually knew who Harry Potter was, if he'd ever known him at all. He was certainly very different when he turned up for the Hogwarts Express at the beginning of the new academic year with his impressive Auror guard. Harry looked so different, not just in the way that he was dressed: the fancy black clothes beneath his posh claret-red velvet frockcoat with its fancy gold trim, but also in the way he held himself. He seemed to move differently, he seemed to walk between people around the school without giving way to them, as if he was in control of how others flowed around him, yet there was no arrogance or obnoxiousness in his demeanour—he just was. Noticeably, the clumsy awkwardness of his previous years had disappeared. Ron supposed it was a sort of manifestation of the relief in his life now that Voldemort, Fenrir, and Bellatrix were dead.

The deaths were still a mystery. No one had come forward and claimed responsibility. There was a theory kicking around that it had been one of the deserting Death-Eaters. Dolohov was the favourite because he'd disappeared back to Eastern Europe. A few people kept mentioning this mysterious Red Queen. She still hadn't made an appearance and Ron was beginning to think she was just made up, only apparently there was a price on Dolores Umbridge's head at the Red Queen's request and the bitch had gone into protective custody until such a time as she was put in front of the Wizengamot for the illegal use of a Black Quill, abuse of children under her care, and corruption of a Ministerial position for her own gain. Not that the court case would get anywhere because Umbridge had too many friends in the right places.

Harry was currently sitting barefoot against his bed, in the circle of their friendship group but also, very much not partaking. He still wore his uniform, despite the rest of them dressing down for the Friday evening and around his feet were a selection parchments and papers and books. Ron was fairly sure that most of them were not his potions homework despite the claims otherwise. He was certain that one was a floorplan and one was even a letter from Snape and included a selection of photographs of the exterior of a building.

The drinking game had come to a halt. Once more, the circulating bottle of Firewhisky stood untouched beside Harry and Harry wasn't answering the question, again. He was already stacking up a selection of full glasses. Each time they waited for him, each time Seamus became impatient and swore that Harry was 'a boring fecker these days', and each time, Harry completely ignored them all, engrossed in whatever it was he was doing. He did, every so often, take a distracted sip from the glass beside him but the more Ron watched him, the more he became certain it was just to appease Ron, Seamus, and Dean and he was sure that Harry wasn't actually swallowing any Firewhisky. Nev was long past complaints, Nev had passed out halfway onto his bed. He'd collapsed after fighting to do up the buttons on his pyjama top. His trousers and boxers were still around his ankles. It turned out that quiet and modest Nev had done quite a lot of things, including getting a large tattoo of a Mimbulus Mimbletonia on his thigh once he turned seventeen. Currently, his duvet barely covered his inebriated modesty and said tattoo was very visible to them all. As were the plethora of love bites on his inner thighs.

'Come on, Harry,' pleaded Ron, 'can't you just give us a moment of your precious time. Fuck your homework, I'm sure you're top of the class again anyway. It's the weekend. It's nearly midnight...'