First, a quick thanks to you guys who have sent me feedback. Thanks. On a more specific note… PadawanMage… Wow! Thanks for sticking with me through this story! Your comments are great! I mean, thanks to everyone, of course, but you especially for sending so much feedback. It really helps!
Anyway. Here's the next part. :-)
***
He woke up late that night with the sounds of voices in his ears. But for once, those voices weren't from his dreams. They were from the bed beside him.
Neville sat up, sleep clouding his mind and making his thoughts process a bit slower than normal.
Ron had nightmares differently than anyone Neville had ever seen. Not that he had seen many, but students at Hogwarts had their share. And Neville had woken to Harry's voice many times.
Ron was scrunched in on himself, curled tight in a ball that seemed smaller than his long frame should have been able to manage. He was talking in a constant stream, but nothing was intelligible. His face was pinched tight, every muscle seemed strung with tension.
Neville pushed himself up slowly, unsure of how to deal with this. Ron looked ready to snap, like if Neville just touched him, he'd explode off the bed ready for battle.
So he cleared his throat and spoke, voice thick with sleep. "Ron? Hey, Ron? Wake up."
Ron jerked, his face moving to Neville, his eyes still squeezed shut. His mumbled words got louder.
Neville hesitated, hovering over him awkwardly. "Ron? Um. I'm not really sure how to handle this side of things. If you could just wake up, that would probably be best." He kept his voice light.
Ron's mutterings started sounding alarmed.
Neville bit the bullet and reached out, gingerly touching Ron's curled shoulder. "Ron? Please wake up."
Ron did as Neville predicted – he exploded, unfurling and shouting in alarm, a wayward hand catching Neville's arm hard.
Neville jumped back, holding his wounded arm. "Ron! Stop it!"
Ron's eyes opened at that, wide and fearful. He looked around wildly, scrambling to sit up. "Harry?"
Neville lowered his voice. "Ron? It's okay. You were having a dream."
Ron's eyes jerked to him. "Neville?"
"It's me."
"Are you okay?"
Neville laughed at that breathily. "Am I okay?" he repeated incredulously.
"Where is…everyone's okay?"
He approached the bed without fear now. "Everything's fine. It was a dream."
Ron seemed to melt then, relaxing every tense muscle with a sigh of relief so big it deflated him. "Oh. Wow."
Neville sat beside him. "Wow is right. I thought you didn't have nightmares."
"I don't! I told you, they're just stupid."
"Ron." Neville took his hand without waiting for permission. It felt strangely empowering. "I saw you. That wasn't stupid. It was frightening."
Ron shook his head, though his fingers trembled in Neville's grasp. His voice was strangely higher when he spoke; he sounded as if he was holding back tears. "It's stupid! You have something to have nightmares about! Harry has a lot of things to have nightmares about! What do I have? Nothing's ever happened to me!"
Neville blinked in surprise. "I don't think it works like that, Ron."
Ron shook his head stubbornly.
"Ron." Neville grabbed his other hand, squeezing both in his own. "Look at you. Whatever your dreams are about, they obviously scare you. I don't care if they're about spiders or rainbows or anything else! I'm not about to turn my back on you because you don't think you've suffered enough to justify having bad dreams."
Ron's protests died. He sagged, leaning in to Neville and tugging his hands free to wrap arms around him tightly. His face buried against Neville's shoulder.
He was shaking all over, Neville felt as he hugged him back as hard as he could. He rested his cheek against Ron's hair and rubbed his back soothingly. "It's okay, Ron. I'm here." The words came automatically, and he was glad. If he had stopped to think about what to say, he would have tripped over his own tongue. He hadn't been in a position to have to comfort someone before. It felt strange. Scary.
Ron shook against him suddenly, his shoulders bobbing. But that only scared Neville for a moment before it revealed itself to be laughter.
Ron pulled back and looked at him, eyes too bright. "Rainbows? You'd comfort me if I had nightmares about rainbows?"
Neville smacked his arm gently. "That's what I get for trying to help."
Ron shook his head, still smiling. "No, no. I'm glad you're…" He sniffled and lay himself back on Neville's shoulder, hugging him again tightly around the middle. "You meant that, didn't you?"
"It's the least I can do," Neville answered quietly. "It's only what you've done for me already. Of course I mean it. And yeah, if you had a nightmare about a rainbow, I would comfort you."
Ron squeezed him tighter. "Thanks," he said into Neville's neck.
Neville shivered involuntarily at the puff of air that hit his skin. "More than welcome," he replied with a smile.
Ron pulled back again and swiped at his eyes. "I hate having dreams," he admitted with a sigh.
Neville met his eyes silently, nodding his encouragement.
Ron shrugged. "They're just…they always seem bad lately. Not like the one tonight. That was worse than usual." He shook his head. "They leave me feeling bad, even if I can't remember what they were about."
