Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.
Challenge list at the end.
All the love to Laura for beta'ing.
Word count without An - 2457
Written for my twin, Abs, who is genuinely the sweetest person in my life.
Nightmare Reality
Walking around in the Muggle world at night time was relaxing for George normally, but the pouring rain had put a bit of a downer on his usual peaceful walk. Casting a sly imperturbable spell on his clothes, George checked around him and conjured an umbrella, swinging it up over his head.
He wandered for a while, his mind blissfully silent in a way it wasn't often in the wizarding world. Stepping over a pair of legs, he glanced at the homeless man sprawled on the floor. He almost continued on without pause but the man opened his eyes and looked up at George blearily.
The eyes stopped George in his tracks.
"Harry?"
Black, messy hair, green eyes, slim body. George bent and moved the tangled locks to the side to find a familiar scar on his forehead.
"What the actual fuck?" George breathed out.
Harry didn't seem to recognise him, but his eyes filled with tears as he stared at George's hair.
"Weasley," Harry whimpered out, almost silently. "Why won't you just stop?" he added, groping around beside him. George watched the hand find a half empty bottle of cheap liquor, and raise it to chapped lips.
"Harry? Come on mate, put the bottle down," George said, reaching down to take the bottle away. He was messily slapped away.
"Not real, not real, not real," Harry muttered to himself. "Alone, all alone, alone. Nobody there."
Not knowing what else to do, George stunned Harry, before casting a featherweight charm on him and packing his meagre belongings into a bag, he shrunk it and stuck it in his pocket, before stowing his wand back in his jeans.
He lifted Harry up and apparated to the step of his shop, kicking the side door that led to the flat. Moments later, Ron appeared, running a hand through his hair.
"George -" he cut off, seeing the body in George's arms. "Sheesh, where'd you dig this bozo up?" he asked, smirking.
George was about to tell his little brother off, before he realised that Ron didn't know who it was in George's arms. Lit only by the moon, he supposed he could understand.
He pushed past Ron, leaving the younger man to lock up again as he carried Harry up the stairs and into the living room. Depositing him carefully on the sofa, he waited for Ron to follow him.
"Why'd you fetch a tramp home?" Ron asked, walking into the living room.
"Look at his forehead," George replied quietly.
Ron frowned, but did as he was bid, gingerly sweeping the matted hair out of the way. He stumbled back when he saw the scar, not falling flat on his backside because George quickly caught him.
"That's… why is he… George what?"
George helped Ron into the armchair before he crossed the room and poured them both a tumbler of whiskey. He'd sworn off using alcohol for comfort after he overindulged immediately following the war, but he reasoned that these were special circumstances.
"You know I like walking in the Muggle world at night?" he asked, as he handed Ron the glass. "I tripped over him, quite literally actually. I was about to walk past him when he opened his eyes and looked at me. There's no mistaking those eyes. And then he started rambling about Weasleys, and me being imaginary. I don't know, Ron, but I couldn't just leave him there, could I?"
Ron shook his head, turning to look at his best friend lying out on the sofa. "Did he pass out?"
"I stunned him, but the rest won't hurt him. He was hammered."
Ron sighed, sipping his drink. "Why would he do this to himself?"
George sat down on the coffee table in front of Ron. "He was a kid. Everyone seemed to forget that, but he was a child and he had to fight a war that was primarily about bloodlines and bigots and prejudices that he had nothing to do with. Add to that, he had to watch people he loved die, over and over again. The fate of the Wizarding World was literally placed on his shoulders. It's no surprise that when it was all over, he went off the rails."
"Did I do this?" Ron asked, tears filling his pale blue eyes. "When I told him… Is this my fault?"
George shook his head. "Of course it isn't. You were grieving and you apologised straight away. Harry knew you didn't hate him, Ron. He was a mess. Still is. We all know it's true. But… maybe you can help him not be such a mess."
"It was only a week after that that he disappeared though. Maybe I should have kept a closer eye on him."
"You think you could have stopped him from leaving? Mess or not, he was always bloody powerful, Ron. He'd have gone regardless of what you said or did, if that was what he chose to do."
"What do I do now?"
George blew out a breath. "Help him, if he'll accept it. Make sure he knows we're here for him. If he doesn't want to help himself, there won't be much you can do."
