Pairings in this chapter: Ron/Harry
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not getting money. I wish.
Chapter 10 : No Expression
Harry lay still in bed, the sheets bunched around him like a bundle as he stared out the window. It was raining again. It rained a lot here, wherever here was. The rain cast a strange tint to the landscape, turning it all into pale and grayed colors. His vivid eyes took in all of that and wondered if he'd ever noticed it before.
"You're awake already?" muttered Tom. The ghost sat at the foot of the bed, idly kicking his feet.
"What time is it?" Harry replied softly.
"Six."
The boy silently watched more rain fall. It was lightening up. The storm was passing.
"Tom, what do you think of Ron Weasley?" the boy asked shyly. Tom raised a pale brow.
"He's a Weasley. What's the think about?"
"What do you mean?"
Tom rolled his eyes and rested back on his elbows. "Well, he's from an old Wizard family. Purebloods. But they're dirt poor. Always have been. They're seen as the bottom rung of Pureblood society, really. Little better than muggles. I had absolutely nothing to do with them, of course."
"You hate them just because they're poor?" Harry asked, aghast. He sat up to scowl at the ghostly boy. "That's wrong, Tom."
"Is it? Many Purebloods are raised that way. They're also raised to respect other families," Tom drawled. "Draco is a Malfoy, another old Wizard family. The Malfoys are one of the richest families around and known for their political power. Since they're so powerful, Purebloods flock to get in their favor."
"That sounds so…petty," murmured Harry. Tom laughed.
"Oh yes, very much so," the boy returned. "But no one said life was virtuous. Anyway, that's what I meant. He's probably nothing but a mediocre wizard anyway, not like you."
"Me?"
"Yes you," purred the other boy with a smile. "You're extraordinary."
Harry blushed and dropped his eyes. "I'm not anything special…"
Tom only laughed at the boy's naïve modesty.
"Hello, Harry…"
The black haired boy looked up in surprise at his new companion's nervous utterance. The redhead stood awkwardly in the doorway, blue eyes lowered but flicking to meet green after a few moments. This was one of the few times Harry had been alone in the last few days since coming to the Manor. Draco was gardening, Rylia was off cleaning, and Tom…? Well, no one knew where Tom went when he wasn't following Harry about.
"Hello, Ron," Harry said, smiling at the other boy. He was sitting in his room, trunk open in the corner and a potion's volume in his lap. Each page brought vague memories of a large room with odd fumes. Seeing the other boy's nervousness, he continued, "Is there something you need?"
"I just…I…" Ron looked away again and swallowed. Harry frowned when he saw him fighting tears. "Is it okay…if I study in here…with you?"
"Of course," Harry responded. "That's fine."
Ron's head jerked up and he stared at the other boy with hope in his expression. Harry simply patted the ground beside him and went back to his book. A moment later, Ron dropped down beside him, his own literature plopping into his lap.
It was a happy few hours they spent together. Ron didn't bring up their past together; Harry didn't ask. They talked over their school subjects and argued over points in their reading. They debated the importance of having to learn this and wondered if other things were written just to bore them to death. All in all, they enjoyed being around each other.
Ron smiled as Harry chewed his bottom lip. The black haired boy had always done so while he read. All through the afternoon, he had been noting habits he knew of the other boy, and…of different things. Like the fact that Harry had gotten very tense when he'd sat beside him. Or that his voice had lost the darkness it had had at the end of the fifth school year. The Harry before him seemed like an innocent, un-jaded version of the boy he'd known. It was almost like a blessing. Ron truly wondered if this wasn't Harry's reward for being so much stronger than he had any right to be.
On the other hand, Harry had been watching Ron almost as closely. He had figured out that they'd been friends before and he could tell why. Ron seemed very caring and he had a great sense of humor. The other boy had him almost rolling with laughter many times. But there was a sad look in the blue eyes. Harry felt so very guilty about that, not being able to remember their friendship.
"We were friends," Harry said suddenly, after a long pause. Ron glanced at him before averting his eyes.
"The best," he replied.
"Did I have other friends?" Harry continued curiously. "I got cards from people when I was at Hogwarts."
"Everyone in Gryffindor loved you," said Ron with a sigh. "There are times when many people doubted you, but…you always earned their respect all over again."
Harry nodded and leaned back against the wall, staring out. "Did we fight?"
