Chapter 3- In which Harry has one hell of a day, and Ron learns that perhaps he's not so unusual after all.
Sleep had always been a favorite pastime of Ron's. Having a lie in on a Saturday, a nap on a Sunday (or on a Tuesday even, if he happened to have professor Binns) - all beautiful times in his life.
After the war, not so much.
"Ron? Ron, wake up mate, it's alright. Come on…"
Ron shot up, arms flailing as he tried to ground himself. Merlin he hated this, the moment before he could sort out reality from nightmare and the crushing panic that shot through every inch of him until…
"You're ok Ron."
Ron never much cared that he was ok. He cared that the person the voice belonged to was ok. And if that voice was calm, then the other people he was panicked for must be ok too.
Ron brought his hand up to cover Harry's, whose was resting firmly on Ron's shoulder and squeezed, fighting to take deep, slow breaths.
"Thanks," he muttered.
Harry didn't comment, and instead began to work out one of the knots in Ron's shoulder. Ron groaned, dropping his hand from covering Harry's so his friend could properly work.
It took several minutes, but Ron eventually stopped trembling as Harry did wonders along his tense shoulders. This was nothing new, and Ron had done the same for Harry on more than one occasion, but Ron couldn't help but feel a little surprised that Harry had offered so readily considering how weird he'd been the last couple of days.
Ron had come home to find Harry asleep on the sofa, obviously having attempted to wait up for him, probably because Ron had promised to explain what was going on with him lately. He felt like a bit of an arse.
Ron rolled his shoulders in gratitude as Harry gave them a final squeeze.
"Want some breakfast?" Harry asked, seemingly resigned that dawn was upon them.
"Sure," Ron said wearily. He knew when trying to go back to sleep was futile. "I'll meet you downstairs in a minute."
Harry nodded and disappeared from the room as Ron pulled himself together before heading to his own room.
Despite the shared bed, they did maintain separate living quarters. Ron had his own bathroom and wardrobe. He kept Pig's cage in his own bedroom and though he and Harry both spent most of their time in the kitchen and sitting room, this was still very much his own space within the house. He never felt like he and Harry were actually sharing a room. Just the sleeping arrangements.
He shook his head. His brain was still too full to dwell on how strange the arrangements were.
After a nearly silent breakfast of porridge while the pair woke up properly, Ron set down his coffee mug and braced himself.
"Harry, I need to talk to you."
Harry looked up and simply waited, and Ron suddenly didn't know where to start.
"Umm. You know I, that I said things weren't romantic with me and Hermione?"
Harry just quirked an eyebrow in response, clearly still unimpressed with this idea.
"Right. Well. It's because… I… umm…"
"It's just me Ron. Spit it out."
"It'sBecauseIPreferBlokes."
Harry blinked, whether because he hadn't understood a word Ron had just said or because of what Ron had said, Ron didn't know.
"I'm gay," he clarified quickly, not wanting to get into the mess of wrong conclusions like he had with Hermione. "I know that might be… umm, a tad, unexpected?"
Harry merely blinked at him again, giving zero indication that that he had taken in any of what Ron was saying.
"I really wanted it to work with her. I did! I just, I can't pretend anymore that this… this part of me isn't real. It's always been real and… I… yeah. I told her the other night so… it's… it's done now, I guess. ...For fuck's sake Harry, say something!"
Harry opened his mouth but quickly closed it again. The only thing running through his stunned brain was a loud, repetitive, 'What? What? WHAT?!' as he tried to string a coherent sentence together.
Ron was quickly shutting down, his arms wrapped tightly around himself as he pleaded with his eyes for Harry to say something, anything.
"Ok," was all Harry managed. He had no idea what his face was doing. He couldn't think, his brain fuzzy as he tried to concentrate on his friend. His friend who he knew needed him right now.
Ron just looked at Harry incredulously for a moment, unsure what to make of that statement.
"Ok? What… I mean… what?"
"Well, what else... I mean… what?"
Ron dropped his head to his hands. This was getting them nowhere.
"Do you… I mean, do you get what I said Harry? About…"
"About liking blokes? Yeah… yes. I got that. I… that's fine Ron but… Hermione? I mean… just… WHAT?!"
Harry cringed mentally for changing the direction of the conversation, but he could not process the idea that perhaps Ron was like him. Perhaps Ron wouldn't be disgusted to find out that Harry was a poof. Perhaps Ron may even be interested in… no. No, no, no. He could not go there. Not now… oh god. OhGodOhGodOhGod…
Ron had stood up and was pacing the kitchen. He'd been afraid of this. The Hermione question. From anyone else, he could navigate it. With Harry… well, Harry had seen it hadn't he? That damned locket…
Clinging to the part where Harry had glossed over Ron's liking men and said the words 'that's fine,' Ron gathered himself and turned to face Harry again. There was really no other way to do this.
"The locket, right?"
Harry just nodded, his expression cloudy and unreadable, but Ron couldn't distract himself with that now.
"Look Harry, I… it's complicated. I… can I start with explaining what that thing did to me?"
"I know what it did Ron," Harry said, not unkindly, "I wore it too. And I was there when it tried to take you out. I…" Ron was shaking his head.
