Fic: At Night by faynia
Title: At Night
Author: faynia
Rating: PG
Challenge: Ron slept in Harry's bed sometimes when Harry's nightmares got really bad. He had done since 1st year, thought nothing of it. Until they get caught.
Warnings: None
Summary: It has been years since I’ve slept in my own bed, but no one around here needs to know that, especially not Harry.
Notes: I'd like to thank my beta lesyeuxverts00 for looking this over on very short notice.
Harry will never know that I lay beside him at night. Stare at his trembling body in the darkness, as his nightmares get worse, before they get better. I hold him, murmur soothing things in his ears, like my mum does when I’m sick, but Harry--Harry isn’t sick. He’s tired, god-awful tired all the time, and it doesn’t take much of a genius to see it. His hair is matted as I run my fingers through it, sticky with sweat and probably drool. Disgusting, no?
The sky lightens outside as the sun begins to rise, signifying the change over from weekend to weekday. I hate Mondays, they need to bugger off. The only thing worse than a Monday is having to wake up on a Monday, having to pull away from my best mate and crawl back into my own bed like nothing happened.
It has been years since I’ve slept in my own bed, but no one around here needs to know that, especially not Harry. They’d think I’m a sodding poof, and I’m not. I just don’t like to see Harry hurting, and he is hurting. I can’t be the only one who sees it. Hermione has been mothering him worse than ever, which never worked before. I don’t get why she’s trying now.
“Ron?” Harry’s voice is groggy and sounds far away, but I still. One hand is brushing Harry’s hair from his forehead, and my other one is secure around his waist. I’m holding him, and he’s staring at me with myopic green eyes and I’m doomed. I can’t move and I don’t want to either.
Seven years is clearly too long to be doing this without getting caught. Had to happen sometime, right? Harry is smiling. Why is he smiling?
“Don’t leave.”
“What?”
Harry’s smile is brilliant and not strained like it is during the day, and I am willing to do almost anything to keep it there.
“Stay,” Harry says, covering my hand, which is currently gripping Harry’s shirt. How am I supposed to ignore that demand? I snuggle down beside him, leaving my hand where it is. He pushes back against me and my arms tighten. “He’s angry again, Voldemort.”
“Is he ever not?” I ask. It earns me a small smile, but a louder sigh. No triumph there, then. “What about?”
“He knows that I’ve been looking for the Horcruxes. It’s pissing him off. I hoped he wouldn’t have found out. S’gonna make things difficult,” Harry mumbled, sleep already claiming him. I wonder if he’ll remember asking me to stay in the morning.
I bring Harry just a bit closer as I relax beside him. His bed is warm and mine is far away, and that’s what I’m going to keep telling myself is my excuse. I’m staying, whether he remembers or not.
Does he know his hair smells like honey?
“Harry, time to wake u-Ron?”
My eyes feel dead. They feel worse than dead. They feel like they’ve died, been resurrected, and then had two saltshakers dumped in them. Who the ruddy hell was making so much noise early in the morning? My arm’s asleep. Why do Mondays have to be so bad?
“Go ‘way,” a voice rumbles from somewhere near my chest.
Now I’m awake. My eyes flicker open and meet only black and it takes me a second to realize why. Harry’s snuggled up tight against me and my arm is trapped beneath his body.
“Do ya see tha’ Dean?” Seamus asked, nudging Dean. I can’t move, but for a completely different reason from the night before.
“Leave them alone,” Neville said, from somewhere else. Maybe I should take my face away from the back of Harry’s hair, or maybe I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. Neville is defending us too. I don’t think we need defending.
Harry’s moving now, turning over in my arms and I freeze again. Does he remember? Apparently not, if the way he shoots away from me like he’s been stung. Fuck. I sit up and fall off the bed on my arse. The other boys are laughing, but Harry just stares at me. His face is blanked from any emotion, and I’ve never felt more dread in my entire life. Not even during our fight in fourth year when I thought I was going to lose him for good. No, this was worse because the feelings were different. I don’t understand myself. I don’t know why Harry’s abrupt dismissal feels like he tore out my stomach, twisted it and shoved it back in.
I might be sick. I bet that would make the guys laugh.
“You okay down there, Ron?”
I look up to see Dean hovering over me, concern written all over his face. He offers a hand that I take without prompting. I want to run out of the room. I want Harry to stop staring at me with dulled eyes. And I sure as hell want Seamus to stop cackling like a little old hag, a swift uppercut to his jaw would do it. He’d be sporting a bruise and I would feel so much better.
“I’m gonna shower,” I mumble, leaving the room as fast as my feet can move, which seems to be not fast enough. A hand reaches out, snagging my arm mid flight. I have to stop because it’s Harry. Despite the doom and gloom feeling, I can’t say no to him.