He was speaking from experience, they both knew that. There was a while when George wanted nothing more than to join his twin under the ground and nothing anybody said or did got through to him.
Ron nodded and the two lapsed into silence, both watching the motionless figure on the sofa.
…
Hours later, Harry stirred. George had gone to bed for a few hours sleep, though they'd already decided not to open the shop. He'd spelled a sign to the door stating an emergency.
Ron sat up in the chair where he'd been dozing, watching Harry come to. He heard the thin man groan as he ran a hand over his head.
Harry forced himself to sit up, blinking his eyes against the light in the room. He looked around, confused, until his eyes landed on Ron.
Eyes widening, he opened his mouth but no words came out.
"Hey," Ron said softly, unsure as to what he was supposed to say in this situation.
Harry didn't reply, he just stared at Ron, dumbfounded. "Did… did I die?" he asked, his voice croaky.
Ron frowned. "Why would seeing me make you think you were dead?"
Tears filled the familiar emerald eyes and Ron sat forward in his seat. "Harry, you're alive. I'm alive. What on earth have you been doing to yourself."
"You died," Harry whimpered. "I saw you die, over and over and over again. You died."
"Is that why you left?" Ron asked, reaching out a hand to his friend. He dropped it when Harry flinched away.
Harry nodded. "Didn't… didn't want to deal with it. Hid away. Got drunk. A lot."
Ron winced when Harry let out a bitter laugh. He was confused as to why Harry thought he was dead, but figured that wasn't really the important point at the moment.
"Come on, mate, let's get you cleaned up," he said, standing and offering Harry his hand. It was a tense moment, but Harry took it, and let Ron lead him into the bathroom. Ron filled the bath half way, adding scented lotion, before he dug some towels out of the cupboard.
"Undress and get in," he told Harry turning his back.
"Ron -"
"Do it, Harry. I'm not leaving you alone in here, Merlin knows what you'll do. Once you're settled, I'll go and find you some of George's clothes. Mine will be too big."
He heard Harry sigh but it was followed by the sounds of clothes hitting the floor, and moments later, splashes of disturbed water as Harry climbed into the bath.
Ron grabbed a new toothbrush from the medicine cupboard and set it on the sink with the toothpaste before he darted from the room, quickly digging through George's cupboards for underwear, joggers and a t-shirt.
He returned to the bathroom to find Harry watching him with shining eyes.
"Wash yourself and I'll do your hair for you," Ron offered, his eyes on the nest masquerading as hair on the top of Harry's head.
"Probably be better shaving it off," Harry admitted, trying and failing to get a hand through it.
"Have you forgotten that we have magic again, Harry?" Ron teased, settling himself on the edge of the tub. He grabbed a bottle of tangleze that Ginny had left behind one night and, after using a cup to wet Harry's hair, he poured it on, massaging into the hair as best he could.
Leaving it for a moment to do it's work, he turned away, listening to the gentle splashes as Harry cleaned away months of homelessness from his skin.
If only it would be that easy to wash away the pain and hurt and the fear, Ron thought. Minutes passed in almost silence before he turned once more to rinse away the potion on Harry's hair. It took a while, but the wild mess was tamed into a more manageable mess.
Ron pointed to the towels and clothes he'd left on the top of the toilet lid. "Dry, dress and there's a toothbrush on the sink. I'll be in the living room."
He left the room, casting a monitoring spell on the doorway as he did. It was a bittersweet spell for him, a reminder of George's darkest days. He moved into the kitchen.
What did you feed someone who clearly hadn't had a decent meal in months? Nothing heavy, he knew that.
Deciding that soup was probably the safest bet, he made chicken soup from a can, and tea, and put them on a tray, a warming spell automatically leaving his lips.
"Fruit," he murmured to himself. "Fruit is a good idea."
"Fruit is for sick people, isn't it? Didn't mum say that's what you're supposed to take to the hospital?" George asked, standing by the doorway.
Ron raised his eyebrow, nodding his head in the direction of the bathroom. "I mean…"
"He's not sick, Ron. He's grieving. And probably depressed. And searching for a meaning in his life that isn't connected with Voldemort."
Ron sighed but nodded. "He thought I was dead. I have no idea why but… that's why he ran, he says."
"Maybe it was a nightmare?" George asked, tilting his head. When Ron scoffed, George raised his eyebrow. "You know how real nightmares can feel, Ron. Especially for Harry. He was living by himself as well, it's not like anyone was there to tell him it was just a dream."