"No. I mean yes, you saw all that, you know what the locket felt like. But it um… it did something else to me."
Well this was news. Harry's nose wrinkled in concentration as he waited for Ron to continue. He'd often thought the episode with the locket was oddly specific. Like it knew Ron. Harry hated every second that ruddy necklace was in contact with him; it made him feel sick and angry and all sorts of strange. But he had often wondered how the locket had seemed to know exactly how to prey on Ron so specifically.
"Ok," Ron took a shaky breath, "so, dark magic, or any magic really, leaves traces. And dark magic specifically can imbed itself in pure magic. Sort of… parasitic. It can poison you, basically."
Harry sat up straighter at this, alarmed. No. No, no, no…
"I… the locket, it, imbedded some of its dark magic into my um, into my core magic. Bill explains this much better, but it was different for me… wearing the locket."
Harry wanted to be sick and to punch something at the same time. Just when he thought he couldn't possibly torture the people closest to him enough…
"It's not your fault," Ron said automatically, knowing the first place Harry's head would go. "It could have been any of us Harry, it just happened to be me. It's… well, when I, you know, when I was at Bill's, I did want to come straight back and look for you and Hermione again, but I literally couldn't. Bill and Fleur had to… er, detox me."
"Shit... Ron…"
"Don't," Ron warned, seeing the tell tale signs of Harry's guilty conscious making their way outward. "It's not the point. It doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. It just… it is what it is. But the point I'm trying to get to here is that it fucked with me. A lot. I knew I was attracted to men. I'd known for years. But the locket mixed all that up in my head even worse than it already was, and I thought, well hell, maybe I did fancy Hermione. And I wanted to. Merlin knows I wanted to. But in the end I just…" Ron took a deep breath, pulling a hand through his hair. "I don't know what else to say Harry. What you saw with the locket… it could have gone another way." Ron braced himself. "It could have decided to show you choosing Hermione over me instead of… instead of her choosing you. I… I'm sorry."
Ron couldn't bring himself to look at Harry, afraid the implication was too much, too soon. Harry, for his part, had barely even registered what Ron was saying, let alone what it could mean. He'd barely been able to listen past Ron's mumbled admission that he liked men, for Merlin's sake.
Through the sludge of his brain, Harry knew he was supposed to be saying something. Hell if he knew what, but this was clearly pivotal for Ron. But he didn't know how! He could barely see straight, let alone think. Ron liked men? RON? That didn't… how could… what?
He had to act, and while he wasn't proud of it, the only thing he could think of was…
"Is Hermione ok?"
Shit, he was an arse. Ron was obviously anguished by the whole thing and here he was, his best mate, rubbing his face in it!
Ron recoiled slightly, his arms wrapping tightly around himself again as he shrugged.
"She's hurt," he said quietly, then added, "we both are."
Harry didn't know what to say to that, so remained silent, hating himself as he watched Ron close himself off.
"I'm sorry Harry," he said quietly. "I…"
"Why are you sorry?" Harry snapped suddenly, unsure where the anger was coming from but feeling rather helpless to stop it. Ron definitely shouldn't be apologizing and he, Harry, should be doing something to make that clear.
Ron shrugged helplessly and finally looked up. Harry felt like he'd been punched in the gut.
Ron's eyes were bright with unshed tears, but they were also desperate, for what, Harry had no idea.
"Ron… I don't know what you want me to say right now. But we're ok, ok?"
It was the best he could come up with. He had no idea how to continue this discussion without losing it. He didn't know why he felt so angry. It didn't make any sense.
"Ok," Ron said uncertainly, arms still tightly folded over himself, "do… would you like me to leave?"
"What?" Harry asked, dumbfounded.
"Do you want me to leave? I could go stay with George or…"
"Why the bloody hell would I want you to leave?"
Ron just shrugged again. He didn't know what else to do. It was clear Harry was not ok with this, but Ron couldn't read much else in Harry's expression.
"Ron," Harry tried again, forcing himself to shove aside his confusion for the moment, "it's ok. I promise. It's just… a lot to take in, ok? I just… all this time? You've… you've lied to me all this time?"
Ron's eyes widened and Harry suddenly wanted to smack himself. That explained where the anger was coming from he supposed. He really wanted to keep pretending it was righteous anger on Hermione's behalf. That felt a lot safer.
"I was lying to myself mostly," Ron said quietly, unable to meet Harry's eyes. "I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing," Harry said irritably.
They sat in silence, neither one of them knowing what to say. Harry knew he was supposed to say something reassuring, that Ron couldn't possibly know the reason Harry was so out of sorts; Harry barely knew himself. But it was like someone had tuned his brain to a station full of static.
"I umm… I have the day off. I think I'll go back up to bed for a bit, try to get a few more hours of sleep."
Harry jerked himself back to the present, forcing himself to focus on the fact that Ron needed him at the moment.
"Ok…"
Ron didn't wait around. He slipped back upstairs and retreated to his own room, where he stared at the ceiling rather than any actual resting. By the time he came back down stairs, Harry was gone.
Hermione flicked lazily through the newspaper, not really reading so much as skimming headlines, her tea warm in her hand.
