Title: The Approaching Curve
Pairing: Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley
Prompt: Harry and Ron get lost in the fog.
Word Count: 970
Rating: K+
Summary: While driving to the Riddle House, a thick fog takes over the road.

Harry noted the thickness of the fog as it hovered over the ground as they drove along the old road, shrouded in darkness. The radio crackled from the car speakers as Harry tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He could barely see where he was going. It would be a miracle if they reached the old Riddle House by morning.

Ron sat in the passenger seat, his head lolling back and forth to the rocking of the car, soft snores erupting from his lips. Harry kept his eyes on the straight stretch of road in front of him as he fiddled with the knob on the radio. He tuned to a station, the speakers now pulsing with the sound of ambient keyboards and light percussion. The windows were cold to the touch, snow and ice streaking down their length. The fog only made things worse.

Ron gave a shudder and groaned as he jerked awake from whatever dream or nightmare he had been having. He yawned, opened his brown eyes and settled them on Harry. Harry stared at the painful straight stretch of road, not having turned the wheel for the last twenty minuets.

"Where are we going?" Ron asked softly, his voice barley audible over the pulse of the music. Harry reached into his back pocket, careful to keep the speed steady as he pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment from his jacket pocket. He handed it to Ron, letting the music take over him again.

"That's right. Hermione," he stated after reading the words scrawled on the parchment. It had been four years since they had seen her. Four years since she had left to explore the world. What she was doing at the Riddle house now was but another mystery to add to the pile. "You're not mad for me wanting to see her, are you?" Ron asked, wondering if perhaps he should take his lover's hand in his.

Harry only shook his head and stared ahead blankly as they cut through the blanket of fog. "We're not lost are we? This doesn't look familiar at all." It had been a while since they had last seen the old crumbling house. Harry shook his head again. "We are. We're lost."

"We're not. The fog is just confusing you Ron." The cadence overtook the air as the music pulsed louder, yet gentle, like the far away squeal of the train passing by. Harry's grip tightened on the wheel. He knew they were lost. Had known for over an hour but he couldn't convince himself to turn around. If he could just keep driving.

"You are angry. You don't want to see her." His knuckles turned white, the old scar on his right hand matching his knuckles. He knew. Harry very much did not want to see Harry. When she had left, she had left a broken Ron. She had left him shattered and drunk, had left him for Harry to pick up the pieces. They had only recently become lovers. They were still teetering on the edge of a cliff. Harry knew that Ron still loved Hermione. "You didn't have to come," Ron stated. Harry stared straight ahead.

Harry had never felt what emotion he was feeling at that moment. Anger, rage, even jealousy he had felt. But this was something new. This was something that consumed him and made him debate whether or not just break it off with Ron right then and there to save himself the heart ache when Ron would later tell him that he and Hermione were getting back together.

"Will you just talk to me? Tell me why you don't want to see her." The road blurred in front of Harry. Perhaps the fog had become thicker. The windows were clouding up. The temperature dropping outside. "Harry-"

"What Ron? What do you want? Why are you doing this?" Ron looked taken aback and stared at Harry as if he didn't know who he was.

"I'm not doing anything," he said, but part of him didn't even believe that himself. There was a voice in the back of his mind that told him what Harry had meant. Why are you setting us up for a downfall? "I need to talk to her Harry. This is what's best, for you, for me, for us." He finally noted the tears that had formed in the pit of Harry's eyes only moments ago. "I need closure."

"You told me you had closure," Harry spat. Ron sighed and closed his eyes for a bit longer than a standard blink. Harry focused his eyes on the fingerprints that littered the windshield, not on the road. "You still love her," he whispered. His voice penetrated the still air of the speechless drive so sudden that Ron's heart jumped.

"Yes. I still love her." Ron looked away and ran a hand through his red hair. "Blimey Harry, I thought blokes were easier." At this Harry floored the gas pedal, the car picking up speed on the road. Ron's eyes widened and his gripped the dashboard. "Slow down Harry." But Harry didn't let up. Instead, he began yelling, cursing, and his fears falling from his lips.

As the car pressed on faster into the night, Harry settled his eyes on Ron. His voice lowered; the music again over taking the air. Up ahead there was a curve approaching. Ron's knuckles turned white as he stared at the curve. Harry had made no intention of slowing. "Harry, the curve," he whispered.

Harry turned his eyes back to the fog covered, iced road. He took his foot off the gas on pressed on the brake as he turned the wheel.

The car skidded off the road. Harry finally admitted that they had become lost in the fog before he lost consciousness.

Fin