Our eyes lock for what feels like the longest time, and he mumbles something so soft I can’t even make out the words, but it’s his eyes that have me captivated. They’re sparkling in an odd way that puts a lump in my throat and makes my mouth dry. His mouth is repeating the words and all I can see are his lips moving over shapeless sounds and his eyes softening.
I’m shaking, I don’t notice it until Harry grips my hand and the vibrations are noticeable, but that can’t just be me, I think. He’s shaking too, worse than he did the night Dumbledore died, worse than the night he hexed Malfoy, worse than the night Sirius fell through the Veil. I don’t know why he would be. He has nothing to be scared of; nothing should be making him feel ashamed.
He releases me, and I stumble backwards in shock. His lips curve into a small smile, the one that had been missing from his face for months now, and it takes me a second. I put it there.
Someone claps my shoulder, and I stagger despite being taller than all the guys in the dorm. It’s Seamus, of course it’s Seamus, and he’s rolling his eyes and grinning. “We’re goin’ downstairs.”
“Which means if you’re not down in five minutes we’re going to breakfast without you,” Dean adds, grabbing Seamus’ collar and pulling him off me.
Neville just stands off to the side with a confused expression. I know exactly what that’s like. Seamus grabs Neville by the sleeve and pushes him out of the room, Dean following with an exasperated expression, leaving me and Harry…alone.
I can’t look at him.
Apparently that doesn’t put him off. He tugs on my arm, and I glance at him over my shoulder. He’s blushing and, oh hell, I think it’s adorable. With trembling fingers, I reach out and touch his cheek. It’s hot, not surprising since his face is redder than I’ve ever seen it before.
“Ron, I-"
I’m caressing his cheek. I feel him stiffen when I stop and I start again without thought. He leans into the touch, his eyes drooping just a bit.
“Yeah, Harry?” He’s grinning again, that soft, stupid, heart-melting grin. I am a girl. May Hermione slap me later for thinking it, but I am.
“Thank you.”
I crawl into his bed that night, the moment I hear him cry out in pain. It’s a familiar noise, one I’ve woken up to most nights for the past seven years. One night free of You-Know-Who would be a blessing, but both of us know it won’t happen. Harry curls his arms around my neck, and I scoot further onto his bed, cradling him between my legs like a child. I feel wetness soak my shoulder as his body trembles and heaves through another nightmare like so many nights before.
Author: faynia
Rating: PG
Challenge: Ron slept in Harry's bed sometimes when Harry's nightmares got really bad. He had done since 1st year, thought nothing of it. Until they get caught.
Warnings: None
Summary: It has been years since I’ve slept in my own bed, but no one around here needs to know that, especially not Harry.
Notes: I'd like to thank my beta lesyeuxverts00 for looking this over on very short notice.
Harry will never know that I lay beside him at night. Stare at his trembling body in the darkness, as his nightmares get worse, before they get better. I hold him, murmur soothing things in his ears, like my mum does when I’m sick, but Harry--Harry isn’t sick. He’s tired, god-awful tired all the time, and it doesn’t take much of a genius to see it. His hair is matted as I run my fingers through it, sticky with sweat and probably drool. Disgusting, no?
The sky lightens outside as the sun begins to rise, signifying the change over from weekend to weekday. I hate Mondays, they need to bugger off. The only thing worse than a Monday is having to wake up on a Monday, having to pull away from my best mate and crawl back into my own bed like nothing happened.
It has been years since I’ve slept in my own bed, but no one around here needs to know that, especially not Harry. They’d think I’m a sodding poof, and I’m not. I just don’t like to see Harry hurting, and he is hurting. I can’t be the only one who sees it. Hermione has been mothering him worse than ever, which never worked before. I don’t get why she’s trying now.
“Ron?” Harry’s voice is groggy and sounds far away, but I still. One hand is brushing Harry’s hair from his forehead, and my other one is secure around his waist. I’m holding him, and he’s staring at me with myopic green eyes and I’m doomed. I can’t move and I don’t want to either.
Seven years is clearly too long to be doing this without getting caught. Had to happen sometime, right? Harry is smiling. Why is he smiling?
“Don’t leave.”
“What?”
Harry’s smile is brilliant and not strained like it is during the day, and I am willing to do almost anything to keep it there.
“Stay,” Harry says, covering my hand, which is currently gripping Harry’s shirt. How am I supposed to ignore that demand? I snuggle down beside him, leaving my hand where it is. He pushes back against me and my arms tighten. “He’s angry again, Voldemort.”
“Is he ever not?” I ask. It earns me a small smile, but a louder sigh. No triumph there, then. “What about?”
