(no subject)
Title: Comfort
Author: corvidae9
Rating: R to be on the safe side, but probably could squeak a PG13
Challenge: Ron sneaks in to Privet Drive summer after fifth year to visit Harry
Summary: Worried after no contact whatsoever with Harry in the three weeks since the end of term, Ron takes matters into his own hands.
Warnings (if applicable): fluffy, yet amusing fluffily amusing?
Notes: beta'd by thaliachaunacy
The rather conspicuous absence of the hungriest of Weasleys at the breakfast table led Molly Weasley to race up the twisty staircase in a sudden panic. Throwing open Ron's door, she saw exactly what she had known she would find. Wringing her apron in near-terror, she approached the note propped on the pillow of the neatly made bed. Her panic subsided for the most part as she read Ron's quick note:
Mum,
Am taking the Knight Bus to check on Harry. Will be home shortly. Love,
Ron.
Smiling briefly before summoning her quite-put-out face, she pocketed the note and returned to the kitchen. Relating the contents of the message in a half-hearted fury to Arthur and Ginny, she finally sat and served herself some breakfast. She even remembered to mutter about disobedience and danger through her entire meal. Ginny ate quietly and excused herself as quickly as possible; Arthur promised to floo Remus to check with the guard on Potterwatch. In reality, there were a multitude of worse places he could be than Number 4 Privet Drive, with its 24-hour guard, inherent safety from You Know Who, and of course, Harry, whom she had known from the get-go was destined to be part of the Weasley family, even if it had taken her several years to get used to the idea of how.
###
Ron and Ginny were really the only Weasley siblings left at the Burrow on a regular basis, and the resultant quiet was especially unnerving in the wake of a school year more harrowing than even they were used to. In the three weeks since the end of term, Ron had sent Pig on the trip to Privet Drive a grand total of ten times, but had to date not received any response. His mother and father had assured him that Harry was doing as well as could be expected, but he was not satisfied with that answer. Days were spent pacing his room, the yard, the sitting room… anywhere and everywhere… or lying on his bed staring at the ceiling wishing desperately for the comfort of the Gryffindor dorm, and the knowledge that his best friend was little more than an arm's length away.
The previous night, Ron had packed his knapsack with some necessities, the last handful of chocolate frogs stashed in his trunk, a change of clothes and all the money he had in the world, which amounted to just about the cost of the round trip on the Knight Bus. A little past one o'clock in the morning, he stole quietly out of the back door and ran down the road a good way before concentrating on his desperate need for transportation.
###
Harry should have heard the crack of the Knight Bus arriving on Privet Drive, but it was muffled by the pillow that was shoved down over his head, ostensibly drowning out Dudley and Vernon's chorus of snores. Usually thunderous, the cacaphony had risen to such epic proportions; Harry began to truly fear for his hearing. He wondered briefly how Petunia managed to sleep in the same room, much less the same bed as Vernon, but shoved that thought away as quickly as it had come.
How he managed not to smother himself buried as he was under his bedding was anyone's guess. Hedwig tucked her head under her wing, and not for the first time in her life at Privet Drive, cursed her sensitive hearing.
###
Ron had asked the Knight Bus driver to drop him off down the street a bit from the Dursley's. He emerged rather unsteadily from the violently purple vehicle, one hand pressed to his abdomen, as if trying to convince the contents to stay where they were. Mumbling an insincere good night back over his shoulder to anyone within hearing, he lurched towards Number Four… and stopped dead in his tracks.
Exactly how did he plan on getting into the house undetected without magic?
Free hand slapping his forehead, he groaned inwardly. Brilliant planning there, you brilliant tactician, you. Looking down as he was, he caught sight of the gravel-lined flowerbeds along the sidewalk and grinned widely. Problem solved. He grabbed a handful of gravel and shoved it in his pocket, and proceeded briskly to his destination.
Upon arriving in front of Number Four, he was able to identify Harry's window immediately, having pulled him bodily from it at some point in time almost four years ago. Smiling at the memory, he chucked a small bit of gravel at the window.
Ron pulled his arm back to throw another bit of gravel and found it suddenly restrained and wrenched behind his back what felt like by a relatively small hand. Fear washed over him as he felt the point of a wand pressed to his back.
A familiar voice hissed, "Don't even think about it, mate."
###
Inside Harry's room, the figure under the bedding continued his fitful sleep. Hedwig looked up from her wing, but seeing nothing of interest, also went back to her sleep. The Dursley Nasal Passage Chorale continued their enthusiastic rendition of Ride of the Valkyries.
###
"Turn around very slowly. Any sudden moves and you will find yourself stunned within an inch of your life," the voice said to Ron. That voice…
He did as he was told and was met with a shock of shaggy, electric blue hair. "Tonks!"
Tonks' eyes widened in surprise and she released hold of his arm, but didn't quite lower her wand, "Ron Weasley?"
Clutching his chest and heaving a sigh of relief, Ron sputterered, "Bloody hell, Tonks, you scared the spit out of me! I--"
She jabbed him hard in the ribs with her wand and tightened her grip on his wrist. "Stay where you are! I said no sudden moves, and I meant it. How am I supposed to believe that you're really Ron Weasley? What exactly are you doing here?"
