Harry awoke the next morning so early it was still dark outside. He lay there for a moment without his glasses, letting his blurry surroundings consume him. He listened carefully, trying to see if Ron was awake or not. He could hear him breathing heavily, but still could not come to a conclusion. It was only moments later when his curiosity was too much, he sat up and grabbed his glasses. Before he even put them on the door opened and the Twins came in noisily and announced:
"Dad is almost fully recovered! Out of bed, the both of you!"
Harry blinked several times after putting on his glasses, and his eyes went straight to Ron's bed. Ron was stretching, he did not meet Harry's gaze, which was just as well, Harry shifted in his bed, carefully placing a bunched up part of blanket over his lap uncomfortably.
"Er…" He said, "Almost?"
"Yeah the wounds aren't healing all the way yet," George said eirh a yawn, "But other than that, he's alright. They say we can take a portkey to Grimmauld-"
"What happened to you?" Fred interjected suddenly as Ron stood up. "Lovers quarrel?" He smirked jokingly at Harry.
Ron's eye was very red and slightly swollen, growing purplish around the small cut. Harry supposed he should feel bad, but a different feeling was growing inside him. He couldn't quite place it. It almost felt like a type of pride, but not quite. He felt the anger growing inside him, but it wasn't like last night when he had been yelling.
"Oh nothing, just bumped into something last night trying to get water is all." Ron still avoided Harry's gaze. "Good about Dad though!"
Fred and George spent a few minutes talking and celebrating with Ron, then announced they were going to go hang out with Lee and then pack their trunks. Once they left, Harry got out of his own bed and slowly started to dress, facing away from Ron. It was only a few minutes until he felt a presence behind him. He turned around. Ron was about a foot away.
"So," he said uncertainly, "Are we-"
"What?" Harry asked rather abruptly after yanking on his shirt.
Ron hesitated then murmured something under his breath that Harry didn't hear. He almost felt bad, but was too shaken to do or say anything. He knew Ron wanted to talk about it, about the moment they had both felt. He wanted to talk about it too. But there were more pressing matters. He took a steadying breath then began to pack, purely for something to do. Ron followed suit and walked away toward his own trunk.
They packed in silence. After a few minutes Harry looked over his shoulder and found Ron was also looking at him. They locked gazes for a moment and something like bravery arose in Harry and he stood up right and said slowly,
"I'm sorry…for yelling. And hitting you. And…thanks. For calming me down, you know…" He trailed off. There, he concluded. That's all it had been. Ron had calmed him, that was all. But the touch had felt nice. Calming. That's all.
But Ron seemed slightly unconvinced. There was a confused look on his face. But he nodded, then sat down on his bed with a sigh. He raised a hand and touched his eye gingerly, then laughed.
"For a skinny git you sure can punch."
Harry smirked. "Well I mean, you kind of deserved it. You were being a prat." He glanced around the room. "Ready to go then? Should we see if Hermione's gone yet?"
Ron nodded and they headed toward the stairs. On their way out the door they both tried to go first, and Ron placed his hand on the small of Harry's back and guided him out. Harry felt his breath hitch at this touch, like he had received a small shock. He refused to think of it.
After stopping at St. Mungo's to visit Mr. Weasley, who was healing well and seemed in good spirits, they troop of Weasley's and Harry arrived at Grimmauld Place to Sirius's delight. They are a comforting lunch of sandwiches and tea, and Harry and Ron enjoyed a game of Exploding Snap with the twins. The day carried on and Harry had no thoughts of touches or glances.
Evening fell and Harry and Ron sat in the living room with Sirius, and Lupin and Tonks who had dropped by to visit, with a few Butterbeers. They talked and laughed. The twins joined them and tried to talk Sirius into giving them something stronger.
"Come on," Fred said slyly, "We're of age, just a nip of Firewhisky. We know you have some."
"You know we could nick it anyway," George added, "Reward us for our honesty!"
"Oh alright," Sirius gave in. He got up and pulled the nearly full bright red bottle out of a cupboard and a few goblets, he poured a dash into each and passed them to the gleaming twins. Fred downed his instantly, coughing afterwards as his face reddened.
Tonks and Sirius chortled as Fred tried to catch his breath. George hesitated before polishing his off and exhaled loudly.
"That's, erm, stronger than I thought," Fred admitted between wheezes.
About a half hour later Harry and Ron headed to their room. They both crawled into bed in comfortable silence.
Harry awoke with a start, unsure how much time had passed. He noticed right away that Ron was also awake, sitting up and staring at him. Harry put his glasses on and stretched.
"Do you always watch me sleep? He yawned.
"Sometimes," Ron admitted, frowning, "You have nightmares." He paused, then shrugged. "Hey," he said suddenly with a smirk, "Wanna try some Firewhisky?"
"Er…alright," Harry said slowly, climbing out of bed.
