a/n: Enjoy this unedited fic, and please review!
The title is inspired from an Albert Camus quote. The "The way I feel about him is like a heartbeat" line is from Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli.
Disclaimer: Ha.
Title: dawn seeping into the room
Words: 2K
Summary: Maybe those feelings have been tugging at Harry's heart all along. [Gender AU - M/M]
Harry looked away from the scenic view of the rolling green hills of Ottery St. Catchpole being touched by dawn. By his side, he saw that Gid had joined him, leaning his forearms over the porch railings.
"Hey, didn't think you would be up this early, yeah?"
Harry shrugged. He didn't know how to explain that it was the chorus of people inside, talking, eating, living, that made it easier for him to find dreams in his sleep instead of nightmares. The reassurance of a house being full of growing life instead of the dull mummers that made up the night.
"What's your excuse?" Harry asked.
Somewhere far off, a bird began to sing. Gid's normally bright smile was strained. "Couldn't fall asleep in the first place." He nudged Harry with his shoulder. "And then I saw you brooding out here."
"I wasn't brooding," Harry said.
"Really? What else would you call staring out at the distance?"
"Atmospheric staring," Harry said. He gestured to the wide expanse of West Country.
A smile touched Gid's face. "It is a nice view."
It certainly was. The summer air was cool. A light breeze rustled the trees around them, sending the morning light through leaves and branches and on the porch. Harry's breath hitched as he saw how the sunlight scattered over Gid's freckled arms. How it caught the glint in his vibrant hair, a spark in his expressive eyes and the strong line of his jaw.
Harry blinked. He waited for something to reassert itself, but it was like there was a sudden shift that had caught him unaware.
They stood together in silence before Gid made his leave through the front door. Harry watched him go back inside, still thinking about sunlight on freckled skin.
…
Several days later, Harry found himself alone in Gid's presence. They sat together on the steps in the main floor of the Burrow, drinking tea from large mugs. From inside the kitchen, Harry could hear the clever family clock tick and tock its way through the early morning.
"That can't be your weirdest dream," Gid said, struggling to keep his laughter quiet.
Grimly, Harry nodded. "I'm serious. Neville and McGonagall were dancing. There was someone playing bagpipes."
Gid set his empty mug down on the step, and he laughed harder. "You're brilliant."
"Shut up." But Harry was already laughing. He had forgotten how ridiculous some of his non-Voldemort dreams were.
"Need a refill?" Sobering, Gid stood up, already grabbing Harry's mug for more tea.
Harry opened his mouth to answer, but he was suddenly struck by how tall Gid was. When had that happened? Harry closed his eyes and tried to remember the stuttering boy, but all he could see was the young man that stood before him. Parts of Sixth Year tumbled through his mind, memories and realizations that Harry would rather not accept at that moment. He rubbed a hand over his face.
"Yeah, extra sugar would be nice."
…
"You think he's seeing anyone back at Hogwarts?" Harry asked in a rush.
Ron looked up from his chessboard, his knight slashing away at Harry pawn. "What?"
Harry gestured to the floor, where down below was Gid's room. Once the realization dawned on Ron's face, Harry covered his own with his hands.
"What does it matter to you?" Ron flicked his knight away from the pawn. "Oi! You've had enough! Keep the bloodshed to a minimum, you need to be family friendly by the time Hermione's dad has a go with you."
"I dunno. Just thinking about it."
"Just thinking about it," Ron mocked. "Like you haven't been thinking about it since Sixth Year." Embarrassment filled the silence between them, and Harry suddenly remembered every incriminating dream from Cho Chang to Oliver Wood and then to Gid Weasley. That he and Ron had shared a bedroom since they were eleven, and how certain things remained unspoken out of principle and brotherly respect for each other.
And now those words were finally being spoken.
Harry raised his head from his hands, and he silently begged for another death.
"Er," said Ron. "You know, Hermione and I have talked about it. About you."
Harry continued to silently beg for death.
"It doesn't change the fact that we would throw ourselves in any kind of danger for you," he added. He and Harry were doing a remarkable job of not looking at each other in the eye. "You don't need my blessing to ask him out."
Harry's gaze dropped down to the chessboard where one of his pawns was dragging half its broken body across the surface. "How long have you known?"
"Fourth Year?" Another pause. Ron blew out a frustrated breath. "Mate, you did do a lot of staring at Diggory and Chang, and you're more obvious when it comes to my brother."
He couldn't deny that.
Then, Ron muttered, "He did have a crush on you."
One that Harry had never realized until later on.
They stewed for several long minutes, and the silence grew in a way that even the chess pieces were noticing.
"It's just, he's your brother."
"I know."
"He's your brother," Harry repeated. "How do I do this?"
Ron cleared his throat. He made brief eye contact with Harry. "Listen, just because I'm with Hermione doesn't mean I have any sodding clue how to….you know…" He grappled with himself, his face turning to an impressive shade of red. "I still have no idea about what I'm doing, and I'm meeting her parents in a week. As her boyfriend. I think we're all clueless on how these things work."
…
Harry blearily opened his eyes to find the hallway washed with pale moonlight. He tried to reorient himself, his back against the wall, glasses dangling from his curled fingers.
Gid was kneeling next to him. Harry recognized him by touch alone when he carded his fingers through Harry's hair. "Really, Potter, the hallway?" He took the glasses from Harry's hand and slipped them over the neckline of Harry's pajama shirt.
"Told m'self it'll be a few minutes," mumbled Harry. He yawned as he rose to his feet, then he slipped an arm around Gid's waist. "C'mon, take me home." Home, what a strange word fragmented throughout his life. Home was the stone walls of Hogwarts, Hermione reading in the corner of the library, it was Ron's orange walls of his room, the smell of Hagrid's cooking coming from his window, Sirius' rolling laugh echoing in the dark hallways of Number Twelve… How can home be in so many places? he wondered,recognizing it in the scent of Gid's shampoo.
