Drive
Harry smiled at Ron. They were free, they were twelve years old, and they were doing something illegal; how much better could their lives get?
Harry felt completely reassured by Ron's presence in the flying car. How could he not, when his best friend was at the wheel? Even though he was sure that Ron had never driven before, it didn't matter. Harry had complete faith in him; he wouldn't let anything hurt his mate.
They were close enough to see Hogwarts glowing in the setting sun, making jokes about how they would waltz into the Great Hall in the middle of the Sorting and everyone would be impressed (except the Slytherins), when the car started to whine.
Ron looked at him nervously, and patted the car's dashboard. "This old gel will get us there in one piece," he said quickly. "I'm sure of it."
Harry leaned back and relaxed. Because if Ron said he was safe, then it must be true.
As they flew over the castle walls, the noise grew steadily louder and louder, and the car began lurching strangely. And still Harry knew he would get in the castle without a scratch. Because Ron said so.
The car swerved suddenly, and both Harry and Ron were jolted into the air. They landed back on their seat with a bump; Harry's glasses had been knocked askew. He fixed them, and peered out into the dusk. Something was waving angrily in front of them, and he looked more closely.
"Ron!" he gasped. "We're going to fly into the Whomping Willow!"
Harry looked frantically at Ron, who grinned back at him. And then suddenly morphed into an older version of himself. In a deep voice, he replied, "Sorry, mate. But I don't need to save you if you're not going to kill You-Know-Who. Have a nice life, what's left of it!"
Ron jumped out of the car, and disappeared into the inky blackness. Harry cried out Ron's name, and cowered in terror into his seat. The car flew straight towards the Whomping Willow, and one furiously flailing branch cracked the car's windshield and-
oOo
Harry woke up in a panic, still shouting Ron's name. He looked around wildly before noticing he was safe in his bed. Slumping back into his pillows, he thanked Merlin for Silencing Charms. Otherwise Ron would've yelled at him for interrupting his precious beauty sleep.
Harry sighed. When had their friendship become this strained… obligation? When had Ron only started caring about Harry killing Voldemort? It probably happened in Fourth Year, after Ron had apologized for not believing he didn't put his name in the Cup. Harry had, of course, forgiven him, but how could he forget how easily his best friend of four years had betrayed him?
Mind broiling, Harry turned over and shut his eyes, trying to squeeze out the memories.
But not succeeding.