"Ow! Watch it! I know that you hate the name 'Nymphadora' and all possible permutations of it; I know that you're not allowed to help my mum in the kitchen," a slight smile started to creep onto his face, "and I happen to know that you own at least one pair of knickers with little hearts and stars all over them, having seen them once back at headquarters when you stumbled over a pile of rubbish and a doxie somehow got into your trousers and you screamed and ripped them off AND…"
Snorting in amusement, Tonks brandished her wand again and said in a little more relaxed voice, "Alright kid, just because you are who you say you are doesn't mean I won't hex you into next week if you don't shut up with that already. How the devil did you get here?"
"Knight Bus. I needed to check on Harry." His self-satisfied smile faded, eyebrows shooting up, "Tonks! I snuck out of the Burrow ? you won't owl my mother, will you?"
Tonks lowered her wand and smiled. "Calm down. I won't tell anyone yet. Once I'm relieved tomorrow morning, I'll have to put it in my report, you understand?"
Ron forced his voice to creep back down an octave and whispered, "Understood? I left her a note hoping she wouldn't see it until morning; I just didn't want anyone to try and stop me. I'm not planning to stay long anyway."
"Umm… and your plan for getting in the house?"
"Throw gravel at the window until Harry wakes up?"
"Hmm. Leaves a bit to be desired style-wise, but I suppose it could work. How about I walk you to the door, we realize that it's conveniently unlocked and then you walk in quietly, remembering to lock the door behind you?"
"Is it conveniently unlocked?"
"It can be."
###
Upon entering the Dursley house, Ron realized that he had never been inside before, and for a moment, was unsure of how to find the right room. That is, until it occurred to him that the violent snores coming from upstairs were coming from two different sleepers, so unless Harry's aunt Petunia sounded like a freight train in heat, he just had to find the quiet door. Hermione would be proud.
He began climbing the stairs as stealthily as possible, staying close to the wall.
###
Tonks smiled at the door as it shut behind the Weasley boy. She wondered if either he or Harry had figured it out yet, but decided that it just wasn't her business. Her job was to guard the house, protect Harry, and report strange occurrences immediately.
This, though, wasn't strange in the least. Teenagers had been doing this sort of thing since the dawn of time. She cast a Disillusionment charm on herself again and went back to patrolling the perimeter of the Dursley property.
###
The only quiet door Ron could find also had the advantage of having a little trap cut out of the bottom of it, which he supposed was for passing in trays of food. Sickening as the thought was, at least he was certain he had the right room. Turning the doorknob, he let himself into the room, shutting the door behind him.
He walked over to the sleeping form and lowered himself onto his knees near the head of the bed, intending to wake him as gently as possible. Placing one hand on what he hoped was Harry's shoulder, he whispered, "Hey… Harry… wake up Harry… special delivery from The Burrow…"
###
Harry felt a familiar hand on his shoulder and mumbled the requisite answer to make it stop. "I'm fine Ron my scar is fine I'm not going to Dumbledore so just go back to…" As realization dawned, he sat bolt upright… or would have if he had not been hopelessly tangled in his blanket.
"Wh-Ron?" he sputtered, as he managed to fight free of his bedding and finally sit up.
Cracking his signature lop-sided grin, Ron whispered "Hullo Harry!"
Dumbfounded still, Harry gaped for only a moment before pulling Ron into a giant bear hug. "What are you doing here? How did you get here? Why…? How did you get in?"
Smiling as he pulled away from Harry, he gave the condensed version of the night's events. "It's alright. I was worried, and they wouldn't let me do anything, and all they kept saying was, 'He's fine as can be expected,' so I snuck out, took the Knight Bus, Tonks let me in, I followed the path of least snoring, and here I am!" He squashed with practiced skill a sudden urge to brush stray strands of Harry's dark hair away from his face as quickly as it came.
Obviously impressed, Harry said, "Wow. Your mum is going to kill you."
Wrinkling his nose, Ron grimaced. "I reckon. I left her a note this time, at least."
"Wait-Tonks let you in?"
"Yeah. She's your guard tonight."
"Ugh. I almost forgot I was being watched." Harry's face darkened as he continued, "Ugh. I almost forgot where I was." Eyes shiny, he finished lamely, "Ugh. I… erm… how's The Burrow?"
Ron's chest tightened, and he did the only thing he could do… he kept talking. "The usual, except a lot quieter… so you know, bloody maddening. I actually am most of the way through our summer reading. Don't tell Hermione, though-it's so fun to watch her face turn all red when she starts in on us about being behind in our schoolwork, while we stand 'round looking stupid. Ginny's been completely neurotic. One minute, she's the same old barking mad little sister she's always been, and the next, she's channeling Lavender Brown, nicking mum's Witch Weekly for the beauty charms and sticking her head in the fireplace at all times of the night and day to squeal at Lovegood or someone. Completely off her nut, if you ask me."
Almost before he realized what he was saying, Ron added, "And you? How are the Dursleys treating you?"
Intending to pass off the same old I'm fine, really routine, Harry whispered weakly, "I'm fine. You know, they feed me, they ignore me-things are better than ever. Better even than before…"
His voice trailed off and he raised his gaze to meet Ron's. Even in the half-light, he could see the warmth and concern radiating off of his dear friend, and it made his stomach lurch and mutiny in a not-entirely unexpected way. He bit his lip again and gripped the edge of mattress, as Ron blurred in the darkness in front of him. Usually, he would never have admitted to feeling anything but anger, even to Ron, but here in his bed in the dark of night it was different somehow; here where he was used to expressing a full range of emotions in secret, it seemed far too difficult to hold it in. "I… I'm not fine… not bloody fine at all… I'm… it's… oh fuck." He drew a quiet breath, tears spilling out, and hung his head again as they continued to stream down his face.