"Sometimes." Ron leaned back as well. "But all friends fight."
"Did we fight a lot?"
"No, not really," Ron assured. "We usually took each other's side against Herm-…Hermione."
Harry didn't miss the stutter on that name, nor the look of pain that flashed over Ron's face. He frowned worriedly at the redhead.
"Who is Hermione?"
"Our friend," replied the blue eyed boy, his voice etched in no little amount of pain. "We were a trio. She was the bookworm; the smart one. She always told us to do our homework or study or something…"
"Something happened to her," Harry said quietly, looking down. His knees lifted to his chest as he let his book fall onto the floor. Ron shut his eyes and his fists tightened, knuckles going white.
"Yes," he said, and seemed to want anything but to go on,. "She was captured…by some bad people. They…hurt her…badly…"
Harry heard the sob that tried to escape the other's throat. His vision was becoming blurry with tears of his own.
"We rescued her, but…the damage was already done. She'll never be the same."
"You…love her," whispered Harry, droplets trailing finally over his cheeks. Ron nodded, locking his blue eyed gaze with Harry's as they let go as well.
"I do," he said. "I did. I will. Always."
A moment later, Ron found himself caught up in the other's arms, his head laying on the other's shoulder as one hand clutched his back and the other was buried in his hair. Ron's body had been shaking, but he didn't notice it until he was pressed against the smaller boy's form.
Ron hadn't cried since they'd first brought Hermione in, beaten and barely alive. Not even when she'd broken up with him. Now, his eyes burned and he let out a heartfelt sob as he fell into the arms of his best friend, hands clawing at the other's shirt as he held onto the one remaining constant in his life, even if the other wasn't as constant as he wanted.
Harry took it well, shoving back the rising panic at being held so. He knew the other boy needed comfort and he wouldn't freak out again. He told himself that over and over, begging for his mind to stay still and let the other boy grieve.
"Harry, you- oh. Am I interrupting?"
For the first time since he'd met the ghost, Harry wanted to hit him. Still holding Ron to him, the emerald eyed boy glared at the other.
"Not now, Tom," he said sternly, rubbing Ron's back.
"Hm…? Is that Weasley? Harry, you don't know where he's been!"
"OUT, TOM!" Harry growled as Ron grew quiet and tense in his arms. The ghost gave a scowl of displeasure.
"You're going for the wrong team again," he muttered as he floated off. Harry sighed softly and settled his head back onto Ron's shoulder as the redhead stayed against him.
"He's bad," mumbled Ron. Harry sighed.
"He says that too," he replied.
"It's true."
"Perhaps…but he's been kind to me."
"He wanted something." Ron's arms tightened around him and Harry frowned. "I don't want you to get hurt."
"He won't hurt me, Ron."
"You were never this trusting before," finished the redhead before he went silent. Harry sighed softly and moved a hand to pet those red locks.
"I'm as me as I can be," replied the boy quietly. "That's all I can do…"
"Weasley has to go," Tom snarled, pacing one of the empty rooms of the manor. His eyes pulsed with anger, ghostly robes billowing about him. Yet another person was trying to ruin his revenge on the Potter boy. He'd just have to up his action, push the boy harder into that state of insanity only he could drive one to. Tom's lips curled with malice.
"I'll have him. I'll break him."
The light streaming in from the hallway changed as a small form stepped into it. Tom glared openly at her, sneering.
"Leave the boy be," Rylia growled, her tail puffed in annoyance. "The Wizards may not see you for the power you hold, but I do, and it makes me sick."
"You can do nothing," said the ghost.
The corner of her lips quirked. "Can't I? We'll see, Riddle. Prick one hair from that boy's head, and I'll destroy you myself."
"You don't have the power," laughed Tom. Rylia only smirked wider.
"We'll see," she warned, then turned on her heel. Tom watched her, his face falling into a blank sort of rage.
"We certainly shall," he muttered into the quiet.
A/N: GOLD STAR TO MACHINE OF DEATH! Yes, each chapter is a lyric from "Mad World" by Gary Jules. After I finish using those lyrics, I have another song that will give the titles...
Since you figured that out (I was waiting for SOMEONE to get it) I offer you a free piece of HP fanart, your choice of characters and situation(lets keep to the PG side).
If you want a sample of my artwork, go to my deviantart account, tgp.deviantart.com
Well, another slow chap...More action next time.