Chapter One: An Autumn Night
It was cold and windy, but Ron didn't care. He was clutching at the ground, ripping up the grass. Listen. Wait. Listen. Wait. Wait. Wait. Listen. Fuck. Listen. Wait. Hermione's breathing was slow and steady, a quiet in-out Ron could only hear because he knew it was there. Harry's breathing was loud and random, big sighs that went along with shifting weights and fabrics. He was still awake, still trying to get comfortable on his bunk, still adjusting his pillow.
Ron was sitting cross-legged at the mouth of the tent, his hands buried in the growth on either side of him. This was his first watch without the locket, and he intended to make the most of it. Hermione's breath hitched and she coughed. Ron closed his eyes and focused on the sounds behind him. She made a soft, high-pitched squeak, and then her breathing returned to normal. He opened his eyes and smiled.
Listen. Wait. Listen. Listen. Listen. Wait. Fuck. Wait. Just wait. Listen.
A low rumble came from Harry's bunk. His snoring was rhythmic and muffled by the pillow. Ron was still for a few more minutes to make sure that his friends were truly asleep. Then, his heart racing, he cast a cleansing spell over his muddy hands and reached underneath the elastic waistband of his pajamas.
He wrapped his hand around his already hard cock and stroked himself slowly. There hadn't been time or space for this in days. He felt like he might explode with sexual tension, but he wanted to last a while. There were still several more hours before Hermione would wake up to take the next shift.
Licking his lips, he ran his thumb over the slit on his head a few times. He pulled his hand out of his pajamas and licked across his palm and fingers before replacing it. His hand was cold and his cock was warm. He twitched on the hard ground as he rubbed his wet thumb around the head again.
Harry snorted in his sleep.
Ron closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on being silent. Slow breathing. No panting. Keep control. Harry and Hermione. Harry and Hermione. Harry's… chest. Hermione's thighs. She wraps them around me when I'm on top of her and I thrust into her and she moans my name and her thighs are around me.
Slow breathing. No panting. Keep control. Harry and Hermione. Harry's shoulders. Strong. Broad. Cold. Fuck.
He licked his hand again.
Hermione's tits. Perfect and round and perky. Hard nipples. She moans my name when I lick them. "Ron, oh, Ron." I wonder – Godric – would she let me fuck her tits? She'd hold them up, hold them together, and – no – she'd lick my cock, suck it, nice and wet, and then she'd lay down and hold her tits together and I could slide my slick cock between them and – fuck. Maybe she could even – Godric – lick me each time I push through.
Hermione turned over. Ron froze, one hand squeezing his cock and the other cupping his balls.
Fuck. Fuck. Did I make a noise? Shit. Listen. Wait. Listen. Wait. Horny. Fuck. Hermione. Harry. Bloody hell. Stop thinking about him. Fuck. Listen. Wait.
Only the sounds of his friends' regular breathing came from the tent behind him. Ron took a deep breath, licked his hand again, and resumed. He didn't care that he had to be awake for a few more hours. He had to come now. It had been too long. He was already shaking.
She's wet and hot and tight. She loves it. She wants it – wants me. I can come inside her. She bucks against me. Fuck, she wants it. Wants to come. What would it look like? Her face. Her hair. So much. Everywhere. All over me. She could – Godric – when she sucks me, she could stop and drag her hair over my cock. Godric. Long and soft and brown. All over me.
Slow breathing. No panting. Keep control.
Ron held himself tightly and jerked his arm. He needed to come. Sparks were shooting through his thighs and his stomach was tight. Everything was tense and he was cold, but he needed to come.
Slow breathing. No panting. Keep control. Hermione's thighs. Her tits. Her cunt. Her hair. Her hips. Fuck. Tits. Hot mouth. Tight. Ah, her arse. Round and firm and cute. Wonder if she'd let me. Could grab it. Oh. Squeeze it. Fuck. Godric, I want to fuck it. Fuck Harry's. Shit. Hermione's arse – Godric – Harry's tight, hot, dimpled – fuck. Thighs spread. Hard cock. And his balls. Godric. Face down on the bed. Thighs spread for me. Fuck, he wants it. Fuck, fuck, Godric, shit – Hermione's arse, Hermione's… Hermione… aah.
Ron huffed as he came over his hand, inside his pajamas. His body shuddered and he bit down on his arm to prevent himself from making sound.
When his heart rate slowed, Ron lifted his head and took a deep breath. His arm burned. He had a sinking feeling that he had just given himself a bite mark. Sighing, he grabbed his wand and cleaned himself. Harry was snoring and Hermione was breathing quietly. Ron turned his attentions to the forest surrounding the tent. Listen. Wait. Listen. Listen.
—xxx—xxx—xxx—
Chapter Two: The Night of Ron's Return
Harry and Ron changed out of their wet clothes and went to the tent's opening.
"It's my watch, if you want to sleep," Harry offered, hesitating before sitting on his bunk.
"I definitely owe you at least one watch. You sleep."
"Can I sit with you a bit?"
"'Course."
They sat just outside the tent, shoulder-to-shoulder under a blanket.
"You alright?" Harry asked after a few minutes of amiable silence.
"Yeah." Ron smiled. "I'm good."
"Good."
"Mhm."
Their silence continued until Ron yawned.
"Can I tell you something?" Harry blurted out quickly.
"Uh. Sure."
"You can't tell anyone."
"Who would I tell?"
"Hermione. Ginny. To name a few."
Ron raised an eyebrow. "Is something wrong?"
"No." Harry sighed and looked down at the blanket they were sharing. His arm and leg were pressed against Ron's, and he could feel his friend's body heat. "Nothing's wrong. I just… after you left, there were all these… I didn't know if you were coming back, and I didn't know if or when I'd ever see you again."
"I'm sorry," Ron said in a small voice. "I'm really–"
"No, I know. It's okay. You're back. It's fine."
Ron looked over at Harry and squinted at him through the darkness. "What did you want to tell me?"