It was so quiet. Her parents were always up and out to work early, and while she really should be dressed for the day by now, she figured she may as well have a second cup of tea… or a third. It's not like she had anywhere to be.
She knew it was important to spend the holiday with her parents, especially after everything she'd put them through, but she missed the energy of the common room, or the chatter over breakfast at The Burrow.
The Burrow. It stung to think about. She was still processing what Ron had told her. She knew she'd still be welcomed at The Burrow any time, but it felt strange to think about right now. It was too fresh.
With a sigh, Hermione debated whether or not to reply to Ginny's owl. It had arrived yesterday evening, short and sweet:
Hermione,
Ron told me. You have three days to process and wallow in your weird introverted way. After that, I'm descending on you with chocolate and ice cream and you're hosting me for a sleepover.
See you Saturday,
Ginny
Hermione didn't know whether or not she was processing, truth be told. She had allowed herself a proper cry in the privacy of her own room, but that was about it as far as the wallowing went. She wanted to be angry. That would have been so much easier, not to mention familiar. But she couldn't bring herself to be angry at Ron for this. And really, she'd been letting Ron go for months.
Hermione jumped as the doorbell interrupted her musings. Who on earth…?
Gathering her dressing gown tightly around herself and checking that her wand was still in her pocket, Hermione went to the door and let out a small sigh as she looked through the peephole. She should have known.
"Hi Harry."
"Hey Hermione."
He stood awkwardly on the doorstep for another second before Hermione launched herself at him, wishing she wouldn't cry but knowing it was useless to stop it.
She loved Ginny for knowing she needed some time alone, and for knowing she would have to demand a girl's night because Hermione would never know how to initiate one herself.
But she loved Harry for showing up anyway, even knowing she would be a sniffling, girly, mess.
"Maybe we should move off the doorstep?" Harry suggested.
Hermione let go and gave him a watery smile before backing into the house.
"Do you want a cup of tea?"
Harry shook his head as he followed Hermione to the sitting room. He was here against his better judgment. He hadn't known what to do with himself after his conversation, if it could be considered that, with Ron in the wee hours. But he'd had to do something. And when in doubt, there had always been one constant in his life during times of emotional upheaval, whether he wanted it or not: Hermione.
But she was currently nursing a broken heart, it was all over her face the moment she'd opened the door. Merlin, why had he come? He shouldn't be here at all if he couldn't be here for her properly.
"Harry?"
He also should have known she would see through him in less than a minute. She could always read him, but ever since the weeks spent in the tent without Ron… it was a new level. They'd both been lost without him, and Harry had always thought it was for different reasons, but he suddenly realized that no, the reasons were likely very much the same.
"How much did he tell you?" Hermione asked gently.
"Enough."
When Hermione just continued to look at him he sighed and tried again.
"Enough that I can't bring myself to punch him for you Hermione. I still want to but…"
"I know. I feel the same way. Anger would be…"
"Easier," Harry supplied.
She nodded and summoned a tea cup. Apparently Harry would be having tea whether he wanted it or not.
"When did he tell you?"
"About three hours ago."
Hermione paused in her tea making, but didn't comment.
"He umm… I'm having a hard time sorting out… what I mean is…"
Hermione laughed and pressed the tea cup into his hand.
"Honestly. He's gay Harry. It's not the strangest thing to ever happen to us now is it?"
That was a fair point. By their standards, this could be considered an ordinary Wednesday. Hermione didn't know that he was currently in the middle of an identity crisis.
"What is it Harry?"
"What do you mean?" Harry asked a little too quickly.
Hermione furrowed her brow before sighing and settling herself onto the sofa, fixing Harry with a look.
Harry hadn't had any particular plan when he came to Hermione's, but it was clear he was going to have to come clean. Or come out, he supposed. It wasn't fair to her, but he knew that look.
"What aren't you telling me Harry?" Hermione continued, once Harry had finally sat down on the opposite side of the couch. "You don't have a problem with this do you?" She asked suddenly, her eyes narrowing.
"No! Of course not. Why is that the first thing you both thought?"
"Oh Harry. What did you say?"
"Nothing! I didn't… I just… Bloody hell Hermione…"
Hermione tilted her head slightly, taking Harry in. He looked… stressed. Harry wasn't nearly as telling in his anxiety as Ron, who felt compelled to action when he was wound up. Harry by contrast could turn himself to stone. Only an expert in Harry's moodiness could decipher the subtle differences in his posture, the creases in his forehead, whether they meant contemplation, anger, or anxiety. This was anxiety.
"Harry…?"
Harry dropped his head into his hands, mumbling unintelligently.
"What was that?"
"I said," he moved his hands from covering his face, dragging them instead through his hair, still not looking up at her. "I think I… no, I know, I… God I have no idea how to… I… I am too Hermione. I've only just figured it out which is utterly ridiculous! But… I am too."
Hermione stilled, only barely refraining from asking for clarification. She'd been shocked when Ron had told her he was gay, but that had been short lived. The longer she'd sat with the idea, the more sense it made to her, as though 8 years of puzzle pieces had suddenly come together and the full picture of Ron she'd been working on was finally complete. Harry though… she felt like her brain was stuck. Harry was the… well stable was the wrong word entirely, but when it came to knowing her two best friends, Harry had been the more text book example. He was a wreck from his aunt and uncles' abuse, certainly, but he always displayed that hurt in a logical way for anyone who was bothered to do the research. And of course she had bothered to do the research. Harry was therefore predictable. That was it. Harry was the predictable one.
