A/N: This is a quick one shot I wrote during a revision break so don't expect it to be fantastic! 8th year AU. Features Ron/Hermione and is in second person Harry POV, no triggers I am aware of but if there is let me know and I will change the description. Hope you enjoy!
"It was all the little things…" a quiet mumble came from the familiar but strained voice of his best friend
"huh?" Harry glanced over at Ron who was slumped next to him drained from pure unadulterated emotion that appeared exhausted leaving only the numb husk of his once buoyant brother in all but name.
"I-it is all the little things that tell you that its love, the way a person speaks and moves, how their eyes light up when they saw you that makes it real and makes it so special and once you had it you never wanted to let go because it was not perfect and thats how you knew it's love! It was love when you never had to worry if they was smarter than you because you always knew they were and you didn't care because you loved them so much that nothing but the way you both felt towards each other mattered!" Ron's eyes were raw from a second wave of tears that he couldn't hold back and Harry felt a familiar stab of pain that seemed to go straight through the heart, and there was no doubt his friend was going through worse.
"It was love when they smiled at you and made you feel better because they were there and that meant more than anything that could have been said to make you happy. It was love when they made you do what you knew you must but you feared doing but they stood beside you the whole way and made it all ok. It was love when they held you while you cried and they didn't try to make you stop they only listened… listened and understood, because they felt it too… h-have you ever f-felt that? Harry? D-do you understand?"
"No I don't"
"Good." he let out a heavily muffled heart wrenching groan and buried his head in his hands and turn away from his friend "It hurts." Ron didn't say anymore that night as he lay in the stoney dorm room neither did Harry or Neville or Dean, even Seamus lapsed into silent and solitary grieving. And they all cried, everyone but Ron.
Ron Weasley never cries.
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The breakfast hall was muted the next day and lessons postponed though the irony of this was not lost on the majority of the student body some of whom clustered together to travel in convoy to pupil orchestrated study sessions about the school in the name of remembrance and much to Harry's surprise the odd Slytherin or two actually chose to accompany these groups. The only outstanding absences were that of himself and naturally Ron who had dragged himself from his bed with much cajoling only to push some bacon around his plate sullenly before claiming a lack of appetite and disappearing into the muted throng of students leaving the hall.
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Ron wouldn't seek refuge up in the astronomy tower and Harry knew that much, his friend would not be off thinking about how to off himself- well at least not up their he wouldn't, with the realisation of all the dumb stuff the red head might do caused a dreadful flutter of panic that was quickly suppressed there was no point to panic. Briefly Harry considered the spot by the lake where they had sniggered at Krum and his flustered fangirls during 4th year but no, there would not be enough privacy for his friend.
Quidditch? no, it is too public unless he has taken his broom and gone way outside of sight.
The forest then? spiders and bad memories, there is no way he'll be in there.
The room of requirement is no longer a secret and since the fire... well the damage is done, he won't be there.
This left Harry with only one viable option... the shrieking shack? possibly. Being better than anything else he could think of Harry would start there so leaving the great hall he turned right toward the path leading down to the Whomping Willow but stopped suddenly at the sight of two lamp like yellow eyes and a squashed up face peering up at him through its mangy ginger fur "Crookshanks?"
The half-Kneazel flicked its tail angrily and turned running away as if to say 'of course moron now follow me!' confused Harry followed at a fast jog through the castle and out into the bright morning light always keeping approximately 3 steps behind Hermione's cat, he wondered if the little beast knew what had happened to his beloved owner or to Ron but Harry suspected Crookshanks was completely aware being far from a stupid animal. Harry's theory was proven correct when the bottle-brush fiend stopped suddenly and looked back at Harry, somehow the face seemed less squashed up and angry but more sad and intelligent, they were there.
The willow whipped around in front of their faces as if it had sensed them and was furiously intensified its game of trying to smash them to pieces in retribution for Harry's 2nd year flying car stunt that left both him and Ron terrified and excited but ultimately out of favour with professors and trees alike. Crookshanks nimbly dodged the swinging magical appendages and pressed the knot at the base of the trunk allowing harry to follow down into the dark passage at its base.
Emerging from the semi darkness lit only by wand light Harry couldn't help but be slightly relieved at the relative brightness, his mild claustrophobia and fear of the dark was a constantly present remnant of his past and had threatened to smother him in the underground tunnel. Still Crookshanks continued through the relatively simple lay-out of the wreaked shack apparently the cat/kneazle was still of the opinion Harry Potter 'most powerful wizard of the age' and 'defeater of you know who' was incapable of finding his friend in a tiny wooden building with enough dust to clearly show Ron's shuffling footsteps and occasional stumble. The tracks and the cat lead up the stairs and across the hall to the second bedroom and there surrounded by overturned and gnawed furniture sat a familiar pale figure with flaming red hair and freckles.
Ron was grieving and part of Harry knew he never should have come and let his friend have his own privacy and time to himself, if anyone knew about the need to be alone it would be him, so why didn't he just go? because if anyone knows what it is to be lonely its me... sometimes everyone needs a friend. But was that really was? Or just the selfish and inane need for comfort when he was supposed to be the comforter. Harry could just leave now if he wanted and Ron would have no idea thanks to the silencing charm he had cast out of a habit acquired from long history of sneaking around and subtly.
No. I am a Gryffindor not a Slytherin, I am scared but since when has that ever stopped me? Ok I can do this.
He didn't move, not backwards or forwards or to remove the charm. Mentally cursing his own cowardice Harry stood still, Hermione would know what to do, She'd run in there and hug him then tell Ron to stop crying and tell Harry to stop gawking and then send them out to the Quidditch pitch though she hated the sport if she thought it would make them better she'd do it. But if Hermione was here to do that then they wouldn't need her to.
The air in the shack had always seemed so still and dead every inch of it laden with dust but a chill ran down Harrys spine at the soft touch of breeze against his exposed right elbow. Every widow and door was boarded and shutters were closed so where was the movement from?
"...Harry..." the faintest whisper whistled through the cracks in the wood "...Harry please..."
Hermione?
"Harry please... Ron... Ron... Ron... please... if you ever loved us... then please..." the touch to his shoulder was soft and fleeting but as desperate as the voice that caressed his ear and he felt his resolve harden in response.
Ok, I understand Hermione
Ron jumped up at the loud groan of floorboards rubbing his eyes furiously in a pointless attempt at making himself not seem upset but the prominent tear tracks said the opposite
"Ron…. what can I say?"
"Nothing. There is nothing to say."
Harry had no idea why he did what he did next, not then and not really ever but when strode across the room and he slid his hand into Ron's he knew it was the right thing, and when the floodgates reopened he held him though he was dwarfed by the red head and they were both quickly soaked by the their mingled tears and neither knew how long they stayed like that but that it was until their throats were raw and their hearts open but somehow the pain helped.
"I really love her."
"I know Ron... I know."
"...Thank you..."
Thanks for reading! I'd love to know what you think so please review, I love constructive criticism!
-Puggy