Harry took a deep breath and looked up at the stars. "I'm gay," he said slowly. He sucked in his cheeks and bit the extra skin sharply, waiting for Ron's response. A long silence fell between them, but Harry was surprised to find that he didn't feel uncomfortable. He didn't feel hatred or disgust coming from Ron, but understanding and patience. Ron was simply waiting to see if Harry had any more to say. Biting his lower lip, Harry turned to look at Ron.
"Can I ask a question?"
Harry nodded.
"What about Ginny?"
"Yeah… she… I tried really hard to like girls. I really did. Ginny is wonderful. She's… she's wonderful. One of my best friends. But… it's nothing more than that. And I know that's terrible. That's part of the reason why I broke up with her. I mean, I used this whole thing as an excuse. Which is also terrible. But… it needed to be done."
"And your birthday?"
"Yeah. That… that was… a mistake, obviously. It was… comforting. Familiar. You know. I don't know. I didn't mean for that to happen."
Ron nodded and glanced behind them, back through the tent to Hermione's sleeping form. "Why don't you want her to know?"
"She'd yell at me for lying to Ginny," Harry said simply. "I actually thought you'd be a lot more upset."
"I am, but… worse things have happened. It doesn't really seem all that important at the moment, you know? Horcruxes and all."
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
"So," Harry picked at the blanket, "you're not… upset or… freaked out or anything?"
"Why would I be upset or freaked out? Besides the Ginny thing."
Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Some blokes… would be."
"Do I seem like I would be?"
"Dunno. Guess not."
"Harry."
"Yeah?"
"You're still my best mate. I don't care if you're bent."
Harry sniggered. "Thanks."
"No problem."
Harry breathed a sigh of relief, smiling to himself.
"Are you sure you want to keep watch?"
"Yeah, it's fine. Go sleep."
"Thanks, mate." Harry gripped Ron's shoulder as he stood from the cold ground. "See you in the morning."
Ron winked up at Harry as he wrapped the blanket completely around himself. Harry grinned as he ducked back inside the tent and dove for his warm covers.
—xxx—xxx—xxx—
Chapter Three: The Next Night
Harry sat in front of the tent, wrapped in a blanket and aimlessly flicking his new blackthorn wand as he hummed to himself. The flaps rustled behind him and he looked around to see Ron crawling through the entrance.
"Sorry," Harry whispered, "did my humming wake you up?"
"No, I wasn't asleep," Ron whispered back as he sat down next to Harry and pulled some of the blanket over his legs.
"Oh. Aren't you tired? You started the watches last night."
Ron shrugged. "Yeah. Whatever. Can't sleep."
"What time is it?"
"Nearly two."
Harry sighed and tucked the wand away. "It'll be nice to see Luna tomorrow."
"Yeah."
"You okay?"
"Yeah."
"Okay."
The quiet of the forest engulfed and mesmerized them for what seemed like hours, until Ron's stomach growled.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
"Don't be."
"I've really missed you," Ron breathed the words, half-hoping Harry wouldn't hear them.
"We've missed you, too," Harry reassured him, patting his knee.
Sighing, Ron played with the fraying hem of the blanket. "I'm sorry I wasn't there with you in Godric's Hollow. I would have liked to see your house. And the graveyard."
Harry thought about that night, about how he had stood over his parents' gravestone and cried. "It's okay."
"What was it like?"
Harry closed his eyes and the street returned to him, dark and covered in snow. "There was a memorial. It was disguised. For a Muggle war. But when we walked past it, it… it turned into my… family. My parents, and my mum was holding me. As a baby. No scar or anything."
"I wonder who made it," Ron said, after a long silence.
Harry frowned. "Dunno. Maybe the ministry. Or… dunno."
"What was the house like?"
"Still partially destroyed. The roof was blown off on the one side. And there was this sign saying that it was preserved that way to remind people of… of the violence that killed them. And people had written on it, saying 'good luck' and 'long live Harry Potter' and stuff like that."
"Brilliant!"
"Yeah. It was."
"Well… I'm sorry I couldn't see it."
"It's fine… nothing we can do about it now. You're back. It doesn't really matter."
"I guess," Ron agreed reluctantly.
"I'm glad you're back."
Ron smiled slightly. "Thanks. I'm glad I'm back, too."
Harry pulled out the blackthorn wand and swished it at a pebble. It barely trembled. "No luck."
"Sorry."
"Not your fault." Harry turned to Ron and smiled warmly. "You should get some sleep."
"Probably. Goodnight," Ron said through a yawn as he crawled back to his bunk.
—xxx—xxx—xxx—
Chapter Four: At Shell Cottage, Pt. 1
"Harry," Ron whispered, trying to wake up his friend. Harry was curled against Ron, his arm flung across Ron's naked chest.
"Harry!" Ron repeated, louder.
Harry grunted, but did not wake up.
"Godric, Harry," Ron complained, "wake up!"
"What? Hm?" Harry murmured, tightening his grip on Ron.
"Harry!"
Harry forced his eyes open and saw Ron's face mere inches from his own. He jerked back quickly, removing his arm from Ron's chest and sprawling out on his back. "Fuck. Sorry. Shit."
"It's fine," Ron sighed, closing his eyes against the blush creeping up his neck. "You're just, um."
"My what?" Harry asked, rubbing his bleary eyes.
"No. You. Are. Um."
Harry glanced suspiciously over at Ron.
"Hard," Ron finally managed, feeling his ears burning.
"What?"
"Hard. You're hard."
"I'm… oh. Christ." Harry covered his face with both his hands. "Sorry," he muttered, weakly. "I'm sorry."
"No, it's fine," Ron said quietly. "I mean, you know… it's morning… whatever. I just…"
"Sorry," Harry repeated, helplessly.
"It's okay, really. I could… fancy a wank myself."
"Shut up."
"No, I'm serious."
Harry peaked through his fingers at Ron's flushed face. "What?"
"A wank."
"What?"
Ron rolled his eyes. "What are you, five?"