"Who takes a kip in a hallway?" Gid said.
Nightmares. Harry had been afraid of waking up Ron, so he'd ended up pacing the length of the hallway. Then several flights of stairs. Until the exhaustion had claimed enough of him, leaving him slumped against the hallway where Gid's room happened to be.
Harry pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead, the other twisted the back of Gid's shirt. Three months, and he still wasn't used to it no longer hurting.
"I'm not dragging you up the stairs." Gid steered Harry to his room. "You can stay here tonight, you insomniac bastard."
That broke through Harry's exhausted state. "But there's one bed!"
"You're scrawny enough for both of us to fit."
…
"Ron told you?" Hermione guessed as Harry sat down. She flipped to another page of her book, an early birthday present from Ron when she had returned from Australia. "And have you told him?"
Harry sighed. "Forget him; why haven't you told me?"
Hermione looked up from her book, closed it, and regarded Harry with a stern gaze that would have made McGonagall proud. "Harry, if I had approached you with a number of pamphlets and a speech, how would you have reacted?"
Harry considered this. "Oh."
"Exactly, you don't react well if we tell you something that is so deeply personal." She chewed on her bottom lip. "And to look at things from your perspective, you have been rather busy the last few years. I supposed you finally have the time to confront certain things," she said diplomatically. "Please make sure you have it sorted before we all return to school."
Harry blinked, breaking away from a sudden daydream about flying. "Why's that?"
"Because you will be sharing a room with Ron," Hermione's smile turned into a knowing smirk, "and with Gideon."
…
But there wasn't always laughter and a smile that lit up something inside of Harry
Gid opened his door, yawning. "Bad dreams again?"
Harry scuffed a toe over the threshold. "Yeah." Fear still thrummed in his veins, making his hands shake. It felt like something tight was coiling inside of him. He hesitated, taking a step back. "I'm sorry, I…"
He moved to turn away, but Gid's hand caught around Harry's fingers. "Don't go."
It was hearing that what made Harry turn back. His eyes met Gid's, and the memory of last year rose up, that quiet moment they shared on his birthday. He had Gid's arms around him and the unspoken plea of come back, come back to me when you're ready.
Without needing to speak, Harry squeezed Gid's hand, and he let his head fall against his friend's chest.
…
"It's like he's suddenly there." Harry's rock skipped over the water.
"He's always been there," said Hermione.
Ron made a face. "Are we really having this conversation?"
"You're terrible when it comes to facing your emotions," Hermione reminded Harry.
Harry picked up another rock. "But he's like this heartbeat, the way I feel about him. He makes me want to open up."
"He once kept a whole bunch of tadpoles under my bed," Ron said to no one in particular. "Wouldn't even let me name them."
Harry's rock barely made it to two skips. It sunk to the bottom of the pond, and he stared at Ron.
"Thought you wouldn't mind some perspective."
…
Night had started to fall, stars spilling across the sky. The air remained humid, but Harry couldn't care because he had a new Firebolt to try.
Ron had dragged the battered Quidditch trunk out, and he was now trying to convince Hermione to ride the old Cleansweep in their mock game. "It's Harry's birthday," he was telling her. "You won't be up that high."
Gid nudged Harry in the ribs. "I can't wait to see this."
"Are you sure?" Harry straddled the broom, rising in the air. "Because she's going to be on your team."
Affronted, Gid gasped. "Why can't I have Ron?"
"Because it's my birthday." Harry gleefully flew in lazy circles around him. He felt Gid's fingers brush against his legs as he jumped higher.
Gid made an exasperated sound. "But you could have me!" Harry's broom buckled suddenly as Gid took advantage of Harry's stuttering and pulled himself up on the broom, his arms went around Harry's middle. "I also want a ride on this," he insisted.
…
Somewhere in the night as Harry looked up at the ceiling, he asked, "What are your nightmares usually about?"
Pressed shoulder-to-shoulder in the narrow bed, Gid stirred next to him. "Being alone last year. The Chamber. You dying." There was an uneven way he said those words. "What are yours?"
Harry closed his eyes. He saw the clearing in the Forbidden Forest. The heartbreaking cry in Ron's voice as the Locket used its power over him. He saw the manicured garden his aunt kept. Hermione's limp body in Bellatrix's hands. His friends being caught in a cycle of violence and death. "It's always something."
Gid threw a leg over Harry's. "Hey, remember when you played Exploding Snap with me after the Chamber?"
Harry opened his eyes. Moonlight streaked across the room. "What about it?"
"It's a nice memory. I was feeling so alone, but you were there." He pressed his thumb to the scars on the back of Harry's hand. "Maybe we should dream about that instead."
…
"That's not your jumper," Ron noticed.
Gid's ears turned pink. "Guess there was a mix up in the wash."
Harry looked down at his breakfast, trying not to think how his green jumper looked stretched over Gid's broad shoulders.
"Isn't that Harry's?" asked Hermione.
He resisted the urge to knock over something.
Gid's elbow landed in the butter-dish.
…
Maybe it wasn't all that surprising when leaving, Harry pressed Gid against the doorframe and in that shared space where they understood each other perfectly, a soft plea for a kiss.
Hands came around him, a hand in his hair and the other on his back. Harry's own had him pinned in place, gripping the front of Gid's soft shirt, twisting it in a way to leverage their height difference as their mouths met. Gentle first, two people finding their way towards each other, and then blissful oblivion as they stumbled back into the room, the door closing behind them.
Breathless laughter as Harry slid his hands under Gid's shirt, a soft gasp as Gid's mouth made its way down.
Harry easily had no nightmares for the rest of the early morning.