This was decidedly unpredictable with everything she thought she knew about Harry though.
"Ok," she said at last, defaulting to her academic side. "How long have you felt that way?"
Harry looked up at her. "What day is it? Wednesday? I'd say about two weeks and three days then." He answered dryly.
Hermione raised her eyebrows.
Harry sighed and picked his tea cup back up, partly grateful and partly annoyed that Hermione had made it for him even though he'd said he didn't want it. Damn her for knowing him so well.
"I don't know Hermione," he said with exasperation, "I'm still figuring it out. I just… I may have unintentionally let Ron think I was struggling with the idea more because of… because of you, when really I just… the idea of him… being like me… I... I don't know! I've barely come to terms with it myself, maybe even haven't totally come to terms with it? And then here is my best friend, telling me he's known his whole life that he… that… I mean…sodding hell Hermione, I'm just so bloody confused right now."
Harry shrugged helplessly. Not knowing what else to say and feeling guilty for saying anything in the first place. Why was he so bent out of shape over this? Wasn't it good news, all things considered, that his best mate also happened to be into men? He was so confused. And angry. Angry at Ron for hiding this from him. Angry at him for hurting Hermione. Angry at himself for not knowing sooner… about Ron, or about himself…
He was so muddled up that he didn't notice that Hermione had shifted and was now standing right in front of him, startling him slightly. She looked at him with brown, watery eyes and he knew why he'd come here, despite all the reasons he shouldn't have. He leaned back into the sofa, giving Hermione an opening, which she took without hesitation, cuddling up beside him and resting her head on his shoulder.
They'd done this before, back in the tent, when neither one of them had known what to say. When the pain of Ron's absence was more than either of them knew how to cope with. When they'd needed to know that someone else understood the gut wrenching reality of loving Ron Weasley when the red headed fool had no earthly clue what he meant to them.
He should have known then.
They stayed like this for awhile; long enough for Harry's tea to go cold.
"You should say it out loud you know." Hermione said at last.
"Say what?"
"That you're gay. And that you fancy our best friend."
"Isn't that what I said?" Harry replied with a smirk, earning an elbow to his ribs as Hermione tried not to laugh.
"No. You didn't. You do like him then? Ron, I mean?"
"Of course I like him. Would've been a bit of a struggle to be his mate all these years if I didn't even like him."
"Harry…" Hermione warned.
Harry sighed. Somehow saying it out loud would make it more real. Perhaps that was partly why he'd come as well.
"I'm... gay. Happy?"
Hermione gave a small 'hrmph' of satisfaction. He knew he wasn't off the hook, but she'd accepted the small admission as good enough for the moment.
Harry's stomach was churning and he kept picking up his tea before remembering it was cold. Hermione finally took pity on him and cast a warming charm on the cup and he thanked her sheepishly. Household spells always seemed to elude him.
"It's ok you know." She said finally, turning to face him properly, forcing him to look at her.
She had tears in her eyes again. Damnit. He hated it when she cried. "Not just the being gay part Harry," she continued before he could come up with any kind of response.
Harry's hand froze halfway on its path towards Hermione's. He wasn't sure what he'd been planning to do really. Hug her in gratitude maybe? But she was still speaking…
"It's ok that you want him too… that you want him like I do." She finished softly, tears properly falling now.
Harry swallowed thickly. Up until this morning, he'd only allowed himself to play out the scenario of being with Ron as a purely physical idea and even that had been a distant idea really. In the last few hours though, he'd been forced to acknowledge that it was more than that. It could be more than that… and probably already was. The idea scared the ever living daylights out of him. What did a relationship look like between two blokes anyway? He had no idea where he would even start. With Ron, or anyone for that matter. Would he have to buy Ron flowers on Valentine's Day? Would Ron want him to? Would… it was just so complicated and overwhelming and besides any of that, he didn't have reason to believe Ron would even be interested. Harry was probably like one of his brothers to him. They'd been best mates for years. He had needed to ignore the part of the discussion where Ron had indicated that the locket could have shown Harry choosing Hermione over Ron; he couldn't unpack that now- he'd explode.
He jolted back to the present as he felt Hermione gently brush a tear from his face. Shit. When had he started crying? He hardly ever cried.
"I don't want…" the words died in his throat. He had no idea what he wanted. The idea was too vague in his head.
"You do," Hermione said softly. "I understand you don't really know what that means yet..."
Did she? How did she always know what he was thinking…
"...but I need you to know that it's ok. With me, I mean. It's ok in all the other ways too, Harry. But I know you, and so I'm telling you, it's ok. You wouldn't be taking him. I've known for a while now that he was never really mine."
Harry stared at Hermione for a minute, her expression kind even through her tears. He pulled her into a tight embrace.
"I don't deserve you Hermione."
She laughed and hugged him tighter.
"No more than I deserve you Harry."