Harry whacked his arm over Ron, who grunted. "Shut up. I know what a wank is."
"Yeah. Well… you want?"
Harry stared up at the ceiling, trying to will his erection down. "Want what?"
"To wank?"
"Um."
"Come on. It's fine. Lots of blokes do it. It'll save us awkwardly long trips to the loo."
"Lots of blokes do what?"
"You know. Seamus told me he and Dean do it together when they visit over the summer."
"Why would he tell you that? Wait, where is Dean?"
"Outside with Luna."
"Oh." Harry bit his lip. "Why did Seamus…"
"Um… he asked… what… um. He asked what you looked like."
"What I look like?"
"Starkers," Ron explained in a small voice.
"What! Why the hell would he ask that?"
"He thought I would know."
"Why would he think that?"
"I told you!" Ron sighed heavily, running his hand through his hair. "He and Dean wank together over the summer. It's normal. And he thought… you know… that we did."
"Okay," Harry said, after a long pause. "Why does Seamus want to know what I look like naked?"
"No idea. Maybe he was joking."
"Whatever," Harry yawned and rolled onto his side, facing away from Ron. All he wanted to do now was go back to sleep and pretend this conversation never happened.
"Right. Well. Want to get breakfast?"
"Yeah… I'll meet you in the kitchen," Harry pressed his face into his warm pillow, knowing he couldn't fight the red heat on his cheeks. "I have to use the loo."
—xxx—xxx—xxx—
Chapter Five: At Shell Cottage, Pt. 2 (A Few Weeks Later)
"I'm sick of Griphook," Ron whispered as he crawled into his sleeping bag on the floor.
"Yeah. He's a bit odd," Harry agreed, sliding into his own bag next to Ron's.
"A bit rude, you mean."
"That, too."
"Hm. G'night."
"Night."
They both turned onto their sides, facing opposite walls and leaving a sizable gap between them on the floor. Dean was on the other side of the room, snoring quietly.
"Harry?"
"Hm?"
"Do you ever… think about birds?"
"What?"
"Girls."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Got that part."
"Do you ever… I mean, I know you're… but…"
"But what?"
"Dunno. Just wondering."
"That's a dangerous question, Ron."
"Why?"
"I dated your sister."
"Oh. Right."
"Yeah."
"No… no other girls then? I mean, before you… if there was a before… um."
A heavy silence fell between them, and Harry finally rolled onto his back. "Well, there was Cho. And… I sort of used to fancy Angelina."
"She's dating Fred! Can't you fancy anyone not involved with my family?"
"Not my fault you have so many siblings!"
"Git." Ron smiled, rolling onto his back as well. "What did you think of Lavender?"
"Dunno. She was all right. A bit…. um."
"Yeah," Ron sighed in agreement. "She was a bit. Other than that, though."
Harry shrugged. "I dunno. She was cute."
"Yeah. She was. Good kisser."
"Apparently."
"She gave really good head."
Harry paused. "You never told me about that."
"Thought you might tell Hermione."
"Why on earth would I tell Hermione? Believe it or not, I don't actually have a death wish!"
Ron sniggered. "Yeah. Guess you're right."
"What else did you…?"
"Well, you know… she, um… hands… mouth… tits…"
Harry turned his head to stare at Ron. "You titty-fucked Lavender?"
"Maybe," Ron said, a sly grin spreading across his face.
"That's sick."
"Hey! If you were straight, I'm sure you'd like it."
Harry snorted. "Fat chance."
"You mean to tell me you never thought about it?"
"Well… yeah, I thought about it. Never wanted to try it, though."
Ron shrugged. "To each his own."
"Did you… do… her?"
"Um. Well, we didn't have sex. But, you know, I… used my hands… mouth… tits."
Harry shoved Ron's head. "You don't have tits."
"Oh, don't I?" Ron flailed under the sleeping bag, apparently shimmying.
"Stop it," Harry laughed. "You wanker."
Ron stilled and looked over at Harry. "You want?"
Harry sighed, knowing it would be pointless to feign ignorance. "Why do you keep asking me that?"
"I told you. It's normal. I just thought… we're best mates, aren't we?"
"'Course we are."
"We share everything, don't we?"
"I guess."
"No reason we can't share this."
"What about Dean?"
"He's asleep. Look, I'll make sure…" He rolled over, picked up his want, and cast the Muffliato spell.
"Ron."
"What?"
"It doesn't bother you that I'm gay?"
"I already told you it doesn't bother me. That doesn't really have anything to do with it. I mean, its dark and we're under sleeping bags. We can't even see each other."
Harry took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and muttered, "Okay."
"Yes," Ron breathed, immediately reaching down and pushing his pajama pants to his thighs before taking hold of his cock. Harry imitated him, listening to the rustling of the sleeping bag and following Ron's rhythm.
"What do you think about?" Ron whispered.
"Can't ask me that," Harry panted, stroking himself to a full erection. "I'm gay. You're straight. Can't ask me that."
"Relax. I was just wondering. I'm not going to freak out. Tell me what you think about."
Harry bit his lip and moved his hand faster. He couldn't think about anything other than what Ron was doing next to him, what Ron looked like naked, what Ron's face would look like during an orgasm.
"Blokes," Harry finally choked out, moving his hand down to squeeze his balls. "Hard… chests, and… ah… muscles."
"I like arses. Girls'. Hermione's… shit. Lavender had a great arse. Let's think about arses."
"Don't talk about Hermione. Arses are good."
"Arse… firm."
"Fuck," Harry rubbed his thumb over his head and used the precum to slick his hand a bit before resuming a quick-paced stroke.
"Would love a good fuck," Ron whispered in a tight voice.
"Oh, God." Harry opened his eyes and watched the imprint of Ron's rapid hand under the sleeping bag. He moaned involuntarily, holding himself tighter. "Fuck. Shite. Ron."
"Harry," Ron gasped.
Harry whimpered as a deep shiver ran down his spine. "Close."
"Yeah. Arses."