Without a second thought, Ron scrambled onto the bed next to Harry, throwing one arm around his thin shoulders. He'd never been much good at comforting anyone else-his idea of soothing was normally patting people on the head when they looked needy-but Harry was a different matter. He always seemed to know how to calm Harry after quiet nightmares no one else would notice; Ron was always the first to his side. Ready with a glass of water or a hidden chocolate frog or a late night game of chess or anything Harry needed, always able to elicit a laugh when nothing else would help.
He didn't know what he felt anymore, or why, but he knew he felt it for Harry.
"Hey, mate... 'sgonna be alright," he whispered to the mass of dark, tumbled hair inches away.
A broken voice Ron did not recognize sobbed quietly, "He's dead. He's dead and I killed him. I might as well have been holding the wand. He's dead like everyone else that ever really cared about me and I did it and now I have to go on and kill the bastard responsible for turning me into who I am and Dumbledore couldn't do it which is not surprising since he's a barmy old fool who won't even tell me what time of the day it is and now it's my turn to give it a go. Fucking bloody brilliant, that."
There was no point in contradicting his tirade with facts about Sirius or Dumbledore or Voldemort or anything else. Ron sighed and gave Harry's shoulders a gentle squeeze. As a wise man once said, better out than in.
When the shaking subsided a bit, Ron reached for his knapsack and rummaged, one-handed, keeping the other arm tight around Harry.
"Chocolate Frog?"
###
This couldn't be happening. Harry was there at Privet Drive. Ron was there at Privet Drive. (With chocolate.) Harry was bawling his eyes out in sorrow and self-pity in front of his best friend, confidant and… what? What did it mean to miss someone more than anything?
Why, if he was carrrying on ridiculously and reeling in pain from the loss of his godfather, was the blood rushing so loud in his ears that he could barely hear the quiet, meaningless words of comfort? Why could he feel every ounce of the warm, soft, spicy breath ruffle his hair and brush his cheek?
It had become a surreal culmination of Harry's bad, good, and confusing dreams. All that was lacking was the kneazle in miniature Hufflepuff Quidditch robes (complete with Beater club).
He didn't know what he felt anymore, or why, but he knew he felt it for Ron.
Harry took a breath and wiped his eyes and nose with the corner of his overflowing pajama sleeve. Taking the proffered sweet, he smiled half-heartedly and mumbled his thanks. He wrestled with the wrapper, then with the frog, and finally took a bite, looking up sheepishly to sneak a look at Ron, who was watching him intently. Swallowing the mouthful of chocolate rather prematurely, Harry whispered, "Right, bloody mess this is, hm?"
Ron caught the sudden, glittering intensity in Harry's eyes, and realized with a start that he was not talking about anything but the fact that both boys were hopelessly lost without the other.
Before he knew what possessed him, he-
Dudley's thick voice came from beyond the door, "Aw, ickle Harry Girlypants crying himself to sleep again? Let me in there and I'll give you something to cry about."
Without thinking or even taking his eyes from Harry's, Ron bellowed menacingly, "Fuck off or you'll be the one crying. Duddy."
Quick, thudding footsteps and the bathroom door clacking roughly shut proved that Dudley was still more than a little afraid of the pale, skinny freak in the smallest bedroom. It would never have occured to him that the voice he'd heard was deeper, smoother than any he'd heard in his home before, thick with emotion and chocolate residue.
Harry grinned, then leaned in and closed the slight gap between them to touch his slightly-parted lips briefly to Ron's.
Blue eyes wide, Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He floundered for a word that seemed just out of reach, but nothing came.
Struck with the enormity of what he'd done, Harry's stomach clenched in fear. His face fell, and he began to pull away from his friend, sputtering, "Oh. OH, oh god--I'm sorry… I don't know what I…"
Ron used the arm already around Harry to pull him in close again and kissed him, this time with intense passion, born of years of want and need, coalescing into this moment here in the most unexpected of places. It should have been awkward and guilt-inducing, and it might have been, but neither noticed. There were just Harry's hands sliding under a warm Weasley jumper, Ron's hands tangling through wild, jet-black hair, a blanket somehow wrapped intractably around four gangly teenage legs, a ratty old shoe discarded and sent flying to the floor, a fair amount of air and spit and clacking teeth and oddly bumping body parts.
The bed creaked dangerously as Ron shoved Harry back and pinned him, trailing kisses down his neck, hands straying downwards, pausing only to cooperate with Harry's efforts to remove his jumper and shirt. Ron recognized a stray thought, Air air air, got to breathe, no to hell with breathing, got to kiss him, bloody hell, why didn't we think of this before? And what do you suppose will happen if I…
###
Harry gasped as the cool air brushed softly against his skin damp in the wake of desperate kisses. He tangled his fingers through Ron's hair and pulled him up to kiss him deeply. Air air air, got to breathe, no to hell with breathing, got to kiss him, bloody hell, why didn't we think of this before?