"I'm sorry," Neville said sincerely. He knew how that felt.
"It's okay." Ron smiled crookedly, and reached out for Neville's hand. "Waking up's been better lately, at least."
Neville felt blood rising to his face. He grinned. "That's something, anyway."
"Yeah." Ron's eyes drifted down to Neville's mouth.
Neville saw that and licked his lips unconsciously. He felt a thrum of excitement, but was it really right to think about kissing Ron after a nightmare like that? He hesitated.
Ron seemed to sense what he was thinking. He lifted his eyes back to Neville's. "Do you…" He ducked his head. "Maybe if you stay here neither of us would have nightmares," he said in a rush.
And since Neville slept less than five feet from him already, he knew Ron had to mean stay there in that bed. He knew he had to be red by then. But he answered easily. "Okay."
Ron looked up long enough to grin, then flipped the covers up and moved over to the edge of the small bed. "Dive in."
Neville obeyed willingly, settling himself onto the mattress and helping Ron tug the covers over them.
For a moment he wondered if he should stay pressed up to the side – the bed wasn't that big, and he didn't want Ron to have to squeeze.
But Ron solved the problem by curling on his side, close to Neville. "Thanks again. Really."
Neville rolled to face him, bringing them within inches of each other. And the dilemma about kissing was suddenly back on his mind. "Don't thank me."
Ron's brow furrowed.
"I don't need you to," Neville went on softly. "I know you'll be here for me." He was amazed to discover that the confidence in his voice was real.
He did know it. He knew Ron, even if most of what he knew was gained watching from a distance the last few years. Ron was incredibly loyal to his friends and family. He was loyal to Gryffindor, loyal to Hogwarts.
He had called Neville his friend, and he had meant it, Neville knew, so he would be just as loyal to Neville now as he was to any of his other friends.
It was a realization that nearly stole Neville's breath.
Ron was his friend. Even more than that, really, though they were still too nervous to define it any further. Ron would be there for him, for anything he needed.
Neville had someone, suddenly, in the way he had always wished someone would be there for him.
It was a revelation, and it made him even more fiercely want to be there for Ron in the same way.
Ron leaned in and kissed him quickly, pulling back with a smile. "I'll always be here for you," he confirmed with quiet, happy sincerity.
Neville's lips tingled, and he forgot all about who was there for whom. He just wanted that feeling again. He reached for Ron, tugging at the front of his pajamas.
Ron didn't make him ask. He snuggled in closer and rested an arm over Neville's hip.
Neville's eyes slid shut, and the warm, soft pressure of Ron's lips touched his mouth, and the flush on his cheeks instantly spread all over his body.
It wasn't quick this time. There was no reason for it to be. It was soft and easy. Everything that should have made him nervous or scared wasn't there. He wasn't afraid of this, though he had no experience and no idea what he was doing. Even though he was suddenly aware of the fact that he was doing with Ron what he was supposed to be doing with a girl.
There were things they would have to think about, but none of those things mattered then.
He slid himself closer to Ron, and felt the press of Ron's taller, slender body against him.
Everything felt really warm around him. His hand slid from its spot against Ron's chest to circle his back and hold him close. He could feel the sharpness of bones and wiry muscle under his hands, and it made him feel the first bit of apprehension.
Ron chose that moment to move his own hand over Neville's hip and down to brush over his stomach.
Neville pulled back, catching his breath and sliding away from Ron's touch.
Ron frowned immediately. "Sorry. I'm sorry. Did I…?"
Neville shook his head, burying his face in the pillow in embarrassment.
"Hey." Ron's voice was gentle over Neville's head. "What's wrong?"
Neville couldn't look at him. He lifted from the pillow, feeling his face burning. "I just…" He shook his head, his hand going to his soft belly self-consciously.
He wasn't watching Ron, but there was a pause when Ron must have put it together or guessed what Neville's problem was, because Ron spoke suddenly, his voice surprised. "Are you…Neville…"
Neville bit his lip, dragging his eyes up to hover around Ron's throat. "Sorry. I just…I know I'm not…" He blew out a breath of frustration.
He managed to look up at Ron, and was surprised to see something like sadness on his face.
Ron studied him seriously.
Neville gathered up his courage. "I know I'm not like the other…" But he still didn't quite have words.
Ron reached out and touched his face with gentle fingers.
Neville looked at him, embarrassed.
Ron dropped his hand and sat still for a moment, then seemed to make some decision. He moved suddenly, lifting his arms and pulling his shirt over his head, dropping it on the bed. The blush on his cheeks started all the way down on his chest, Neville saw.
Ron looked to Neville with sad eyes. "I'm not like them either," he said quietly. He looked down at himself, the sadness in his eyes changing to distaste.
Neville looked him over carefully, his heart hurting for the pain in Ron's eyes that looked so much like how Neville felt a lot of the time.