"Arses… ah. Mm."
"Godric."
Harry jerked and gasped as he climaxed, splashing come inside his sleeping bag.
"Fuck," Ron panted, then let out a low groan as he came.
"Christ," Harry muttered, waiting for his heart rate to slow down. "You okay?"
Ron laughed. "'Course I'm okay. I'm brilliant."
"Yeah, brilliant," Harry echoed, sitting up and reaching for his wand. "You want…?"
"Okay." Ron bit back a smile as Harry cleaned up both their messes. "Thanks."
"No problem," Harry chuckled. "I'm going to sleep now."
"Me, too."
"Okay. Goodnight."
"Night."
—xxx—xxx—xxx—
Chapter Six: The Day After the Battle of Hogwarts
Ron was motionless before the window in the Gryffindor tower. The scene outside had hardly changed in the last hour, and yet he had barely moved since planting himself there. His thoughts were jumbled, meaningless, empty, confusing, relentless, and paralyzing. He was sure that if he moved, the drama would rewind and start itself all over again. Voldemort was gone, but he still felt on edge, still felt as though things would never be safe or happy again.
"Ron," Hermione's soft voice came from one of the beds.
He turned his head slowly and met her bleary gaze. "Morning," he whispered, his voice cracking from lack of use.
"How long have you been standing there?"
"Dunno," Ron shrugged and looked back out the window.
"Mm!" A high-pitched squeak escaped Hermione as she stretched. Ron listened to her yawns and the rustling of the sheets until the room was silent again. Two thin, warm arms wrapped themselves around his middle and squeezed him gently.
"Did you sleep okay?"
"I slept fine," Hermione spoke into Ron's wide back. "Did you?"
Ron took in a long, deep breath through his nose and said nothing. He laced his fingers through hers and leaned back into her embrace. This should make him feel better. This was what he had been craving all year. This was what he wanted. And yet, somehow, he felt empty.
"Where's Harry?"
Ron pulled one of his hands away and pointed out the window. Hermione leaned around him to peer outside. Harry was sitting under a tree, staring up at the sky. He was alone.
"Has he been there this whole time?" Hermione asked quietly.
Ron nodded and pulled out of her arms. "We should probably go downstairs. It's nearly four in the afternoon, already."
"Should we get Harry?"
"Dunno. Kind of seems like he wants to be alone."
"But… but he shouldn't be alone. Not right now. Not after everything that just happened."
Ron nodded vaguely.
"Maybe you could go talk to him."
"Yeah," Ron muttered, "okay."
"Come on," Hermione leaned up against him and kissed his dry lips. "It's all over. Everything's okay now."
"Everything is not okay," Ron said sharply, stepping away. "Let's go downstairs. I'll go and talk to Harry."
Hermione followed him silently out of the tower and down into the Great Hall. There, those who hadn't gone home immediately after the battle were sitting at the long tables, conversing quietly and eating soup. Most of the Weasleys were sitting in the middle of one of the tables. Hagrid was next to Mr. Weasley, slurping loudly. George was sitting on the floor in the far corner with Lee. His head was resting on Lee's shoulder, and Lee was stroking his long, red hair tenderly.
Ron blinked at his older brother. He looked a thousand times worse than Ron felt.
"I'm going to sit with Ginny," Hermione said quietly, squeezing Ron's hand briefly. "Go find Harry. Tell him that I love him."
"Mkay," Ron agreed absentmindedly and made his way out of the castle.
It was chilly outside. The sun was behind the tall forest and the trees were covering the grounds with long shadows. Ron plodded over to Harry and sat down silently next to his friend. Harry's breath hitched as Ron's hand covered his knee.
"Did you sleep?" Ron asked after a long, thick silence.
"Not really. Did you?"
"Not really."
"Yeah." Harry scratched the back of his neck, his long fingernails scraping loudly against his dry skin. "How… is everyone?"
"Dunno," Ron sighed. "I've been up in the tower until just now. Hermione and I came down and she's sitting with everyone inside."
Harry nodded and started picking at the grass. "She… you guys are finally together?"
"Seems that way," Ron noted.
Harry glanced sideways at his friend. "I thought it was what you wanted."
"It is what I wanted," Ron agreed quickly. "It's what want."
Biting his lip, Harry looked up at the sky. "I don't know what to do with myself, Ron. Where do we go from here? There's so much left to do. There's so much damage. There were so… so many people… I feel useless. None of this would have happened–"
"Shut up, Harry," Ron whispered. "How dare you regret what you did. You saved us all, you saved everyone, you saved everything! You really think we'd all rather it be the way it was until this morning? Everyone running around in terror all the time? Have you gone mental?"
"I'm not mental," Harry growled, "but I've certainly caused a lot of damage."
"No one's ever going to think about it that way, Harry. You literally died to save the entire wizarding world from… from Riddle. You're a fucking hero, and if I ever hear you talking like that again, I swear on Merlin's tits that I will punch your teeth out."
Harry chewed thoughtfully on the inside of cheeks before responding carefully, "Merlin didn't have tits, Ron."
"That's what you think!" Ron huffed and turned so that he could lie down across the soft ground beneath him.
Harry leaned back against the tree and sighed heavily. He stared at Ron's feet for several minutes until they twitched violently.
"Whoa," Ron sat up groggily. "Nearly fell asleep there."
"You look tired."
"You look tired."
"I am tired."
"Well… that settles that, then." Ron rolled his eyes. "Do you want to go inside? They've got soup."
"No," Harry said, quickly. "I don't want to see anyone."
Ron nodded, resignedly. "Yeah… I know. You should still eat, though. Come on." He stood and held his hands out for Harry to grab. When Harry didn't move, Ron shoved his hands under Harry's arms and lifted his limp friend off the ground. "Come on, Harry. You can't just sit here for the rest of your life. You have to keep moving."
Harry said nothing as Ron led him back into the castle.
—xxx—xxx—xxx—
Chapter Seven: Back at the Burrow
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting behind the Burrow in a triangle around their dying campfire.
