Dreams by DumbledoreThePhoenix

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or anything that inhabits Harry's world. Some pieces of the following fic may be quoting various Harry Potter books directly. Includes DH spoilers.

The evening before Albus Dumbledore's funeral, the mood of the entire castle was dark. The Gryffindor Common Room was filled with students-- some shocked, some mourning, and others just huddled close together, drawing strength from one another and hoping feebly that perhaps it had all been a terrifying dream.

Meanwhile, Harry Potter sat alone on his four poster bed, idly fiddling with a loose golden thread, his brow furrowed slightly as if he was concentrating on something but couldn't quite remember what. When the door creaked open and his best friend in the world stepped inside, he glanced in Ron's general direction and inclined his head slightly in greeting, without once making eye contact. "Hey," Ron said softly, and he continued to stand a few feet inside the heavy wooden door.

Harry's gaze shifted again, and after a brief hesitation, his eyes met Ron's warily. "'Lo," he eventually muttered. Ron let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and crossed the room to sit on his own bed, across from Harry's.

"How-- how are you?" he asked. He winced a bit at the stupidity of the question. It was clear even to Ron that Harry was doing poorly. But Ron had ascended the stairs to the sixth year boys' dormitory for a reason, and he wouldn't back down just because things got awkward.

Harry, however, merely tensed and bit his lip in response to Ron's question. He wasn't ready to have this conversation yet. Not here, not now, and maybe not ever.

The silence felt oppressive to Ron. It was making it harder for him to say what he needed to say, and the silence only grew. It seemed an endless cycle. Finally, frustrated with himself, he stood and took a seat beside Harry. "Don't shut me out, mate."

Harry sighed and turned to face Ron. He yanked hard on the golden thread and it broke. He twirled it between deft Seekers' fingers. "I'm not trying to shut you out.

"You deserve to understand what happened. It just--" he paused, "it hurts." His eyes were pained again, and his voice held a subtle note of incredulity. "It hurts to remember, and… I'm scared to talk about it. You know?" he finished, eyes meeting Ron's hopefully before glancing quickly back down at the wad of golden thread.

Ron nodded. "I know it'll be hard. I think that's why you need to say it. Otherwise, it'll only get harder. And… I'll be here. You don't have to hide from me. I won't take the mickey out of you-- not about this."

Harry's lip twitched upward briefly at the concept of Ron's not having enough brothers. Then he took a calming breath. He could trust Ron.

"I promised Dumbledore before we left that I would obey his every command. If he said to run, or hide, or anything like that, I was to do it immediately. When we'd gotten across the lake of Inferi, there was a basin sitting on a pedestal. The locket was at the bottom, submerged in a liquid. Somehow, Dumbledore surmised that the only way to get the locket out was to drink the liquid. So he did, and he insisted that no matter what happened, I was to keep him drinking it until the basin was empty. I did, but it was the most awful thing I've ever had to do, Ron. He begged me to stop, but I swore to him that I wouldn't. He was so weak, and it frightened me. I just kept muttering things, like It'll be fine, and Don't worry. Just as we were getting ready to apparate back to Hogsmeade, he said--."

Harry stopped short and swallowed hard. "He said, 'I am not worried, Harry. I am with you.' He had so much faith in me, and I let him down. And right as we were cornered on the Astronomy Tower, he threw the Cloak on top of me and Stunned me and I just had to stand there and watch. Snape cast the killing curse, and he just… floated off the tower edge. I didn't even hear him hit the ground."

Silence met their ears again, and this time neither felt they had to fill it. Ron reached across Harry's back and gave his shoulder a squeeze before standing up. "Well… I think I'm for bed. You?"

"Yeah," Harry murmured. At that, they both threw back the covers on their beds, Harry levitating the wad of golden thread into the trash can in order to save the House Elves some trouble while Ron considered that their conversation had not been quite the catharsis that Harry had needed.

Ron awoke at 3 a.m. to Harry's moaning and thrashing, leading up to a gasp as Harry was awoken too. Contrary to the popular belief, Ron was not an exceedingly heavy sleeper. He merely was not a morning person, and often didn't sleep well on nights that Harry didn't. Normally, he didn't interfere, but in light of their most recent conversation, Ron left the warmth of his bed and crept over to Harry's, where he pulled apart the curtains and asked, "Nightmare?"

Harry flinched wildly and scrabbled for his glasses, subsequently knocking them off the nightstand and popping out one cheap lens. "Easy, mat. It's just me," Ron said. He bent over and plucked Harry's glasses off the floor, then repaired them silently with a wave of his wand, which rather startled them both. He handed them over.

"Yeah, it was," Harry muttered, crimson adorning his cheeks. "How did you know?"

Ron took a seat beside Harry again and smirked, just a little. "I've been canceling and re-casting your silencing charms to bend around my bed since second year," he admitted. He was always careful about how much he teased Harry on days following bad nightmare nights.

Harry blinked. This was just a little too much. Tears rose unbidden to his eyes and that well-hated lump returned to his throat. Desperately, he fought for control, but he couldn't breathe, and he knew that the next breath he took would be a sob. Unreasonably terrified of the idea of waking his roommates, he threw himself against Ron, hoping to drown out a little of the coming escapade.

If Ron was surprised, he didn't show it. He brought his arms around Harry as he shook convulsively for what seemed like hours. When Harry had stopped, Ron glanced down to find him in an exhausted sleep. Shaking his head, he lowered Harry back onto his pillow and adjusted his covers. As he carefully pulled the curtains shut and fell into his own bed, he whispered "Good night, little brother." He was asleep before his head hit the pillow, and the next morning, neither could be sure whether it had really occurred, or if it had all merely been a dream.

A/N: I hope you liked it. Some pieces were a little harder to write, and as such, I'm not certain of their quality. You can probably pick those out. Harry and Ron may be a tad out of character; I know this. When I finished, it was a little past one in the morning, so I beg your mercy…. It just needed to be written so it could be definite inside my head. I've had this little plot bunny floating around in my mind and making me crazy for at least a week. Anyway, I'd love to hear from you, so if you've got a moment, there's a lovely little review button at the bottom of the page, there, can you see…?