A/N: My Safest Sound is a very vast and multilayered story. Tara and I have put in a lot of time and effort into it, and sometimes not all of the things make it to the main storyline, but we still want to share them with you. For that, we have decided to add another story to the series it'll contain snippets that didn't make it to the main story, deleted scenes, and other things that we couldn't fit in.

*The events of this chapter takes place between chapter 11 and 12.

We hope you enjoy!

Ron And The Closet Skeletons

Ron waits for the right time to approach Harry, about eight in the evening that night after they've already had dinner and Hermione has gone off to her dorm to nap, something about a stomach cramp, Ron keeps in mind to bring her something from his secret chocolate frog stash tomorrow morning, that would improve her mood a lot.

Harry's flipping through their Transfiguration book once he gets there, his brows knitted into a distracted frown as he rapidly shifts the pages, his poised quill dripping ink into the blank parchment.

Ron clears his throat. "Hey," he says, and Harry's hand stops and quill lowers, his eyes flicking up to meet Ron's. Perfectly blank but layered with so much depth. It hurts to look at him sometimes, Ron has realised. He always feels as if Harry is looking right into his soul.

"Hey," Harry says, and patiently waits for Ron to slump down on his own bed.

"You know that…" he trails off for a moment, looks around their empty dorm, "We didn't mean to trap you, or anything like that last night."

"Yeah, you said so this morning," Harry closes the book and the inkpot, placing them both on the bedside table before rolling up the parchment and turning back to him.

"I know," Ron rubs the back of his neck, "It's just, you know how Hermione has this thing,"

"I do."

"Where she starts on a topic and just...Goes on. We've been sitting on this for a while, and she, well me too I guess, we were pretty worried, and kind of annoyed."

Harry shrugs, "It's cool, Ron,"

Ron shifts nervously, Harry's face is still blank, "You know that she doesn't do it on purpose,"

"I do know that. Yeah."

"And you do know that," Ron bites his lips for a second, "That I didn't mean to say those things last night either? You know I say a lot of shitty stuff when I'm angry."

"What is the point of this?" Harry asks, sounding as if he's genuinely curious. "You already did the apology dance this morning."

"It's not just about that."

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me!" Harry raises his hands from where they were playing with the hem of his pajamas, letting out a noise more exasperated than annoyed, and Ron is seriously not sure whether that is a good thing or not.

"Just because she had the wrong approach," he says slowly. "It doesn't mean that the issue was solved."

"I'm fine, Ron. I'm great. We don't need to do this. Cedric's death was tragic and I dream about it sometimes, so what?" Harry is gesturing around wildly; it's almost comical and Ron is having trouble following Harry's hands, "You still have recurring nightmares about a tarantula eating your face! We all have issues." Ron refocuses back on Harry's face.

"I'm sorry about the Dursleys," he blurts out.

Harry freezes, then blinks once. Before his hands drop like dead weight to the bed.

"I wanted to tell you," Harry says, resigned.

"But you never got around to actually doing it." Ron isn't surprised, not really. "I've heard the details from Professor McGonagal,"

Harry's eyes narrow. "Why would she tell you?"

"Because you're having tomorrow off. No classes, no homework. She wanted to let you know, but couldn't find you, apparently." Not that it is difficult for Harry to disappear when he wants to, with his map and the cloak, it is actually surprising that he doesn't do it more often. Ron isn't about to jinx himself for thinking that.

"But I have O. ."

Ron almost rolls his eyes, trust Harry to look a gift horse in the mouth, "Your blood relatives just died, I know you hated them, so did I, but for your own sake, just take this without complaining. You do deserve a day off, without that hag Umbridge honing down on you."

"I didn't hate them,"

"You did," Ron says, and then rummages around his trunk for a moment and thinks that perhaps he can spare two chocolate frogs and tosses one to harry, who catches it on instinct, "You still do. Come on, I know you better than that. It's alright, they were really bloody awful people. Eat that."

"I'm not going to their funeral. Aunt Marge might be there… and just, no. I don't want to deal with them anymore." Harry's hands trace the edges of the packet, not opening it yet.

"Do you see how this is different from Cedric?" Ron takes one out for himself too. Eating chocolate just after dinner is probably a bad idea, but damn him if he's having this conversation without it.

Harry groans. "No.," he says, vehemently shaking his head. "No, don't connect the two." he looks into Ron's eyes beseechingly. Ron realises that this is the last time they're ever going to probe him about the Cedric incident.

"I'm fine." There's a small curl of displeasure on Harry's mouth. "And if I have to tell you this one more time, I swear to Merlin, Ron I'm gonna drop a spider in your underpants."

"Alright. Yeah, okay. I'll tell Hermione that too."

Harry's lips quirk at that, maybe a little reluctantly, "You guys are insufferable,"

"So are you."

"Yeah. I really am." Harry looks down at the frog in his hands, picking at the edge and opening the packet.

Ron isn't sure how to broach the other topic of conversation he was tiptoeing around. He knows that there are no qualms about his own feelings regarding the Muggles' deaths, he hated those fat, hateful people. It had nothing to do with the fact that they were muggles, not in the slightest, it was just the way they treated his best friend like shit, and hurt him in a way that made Harry not trust anyone with his inner feelings or thoughts. He's glad they cannot reinforce the damage they've caused anymore, Harry deserves a proper family. He already has Ron and Hermione but this is a bit different.

So while he wasn't really beat up about the muggles as he was listening to McGonagall, he is concerned about how Harry's going to take it. He hates them too, he must have on some level, but what Ron really cares about is whether that hate is gonna amount to Harry's locked up pile of emotions that he never talked about or is it going to float over his head like Cedric's ghost. He wonders whether their deaths are causing more harm than good, and then he wishes that he had maimed those bastards himself.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad the muggles are gone," Harry looks up at him at that, mildly surprised, and Ron grins toothily back at him, "Personally speaking." he shrugs, "That fat pig of a cousin always irked me."

He speaks after a moment, "You shouldn't be glad that they're dead."

But he's smiling, he knows what Ron means, it remains unspoken, but they both know.

Ron raises his eyebrows, "Well, I guess you just have to keep my dirty secret,"

Harry finally decides to open the chocolate frog wrap. "Only if you stop nagging at me about Cedric."

"Fair enough." he's feeling a bit peckish now. This is why Ron should have eaten more at dinner. Emotional discussions wear him out. " I'm gonna go to the kitchens. See you in an hour?"

"Sure. And Ron?"

"Hm?"

Harry smiles. "Thanks."