Kissing his best friend was ten million times better than kissing Cho had ever been. It was like the difference between riding his FireBolt and one of the school's old Cleansweeps. Riding? Merlin, where did that image come from? Maybe from the fact that he was pinned to his old lop-sided second-hand bed by every inch of Ron's lean body? Fueled by the strange heat welling up in the pit of his stomach, he desperately wanted to… to… to what?
He tried to reason it out only for a moment before sheer physical instinct took over. Ron slid one hand down the front of Harry's pajama bottoms, sliding slowly, deliberately down his length, kissing and gnawing on his neck all the while. Harry, who was now nearly biting his lip through trying not to scream, and found himself arching into an orgasm almost immediately, hands clenched in a deathgrip on Ron's shoulder and in his hair, feeling him stiffen and bite down on the soft flesh above his collarbone. He felt as near to sheer bliss as he ever thought he could be, as Ron claimed his mouth again with now less desparate kisses.
Gasping for air, Ron managed to roll slightly off of Harry without breaking the connection between them for more than a fraction of a second at a time. Harry's hands pulled at Ron, caressed his skin, begged mutely to pull him closer though there was not even air between them now. At some point in time even this relatively quiet exchange gave way to contented silence as each boy considered the other's exhausted breathing patterns. Eventually as the night crept inexorably toward dawn, both fell asleep without another word.
###
Sometime in the early morning gloaming, Harry half woke from a dream of warmth and comfort to find himself still warm and comfortable in a circle of relentlessly freckled arms. Smiling, he ran his hand lightly over Ron's forearm… smiling, that is, until he reached faint brain-sucker-shaped scars. Eyes clouding with another round of unshed tears, Harry whispered, "I did that."
"Shh… that's ridiculous," Ron mumbled sleepily into his hair. "A great dirty brain did that. At the time, I found it rather amusing, too."
"You were addled by a Death Eater spell-your reaction doesn't count."
"Now that was uncalled for," growled Ron as he tightened his grip and pulled Harry closer against him, breathing against his ear, "Prat."
Harry turned to face him and slid his arms around Ron, sliding his hands just slightly inside the waistband of his faded jeans. Grinning hugely at the near-immediate response pressing against his thigh, he answered, "No. This is," and began kissing individual freckles on a well-placed shoulder.
"Mmm… you're still a prat. Ask me again in a few minutes, though."
###
The clacking sound at the window woke Harry only on the second try. Having slept for most of his sixteen years in the rather noisy presence of other boys, Ron blissfully continued sleeping, mouth hanging slightly open. Harry disentangled himself and slipped his glasses on, making his way to the window. He opened the window slightly in time to see Tonks take aim and throw another handful of gravel that flew past his face.
"Sorry!! Alright there, Harry?" said Tonks in a miserably bad stage whisper.
"Erm, yeah. Hullo?"
Trying very hard to be nonchalant about the unmistakable purply spots gathering between his collarbone and neck and bare chest, she called, "Yeah, hullo, right, well, Moody will be here any minute to relieve me; I thought Ron would probably want to know."
"Bloody hell!" muttered Harry loudly as he ducked quickly back in through the window, returning briefly to call out, "Thanks, Tonks!"
"And tell him to move it along!"
###
Harry crossed the room to the small bed and shook Ron more violently than necessary. "Wake up, mate, you've got to get going-"
A smile crossed Ron's face and he reached out to grab hold of Harry's arm. "Five more minutes, come on…"
"Moody is on his way to relieve Tonks."
Ron popped out of the bed mumbling, "Shite, shite, shite, got to go," grabbing the nearest shirt his jumper and shoes in ten seconds flat. He pulled Harry in for a quick kiss, grabbed his knapsack, and then stopped at the door for a rougher, lingering kiss that threatened to turn into another half-hour or so of something else entirely.
Wrenching himself away, Harry peered into the hallway to check for random Dursleys and then ushered Ron down the stairs and out the door, but not before one last kiss as he opened the door… well, maybe one more…
Eyebrow cocked, Tonks stood at the door, unsettlingly semi-transparent. "If you're quite through with him," she asked with a smirk, "we had better be going." She reached through the doorway, grabbing Ron by the arm and physically yanking him out of the house. "Ready? One, two, three--bye, Harry!"
Ron opened his mouth to reply, but a cracking sound drowned him out, and then he found himself thrown to the ground down the lane a bit from the Burrow.
"Got to go!" Tonks said smilingly to Ron, as he shook his head to clear the odd sensation of the contents resettling into place. "This was fun-let's do this again soon!" and with another crack, she was gone.
Ron stood a bit unsteadily, brushing leaves and other bits of dirt from his clothes, only to find that the worn shirttail of a pinstriped pajama top was trailing out from beneath his jumper. He grinned and began to hum a merry tune, strolling down the lane completely oblivious to the prospect of a trademark Mother Weasley tongue-lashing.
###
Harry managed to join the Dursleys for lunch around noon. Having missed breakfast, he was understandably famished, and took second helpings of everything. He even managed to compliment Aunt Petunia on the meal. While this stranger-than-usual behavior was noted by all present, only Petunia noticed that the shirt he was wearing actually fit him perfectly, and had obviously never been owned by her precious popkins--Duddy was far too muscular to fit into the scrawny shirt. Not that her angel would ever have worn some faded orange t-shirt advertising some rugby team, or beer, or God knows what.
Well almost perfectly. It was a tad too long, but it fit him in all of the ways that mattered most.