It didn't take much to come out to Percy. Ron basically just sandwiched it between asking about Percy's day and requesting the salt. Percy had cocked his head to the side for a moment in contemplation before shrugging slightly and asking whether or not this was new news, or just another family update he'd missed during his time as 'the world's largest wanker.' He hadn't used those words exactly, but Ron knew what he'd meant.
The trickier part was trying to come up with a way to ask the 1000 questions he had about being best mates with Oliver, or maybe even talking to Oliver, if the idea didn't make him want to die of embarrassment.
Fleur had owled him that morning to say that Percy would be over for dinner and that he was welcome to join them, subtly implying that she'd set up an ideal opportunity for him to have some time with Percy without having to contrive something.
While mentally exhausted, and frankly a little bit sick after his conversation with Harry earlier, he wanted this over with. Besides, he didn't want to put Fleur out.
His relationship with his sister in law had taken an interesting turn after the war. Ron was grateful for her, for what she did for him (not to mention his friends) last winter, but also for how gracious she'd been to him since then. She could have made him feel incredibly awkward in 1000 different ways, but instead had gone out of her way to make him feel at ease, both with her and in her home.
While she could still come across snooty from time to time, she was fundamentally kind, as evidenced by her silent support of Ron as he'd agonized with Bill (also somewhat silently) the better part of 6 months before deciding he was ready to come out.
Subtlety was also her specialty, something the Weasley siblings sorely lacked. By the time pudding had wrapped up, Percy had invited Ron back to his for a pint; not a typical gesture, but when Ron caught Fleur's eye she had winked at him, making him conclude she had somehow suggested it without making it obvious.
"Do you want a proper pint or just a butterbeer?"
"Proper pint l think."
Percy emerged from the kitchen of his small flat and handed Ron a beer before sitting down across from him at the dining table.
"Go ahead."
Ron arched an eyebrow at Percy while he took a swig of his beer (this stuff was way better than firewhiskey).
Percy just removed his glasses to clean them, placing them primly back on his nose and looking expectantly back at Ron.
Well two could play this game. Ron simply took another pull of his beer and sat back into the dining chair. May as well get comfortable. Percy always did know how to agitate him unlike anyone else.
Sighing, Percy got up from the table and disappeared down the hall. He was gone long enough that Ron wondered if maybe he'd just abandoned him to his own devices for the evening, but Percy returned and resumed his spot across from Ron.
"Oliver is on his way over."
Ron spewed his beer across the table, eyes wide with shock, to which Percy merely sighed again and cleaned the mess with a silent wave of his wand.
"What the hell Perce?! What… why?"
"You have questions," Percy said patiently, "but I'm straight. My best friend happens to be the one in your shoes here Ron, not me."
"Well did it ever occur to you that maybe I had questions for my brother about being the straight best mate?"
Percy's expression softened slightly. That hadn't occurred to him, actually. He'd been so young when Oliver had told him and it had always just sort of been the way things were. As for Ron's apparent concern about his relationship with Harry… well, few best mates had been through the kinds of things his brother and Harry had, so Percy hadn't really expected it to be on the radar.
"I can't tell you what Harry will think Ron, only that it doesn't have to change anything between the two of you."
Ron wanted to believe that, but his conversation with Harry this morning hadn't been promising. He also doubted Oliver had harbored some long held crush on Percy, or thought maybe he had been in love with their mutual, female, best friend. Merlin this was complicated…
"Look it's never been an issue for me," Percy tried again, seeing the defeated look on Ron's face. "I don't know Harry that well," Ron noticed the slight blush at Percy's ears as he said this, but didn't comment. Percy had made his apologies and then some for all the stupid things he'd done in the last couple years, inclusive of the letter he'd sent Ron about staying away from Harry. "But I don't think he's the kind of person that's going to let this stand in the way of 8 years of friendship... a friendship that willingly walked into hell by his side."
Ron grunted and took another sip of beer, then added, "You still didn't have to call Oliver. I feel like enough of a freak show as it is."
Percy frowned, but before he could say anything there was a small commotion from his bedroom. He really needed to get the fireplace in the living room hooked up to the Floo…
"Ah, they're here."
"They?! Percy…"
"I couldn't ask Oliver without inviting Andrew."
"Who the bloody hell is Andrew?"
"Oliver's boyfriend. Did you not even read the Witch Weekly article?"
Ron buried his head in his hands, mumbling curses against his brother. Of course he'd read the article. Probably 50 times. But Oliver hadn't actually given any names to the interviewer, only confirming that yes, he was in a relationship. Percy was meant to be the smart one, how could he possibly not realize how mortifying this was for him?
"Ooo Percy's got some new jumpers!"
Ron quirked an eyebrow as Percy visibly cringed.
"It would appear they also invited Jonathan," he looked apologetically at Ron, who thought this was a very bad sign…
"Technically speaking, we never invite Jonathan with us anywhere," Oliver Wood appeared from the hallway. "Hey Ron," He greeted him, crossing the room to greet Percy with a hug before helping himself to the kitchen for more beers with the air of someone who had done so 100 times before.
"This is true," a new voice entered, sticking his hand out to Ron, "Andrew. Nice to meet you Ron."