"I'll go get it." Ron slipped away and returned a minute later, he sat down cross-legged on his bed and patted a spot next to him. Harry joined him. Ron popped the cork off the bottle and a slightly cinnamon-like smell poured out. Ron took a large swig and coughed as quietly as possible, laughing he passed the bottle to Harry, who hesitated then took a small drink. It burned, and his eyes watered. He took another drink, and this time enjoyed the burning sensation as the liquid went down his throat.
He passed the bottle back to Ron and his brain went slightly fuzzy as their fingers brushed.
"It's not bad," Ron concluded, "I tried it once, but I was about ten," he chuckled, "Bill snuck some, back when mum and dad used to have it in the house. He gave it to me, thought it was funny. I nearly choked."
Harry laughed as he pictured it. They chatted, sharing the bottle. Harry felt pleasantly light headed and unbothered. He had no thoughts about dreams of hallways or snakes. He felt himself loosening up and enjoying the late night with his friend. They were finding it hard to stop laughing. They even attempted a game of wizards chess but couldn't get through it.
Before they knew it, the shared bottle of Firewhisky was empty. Ron fell back onto his bed, holding the bottle in front of his face.
"Good stuff, this," he said, his words slurring slightly. He dropped his arm and the bottle rolled off the bed onto the floor, the sound was muffled by a dirty rug. He looked at Harry. "You're my best friend, Harry. My bery – very best friend."
Harry grinned at how serious Ron looked. His vision blurred then re-focused.
"You're my best friend too," he told him, he heard that his voice was slightly slurry as well but didn't care. It felt good to say. Everything felt good. He could understand why Mundungus and Sirius drank this stuff so often. Harry would probably drink it all the time given the chance. He felt great. Brave. Not angry.
"I…" Ron started to say, his eyebrows scrunched together, "I touched you…your hand…hands."
Harry nodded. Suddenly his mouth felt dry. He wished there was another bottle of Firewhisky.
"Sorry," Ron mumbled.
"S'okay." And he meant it. "Um…it was…good. I liked it. It helped." The words came out before he had wrapped his head around them.
And then Ron's eyes were closed and he was snoring.
"Boy's! Time to get up! It's nearly noon!"
Harry blinked his eyes open. His glasses were askew on his face. He groaned, his head was throbbing and his mouth was dry. Before raising his head he noticed two things: he was in Ron's bed, and there was a hand on his hip that was not his.
Ron was still sleeping, breathing heavily. He was on his side, his bare chest almost touching Harry's back. His arm was resting on the bed but his hand was on Harry's hip. Almost as though it was totally natural. Harry laid there, trying to stay still. Mostly because he felt he might vomit if he moved, but also…he was very comfortable.
Harry tried to piece together his night. He remembered a lot of laughter and a vague recollection of chess.
"Boys!" Mrs. Weasley's voice rang again. This time Harry sat up, Ron's hand fell off his waist.
"Uh…oh bloody hell," Harry covered his face with his hands, "Um…Ron?"
Ron awoke with a groan. He looked around, saw the empty bottle on the floor, then groaned again. Footsteps creaked down the hallway, Harry quickly got out of Ron's bed and pulled on a shirt. He felt hot, and clammy. His hands were shaking Their bedroom door opened and Fred and George walked in.
"Bit of a lie in, eh?" Fred said, then he sniffed the air and his eyes zoomed in on the bottle on the floor, "Ah, enjoy yourselves a but did you?" He kicked the bottle under Ron's bed and chuckled. "Bet you're not feeling too good now. Yeeep I remember our first hangover. Get a shower, drink some water, eat some toast and eggs, you'll feel better."
Ron rolled back over and covered his head with his pillow and groaned. George patted him on the back.
"Get to it, little brother, only way Mum won't find out."
The day passed in a blur for Harry. Fed and George had been right, the shower, water, and food helped. But he still felt nauseous and clammy. Ron looked as though he felt the same. Mrs. Weasley kept asking how they felt, concerned. Harry just claimed tiredness. Ron muttered something about 'maybe a cold or something.'
Sirius, on the other hand, had given Harry a stern, almost paternal look the second he had come downstairs that afternoon. But that was all. Though Harry did notice someone had put a locking charm on the cupboard that had held the whisky, he caught on when Tonks had come for a visit and gone to said cupboard for a goblet.
That night Harry and Ron collapsed in their beds with sighs of relief.
"We made it." Ron's voice cut through the silence.
"Barely," Harry added, "But…"
Ron sat up carefully and grinned mischievously. "But it was fun," he agreed, accurately interpreting Harry's thoughts, "We should do it again."
"Tonight?" Harry asked with a laugh, "I think I need some sleep."
Ron cocked his head and smiled, then looked down, and back up, and said quietly, "In my bed or yours?" with one eyebrow raised.
"Er," Harry stammered, his heart thumping loudly in his ears, "I-"
"I'm joking, mate," Ron interrupted quickly, "It was just the drink."
"Heh, yeah. Just the drink."