Author: corvidae9
Rating: R to be on the safe side, but probably could squeak a PG13
Challenge: Ron sneaks in to Privet Drive summer after fifth year to visit Harry
Summary: Worried after no contact whatsoever with Harry in the three weeks since the end of term, Ron takes matters into his own hands.
Warnings (if applicable): fluffy, yet amusing fluffily amusing?
Notes: beta'd by thaliachaunacy
The rather conspicuous absence of the hungriest of Weasleys at the breakfast table led Molly Weasley to race up the twisty staircase in a sudden panic. Throwing open Ron's door, she saw exactly what she had known she would find. Wringing her apron in near-terror, she approached the note propped on the pillow of the neatly made bed. Her panic subsided for the most part as she read Ron's quick note:
Mum,
Am taking the Knight Bus to check on Harry. Will be home shortly. Love,
Ron.
Smiling briefly before summoning her quite-put-out face, she pocketed the note and returned to the kitchen. Relating the contents of the message in a half-hearted fury to Arthur and Ginny, she finally sat and served herself some breakfast. She even remembered to mutter about disobedience and danger through her entire meal. Ginny ate quietly and excused herself as quickly as possible; Arthur promised to floo Remus to check with the guard on Potterwatch. In reality, there were a multitude of worse places he could be than Number 4 Privet Drive, with its 24-hour guard, inherent safety from You Know Who, and of course, Harry, whom she had known from the get-go was destined to be part of the Weasley family, even if it had taken her several years to get used to the idea of how.
###
Ron and Ginny were really the only Weasley siblings left at the Burrow on a regular basis, and the resultant quiet was especially unnerving in the wake of a school year more harrowing than even they were used to. In the three weeks since the end of term, Ron had sent Pig on the trip to Privet Drive a grand total of ten times, but had to date not received any response. His mother and father had assured him that Harry was doing as well as could be expected, but he was not satisfied with that answer. Days were spent pacing his room, the yard, the sitting room… anywhere and everywhere… or lying on his bed staring at the ceiling wishing desperately for the comfort of the Gryffindor dorm, and the knowledge that his best friend was little more than an arm's length away.
The previous night, Ron had packed his knapsack with some necessities, the last handful of chocolate frogs stashed in his trunk, a change of clothes and all the money he had in the world, which amounted to just about the cost of the round trip on the Knight Bus. A little past one o'clock in the morning, he stole quietly out of the back door and ran down the road a good way before concentrating on his desperate need for transportation.
###
Harry should have heard the crack of the Knight Bus arriving on Privet Drive, but it was muffled by the pillow that was shoved down over his head, ostensibly drowning out Dudley and Vernon's chorus of snores. Usually thunderous, the cacaphony had risen to such epic proportions; Harry began to truly fear for his hearing. He wondered briefly how Petunia managed to sleep in the same room, much less the same bed as Vernon, but shoved that thought away as quickly as it had come.
How he managed not to smother himself buried as he was under his bedding was anyone's guess. Hedwig tucked her head under her wing, and not for the first time in her life at Privet Drive, cursed her sensitive hearing.
###
Ron had asked the Knight Bus driver to drop him off down the street a bit from the Dursley's. He emerged rather unsteadily from the violently purple vehicle, one hand pressed to his abdomen, as if trying to convince the contents to stay where they were. Mumbling an insincere good night back over his shoulder to anyone within hearing, he lurched towards Number Four… and stopped dead in his tracks.
Exactly how did he plan on getting into the house undetected without magic?
Free hand slapping his forehead, he groaned inwardly. Brilliant planning there, you brilliant tactician, you. Looking down as he was, he caught sight of the gravel-lined flowerbeds along the sidewalk and grinned widely. Problem solved. He grabbed a handful of gravel and shoved it in his pocket, and proceeded briskly to his destination.
Upon arriving in front of Number Four, he was able to identify Harry's window immediately, having pulled him bodily from it at some point in time almost four years ago. Smiling at the memory, he chucked a small bit of gravel at the window.
Ron pulled his arm back to throw another bit of gravel and found it suddenly restrained and wrenched behind his back what felt like by a relatively small hand. Fear washed over him as he felt the point of a wand pressed to his back.
A familiar voice hissed, "Don't even think about it, mate."
###
Inside Harry's room, the figure under the bedding continued his fitful sleep. Hedwig looked up from her wing, but seeing nothing of interest, also went back to her sleep. The Dursley Nasal Passage Chorale continued their enthusiastic rendition of Ride of the Valkyries.
###
"Turn around very slowly. Any sudden moves and you will find yourself stunned within an inch of your life," the voice said to Ron. That voice…
He did as he was told and was met with a shock of shaggy, electric blue hair. "Tonks!"
Tonks' eyes widened in surprise and she released hold of his arm, but didn't quite lower her wand, "Ron Weasley?"
Clutching his chest and heaving a sigh of relief, Ron sputterered, "Bloody hell, Tonks, you scared the spit out of me! I--"
She jabbed him hard in the ribs with her wand and tightened her grip on his wrist. "Stay where you are! I said no sudden moves, and I meant it. How am I supposed to believe that you're really Ron Weasley? What exactly are you doing here?"