"We should roast something," Hermione suggested.
"Like what?" Ron snorted. "Bread?"
"Oh, very funny." Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Yes, I know." Ron glanced over at Harry, who had been silent for an alarmingly long time. "Still awake?"
Harry nodded silently, not taking his eyes off the flames.
"It's quite late," Hermione yawned.
Ron shrugged. "It's a nice night, though. Too bad George isn't out here… he always loved camping in the backyard. He and Fred used to… try to set each other's sleeping bags on fire…" The smile faded from Ron's face as he spoke.
Harry leaned forward, propping an arm up on his knee and resting his chin in his palm.
"Sounds fun," Hermione offered awkwardly.
Ron ignored her and watched Harry through the white hot fire.
"May I ask something?" Hermione spoke up again after a moment of thoughtful silence.
"Just did," Ron muttered.
"Stop it, Ron. Harry?"
Harry looked up at her.
"May I ask you something?"
Harry paused before nodding, weary of her sudden seriousness.
"Why aren't you with Ginny anymore?"
Harry's eyes darted between his two friends. "Um," he finally managed in a small voice, staring up at Ginny's dark window.
"Hermione," Ron cautioned, "that's not really… our business, is it?"
"Why not? They're our friends. Ginny was crying last night because she said Harry didn't want to be with her anymore. I can't just let that go, Ron."
"It's private," Ron muttered, narrowing his eyes at Harry. "It's between them."
"You yelled at him for leading Ginny on and kissing her on his birthday, but he breaks her heart and makes her cry and you say nothing?"
"It's not my place." Ron shifted. "If they don't want… if they're not together… someone was bound to get hurt. She'll get over it."
"Ron," Hermione sighed and leaned back, splaying her legs out in front of her, "you're hopeless."
"Why?" Ron demanded. "Why am I hopeless? She's upset and she's my sister. Harry's upset and he's my best friend. What do I have to do with it?"
"Are you upset about it, Harry?" Hermione asked, pointedly.
"Of course I am. I didn't want to hurt her."
"So, what happened?"
"Could we please stop talking about this? Please?"
"No! You always clam up about these things. It's not healthy!"
"Leave it, Hermione," Ron said quietly.
"Ron–"
"I said leave it," he growled through clenched teeth.
Hermione huffed.
"I'm going to bed," Harry announced, standing up.
"Mate… you… why don't you wait till the fire goes out?" Ron suggested hopefully.
Harry looked down at the struggling fire and sat back down in a huff. "I think I might go see Andromeda and Teddy next week."
"That sounds wonderful," Hermione said. "Can we go this week, so I can see them before I go to Australia?"
Harry looked down at his hands. "Um. Actually… I was thinking about going alone. To see them. And… and then I was thinking about… not coming back. I mean, I can come back. Obviously. To visit. Um. I mean – what I mean… is… I think I'm moving out?"
The stillness of the night fell over the friends, silencing them until a chicken clucked somewhere nearby.
"Why?" Ron finally asked.
"I just need… space. You know? I've never had space before."
"Where are you going?" Hermione asked, sounding angry.
"Well, I was… I think I'll go to Number 12, first. Maybe try to sell it. Find somewhere else to live."
"And we can't come with you?" Ron asked.
"Why would you want to?" Harry muttered. "It's a stupid place."
"It's a big house," Ron reasoned. "And it's creepy and depressing. You'll get lonely."
"I won't get lonely. I told you I'll still come to visit. And you can come there to visit. Besides… I'll have Kreacher."
"Harry!"
"What?" Harry squeaked, startled by Hermione's loud outburst.
"You haven't freed him yet?"
"I tried!" Harry pleaded. "I tried after the Battle. He said he didn't want to be free. Didn't even want to go live with some other witch or wizard. He said… he said he likes me," he finished, laughing slightly.
Ron smirked. "It's love."
"It's not funny," Hermione insisted. "You're supposed to free him!"
"I just told you," Harry rolled his eyes. "I tried. He doesn't want to be freed. I won't treat him badly or make him work, Hermione. You know that."
Hermione huffed again and Ron shrugged at Harry.
"I'm going in for bed now," Harry said loudly, standing. "I'm too tired to wait for the fire." He walked past Ron and Hermione without saying goodnight and then disappeared inside the Burrow.
Ron chanced a glance at Hermione. "What do you say? Time for bed?"
"I'm worried about him," she said frankly.
"About Kreacher?" Ron asked wearily.
"No," she grumbled, "about Harry! He's been moping around for days and he won't date Ginny and now he's saying he wants to leave."
Ron sighed. "Look, I don't want him to leave either. But he's obviously not happy here, and if he thinks that leaving will make him happier, then… then maybe he should. Especially since he and Ginny aren't together anymore. I think he feels awkward being around her so much. He deserves some freedom."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "House-elves deserve freedom. Harry deserves…"
"Some space," Ron concluded simply.
"I suppose." Hermione sighed and looked up at the black sky. "Any idea why he refuses to be with Ginny or talk about it?"
"No," he lied, "no idea."
"It's sad. She's still in love with him."
"I know." Ron rubbed his eyes tiredly. "But there's nothing we can do about it. It's his life."
"But what if he's messing it up? We're his friends, Ron… we're supposed to be looking out for him."
Ron said nothing for a moment, then cleared his throat. "I think I'm going to go to bed."
"We could stay out here a little longer," she offered quietly.
Ron looked over at her, a light blush rising from his neck. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. We haven't had any time alone since we got here… and I'm leaving soon…" She moved to sit in front of him and wrapped one hand around the back of his neck, brushing the hair there with her thumb.
Ron smiled and leaned forward to kiss her.
—xxx—xxx—xxx—
Chapter Eight: Early Morning
Ron opened his bedroom door, stepped inside, and closed it behind him as quietly as possible.
"Oh!" He started slightly, seeing Harry standing by the window. "You're awake."
Harry turned around and blinked slowly. "Yeah," he said in a soft, dry voice. "Couldn't sleep."