Ron was…long. And very thin. He probably grew so fast he couldn't catch up. He did look awkward sitting there, as though uncomfortable about his own body. Neville knew the feeling well.
But there was nothing wrong with him. He was thin and tall. His skin was pale, bumped with bones that showed through the slender wires of muscle.
It was nothing to be so ashamed of, though. Neville didn't understand.
But he did recognize how Ron felt. It amazed him that Harry Potter's cheerful best friend felt that way. Then again, Ron always had been very self-deprecating, mostly in the form of jokes.
Ron sat there silently, letting Neville stare. He didn't move for a long moment, then reached up to rub his arm lightly. "I…um."
Neville looked back at his face and made his choice fast. He reached for the bottom of his pajama top and tugged it up over his head. His heart beat faster, and though he knew Ron would never laugh at him, he had to stop from bracing himself just in case.
He looked down at himself, his white skin in the moonlight of the room. He grimaced, but there he was. Soft around the middle, no muscles defined anywhere. Just plain and chubby and him.
He felt Ron's eyes on him, and he did the bravest thing he could have possibly done – he looked up at Ron's face to witness his reaction.
Ron looked down at him, serious. He studied Neville's exposed skin carefully, and then looked back up at his face.
Neville swallowed nervously. All he had to do was wait. There he was, exposed, and Ron could take him or leave him.
Ron met his eyes and spoke so quietly it was almost a whisper. "I love you."
Neville's breath wooshed out of him, and for a moment he forgot how to breathe it back in.
His mouth dropped open, and his poor heart just started beating that much faster.
He braced himself, then realized there was no punch line because Ron wasn't joking.
Ron just lifted a hand weakly, as if to say 'there it is'. And now it was Neville's turn to react.
Neville's feelings warred inside of him for a few moments, but he couldn't (and wouldn't) deny that under the doubt and the surprise and everything else, there was this deep, intense feeling of happiness that was slowly overpowering everything else.
He choked out a breath that was almost a laugh, almost a sob. "Really?" he asked in amazement.
Ron nodded, rubbing both bare arms now as if cold.
Neville's next breath was definitely a laugh. "Oh. Wow. I mean, yes. I mean, me, too. Me, you. I…" He laughed again, almost hysterical. "Ron."
Ron smiled tentatively. "You mean…"
"I mean me, too! I…" He had to swallow past his emotions, but he wasn't for a moment doubtful of the truth of what he said. "I love you, too!"
Ron's smile grew. He searched Neville's eyes. "Really?" he asked in return, making Neville laugh again.
Neville nodded enthusiastically. "Really. Really really. Wow."
"Wow." Ron echoed his amazed laughter, and suddenly didn't look so vulnerable sitting there. He held out a hand.
Neville took it, lacing their fingers together and beaming.
***
Ron shifted and tried to fight the approach of consciousness, but that never worked.
He wanted to remember the dream, hold on to it. It was nice. Strange and a bit embarrassing, but nice. There was warmth inside him from it. Around him, just thinking about it.
He sighed as he realized he was quite definitely awake. Then felt an instant blast of painful hope when he realized the warmth wasn't just a dream.
Someone was there.
He opened his eyes instantly, and nearly sobbed out joy at Neville's dark blond head on the pillow beside his.
Not a dream, his mind chanted at him.
Not a dream. Not a dream.
He reached out instantly, sliding a hand over Neville's side and to his stomach. He scooted himself closer carefully, trying not to wake him, until he was pressed to Neville's back.
The skin under his hand was almost ridiculously soft. Ron's fingers drifted up and down in light strokes over his stomach, and he let his chin rest on the top of Neville's hair.
The memory of last night warmed him more than physically. Neville's embarrassment about himself, and how Ron had actually found the courage somewhere to show himself to Neville, to let Neville see that Ron was just as imperfect as he was.
Though, honestly, Neville hadn't seemed very imperfect. Maybe he wasn't really muscular or bony, but he wasn't ugly in any way. Soft, that's what he was. And not in any way that could be looked at as bad.
Neville was still beautiful. He felt beautiful under Ron's hand.
And last night he had looked at Ron as though Ron was as beautiful as he was.
Ron couldn't grasp it. Couldn't grasp the fact that he'd told Neville he loved him, and Neville had said it back so happily…
He didn't want to grasp it. Not yet. He just wanted to lay there and listen to Neville breathe and feel the softness under his fingers.
****
Author's Note - I wrote this story with something specific in mind. Every time I read a slash story with Neville in it, it always says that he has mysteriously grown a few inches and has lost weight and is fit and perfect. Same with Ron. Ron is always filled out and muscular and perfect.
I wrote this scene mostly because I love these two characters for exactly the reasons why they aren't perfect, and I figured maybe they could love each other that same way. So what if Neville is chubby? So what if Ron is a beanpole with big hands and feet? That makes them human, right? They should be able to be loved even though they aren't everyone's idea of handsome.
Does that make sense?