"Ow! Watch it! I know that you hate the name 'Nymphadora' and all possible permutations of it; I know that you're not allowed to help my mum in the kitchen," a slight smile started to creep onto his face, "and I happen to know that you own at least one pair of knickers with little hearts and stars all over them, having seen them once back at headquarters when you stumbled over a pile of rubbish and a doxie somehow got into your trousers and you screamed and ripped them off AND…"
Snorting in amusement, Tonks brandished her wand again and said in a little more relaxed voice, "Alright kid, just because you are who you say you are doesn't mean I won't hex you into next week if you don't shut up with that already. How the devil did you get here?"
"Knight Bus. I needed to check on Harry." His self-satisfied smile faded, eyebrows shooting up, "Tonks! I snuck out of the Burrow ? you won't owl my mother, will you?"
Tonks lowered her wand and smiled. "Calm down. I won't tell anyone yet. Once I'm relieved tomorrow morning, I'll have to put it in my report, you understand?"
Ron forced his voice to creep back down an octave and whispered, "Understood? I left her a note hoping she wouldn't see it until morning; I just didn't want anyone to try and stop me. I'm not planning to stay long anyway."
"Umm… and your plan for getting in the house?"
"Throw gravel at the window until Harry wakes up?"
"Hmm. Leaves a bit to be desired style-wise, but I suppose it could work. How about I walk you to the door, we realize that it's conveniently unlocked and then you walk in quietly, remembering to lock the door behind you?"
"Is it conveniently unlocked?"
"It can be."
###
Upon entering the Dursley house, Ron realized that he had never been inside before, and for a moment, was unsure of how to find the right room. That is, until it occurred to him that the violent snores coming from upstairs were coming from two different sleepers, so unless Harry's aunt Petunia sounded like a freight train in heat, he just had to find the quiet door. Hermione would be proud.
He began climbing the stairs as stealthily as possible, staying close to the wall.
###
Tonks smiled at the door as it shut behind the Weasley boy. She wondered if either he or Harry had figured it out yet, but decided that it just wasn't her business. Her job was to guard the house, protect Harry, and report strange occurrences immediately.
This, though, wasn't strange in the least. Teenagers had been doing this sort of thing since the dawn of time. She cast a Disillusionment charm on herself again and went back to patrolling the perimeter of the Dursley property.
###
The only quiet door Ron could find also had the advantage of having a little trap cut out of the bottom of it, which he supposed was for passing in trays of food. Sickening as the thought was, at least he was certain he had the right room. Turning the doorknob, he let himself into the room, shutting the door behind him.
He walked over to the sleeping form and lowered himself onto his knees near the head of the bed, intending to wake him as gently as possible. Placing one hand on what he hoped was Harry's shoulder, he whispered, "Hey… Harry… wake up Harry… special delivery from The Burrow…"
###
Harry felt a familiar hand on his shoulder and mumbled the requisite answer to make it stop. "I'm fine Ron my scar is fine I'm not going to Dumbledore so just go back to…" As realization dawned, he sat bolt upright… or would have if he had not been hopelessly tangled in his blanket.
"Wh-Ron?" he sputtered, as he managed to fight free of his bedding and finally sit up.
Cracking his signature lop-sided grin, Ron whispered "Hullo Harry!"
Dumbfounded still, Harry gaped for only a moment before pulling Ron into a giant bear hug. "What are you doing here? How did you get here? Why…? How did you get in?"
Smiling as he pulled away from Harry, he gave the condensed version of the night's events. "It's alright. I was worried, and they wouldn't let me do anything, and all they kept saying was, 'He's fine as can be expected,' so I snuck out, took the Knight Bus, Tonks let me in, I followed the path of least snoring, and here I am!" He squashed with practiced skill a sudden urge to brush stray strands of Harry's dark hair away from his face as quickly as it came.
Obviously impressed, Harry said, "Wow. Your mum is going to kill you."
Wrinkling his nose, Ron grimaced. "I reckon. I left her a note this time, at least."
"Wait-Tonks let you in?"
"Yeah. She's your guard tonight."
"Ugh. I almost forgot I was being watched." Harry's face darkened as he continued, "Ugh. I almost forgot where I was." Eyes shiny, he finished lamely, "Ugh. I… erm… how's The Burrow?"
Ron's chest tightened, and he did the only thing he could do… he kept talking. "The usual, except a lot quieter… so you know, bloody maddening. I actually am most of the way through our summer reading. Don't tell Hermione, though-it's so fun to watch her face turn all red when she starts in on us about being behind in our schoolwork, while we stand 'round looking stupid. Ginny's been completely neurotic. One minute, she's the same old barking mad little sister she's always been, and the next, she's channeling Lavender Brown, nicking mum's Witch Weekly for the beauty charms and sticking her head in the fireplace at all times of the night and day to squeal at Lovegood or someone. Completely off her nut, if you ask me."
Almost before he realized what he was saying, Ron added, "And you? How are the Dursleys treating you?"
Intending to pass off the same old I'm fine, really routine, Harry whispered weakly, "I'm fine. You know, they feed me, they ignore me-things are better than ever. Better even than before…"
His voice trailed off and he raised his gaze to meet Ron's. Even in the half-light, he could see the warmth and concern radiating off of his dear friend, and it made his stomach lurch and mutiny in a not-entirely unexpected way. He bit his lip again and gripped the edge of mattress, as Ron blurred in the darkness in front of him. Usually, he would never have admitted to feeling anything but anger, even to Ron, but here in his bed in the dark of night it was different somehow; here where he was used to expressing a full range of emotions in secret, it seemed far too difficult to hold it in. "I… I'm not fine… not bloody fine at all… I'm… it's… oh fuck." He drew a quiet breath, tears spilling out, and hung his head again as they continued to stream down his face.
