Title: Preemptive Strike

Author: Skt

Genre: Harry/Ron

Warnings/Spoilers: Nada on both

Summary: What you can't change you've got to live with.

Rejection comes in a lot of forms, and Harry was pretty sure he'd experienced them all. He was almost used to it, which in and of itself, was rather depressing. But whether of not it was pathetic (and Harry was pretty sure it was), rejection had become something he expected to happen to him every so often. A way of ensuring he kept his feet on the ground, he supposed. A reality check. Just the universe's way of making sure his head didn't get too big.

He understood why, rationalized it in his head until it made perfect sense. He had reached a point in his life where he was almost living as two people: he was Harry Potter, and he was Harry. He couldn't say he really enjoyed being either.

Harry Potter was the savior of the wearing world, and carried the burden of responsibility that went with the title. He fought battles and leapt into danger, only to escape unscathed. He was relentless in his determination to defeat the most evil wizard of all time. He was a hero.

Or at least he was supposed to be. But Harry couldn't help noticing that for being such a hero, he seemed to fail an awful lot of people around him. So many people he'd lost or gotten injured, because as big a hero as he was supposed to be, he never seemed to be able to save them.

And then there was Harry, the boy who had also failed so many people, if under different circumstances. Harry had grown up lonely and confused, unsure of why he was so disliked but not bold enough to question it, in case the answer was something he didn't want to hear. He'd lost one family and been rejected by another, and called a boarding school home. He was moody, and not particularly brilliant, and occasionally he had nightmares and cried in his sleep. And while he didn't like being The Harry Potter, at least he was considered a hero, which was better than being considered nothing at all.

Harry Potter could have big dreams, because that's what heroes did. They dreamed the impossible, and then they made it happen. He could hope for impossible things and then actually go out and get them, because heroes did impossible things all the time. But Harry... well, Harry wasn't much of anything, and those impossible things were always out of reach. The things Harry wanted he could never have, and he tried to stop wanting them in the first place, just to save himself the time.

Harry Potter could dream of winning the Quidditch game and do it, or learn the spell no one else seemed to be able to do, or battle a monster and come out on top. He could save the hostage and solve the riddle and speak the secret language if he needed to. Harry dreamed of a family he had yet to find, and had watched each and every opportunity for one slip away. He'd wished for a fresh start, a place where bullies didn't know his name, and wound up at a school where everyone knew who he was even before he did. Mostly he'd wished he was just normal and could fit in, like all the other students he'd envied growing up. Instead he'd found that no matter where he went he would always be the child who stood out, ostracized by them even as he impressed them.

But even knowing the truth Harry couldn't stop wishing. He'd tell himself not to, and steel himself for the inevitable let-down, but all the same he still made that wish in the first place. They were fruitless dreams that always left him lonely and aching for things that could never be. He clutched them close to his chest, secrets he could take out and admire when no one was looking and he needed to remember why he was even bothering. But he never showed anyone, because as bad as failing felt, it always felt worse when someone else was watching.

It took him a while to realize it wasn't just his secrets he was starting to hide away, but pieces of himself as well. And unfortunately sometimes acknowledging something isn't enough to make it go away. He could see it in his friends' eyes, and in the way people seemed to lose sight of him, call him secretive and mysterious even when he felt like he was exposing everything he had. He felt simultaneously hidden away and over-exposed, like a shroud around him that was slowly wearing away to reveal more and more.

His first instinct was to run, and he had to consciously convince himself not to on occasion. He figured he'd faced enough battles in his life, and short of being forced into one, he really didn't want to have to be involved in another. But something kept him there. Someone.

Actually, he was pretty sure he knew exactly what kept him from running, trying to find another place where he could start over again. What made him stay and play the hero yet again, all the while knowing the veneer was cracking. Harry had received one thing he'd always wanted, a wish that had come true.

He'd wished and hoped and dreamed of having a friend; a best friend. When he was younger he'd just wanted someone to play with who wouldn't beat him up or use him to get things - a favorite game of Dudley's as children had been 'Have Harry get the snack food from the fridge'. He'd wanted a friend who wanted to do the same things he'd wanted to do, go places he'd wanted to go, and liked the things he liked. He'd just wanted someone who understood him, who could have fun with him, and be there for him like he wanted to be there for them.

And fate had seen fit to grant one of his wishes, at least. He'd gotten not one but two friends; people he'd give his life for because he knew they felt the same for him. He'd never been so grateful for anything in his life.

Which was why, when certain feelings came around and reared their unexpected heads, Harry wasn't certain what to do. He'd already had his best friend fulfill one dream he'd never thought would come true, and he couldn't really justify giving him the burden of another.

Which didn't really solve anything, but was enough to occupy his thoughts for quite some time.

Not that he didn't have enough to keep him busy, but all the same, his mind seem to find more than enough time to drag him back to those ever-present thoughts and feelings. The ache in his chest he only seemed to remember when lying in bed late at night.

Those were the times when his mind would get carried away, and he'd almost convince himself he was going to do something about it. He was going to get up and shake Ron awake and tell him how he felt, to hell with every consequence and doubt. But then reality would set back in, and he'd flop back onto his pillow with a sigh.

Ron had done so much for him, and he hadn't even realized it. Hadn't known how every single day he'd stood by Harry's side, or waited for him, or invited him along somewhere had been seared into Harry's mind, a warm memory to make him smile when he needed to most. Ron had offered himself up so Harry could go on the very first year they'd met, as a little boy had given up his own life for Harry, and Harry had never forgotten that, or any time thereafter where he proved his loyalty over and over again.

Harry appreciated it so much, was so pathetically grateful, that he couldn't be greedy enough to ask for more. He'd already practically asked for Ron's life only to have Ron offer it to him, how could he ask for his heart and soul too?

Although to be fair, Harry wasn't sure that he wanted all that either. He wasn't sure of anything, anymore than he was sure of himself. He didn't even know who he was pretending to be some days, never mind what that person wanted. He just knew that, whoever he was, he liked being around Ron, being close to him. He wanted to be closer.

But he settled for being Ron's best friend, all the while feeling guilty for calling it 'settling'. He'd never had so much in his life, and he couldn't find it in himself to risk it in the pursuit of more. Ron liked him, whether he was Harry, Harry Potter, or 'boy' (the closest thing to an affectionate endearment his Uncle had ever uttered at him), and that was good enough for him. It would have to be.

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