"Oh… still?" Ron peeled off his jeans and flung them towards his closet. They fell on the floor next to Pig's cage.
Harry shrugged and turned back to the window.
"That's probably not good," Ron said, uncertainly. "You haven't slept properly in days…"
Harry shrugged again and said nothing.
"I think I'm going to bed… it's pretty late…"
"It's nearly four."
"Yeah…"
Harry left the window and lay down on his bed. "Fancy a wank before bed?"
"Um," Ron crawled between his sheets and rolled away from Harry, "not tonight…"
"Not tonight?" Harry repeated.
"I'm… tired…"
"Oh."
Ron sighed and buried his face in his pillow. "I sort of already…"
Harry frowned at Ron's muffled explanation. "Is that where you've been for the past three hours? Wanking?"
"Um… no."
"Oh. Then what – oh. Oh. Hermione? Really?"
"You don't have to say it like that. And, no, actually. Not really."
"Not really, what?"
"She didn't really… I just…"
"D'you come on her?" Harry sniggered.
"No." Ron rolled his eyes. "We were just snogging. And I stopped in the loo on my way up here. Thought you'd be asleep already."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Makes more sense."
"What makes more sense?"
"You wanking in the loo after snogging her. She doesn't seem the type to do those sorts of things."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Er… she's Hermione. I've just never thought about her doing that before."
"Well. Good!"
"No, I didn't mean–"
"Goodnight, Harry."
"Ron–"
"I'm going to sleep. I'm fucking exhausted."
"Okay," Harry muttered, staring wearily up at the ceiling.
—xxx—xxx—xxx—
Chapter Nine: Hermione's Last Night
"And you're sure you're alright getting to the airport tomorrow morning?" Molly asked, sitting next to Hermione at the kitchen table.
"Yes, thank you. The taxi is all arranged."
"Aeroplanes." Arthur smiled broadly. "Ah! I envy you."
Hermione smiled politely at him before taking a bite of her dinner. "This is delicious, Mrs. Weasley. Thanks again."
"Don't mention it." Molly gestured for everyone else to eat.
Harry pushed the food around on his plate for a few minutes, moving the chicken to the left of the peas and the noodles to the right of the mashed potatoes.
"Aren't you hungry, dear?" Molly asked, frowning in his direction.
Harry looked up, blinking. "Oh, yes. Thank you. This is great." He nodded and started shoveling spoonfuls of potatoes into his mouth.
"Er." Molly smiled weakly and turned to George, who was staring mournfully down at his food. "Eat up."
George bit his lower lip as he cut off a bit of chicken and stabbed it with his fork. His hand hovered above his plate, the meat wavering in front of his pale face. Molly raised her eyebrows encouragingly, but, after a long moment, George put the fork back down.
"I'm… I'm not very hungry, Mum," he muttered apologetically, reaching for his glass of water with a shaky hand.
"That's… that's alright, George," Molly said, her voice breaking as she turned back to her own plate. "They'll be plenty left over tomorrow."
"Excuse me," George managed in a whisper as he stood and left the kitchen, going back up to his room.
Harry chanced a glance up at Ron. George hadn't come out of his room in days, despite everyone's best efforts. Finally, Hermione had gone up and invited him down for her goodbye dinner. He had stayed in the kitchen for at least ten minutes, which was much more than anyone had been expecting.
Ron shrugged slightly. "So," he said, a bit louder than necessary, "have we heard from Charlie, yet?"
"Yes," Arthur said gratefully. "Arrived back in Romania yesterday. Safe and sound."
"Good," Ron nodded awkwardly, then turned back to his food.
"Merlin." Ron plopped down on his bed after the long dinner finally ended. "I'm sorry you two have to put up with that every night."
Harry and Hermione looked at each other.
"Put up with what?" Hermione tried.
"Hmph! Don't act like dinner isn't torture."
"It's not that bad, mate," Harry said, sitting down on the edge of his own bed. "Things could be worse."
"How could things possibly be worse? George won't leave his room. You're moving out. You're leaving tomorrow," he gestured at Hermione. "Ginny won't talk to me. Everyone here is depressed. Not to mention depressing."
Harry lay down on his stomach, wrapped his arms around his pillow, and sighed miserably.
"Oh, stop it," Hermione demanded. "Harry, this isn't your fault."
Harry did not look up or respond.
"Leave it," Ron said as he stood. "Come on." He took Hermione's hand and led her towards the door. "Let's go for a walk."
—xxx—xxx—xxx—
Chapter Ten: The Next Evening
Harry spent most of the next day playing Wizard Chess with George, who had put up almost no fight when Harry burst into his room and made the suggestion. Other than the commands they gave to their chessmen, they played in almost complete silence They found that they didn't need words. Each other's company was enough, for both of them.
"Do you know what's for dinner?" George asked as the sun started setting outside his window.
"Probably the same thing as last night," Harry guessed. "Hungry?"
"I think so," George said quietly, prodding a reluctant knight with his index finger. "I'm kind of curious what's going to happen now Hermione's out of the picture for a bit."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked distractedly. George's knight finally took the hint and made a move that essentially ensured George would win the match. Harry instructed his chessmen half-heartedly, wondering if he should just surrender and suggest a new game.
"Ron won't be so distracted." George crossed his arms and eyed the board for a long time before making another move.
Harry sighed and made the only move he could, even though it didn't do him any good. "Is he supposed to be focusing on something in particular?"
"He seems to focus on you most nights," George said coolly, his eyes on the board. "Maybe with Hermione gone, he'll start being able to focus on you during the day as well."
Harry could barely breath, but he tried to stay calm. "I don't think I know what you mean."
"Please," George scoffed, then paused to make his last triumphant move. Harry rolled his eyes and started resetting the board. "My sleeping schedule's all fucked up right now. I sleep for most of the day and there's nothing to do at night except search for goings-on with Extendable Ears."
Harry stayed silent as he adjusted his chessmen, making sure they were absolutely centered in each square.