"You really think he had a nightmare about me dying, and that caused this?"
George shrugged. "I'm saying it's possible."
Ron nodded thoughtfully, before he picked the tray up and carried it into the living room. Harry was already in there, standing awkwardly by the window, George's clothes swamping him.
Ron couldn't contain his smirk, and Harry rolled his eyes. It almost felt like normal.
"Sit," Ron encouraged, waving Harry to the sofa. "I don't know how long it's been since you ate, but I didn't want to overload your stomach, so…" he gestured to the tray.
He left the room again, this time to grab his own tea, and when he returned to the living room, George followed him.
"Alright, mate?" George greeted, throwing himself down on the sofa next to Harry.
Harry offered him a small smile. They sat in as close to a comfortable silence as was possible while Harry ate. George took the time to wake up properly, while Ron stared out of the window, wondering how he could possibly get through the next conversation and keep his best friend there with them.
The last thing he wanted was to chase Harry away again.
Eventually, Harry finished eating, and he sat back on the sofa, pulling his knees up to his chest, and cradled the cup of tea in his hands.
"How long -"
"Nine months, two weeks, four days," Ron replied before he'd finished the question, turning to look at his friend. "That's how long you've been gone."
Harry nodded, swallowing hard. He kept looking at Ron like he couldn't believe he was actually there in the room.
"I'm sorry," he whispered after a minute passed. "When I thought you were… I couldn't do it anymore. So many people, but you…"
A tear dripped onto his cheek.
"I'm a little bit angry," Ron murmured, "but don't for one second every think that there was any moment when I wasn't waiting, wishing for you to come home."
"I'm sorry," Harry repeated.
He was crying, and Ron melted at the sight. He couldn't sit back in his armchair and watch Harry break down without giving him something solid to hold onto. Getting up, he gestured to George for him to swap places, and as soon as he sat down and reached out his arm, Harry fell against him with an almost childlike trust that Ron would catch him when he did.
Ron let him cry, stroking a comforting hand through the long but clean hair. George watched on with a sad smile.
"You should help him to bed," George murmured when Harry's sobs quieted.
Ron nodded, jostling Harry enough that the younger man blinked up at him, confused.
"Come on, Harry, let's get you to bed."
He helped him up, and led him into Ron's own room, pulling back the covers for him. He noticed Harry's hands were trembling.
"What's wrong?"
Harry shook his head, but Ron pressed the question.
"Withdrawal," Harry admitted after a few moments passed by. "I…"
"I'll help you through it, mate. Get in bed."
Harry settled back against the pillows. "Where will you sleep?"
"I'll get a few hours on the couch, Harry, don't worry about me."
Harry glanced at the space on the double bed. "Will you stay? Please? I don't want to… What if you die? I can't…"
Ron nodded. "If that's what you want, I'll stay."
He rounded the bed, climbing into the empty side, and twisted onto his side so he was facing Harry. Harry did the same, and when he put his hand out between them, Ron took it without hesitation, gripping the hand tightly.
"I'm right here, Harry. Go to sleep."
Harry nodded, and as Ron watched, his eyes drifted shut and his breathing deepened.
"I love you," Ron whispered. "I hope you don't mind."
Harry slept on, the only sign of disturbance his fingers tightening on Ron's. Ron smiled slightly and closed his own eyes.
He'd be there to protect Harry from his nightmares, and he'd be there to help him get his life back together.
And he'd be there after that as well.
Written for;
Love In Motion - HarryRon
Insane House Challenge - 33. Ron Weasley
Hogwarts Resolutions - A gift-fic for a Hufflepuff
Serpent Day Challenge - 11. Boomslang - Wild
Scavenger Hunt - 14. A Fic breaking up a canon pairing.
Library Lovers - Sabriel - Missing loved one / Bloodlines / "I love you. I hope you don't mind."
Writing Club;
Disney - Iago - "Sheesh, where'd you dig this bozo up?"
Book Club - Tom Cullen - Childlike / moon / night time
Showtime - 14. I'm not that girl - Wishing
Buttons - Object, Toothbrush / Dialogue, "We all know it's true." / Word, Fruit.
Character Appreciation - 7. Brother
Lyric Alley - 12. I'm a little bit angry.