Ron shook his hand before promptly returning to emptying his beer. He wanted to disappear into the floor. "You may want to go extract him Perce. You left the door to your wardrobe open."
"For Merlin's sake," Percy pinched the bridge of his nose and disappeared down the hall to go sort the mysterious Jonathan, leaving Ron alone with Andrew.
"Sorry in advance about Jonathan," Andrew said, "Percy didn't realize he was over when he floo'd and, well," Andrew shrugged as if that settled the matter.
"On the plus side though," Oliver said, coming in from the kitchen and dropping several bottles of beer on the table, "nobody winds Percy up quite as effectively as Jonathan."
Andrew chuckled as Oliver took a seat and slid Ron a second beer without asking. Ron took it gratefully, still wishing he were anywhere else.
"Relax Ron," Oliver said, "I'm well aware that Percy acts logically before he thinks things through sensibly sometimes. We're just here for a few pints, alright?"
"Although we can't promise Jonathan won't make you exceedingly uncomfortable, but that's just Jonathan," Andrew added.
"That's not going to help him relax babe."
Before Andrew could respond, and before Ron could digest the most fanatical quidditch captain Hogwarts had ever seen calling another man 'babe,' Jonathan entered the room, followed by a harassed looking Percy.
"I'm just saying Percy, if you want her to pay any attention, you're going to have to put in some work! My sister is driven and all that but she still puts in some effort! Just because you wear standard robes all day is no excuse to not own a couple of decently trendy outfits for after work hours. Those exist, by the way, non working hours? Don't know if you're familiar? Anyway, you might want to also consider burning those trousers, pleated fronts are never acceptable anymore. And where is our newest prodigy? Ah ha! Ohhh Percy! You've been holding out on us. If this is the youngest of the pack I can't wait to meet the dragon tamer! Jonathan Harlan, at your service, which I assure you will be better service than these two block heads can offer."
Ron had to force himself to close his mouth as Jonathan finished his monologue and offered Ron his hand. He was tall and lean, a bit too skinny, but attractive, his hair so perfectly styled that Ron actually wondered if he'd spelled it that way. He wore stud earrings in both ears, a button up shirt with too many buttons left undone and, Ron suddenly felt himself blushing, impossibly tight jeans.
"Ron," he said at last, and did his best to ignore the smirk on Jonathan's face, as though he'd known Ron had just thoroughly checked him out.
"So, I hear we are gathered for a gay induction ceremony?"
Ron nearly choked on his beer again, only just managing to keep from spraying it all over the table this time as Oliver thumped him on the back.
"Jonathan," Percy warned, conjuring himself an extra chair and taking a seat between Ron and Oliver. "I will not tolerate you harassing my brother. Tone it down a little."
"I'm not harassing him! And he doesn't look like he needs your protection anyway, do you, Mr. Broad Shoulders?" Jonathan turned back to Ron and whistled appreciatively.
Ron went crimson in less than a breath, suddenly unsure where to look.
"Sorry but… can we… who the bloody hell are you?"
"This is Jonathan," Percy supplied, "younger brother of Audrey Harlan. She was in Ravenclaw, few years ahead of you?" Ron just shrugged. The name rang a bell but only vaguely. "Anyway, Jonathan here is a Muggle, just as an FYI, but given his sister is a witch…"
"I get to be tortured by the knowledge that magic is real and that I can't do it," Jonathan chimed in, "but Audrey does keep me supplied with magical hair products that blessedly work on us mere mortals."
Ah. So he'd been partially right about magic keeping it in place.
"Audrey and I met through an internship a couple years ago. I stupidly agreed to take her younger brother out for a friendly drink once he turned of age," Andrew stepped in, "I didn't realize he'd hold me to it nearly a year later and that we'd be stuck with him forever more there after!"
"And your lives are much enriched for it. This one," Jonathan pointed dramatically at Andrew, "never would have had the balls to make a move on Oliver if it weren't for me."
Oliver chuckled as Andrew rolled his eyes in exasperated defeat. "How was I supposed to know he'd be interested?!"
"Oh, I don't know," Percy chimed in, "I can't imagine why else the up and coming reserve keeper, who had every motivation to appear on tip top physical condition, would suddenly have so many injury concerns…"
"I thought he was just paranoid! A lot of the young recruits are…"
"Andrew is one of Puddlemere's medics," Oliver explained for Ron's benefit. "It took him months to realize I was flirting with him."
"I think that might say more about your flirting skills than Andrew's powers of deduction, to be fair," Percy pointed out, easily dodging the cuff Oliver aimed at the back of his head.
"Anyway," Jonathan interjected again, "as I said, it was down to me in the end. I told Andy-boy here he needed to make a move. Oliver is a catch. And besides that, a pro athlete on team queer?! I simply had to meet him. The Muggle world would have a heart attack…"
"So what did you do?" Ron asked, surprising himself slightly. He had decided to say as little as possible the moment Jonathan had referred to him as 'Mr. Broad Shoulders.' But he wanted to know, and was finding himself more at ease the longer the four friends chattered on around him.
"He snogged me," Oliver replied. "I was telling him about a non existent twinge in my elbow and he just went for it."