"It's okay," George said casually, "I won't tell anyone."
"Thanks," Harry muttered, unsure of what else to say. He wished George hadn't brought this up. He wasn't proud of the wank sessions he and Ron had made a habit of, especially because he knew they meant more to him than they would ever mean to Ron. It was difficult to truly accept that, which was why Harry was making plans to move out of the Burrow. He needed something more, and he knew it could never come from Ron.
"Lee and I used to be the same way," George said after he made his first move.
Harry looked up and saw that George was actually smiling. "What?"
"When we were 17 - no, 16, I guess. When we were 16 we used to… you know. I'm sure Fred knew about it but he never said… didn't even bat an eye when we finally made it official."
"Made what official?" Harry asked, baffled.
"Our relationship," George said as if it should have been obvious.
"You're in a relationship with Lee?" Harry blurted out, probably louder than he should have.
"Well, not currently," George admitted. "I mean - maybe currently. I'm not… entirely sure where we stand, to be honest. Everything kind of got put on hold towards the end of the war and… I haven't made much of an effort to… resolve things, obviously."
Harry had so many questions, but the only one that made it out of his mouth was, "Why are you telling me this?"
"Just trying to get out of my own head for a change." George shrugged. "And it seemed like you needed to hear it."
"Does your mum know?"
"We never really said anything directly, but she knows. And Dad. We haven't gone out of our way to keep it a secret."
Harry glanced down and remembered the game they were supposed to be playing. He made a hasty move and looked back up at George. "Does Ron know?"
"I think so."
Harry tried to figure out what else he needed to ask, but Molly shouted "DINNER'S READY" before he could collect his thoughts.
"Come on, then," George said, sounding a bit resigned as he stood. "Time to witness the spectacle that's bound to happen when I finally put a piece of meat in my mouth."
Harry didn't miss the pun.
—xxx—xxx—xxx—
Chapter Eleven: One Week Later
Harry knew he could only spend another day or two at the Burrow before he started losing it. He couldn't stand the monotony of it all. Molly spent most of her time in the kitchen, cleaning things that had already been cleaned three times that day. Ginny hadn't spoken to Harry in weeks, and, for whatever reason, Ron had adopted the same behavior.
Harry stilled stayed in Ron's room every night, but they hadn't wanked together since before Hermione had left, and they spent less and less time together during the day. Ron seemed to prefer spending his time alone in the garden, degnoming or napping or simply sprawling out on the grass and staring up at the sky. Harry's routine had shifted to spending most days with George, playing Wizard Chess or any other game they could get their hands on.
When they weren't playing, or sometimes between moves, Harry and George made plans. Harry was ready to move into Number 12, and George was going to move with him.
The only problem was that they hadn't told anyone this, and they knew they the longer they kept it a secret, the worse it would be when they finally let everyone know.
"Tonight," Harry suggested in the middle of a game of Muggle checkers they were playing on the chessboard with pieces of coloured paper Harry had cut out. "Or tomorrow. If you don't tell them by tomorrow then I'm going alone."
"If we don't tell them," George corrected. "Don't make me do it alone."
"All right," Harry agreed. "We'll tell them tonight. During dessert, when they'll all be stuffed and sleepy from dinner."
"And all the knives will be put away by then," George muttered.
"It won't be that bad," Harry said for what felt like the hundredth time, even though he had no reason to believe it.
George opened his mouth but whatever he was going to say was drowned out by the familiar shout of Molly announcing dinner. They abandoned the game of checkers and joined the rest of the family in the kitchen.
Dinner was subdued, as it always way. Molly was still treating George like a porcelain doll, even though he'd been eating full meals for an entire week, and Ron and Ginny barely spoke at all. Everyone ate quickly, clearly hoping to get the whole thing over with as soon as possible.
For dessert, Molly had baked cookies by hand. Harry ate slowly, watching everyone else and waiting for that perfect moment when all of their mouths would be full at the same time.
"I just want to thank all of you," he said when the moment arrived. "For letting me stay here and taking care of me and - well, everything, really. It's meant a lot to me and I wish I could repay you somehow, but…" He glanced toward Ron, who wasn't looking at him. "But I think it's time I stop imposing myself on you, and I try to start something of a new life somewhere else."
There was a brief, stunned silence, before George added, "Me, too."
"What do you mean, you too?" Molly asked sharply.
"I mean that I need to try to… start living my life again," George said, sounding sadder than Harry had heard him since the first time he'd joined them for dinner. "There's nothing anyone can do to change what's happened and staying here forever isn't going to fix me."
"You're not broken, dear," Molly said gently.
"No, I am," George said seriously. "But that doesn't mean I can hide here forever. I have - friends I need to see. And a business I need to re-open." He glanced at Harry. "And a new home to, um… decorate."
"A new home?" Arthur asked when he saw that Molly had become speechless.
"Harry and I - we're going to Number 12. I can't go back to the flat above the shop. Not… not yet. I don't know when or if I even will, but Harry's been generous enough to offer up Number 12 for us to live in, at least for now."
"Number 12," Ginny said incredulously. "You can't be serious."
"Funnily enough, I am," George said with just the hint of a smile. "You're welcome to join us."
"No, he's staying here," Molly said loudly. "And you should be, too. And Harry. We're a family and we need each other - especially now."
"Especially now what?" George asked, raising his voice to match her's. "It's over, Mum. It's all over and we can't just sit in our own tears for the rest of our lives. The world didn't end - a war ended. We're supposed to be out there re-building our lives, not hiding from them."
"George," Arthur said gently, trying to keep the peace.
"No. You can't stop me - it's not up for negotiation. I'm leaving, and so is Harry. He needs space to finish growing up, and I need the shop. I need…" Harry watched George looking imploringly between his parents. "I need Lee."
Ron stood up noisily, pushing the table away from himself and slamming down his glass. He went all the way up to his room, his angry footsteps audible even from the kitchen.
