Nobody's ever shared with me before now.
At home, I usually just claw my way past my brothers to get to the treats that Mum makes for us. It's usually gone by the time I get to the counter, though. I suppose that's why I get stuck with corned beef sandwiches for the train ride.
And yet, here we are, eating our way through the sweets that are piled up in mountains at our feet.
This can't be Harry Potter. This can't be the hero I've been told of, the fantastic figure that I've idolized since I was five. This boy in front of me looks slightly weak and starved, and so painfully shy. I stare at him intently as if waiting for some miraculous change in the boy. His brilliant green eyes fall on me again, and I quickly turn my eyes to the window to pretend I hadn't looked. He knows I did. My face burns with horrible embarrassment as I feel his discomfort.
I show him my rat to change the subject. I almost let it slip that our family is poor, but I catch myself in time. He has a look of pity and understanding on his face now. I don't want people to pity me. It makes me feel… less.
Another boy intrudes our compartment. He's too well-dressed and cocky to be middle-class. He says he's a Malfoy, that horrid family that Dad complains about all the time at home. I can already feel the hatred boiling inside me for this boy. He turns toward Harry and holds out his hand in an introduction. He says he doesn't want Harry to make friends with the "wrong sort", with an implied glance in my direction as he says so. Harry rejects the offer, leaving a ticked off Malfoy to walk away with his overly-large cronies to trail behind in his wake.
I'm flattered and a bit embarrassed that Harry Potter would choose me, a low-class riffraff, over a Malfoy, even though we've known one another only over an hour.
I don't tell him that I searched him out when I got on the train.
I follow Harry off the train, too. I assume we're somewhat friends now, because I've learned to follow my instincts. I can feel the connection between us, and I think he feels it too.
***
I've broken my wand, thanks to a tree. Mum's going to kill me when she finds out. Harry tries to lift my mood by cracking a joke, but it doesn't help. It's okay, though. Because he tried to help; that's what he does best.
We're still shaken up from the accident we had. The other Gryffindor boys think it's brilliant. I, on the other hand, am overcome with guilt. I had been the one driving. I could have pulled up at the right times or even just missed out on this school year. Waited for Mum and Dad to come get me, and they would have figured something out for me about school. But no. I had to do the stupidest option possible. Yes, a brilliant idea, Ron. Drive the car to Hogwarts. The teachers will understand.
Yeah, or not.
I can barely think properly now. It's okay, I guess, because Harry and I came out of this alive. That's all that matters anymore to me. That Harry and I are together. Together, we can accomplish anything.
Together, everything's okay.
***
I've broken my leg. I have the worst of luck sometimes. Yes, I've broken bones before, but we've always been able to heal them fairly quickly. Now I have to wait.
It's horribly painful, as usual, and I can't stand upright.
To make things a hundred times worse, Harry's going to be killed.
Sirius Black looks like a life in Azkaban hasn't done him much good. His teeth are rotted and yellow, his hair long and shaggy. Mum always said he looked like a murderer.
He accuses Scabbers of being an Animagus. Of course, I don't believe him.
Harry looks scared and slightly confused. I may not be able to stand, but I do my best to protect my friend.
Black laughs. He has a laugh that sounds almost like a bark, and smiles his nasty smile.
Harry is trembling now, but he tries to look brave. I hold onto his shoulder for support.
We stand united, because everything we do, we do together.
***
I hurt his feelings. I call him names and get in his face. I hate him. He looks at me with complete loathe and chucks a pin at my face. It bounces on my forehead with a tiny clang, and I feel the spot where it hit ache. He says maybe I'll have a scar now, since that's what I want. I make a serious consideration to just hit him as hard as I can. I change my mind and walk back up to bed.
He's a complete git. I hate him. He's the worst person, the worst friend, on the face of the planet.
As much as I'd like to believe this, I can't. I try and pretend that I'm not sorry. That I don't miss him. That I don't have the world's biggest crush on him.
I can pretend that I don't love him.
But I do.
I think it shows.
***
I can't breathe.
Their slimy tentacles wrap around my extremities, my head, my stomach, my throat. They squeeze and crush my windpipe. I can't move anymore.
I struggle.
It doesn't work.
I can hear Harry screaming my name, but it's faint.
Everything is going black. All the sounds I once heard are fading quickly, and I make no effort to get free. I am going to die, and I can accept this.
Suddenly, they release me. I can't tell what's just happened, but I can see that Harry and the others have moved onto the next room without me.
Without me.
Whatever happened to together?
***
He kisses my little sister.
I feel as though time has momentarily stopped. Their mouths crush together, deepening the kiss, and my heart sinks.
I feel horrible. Like I'm about to throw up my breakfast right in here.
His arms tighten around her, almost in slow-motion, and she kisses him back.
They pull apart, looking so content and happy, like they both died and went to heaven. Harry turns to look at me. His green eyes, those brilliantly green eyes that make my knees go weak, look directly into mine. It's like he can see inside of me, in my heart. His look is one of plea, and I have no choice.
I give a half-shrug, not too meaningful, as I blink back stinging hot tears. He smiles at me, and they interlace their fingers. A sign of unity. Happiness. A sign of intimacy and love.
All of the things that I once thought belonged to only me and Harry.
I am alone again, I realize, as they turn and leave me with the crowds of people all looking in my direction.
But I am blind to their questioning looks, as I watch the happy couple leave the room.
***
His wonderful mouth latches onto mine.
I have never before taken him to be a fierce kisser. He dominates me completely. His tongue battles with mine. His mouth tastes so incredible, to good to put into mere words.
His hands explore my skin. They are delightfully flawed, slightly callused, roaming over my arms and through my hair, grabbing fistfuls of my tank top in desperation. It's all so new to me, so wonderfully exciting and unexplored.
I can't help but wonder where he got the practice. His tongue does things I didn't even know were possible before now, and for a moment, I honestly believe that he wants this as much as I do.
In a wave of pleasure, I realize he does.
We are so beautifully controversial. We are both friends and lovers, we are saints and sinners, we are right and we are wrong.
And for an odd reason that will never be explained, I like it.
I am Ron Weasley. Griffindor. Red-head. Strategist. Lover of the one and only Harry Potter.