Nothing More and Nothing Less
Nic the Nefarious
Don't own them. That right belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Just a little something I came up with at two in the morning. I realized that I had never written anything with the Harry/Ron pairing in it and thought I would give it a try. Minor mentions of slash, but not much. I rather like the way this turned out. Please drop me a review and give me your opinion on it!
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Normally there wasn't much that could rouse Ron from sleep, but that night he hadn't been sleeping well to begin with. His dreams were laced with images of the battle at the Department of Mysteries and he woke every time with a cold sweat lacing his brow.
There were still scars on his wrists from where the brains' tentacles had cut into him, and the horrifying thoughts he had been subjected to were still fresh in his mind. The last time he woke, though, it wasn't from his nightmares but from the whimpers and muffled sobs coming from the bed beside his own.
He knew that Harry's nightmares were of the same origins as him. Though he also knew that they were probably ten times worse. He hadn't realized the extent of Harry and Sirius' relationship with each other until after he had died. Ron still hadn't come to terms with that. Sirius didn't feel dead.
It must be so hard for him. Ron couldn't ever imagine losing his entire family and then having his closest friends stolen from him as well.
Over the years he had envied Harry so much. From Ron's standpoint Harry had everything that mattered: fame, fortune, and power among the highest circles. It was difficult for him to come to terms with the fact that Harry didn't care about any of that, and that all he cared about was getting a little affection and having friends that cared about him. That had always been a given in Ron's life - why did it matter to Harry so much?
He thought that maybe he understood a bit more now. It was still hard, but seeing Harry's current state of anguish brought things into light. He didn't want to do through what Harry was going through, even if it meant fame and fortune and everything else that he had always wished that his family possessed.
Ron wasn't sure what brought him to get up and peak between the curtains of Harry's bed, but he did so anyway. He truly was a Gryffindor if that meant not thinking before acting on an impulse or desire. Even though Ron was good at planning and strategics it wasn't often that he had the patience to actually take the time to do so in everyday life.
Harry's breathing was harsh and ragged and he was thrashing around behind the covers of his bed. His fingers were curled around the sheets, which were twisted around his thin and pale form. Ron suddenly realized that his heart was beating much faster than normal in his chest.
There was something about seeing Harry lying before him in such a vulnerable state that made his breath catch and his heart rate quicken. It was provocative... and in a way it aroused him, though such thoughts much him blush as red as his hair.
Harry was his best mate. The first friend he had ever had at Hogwarts and they had done almost everything together since first year. Maybe the stirring feelings in his chest were simply because they had been together for so long. He certainly didn't' - there was no way that -
He hesitated before reaching out a hand and running it through Harry's ever-messy hair. The thrashings of his body ceased and after a minute or two his breathing became even and the crease between his brows vanished. Ron couldn't help but feel empowered by the change his mere touch had brought over him.
It was wrong what he was thinking and it didn't even make any sense. The feeling he had as he stared down at Harry sleeping were usually reserved for when he saw Hermione's face crinkled in deep thought with her quill tickling her nose as she worked on homework.
He let the curtain fall closed and leaned against the wall with his eyes closed. It was late into the night - or very early in the morning - and perhaps it was just the stress getting to him. He crawled back to bed and fell back asleep from exhaustion.
---
The next day passed the same as the ones before it had. Ron had almost forgotten about what had happened the night before. The only reason he had remembered was because he had seen Harry wake up that morning, and the sleepy look on his face had brought it all rushing back.
It wasn't hard to pretend that nothing was wrong though, because nothing was wrong. The incident hadn't meant anything, Ron told himself, and he couldn't even recall the feelings he had now that it was light outside and he was surrounded by his friends again.
Harry was still very quiet and didn't like talking to either him or Hermione, but that only meant that the two of them redoubled their efforts to talk of normal things and get him to reply to them. Ron considered every time he got Harry to smile or laugh another step on the road to recovery. After all, Harry couldn't be depressed forever, it simply wasn't possible.
The fact that Harry was keeping a bit to himself allowed him and Hermione a lot more free time together, and since the O.W.L.s were already over with she was a lot more relaxed than she had been before the tests.
Ron loved it when she was like that. When she wasn't driving herself crazy with studying she was really fun to talk to and hang out with, and he was actually sort of considering telling her just how much he liked her, but every time he thought about it his palms got sweaty and his throat turned all dry and chalky. He hoped that they would have some time together during the summer. Maybe then he would be able to say what he wanted to.
Their summer would invariably be filled with spying on the Order meetings and trying to figure out what was going on from the few clues they received. Thinking about that always made him angry. Even if he and Hermione didn't really have a right to know every detail - Harry did. He was the one on You-Know-Who's 'to kill' list, wasn't he? And lying to him sure hadn't helped this year.
That night he and Harry were getting ready for bed and Ron couldn't help but notice the odd look that Harry was giving him as he pulled on his night shirt. Dean and Neville were already asleep and Seamus hadn't yet returned to the dormitory.
"Anything on your mind, mate?" he asked as he pulled back the curtains to his bed and hoped in.
Harry licked his lips in a nervous fashion like he always did when he wanted to say something but wasn't sure how to say it. "I know what you did last night," he said simply, but it was enough.
Ron could feel his ears turning red and the color was rapidly spreading across his face as well. "What do you mean?" he asked in a feeble attempt to cover himself that he knew wouldn't work.
"I -" Harry suddenly coughed and ran a hand through his hair. "I remember, or at least, I think I do."
"I didn't mean anything by it, you know, it was just that you were having a nightmare and I didn't want you to wake anyone or anything and," Ron paused to take a breath and continue before realizing that he was just babbling nonsense.
"It, it's okay," Harry cleared his throat. His cheeks were pink now, though they didn't achieve the red of Ron's ears and face. "Um, I - Just - Thanks."
Harry jumped quickly into bed and closed the curtains with a snap. Ron laid in bed and stared at the closed curtains for a long time as the color slowly faded from his face. He wasn't quite sure what had just happened.
He stood up and walked over to Harry's bed before edging the curtains open. "Harry? You still awake?"
"Yeah," Harry answered as he rolled over to face Ron again.
"Let's never mention this again, but I just have to try something," Ron said quickly and in a voice that was barely above a breathy whisper.
Harry nodded, "Alright but -"
He was cut off by Ron leaning forward suddenly and pressing his lips to Harry's. They kissed for only a few seconds before Ron pulled away and grinned a bit.
"Erm, thanks. That's all I needed to know," Ron said hurriedly and made to move away. Harry reached out and grabbed his arm.
"Never mention this again?" he asked.
"Right," Ron agreed, "Never again."
"Thanks, mate," Harry said and rolled over to go to sleep.
Ron retreated back to his own bed and pulled the curtains shut with a sharp snap. His breath was let out in relief and he flopped down on his back as he gently drifted off into sleep. Harry was his best mate, nothing more and certainly nothing less.