"Which was a terrible idea really," Jonathan took over, "He, well, he snogged me back, let's be clear about that point, but then," he snorted here, just as Oliver rolled his eyes, "Then he thanked me and left! Couldn't get out of the medic room fast enough!"
"I didn't know what else to do!" Oliver defended, laughing along with his friends. "I'd been trying to get your attention for months and had resolved that I was just going to ask you out and get it over with and then you just… snogged me out of nowhere! I panicked!"
Ron was laughing too now, picturing Oliver politely saying thank your after being snogged. No wonder he and Percy were friends.
"You did panic. Thoroughly," Percy agreed. "I had him here pacing the flat for half an hour, still in his quidditch kit, before I could even get him to properly explain what had happened."
"So how'd you sort it out then?" Ron asked despite himself.
"I sent him straight back to the medic bay," Percy said promptly.
"Thankfully he was still there. So I just barged in, asked him if he wanted to join me for dinner that coming Friday, and that was that."
"We joke that our first date was all sorts of backwards, with the snogging before the dinner and all, but it was a great date anyway." Andrew smiled fondly at Oliver.
Ron felt a bit dizzy. He'd never seen this… a same sex couple. Not like this anyway. He'd seen same sex couples before, vividly remembered the first time he saw two men holding hands in a cafe once as a matter of fact, but that wasn't the same as being at your brother's flat, chatting with his mates over beers, where two of them just happened to be dating each other.
"Alright let's move on before they get soppy. Ron here is new and I want to know all about him," Jonathan propped his chin on his fist, looking expectantly at Ron, after, Ron noticed, he'd looked him up and down with that damned smirk again.
"Uhh…"
"Let's start with the basics," Jonathan plowed ahead, "basics are always best. Oliver's cover story was just the basics and it was such a hit!"
"Oi, can we not go there again, please?" Oliver said with a sigh. "I never wanted that kind of attention…"
"But the team manager thought it'd be good for the team's image and your sponsors loved the press! It was win-win. Plus, don't even get me started on what it does for the community to have someone famous openly gay! Never mind a beef cake athlete like you. Try not to get too starstruck Ron, but Oliver here is quite famous."
Oliver and Percy both barked out a laugh at that, and even Ron had to cover his mouth with his hand to hide his snicker.
"I think I can handle a bit of celebrity at the dinner table thanks," he told Jonathan.
"What've I missed?" Jonathan asked, perplexed.
"First, Ron here played Keeper after me on the school team and is well aware of how famous I'm not, given he understands how quidditch works."
"Hey I think you're doing well mate! First string next season, and Puddlemere are a dead cert for finals…"
"Second," Oliver glossed over Ron's praise, "Ron here is decidedly more famous than I am. And his best friend has been more famous than either of us his entire life."
Ron went a bit red again at this. He wasn't entirely accustomed to being a household name.
"Ooooh. Famous how? Maybe we can get you a magazine cover too."
"War stories don't sell as well mate," Ron said darkly.
"Mmm, sexy masculine brooding type? Where do you find these men Andrew?! You're a war hero then?"
"Jonathan," Andrew warned, "don't push it. Considering Audrey had to go into hiding, in Spain during the war, you know it wasn't a joke. Ron was at the center of that," he glanced apologetically at Ron.
"I'm not daft," Jonathan replied, "I'm fairly certain it was someone named Harry Potter at the center of it all and I doubt he'd appreciate you handing his accolades out to other people."
"Actually, he'd appreciate it very much," Ron said dully.
Jonathan's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "...best mate is more famous than… is Harry Potter your best mate? Shit Ron, I'm sorry. I didn't know."
He did look sorry, so Ron just gave him a small shrug and decided to let it roll, figuring Jonathan must know more about the war than he had let on if realizing Ron was friends with Harry Potter had sobered him so quickly.
"Maybe we give Ron a pass tonight," Oliver suggested. "Not all of us came out of the womb and bypassed the closet entirely. Give him a break."
"He does have si… five siblings to make his way through," Percy added, catching Ron's eye at the near slip. They would never get used to saying five siblings.
"Thanks," Ron agreed, "I'd much prefer you lot tell me why Percy would care what this Audrey thinks of his fashion choices?"
Percy instantly went crimson and stared up at the ceiling as his friends began to tease him. It seemed his brother had a bit of a crush.
They bantered for nearly another hour, while Ron relaxed and mostly watched his brother hang out with his friends. They could have been in the dorms; it felt so normal, so comfortable.
Occasionally, Oliver or Andrew would do something that indicated they were more than friends, but they weren't sappy or anything. It was their body language more than anything else, subtle touches, postures that leaned towards each other, and a kiss to the temple to soothe Andrew's ego after one of Jonathan's digs.
This could be normal. Ron thought to himself. This could be me and a partner with Hermione and a boyfriend one day… maybe even Harry and some girl.' Ron watched as Oliver slugged Percy playfully in the arm, earning a genuine wince from the red head despite his laughter. It could be ok.
When at last the trio had departed, with promises to invite Ron along to a pub night, Ron stood with Percy in the kitchen, helping clean away empty beer bottles and glasses.
"I'd better get going too Perce. George is expecting me back tomorrow."