“He knows that I’ve been looking for the Horcruxes. It’s pissing him off. I hoped he wouldn’t have found out. S’gonna make things difficult,” Harry mumbled, sleep already claiming him. I wonder if he’ll remember asking me to stay in the morning.
I bring Harry just a bit closer as I relax beside him. His bed is warm and mine is far away, and that’s what I’m going to keep telling myself is my excuse. I’m staying, whether he remembers or not.
Does he know his hair smells like honey?
“Harry, time to wake u-Ron?”
My eyes feel dead. They feel worse than dead. They feel like they’ve died, been resurrected, and then had two saltshakers dumped in them. Who the ruddy hell was making so much noise early in the morning? My arm’s asleep. Why do Mondays have to be so bad?
“Go ‘way,” a voice rumbles from somewhere near my chest.
Now I’m awake. My eyes flicker open and meet only black and it takes me a second to realize why. Harry’s snuggled up tight against me and my arm is trapped beneath his body.
“Do ya see tha’ Dean?” Seamus asked, nudging Dean. I can’t move, but for a completely different reason from the night before.
“Leave them alone,” Neville said, from somewhere else. Maybe I should take my face away from the back of Harry’s hair, or maybe I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. Neville is defending us too. I don’t think we need defending.
Harry’s moving now, turning over in my arms and I freeze again. Does he remember? Apparently not, if the way he shoots away from me like he’s been stung. Fuck. I sit up and fall off the bed on my arse. The other boys are laughing, but Harry just stares at me. His face is blanked from any emotion, and I’ve never felt more dread in my entire life. Not even during our fight in fourth year when I thought I was going to lose him for good. No, this was worse because the feelings were different. I don’t understand myself. I don’t know why Harry’s abrupt dismissal feels like he tore out my stomach, twisted it and shoved it back in.
I might be sick. I bet that would make the guys laugh.
“You okay down there, Ron?”
I look up to see Dean hovering over me, concern written all over his face. He offers a hand that I take without prompting. I want to run out of the room. I want Harry to stop staring at me with dulled eyes. And I sure as hell want Seamus to stop cackling like a little old hag, a swift uppercut to his jaw would do it. He’d be sporting a bruise and I would feel so much better.
“I’m gonna shower,” I mumble, leaving the room as fast as my feet can move, which seems to be not fast enough. A hand reaches out, snagging my arm mid flight. I have to stop because it’s Harry. Despite the doom and gloom feeling, I can’t say no to him.
Our eyes lock for what feels like the longest time, and he mumbles something so soft I can’t even make out the words, but it’s his eyes that have me captivated. They’re sparkling in an odd way that puts a lump in my throat and makes my mouth dry. His mouth is repeating the words and all I can see are his lips moving over shapeless sounds and his eyes softening.
I’m shaking, I don’t notice it until Harry grips my hand and the vibrations are noticeable, but that can’t just be me, I think. He’s shaking too, worse than he did the night Dumbledore died, worse than the night he hexed Malfoy, worse than the night Sirius fell through the Veil. I don’t know why he would be. He has nothing to be scared of; nothing should be making him feel ashamed.
He releases me, and I stumble backwards in shock. His lips curve into a small smile, the one that had been missing from his face for months now, and it takes me a second. I put it there.
Someone claps my shoulder, and I stagger despite being taller than all the guys in the dorm. It’s Seamus, of course it’s Seamus, and he’s rolling his eyes and grinning. “We’re goin’ downstairs.”
“Which means if you’re not down in five minutes we’re going to breakfast without you,” Dean adds, grabbing Seamus’ collar and pulling him off me.
Neville just stands off to the side with a confused expression. I know exactly what that’s like. Seamus grabs Neville by the sleeve and pushes him out of the room, Dean following with an exasperated expression, leaving me and Harry…alone.
I can’t look at him.
Apparently that doesn’t put him off. He tugs on my arm, and I glance at him over my shoulder. He’s blushing and, oh hell, I think it’s adorable. With trembling fingers, I reach out and touch his cheek. It’s hot, not surprising since his face is redder than I’ve ever seen it before.
“Ron, I-"
I’m caressing his cheek. I feel him stiffen when I stop and I start again without thought. He leans into the touch, his eyes drooping just a bit.
“Yeah, Harry?” He’s grinning again, that soft, stupid, heart-melting grin. I am a girl. May Hermione slap me later for thinking it, but I am.
“Thank you.”
I crawl into his bed that night, the moment I hear him cry out in pain. It’s a familiar noise, one I’ve woken up to most nights for the past seven years. One night free of You-Know-Who would be a blessing, but both of us know it won’t happen. Harry curls his arms around my neck, and I scoot further onto his bed, cradling him between my legs like a child. I feel wetness soak my shoulder as his body trembles and heaves through another nightmare like so many nights before.