Without a second thought, Ron scrambled onto the bed next to Harry, throwing one arm around his thin shoulders. He'd never been much good at comforting anyone else-his idea of soothing was normally patting people on the head when they looked needy-but Harry was a different matter. He always seemed to know how to calm Harry after quiet nightmares no one else would notice; Ron was always the first to his side. Ready with a glass of water or a hidden chocolate frog or a late night game of chess or anything Harry needed, always able to elicit a laugh when nothing else would help.
He didn't know what he felt anymore, or why, but he knew he felt it for Harry.
"Hey, mate... 'sgonna be alright," he whispered to the mass of dark, tumbled hair inches away.
A broken voice Ron did not recognize sobbed quietly, "He's dead. He's dead and I killed him. I might as well have been holding the wand. He's dead like everyone else that ever really cared about me and I did it and now I have to go on and kill the bastard responsible for turning me into who I am and Dumbledore couldn't do it which is not surprising since he's a barmy old fool who won't even tell me what time of the day it is and now it's my turn to give it a go. Fucking bloody brilliant, that."
There was no point in contradicting his tirade with facts about Sirius or Dumbledore or Voldemort or anything else. Ron sighed and gave Harry's shoulders a gentle squeeze. As a wise man once said, better out than in.
When the shaking subsided a bit, Ron reached for his knapsack and rummaged, one-handed, keeping the other arm tight around Harry.
"Chocolate Frog?"
###
This couldn't be happening. Harry was there at Privet Drive. Ron was there at Privet Drive. (With chocolate.) Harry was bawling his eyes out in sorrow and self-pity in front of his best friend, confidant and… what? What did it mean to miss someone more than anything?
Why, if he was carrrying on ridiculously and reeling in pain from the loss of his godfather, was the blood rushing so loud in his ears that he could barely hear the quiet, meaningless words of comfort? Why could he feel every ounce of the warm, soft, spicy breath ruffle his hair and brush his cheek?
It had become a surreal culmination of Harry's bad, good, and confusing dreams. All that was lacking was the kneazle in miniature Hufflepuff Quidditch robes (complete with Beater club).
He didn't know what he felt anymore, or why, but he knew he felt it for Ron.
Harry took a breath and wiped his eyes and nose with the corner of his overflowing pajama sleeve. Taking the proffered sweet, he smiled half-heartedly and mumbled his thanks. He wrestled with the wrapper, then with the frog, and finally took a bite, looking up sheepishly to sneak a look at Ron, who was watching him intently. Swallowing the mouthful of chocolate rather prematurely, Harry whispered, "Right, bloody mess this is, hm?"
Ron caught the sudden, glittering intensity in Harry's eyes, and realized with a start that he was not talking about anything but the fact that both boys were hopelessly lost without the other.
Before he knew what possessed him, he-
Dudley's thick voice came from beyond the door, "Aw, ickle Harry Girlypants crying himself to sleep again? Let me in there and I'll give you something to cry about."
Without thinking or even taking his eyes from Harry's, Ron bellowed menacingly, "Fuck off or you'll be the one crying. Duddy."
Quick, thudding footsteps and the bathroom door clacking roughly shut proved that Dudley was still more than a little afraid of the pale, skinny freak in the smallest bedroom. It would never have occured to him that the voice he'd heard was deeper, smoother than any he'd heard in his home before, thick with emotion and chocolate residue.
Harry grinned, then leaned in and closed the slight gap between them to touch his slightly-parted lips briefly to Ron's.
Blue eyes wide, Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He floundered for a word that seemed just out of reach, but nothing came.
Struck with the enormity of what he'd done, Harry's stomach clenched in fear. His face fell, and he began to pull away from his friend, sputtering, "Oh. OH, oh god--I'm sorry… I don't know what I…"
Ron used the arm already around Harry to pull him in close again and kissed him, this time with intense passion, born of years of want and need, coalescing into this moment here in the most unexpected of places. It should have been awkward and guilt-inducing, and it might have been, but neither noticed. There were just Harry's hands sliding under a warm Weasley jumper, Ron's hands tangling through wild, jet-black hair, a blanket somehow wrapped intractably around four gangly teenage legs, a ratty old shoe discarded and sent flying to the floor, a fair amount of air and spit and clacking teeth and oddly bumping body parts.
The bed creaked dangerously as Ron shoved Harry back and pinned him, trailing kisses down his neck, hands straying downwards, pausing only to cooperate with Harry's efforts to remove his jumper and shirt. Ron recognized a stray thought, Air air air, got to breathe, no to hell with breathing, got to kiss him, bloody hell, why didn't we think of this before? And what do you suppose will happen if I…
###
Harry gasped as the cool air brushed softly against his skin damp in the wake of desperate kisses. He tangled his fingers through Ron's hair and pulled him up to kiss him deeply. Air air air, got to breathe, no to hell with breathing, got to kiss him, bloody hell, why didn't we think of this before?