"Of course; don't worry about the dishes, I'll sort them. Did you want to use the Floo or…?"
Ron shook his head. Apparating was easier with all the wards at Grimmauld place.
"Hey Percy, listen, thanks for… thanks for tonight."
Percy smiled. "You're welcome. I knew it would be easier once you saw them together. And I'm sorry if Jonathan made you uncomfortable. He's harmless really, I just wouldn't have chosen to have him along right out the gate like that…"
Ron was shaking his head. Jonathan had made him uncomfortable, more than once, but he seemed like an ok guy, and not that Ron was going to admit it to Percy, but Jonathan's blatant flirting and very clear appreciation for Ron's physical appearance had been a little exhilarating, to say the least.
"He's alright Perce. Maybe needs to tone it down a bit but…"
Ron was cut off abruptly as a small pop distracted him. His eyes widened as Kreacher emerged from the kitchen.
"Master Weasley, Kreacher apologizes for disrupting…"
"Shit," Ron muttered, "I'll be there in just a minute Kreacher. Thank you, you did the right thing."
Kreacher bowed and apparated away. Ron was already moving, gathering his cloak and digging for his wand.
"Ron?" Percy followed him, concern etched into his features.
"It's fine Percy- but I've got to go. I'll owl you in the morning but I promise, everything is fine."
Without waiting for a response, Ron apparated right outside the front step of Grimmauld Place, willing the enchantments to move faster as the building came into view. He raced through the door, chucking his coat and shedding his scarf as he went, until finally bursting into Harry's room, a shield charm already on his lips as he entered, deflecting whatever rogue protection spell Harry had thrown his way with a well practiced ease.
"Harry?" He said, caution laced in his voice. "It's ok mate, it's me. It's Ron."
"Ron?"
Ron flew to the bed the moment the voice responded, relieved. If Harry had been in a full on panic attack then he wouldn't have been able to call his name. Ron knew this, and therefore knew that the best thing he could do was reassure Harry that whatever demon nightmare his subconscious had cooked up wasn't real.
"Yeah, it's me."
He lit the room with a flick of his wand. Harry was sitting propped up against the headboard, knees bent, arms resting on top of them, everything about him tense, but Ron could tell his friend was present, which helped.
"Harry? Talk to me."
Harry wrapped his arms around himself, curling into a tight ball as he tried to pull himself together.
"You weren't here."
"I was at Percy's. I left a note, but I'm safe. You made sure I'm safe."
"...couldn't… you weren't… shit. Sorry…"
Ron perched himself on the mattress next to Harry and put a hand gently on his shoulder. Harry flinched at the touch, but quickly reached his hand up to cover Ron's, letting him know he needed the contact.
"Don't apologize Harry. I know. It's alright."
They sat in silence for several minutes, Ron's hand squeezing Harry's shoulder reassuringly.
"I'm sorry I was an arse this morning."
Ron looked up, surprised to find Harry meeting his eyes.
"You weren't an arse mate. It's a lot to spring on you…"
Harry was shaking his head, dropping his hand from where it was covering Ron's.
"I was an arse Ron, and I'm sorry," Harry ran his fingers through his hair and looked back up at Ron, who had such an expression of concern on his face it made Harry's chest ache.
"We don't have to talk about this now," Ron said, not wanting Harry to get any more worked up. He wasn't sure why Harry was insisting on it considering he'd clearly just fought off a panic attack. He knew Kreacher wouldn't have come for him unless it had been serious, and he could tell Harry was still trembling despite his efforts to hide it.
Harry was shaking his head. "We do. I should have made it clear this morning. I don't want you thinking anything has to change between us. I don't want you thinking I'm not ok with it. I am. You're… you're Ron. I never want anything to come between us being best mates, ok?"
Ron dropped his gaze and swallowed, hard. He should be thrilled. It was all he had hoped to hear from Harry- that nothing had to change. But it was also the proof that best mates was all they would ever be. Ron knew that. He'd always known that. But hearing it said out loud was different.
Bracing himself, he met Harry's eyes and smiled.
"Thanks mate."
Harry nodded, settling the matter, and slowly began to uncurl himself. Ron stood and summoned the kettle and two mugs for tea.
"Do you want any potions…?"
Harry shook his head. He hated those things. The healers had given him a stock of calming draughts but they made his brain feel like sludge. He used them occasionally, but not when he could help it.
Ron handed him a mug of tea and stood awkwardly between the bed and the door. He hadn't really thought about this part… the sleeping part. They never actually discussed the sleeping arrangements. They had just sort of happened. He didn't know if Harry would be… uncomfortable? Disgusted?
"Chess?"
Ron stared at Harry, who was too busy fiddling with his mug of tea to notice. They often played chess after one of them had suffered some sort of nightmare. It was an easy and familiar coping strategy. Usually, they just set the board up on the bed between them, which Harry now seemed intent on doing as he leaned over the side of the bed to retrieve the chessboard from underneath, still not looking over at Ron.
It was an invitation, he realized suddenly. He wasn't sure if Harry was offering or asking, but either way, he was telling Ron he could sleep here without making it obvious.
"Yeah mate," he said at last. "I'm too wired to sleep anyway. I'm just going to go change and I'll be back in a minute."
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