Title: Nightmares
Rating: G (just some cute fluff)
Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters belong to J.K. Rowling. No profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: Just a bit of fluff. I was inspired by a drawing done by "lizard-spots" called Can I Stay? There's no slash in here – they're little young'un's, ya'll! Still, always the possibility of a budding romance.
Molly tucked the boys in, kissing both of them on their foreheads. "Just come and get me if you need me, alright?" She knew Harry was prone to nightmares after his father had been killed, and she expected to be woken at least once that evening. Everytime Lily looked like she could use a rest (which was quite often), Molly would invite Harry over. It really was just a great plus that Ron and he were such good friends.
Harry snuggled into the small, makeshift bed on the floor, and Molly tucked the covers around him before walking over to her son. "Goodnight boys." She flicked off Ron's lamp with her wand, and shut the door, just leaving it open enough for a sliver of light to shine on Harry's face. She could be heard down one floor tucking in the young Ginny as well.
Harry rolled over, tugged on his pajama top, and closed his eyes.
"Wanna go fly with Fred and George tomorrow?" Ron rolled over sleepily, half-heartedly asking the question.
"Sure," Harry stifled a yawn, closing his eyes. "Ron," he mumbled quietly, finding it difficult for his mouth to form the words, "Are you excited to go to Hogwarts?"
"Yeah, aren't you?"
"Oh yeah, for sure."
A moment of silence wrapped around the boys before Ron stifled another yawn. "G'night Harry."
"Goodnight, Ron."
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After about an hour, Ron still couldn't sleep. Harry's question had got him thinking and the boy was quite nervous about possibly being sorted into the wrong house. Hiss entire family – even his parents had been sorted into Gryffindor. What if he wasn't? What would they say?
Then, suddenly, he heard a quiet sniffling. It was barely audible above the chirping of the crickets, but it was there.
"Harry?" He asked quietly, tentatively.
A thick sniffle, then, "Mhm?"
"Are you alright?"
Ron looked at his friend, could see his head shaking side to side in the moonlight. He sat up in his bed, "Come here." He patted a spot on the mattress next to him.
Harry pushed his own comforters back and clambered up with his friend, who wrapped him in a brotherly hug.
"What happened?"
Harry shook his head, "I don't know. I just...I always dream about my dad...my dad..."
"It's alright." Ron patted his friend's back – this was always what his mom did when he had a bad dream, and it seemed to work. Soon, Harry's breath had slowed down.
"Don't tell your mum? I don't want her to think I'm a baby."
"Ok."
"Could I...stay here?"
"Yeah, sure, mate."
Harry snuggled into Ron's pillow, closing his eyes, and Ron rolled over, wrapping an arm protectively around his friend.