Kissing his best friend was ten million times better than kissing Cho had ever been. It was like the difference between riding his FireBolt and one of the school's old Cleansweeps. Riding? Merlin, where did that image come from? Maybe from the fact that he was pinned to his old lop-sided second-hand bed by every inch of Ron's lean body? Fueled by the strange heat welling up in the pit of his stomach, he desperately wanted to… to… to what?
He tried to reason it out only for a moment before sheer physical instinct took over. Ron slid one hand down the front of Harry's pajama bottoms, sliding slowly, deliberately down his length, kissing and gnawing on his neck all the while. Harry, who was now nearly biting his lip through trying not to scream, and found himself arching into an orgasm almost immediately, hands clenched in a deathgrip on Ron's shoulder and in his hair, feeling him stiffen and bite down on the soft flesh above his collarbone. He felt as near to sheer bliss as he ever thought he could be, as Ron claimed his mouth again with now less desparate kisses.
Gasping for air, Ron managed to roll slightly off of Harry without breaking the connection between them for more than a fraction of a second at a time. Harry's hands pulled at Ron, caressed his skin, begged mutely to pull him closer though there was not even air between them now. At some point in time even this relatively quiet exchange gave way to contented silence as each boy considered the other's exhausted breathing patterns. Eventually as the night crept inexorably toward dawn, both fell asleep without another word.
###
Sometime in the early morning gloaming, Harry half woke from a dream of warmth and comfort to find himself still warm and comfortable in a circle of relentlessly freckled arms. Smiling, he ran his hand lightly over Ron's forearm… smiling, that is, until he reached faint brain-sucker-shaped scars. Eyes clouding with another round of unshed tears, Harry whispered, "I did that."
"Shh… that's ridiculous," Ron mumbled sleepily into his hair. "A great dirty brain did that. At the time, I found it rather amusing, too."
"You were addled by a Death Eater spell-your reaction doesn't count."
"Now that was uncalled for," growled Ron as he tightened his grip and pulled Harry closer against him, breathing against his ear, "Prat."
Harry turned to face him and slid his arms around Ron, sliding his hands just slightly inside the waistband of his faded jeans. Grinning hugely at the near-immediate response pressing against his thigh, he answered, "No. This is," and began kissing individual freckles on a well-placed shoulder.
"Mmm… you're still a prat. Ask me again in a few minutes, though."
###
The clacking sound at the window woke Harry only on the second try. Having slept for most of his sixteen years in the rather noisy presence of other boys, Ron blissfully continued sleeping, mouth hanging slightly open. Harry disentangled himself and slipped his glasses on, making his way to the window. He opened the window slightly in time to see Tonks take aim and throw another handful of gravel that flew past his face.
"Sorry!! Alright there, Harry?" said Tonks in a miserably bad stage whisper.
"Erm, yeah. Hullo?"
Trying very hard to be nonchalant about the unmistakable purply spots gathering between his collarbone and neck and bare chest, she called, "Yeah, hullo, right, well, Moody will be here any minute to relieve me; I thought Ron would probably want to know."
"Bloody hell!" muttered Harry loudly as he ducked quickly back in through the window, returning briefly to call out, "Thanks, Tonks!"
"And tell him to move it along!"
###
Harry crossed the room to the small bed and shook Ron more violently than necessary. "Wake up, mate, you've got to get going-"
A smile crossed Ron's face and he reached out to grab hold of Harry's arm. "Five more minutes, come on…"
"Moody is on his way to relieve Tonks."
Ron popped out of the bed mumbling, "Shite, shite, shite, got to go," grabbing the nearest shirt his jumper and shoes in ten seconds flat. He pulled Harry in for a quick kiss, grabbed his knapsack, and then stopped at the door for a rougher, lingering kiss that threatened to turn into another half-hour or so of something else entirely.
Wrenching himself away, Harry peered into the hallway to check for random Dursleys and then ushered Ron down the stairs and out the door, but not before one last kiss as he opened the door… well, maybe one more…
Eyebrow cocked, Tonks stood at the door, unsettlingly semi-transparent. "If you're quite through with him," she asked with a smirk, "we had better be going." She reached through the doorway, grabbing Ron by the arm and physically yanking him out of the house. "Ready? One, two, three--bye, Harry!"
Ron opened his mouth to reply, but a cracking sound drowned him out, and then he found himself thrown to the ground down the lane a bit from the Burrow.
"Got to go!" Tonks said smilingly to Ron, as he shook his head to clear the odd sensation of the contents resettling into place. "This was fun-let's do this again soon!" and with another crack, she was gone.
Ron stood a bit unsteadily, brushing leaves and other bits of dirt from his clothes, only to find that the worn shirttail of a pinstriped pajama top was trailing out from beneath his jumper. He grinned and began to hum a merry tune, strolling down the lane completely oblivious to the prospect of a trademark Mother Weasley tongue-lashing.
###
Harry managed to join the Dursleys for lunch around noon. Having missed breakfast, he was understandably famished, and took second helpings of everything. He even managed to compliment Aunt Petunia on the meal. While this stranger-than-usual behavior was noted by all present, only Petunia noticed that the shirt he was wearing actually fit him perfectly, and had obviously never been owned by her precious popkins--Duddy was far too muscular to fit into the scrawny shirt. Not that her angel would ever have worn some faded orange t-shirt advertising some rugby team, or beer, or God knows what.
Well almost perfectly. It was a tad too long, but it fit him in all of the ways that mattered most.