A/N: So I can't get them out of my head again. I think this will probably be a few more chapters, taking one person from each chapter and dealing with him or her in another paired situation. It shouldn't be too hard to figure out the next since we've already had Hermione and Ron and Ron and Harry... :)

Harry isn't dead. Harry isn't dead, and Voldemort's been vanquished, and there is finally no one to fight, nothing to worry about, nowhere to run. And Ron wants to be happy. Ron wants so desperately to be happy about this. On some level, he knows he's relieved. Intellectually, at least, he knows that. But emotionally... he shakes his head. Why is he even thinking this way, he wonders as he stares at the canopy of his four poster bed. He's the one with the emotional range of a teaspoon, after all. He doesn't even have feelings, let alone understand them. But he sighs. That's not true. It's never been true. Now, though, he's hardly the only one who knows it.

It's strange to be back in his bed in the Gryffindor tower. He wonders if the others are sleeping but thinks they probably aren't. He's far from the only one with a lot on his mind. After a few more minutes of tossing and turning, he realizes that he isn't falling asleep - not anytime soon, at least - and he shoves the canopy aside. He can't just lie there any longer. He'll sit in the common room. Staring into the fire always makes him drowsy. He just hopes he can be alone. The last thing he wants right now is another conversation. He really doesn't have anything to say.

He tries to make his way soundlessly out of the room, but even though he doesn't hear another sound, he doesn't think either Harry or Neville is asleep. It's too quiet. He shakes his head. He can't blame them.

It's a relief to find the room empty, and Ron sinks onto the overstuffed couch, pulls his knees up to his chest, and pillows his head on his arms as he stares into the crackling flames. It's one of the things he's always loved about being at school. No matter the season, the fire is always burning in the common room. It signifies home, and that's something he sorely needs right now. He sighs and closes his eyes. Home... this one is ok. The other one... no. He can't even think about the Burrow right now without chills coursing through him.

But ... he hears footsteps. He tenses, makes sure he is facing the fire. He doesn't have to turn around to know that Harry is standing at the foot of the stairs. They've spent too much time together not to know the sounds of each other's breathing. But, suddenly, he's not sure whether he wants Harry there or not, and he doesn't even understand why.

There isn't much time to think about it. Only moments later, Harry is approaching the couch tentatively and sitting on the far end. He doesn't look at Ron as he, too, stares into the fire as if mesmerized by the flames. For a long time, neither of them speaks. In fact, Ron's eyes are starting to feel heavy when he suddenly becomes aware that Harry's breathing's changed. He looks up for the first time. Harry isn't looking at him, still, but Ron knows he's trying to gather the strength to speak. He waits.

"I apologized to Hermione and Ginny." The words are almost inaudible, but he knows he's heard him correctly, and now he's confused. Harry is still staring at the fire, but he seems to know that Ron is watching him because he shifts uncomfortably on the couch. He still won't turn his head, but he says just as softly, "I - I spoke to them earlier. Both of them. And - and I know it wasn't really fair of me to just go to the forest without saying anything about it. I know Hermione and Ginny were upset, and I just wanted to make sure you knew I apologized to them."

Ron nods slowly, knowing it's what Harry expects from him, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Harry relax slightly. Suddenly, he is furious.

"No," he says, his voice a lot louder than either of them expects. Harry jumps. Ron looks directly at him for the first time since he came down, and he's glowering. It's Harry's turn to look confused.

"No... what?" he asks. "I did. I thought you'd be glad to know that..." but here he trails off because if one thing is abundantly clear, it's that Ron isn't glad about anything right now, but Harry can't figure out why. Ron is hardly sure himself. He just knows he'd very much like to hit Harry, and he clenches his fists in his lap.

"You apologized to them. They were the only ones who would be upset about you going into the forest without saying anything? No one else?" Ron's face is flushing because he knows he sounds like a girl. He knows that if any of his brothers were here right now, they'd be taking the mickey out of him mercilessly for behaving this way, but the words have spilled out. There's no way to take them back. So he sits, and he stares at Harry, and he hopes he won't notice that his eyes are stinging.

Harry stares back, and he feels as though Ron has hit him because the wind is knocked out of him. He draws a breath to respond but lets it out, unable to formulate any words. He wants to look away - Ron's eyes are too bright - but he knows he can't do that either. Finally, he whispers, "I'm - I'm sorry. I don't know why... I didn't think you..."

Ron swallows hard. "You didn't think I'd be terrified, too?" he grates out. His voice is hoarse, much too hoarse, but he's committed himself to this now. He shakes his head even as he tries to stop his hands from shaking. "Harry, you left right - right after Fred -" and suddenly his voice breaks. He can't continue even though he wants to, and he puts his face in his arms. For a moment, he closes his eyes, but then he manages to say, "I'd just lost one brother, and then you... you..."

He trails off. He can't say anymore, but he knows from the sound of Harry's own breathing that he's said enough. After a few minutes, he raises his head, and he sees that Harry's hidden his own face in his hands and that his shoulders are trembling. Ron's stomach twists. This - this is the first time he's seen Harry cry. He wishes briefly, desperately, for Hermione, but he knows that's futile, that this is up to him. Slowly, he moves down the couch, and he puts an arm tentatively across Harry's shoulders.

"I know - I do know why you had to do that," he whispers. "I was just - I was scared. Harry, if we'd lost you, too..." He trails off. He can't even think about it. The few minutes when he'd thought that was real were some of the most terrifying and devastating of his life.

Harry can't let himself think about it either. He takes deep breaths and tries mightily to stop the tears that he's so unaccustomed to. It is a little while before he can remove his hands from his face. He swipes hastily at his eyes before glancing at Ron. He knows their faces are equally red.

"I know," he almost whispers. "If there'd been any other way... but if I'd said goodbye to the three of you, I'd never have been able to go, and..."

Ron swallows hard, but he nods even as he moves back to his designated couch cushion and sinks in, sighing. "Yeah, you had to. But I'm - I'm just glad you're here."

Harry looks back into the fire. "So am I," he says hoarsely. And he hopes someday he'll really mean it.