Harry excused himself quietly and heard conversation break out again as soon as he was out of sight. He ran up to Ron's room and found that the door wasn't even shut.
Ron was on his bed, frowning up at the ceiling.
"Hermione broke up with me," he said quietly.
Harry felt his mouth drop open. "What?"
"Shut the door," he said dully.
Harry shut the door quickly and sat on his own bed, his mind racing. "When?"
"The night before she left," Ron explained. "She said… she said it was clear that we wanted to mean more to each other than we actually did mean to each other. She said it was a childhood flirtation that got taken too seriously because… because everything was being taken too seriously. And when the war ended… she said I didn't act the way she expected me to."
"What does that mean?"
"It means she knew that I was trying really hard… but that I just didn't have it in me. I did want her… I think I even loved her. But it wasn't enough."
"How is love not enough?" Harry asked, agitated.
"Maybe it could have been if…" Ron sighed and closed his eyes.
"If what?" Harry prompted after a few seconds.
"If there hadn't been someone else."
For a moment, Harry had forgotten about his and Ron's strange and intimate moments, and his mind raced for who else Ron or Hermione could have possibly been involved with. Then Ron opened his eyes and sat up, looking directly at Harry.
"Oh," Harry said numbly. "I - I'm so sorry. We never should have - I didn't think it would ruin your relationship. I can - I'll write Hermione a letter. Explain everything. I'm sure she'll understand, once she realizes it was - it was, you know… completely… one-sided." He could feel himself going red.
"That's the problem though, isn't it?" Ron asked, still staring at Harry.
Harry blinked, losing track of the conversation. "No?" he guessed.
Ron looked down at the floor and licked his lips. "It wasn't one-sided, Harry."
Harry's thoughts came to a screeching halt.
"Part of me hoped it was obvious," Ron continued, still looking down. "I thought, maybe… maybe you knew it wasn't just for fun."
"You told me you were straight," Harry protested.
"I don't think those words ever came out of my mouth." Ron lifted his gaze slowly. "I don't want you to leave."
"You've barely spoken to me in days," Harry said, his confusion bubbling over into anger. "I can't stay here anymore, it's driving me mad!"
Ron shook his head. "I'm not expecting you to stay," he said, sounding sad. "I just wanted to you know. I'd like it if you could stay."
Harry stood up, suddenly feeling like the very walls around him were shifting. "I need air," he managed to say before he fled from the room. He raced down the stairs, past the heated argument that was still going on at the kitchen table, and out into the garden.
Where the hell had this all come from? Ten minutes ago, Ron was straight and dating Hermione, and Harry was secretly pining away. Now - now everything was flipped on its head. Ron was - what was Ron? Gay? Bisexual? Confused? How long had it not been one-sided? How long had Ron been keeping his feelings hidden, even though Harry had come out months ago? How long had the lies between them been growing? How much pain could they all have avoided if they'd only come clean about everything from the beginning?
Harry didn't know how long he stood in the garden before he wasn't alone anymore. Ron appeared next to him and stayed silent for a few minutes.
"What are you thinking about?" Ron finally asked. He shifted closer until their shoulders were pressed together.
"The first time I came here. What your house looked like from above… and how it felt that first night, sleeping in your room."
"Really?" Ron asked, turning to face Harry.
Harry shrugged. "It was… I don't know, it was confusing. I was 12. I didn't really understand but I had these… sort of strange feelings. I remember spending each night wondering what was wrong with me, wondering if you'd ever had the same thoughts, wondering what would happen if you knew I was having those thoughts…"
"I probably just would have laughed and pretended to forget all about it."
Harry nodded and tried not to gasp as Ron's fingers brushed against his.
"Luckily we're not 12 anymore," Ron said quietly.
"I really don't…" Harry cut himself off and took a deep breath, turning to face Ron. "It sounds very much like you're trying to start something there," he said, gesturing between them, "but I need to make sure that you have really thought this through and that you really know what is it you're asking."
Ron answered by leaning forward and placing a soft, brief kiss on Harry's lips. Harry closed his eyes and fought the urge to lean forward for more.
"I've been wanting to do that for years. I never thought I could, so I… erm, focused my attentions elsewhere. But it didn't work. I've spent this whole week trying to figure out what to do, how to tell you, how to go after what I really want."
Harry swallowed heavily and opened his eyes. Ron was blushing and all Harry wanted to do was move in for another kiss.
"Are you sure you have to move out?" Ron whispered.
Harry nodded. "I need to. You can come with me if you want."
"I can't," Ron said slowly, frowning. "Not yet."
"But you'll visit?" Harry pressed, worried this would slip away if they were too far apart.
"Yeah." Ron grinned suddenly, his cheeks going even pinker. "I don't fancy doing anything more than wanking with you under my parents' roof."
Harry let out a tense breath and kissed Ron hard, thoughts of doing "anything more" with Ron racing through him. Ron's hands settled on Harry's sides and they moved closer as the kiss deepened.
"It's going to be brilliant having your own place," Ron said shakily as Harry moved to nip at his earlobe.
"George'll be there," Harry said distractedly, dragging his lips back to Ron's.
"We can pretend he's not."
Harry chuckled and then suddenly found himself weak in the knees with laughter. He clutched at Ron's shoulders, bent double as everything came to the surface in a strange, joyous burst.
Ron joined in and before long, they had collapsed on the ground in a tearful fit of laughter.
"Merlin," Harry said breathily, trying to calm himself down. "What a night."
Ron gave a disbelieving snort. "You can say that again."
He sprawled out on his back and Harry lay down next to him, taking his hand and holding on tight.
"I'll miss the stars," Harry admitted. "You can't really see them in the city. And I'll miss your mum's cooking."
"I'm sure she'll stop by every night with food for you and George," Ron said seriously.
Harry fought back another fit of giggles. "Probably."
Ron squeezed Harry's hand gently. "Everything's going to turn out okay in the end."
Harry nodded and smiled up at the moon. "It's certainly starting to feel that way for the first time in a very long time."