Chapter Text
When Harry rolled over in his cot the next morning he immediately looked over at Ron, who was already awake and getting dressed. Harry heard several voices through the open window, drifting up from the back yard. He blinked and sat up, groping around for his glasses. He felt Ron sit on his bed and gently hand them to him.
“Thanks,” Harry said with a yawn, “Damn…what time is it?”
“A little after noon,” Ron responded, his face now coming into focus as Harry put his glasses on, and, to Harry’s surprise, he looked very morose.
“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, immediately filled with concern.
Ron quickly smiled. “Nothing,” he said, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, “It’s just…are you really okay? About last night?”
“Oh,” Harry replied. He knew Ron was not talking about the cuts. He was talking about the woods. Where the kissing had quickly turned passionate and aggressive, both of them falling to the ground, hands everywhere; but, the second Harry’s hands had gone to the button on Ron’s pants, Ron had frozen, and asked him to stop. “Ron, of course I’m okay.” He grabbed one of Ron’s hands, “Relax, alright? We’ve been at this for less than a day. There’s time, yeah?”
Ron sighed in relief, and relaxed slightly. But Harry could tell he didn’t quite believe him. Harry squeezed his hand and leaned forward to kiss him. “You and your bloody nerves. Relax. Listen to what I’m saying. I’m fine. I’m not upset. Do you hear me?”
Ron nodded and leaned forward for another kiss but Harry placed a finger on his lips, stopping him.
“Do you hear me?” Harry repeated in a firm voice, removing his finger.
“I hear you,” Ron said with a small chuckle, “Now can you just-”
Harry, predicting what he was going to say, grabbed Ron by his shirt and pulled him down. Ron, Harry quickly realized, was rather addicting. He felt good, he tasted good, he…behaved. Harry had never realized that before. But the way Ron just…did…he did everything Harry wanted him to, whether he said it out loud or not. He moved with Harry’s movements, he never fought them or tried to guide him. He listened. He just was deliciously…willing.
Just as Harry was immersed with these thoughts, Ron’s hands wrapped around his head, kissing him like his life depended on it, Ron’s mouth was immediately by his ear, whispering three words that they had both become addicted to,
“I love you.”
Harry immediately felt goosebumps all over his body and he gripped at Ron’s shirt aggressively, wanting to rip it off.
“I love you,” he whispered back.
A call for them from Ron’s mother echoed up the stairs. Harry and Ron froze, both breathing heavily. And, slowly, Ron sat up, his face falling.
“Don’t,” Harry said, sitting up, “Please. Just. Stay happy, please. I just…I need you to be happy, Ron.”
Ron nodded, trying for a small smile.
After Harry had dressed, they headed downstairs, where they both heard frantic yelling in French. Once they hit the last step, they spotted Fleur pacing around in the living room, angry tears streaming down her cheeks as Bill tried to calm her. Quickly and quietly, Harry and Ron slipped into the kitchen.
“What happened?” Harry asked Ginny and Hermione, who were keeping busy by making a pot of tea.
“Bill’s rescheduled the wedding,” Hermione whispered, “Something about the security…” her voice wavered, “It was already risky, but…I don’t know. Word got out, so he changed it to be safe.”
Harry felt Ron freeze next to him, and when he glanced over, Ron had turned very pale. Harry wanted to grab him. Hold him. Kiss him. Make it better. The fear in Ron’s eyes was evident, and he only wanted to make it go away. But, Harry wasn’t sure of how they were to behave around others. So instead of pulling Ron into a hug, he nudged him gently.
“You okay?” he whispered.
Ron swallowed, then gave the slightest shake of his head, then nodded, and then walked away, back up the stairs. Harry’s stomach lurched, and Hermione and Ginny watched Ron walk away with confused expressions.
“Er,” Harry said unhelpfully, then, with nothing else to say, he turned and followed Ron, who was already almost to his bedroom.
Not knowing or seeing that Harry was behind him, Ron slammed his bedroom door shut. Harry hesitated when he reached it, then opened it and went in. Ron was walking in circles, a fist against his forehead, his breath coming out in gasps.
“Ron,” Harry said, standing in front of him and reaching for his hands, “Please…breathe.”
“Stop it,” Ron snapped, swiping Harry’s hands away, “Just stop.”
“I don’t…” Harry trailed off, he did not know what to say. He hadn’t expected to be pushed away.
“I grew up listening to this,” Ron was saying, “Listening to people predicting the next war…with parents who just kept having children. But raising us to be scared! Scared of…of…you-know-who and…and then I became friends with you…and…and now what?” he fumbled with his tie, trying to undo it and failing, “Now…now I…”
Harry felt horrified. He had never known that Ron was holding on to so much. However, out of himself, Ron, and Hermione, it made complete sense as to why Ron was the most affected by the war. He was raised in fear. Thereby consumed by it when the thing he was raised to fear was now raining upon them, threatening to harm his family.
Harry stepped in front of him once again and gripped him by the shoulders. “Ron,” he said firmly, “Breathe.” When Ron took a shuddering breath, Harry undid his tie, and the top button of his dress shirt. “Breathe,” he repeated softly, placing a hand on Ron’s chest, “You’re safe.”
Ron locked his eyes with Harry’s.
“I can’t,” he said shakily, “I can’t, Harry. I…I can’t love you, I can’t just breathe. I…I have to…” and he turned away, taking a shaking breath, “Just leave me alone.”
And, before Harry could react, Ron had left the room. Harry’s stomach was twisting into knots. He wanted to run after him, just as much as he wanted to give him space. But he had a feeling…if he gave Ron space right now…he would hurt himself.
Harry took several deep breaths before he even thought about going out the door. He let a few minutes pass. When he finally decided to leave, he tried to walk calmly down the stairs, attempting to not raise suspicion for anyone who might cross his path. He had no idea where Ron may have went. He paused by the bathroom, lightly rapping on the door, but heard nothing. So he continued. He slipped through the empty living room (it sounded like everyone was in the kitchen now), and out the front door.
The warm air was like torture to Harry, he was already sweating with anxiety. But he looked around, wandering the perimeter of the Burrow. When he reached the backyard he looked toward the woods, where he and Ron had been kissing the night before. And as he got closer, he heard the heavy breathing of his friend, and tried to follow it. And his heart dropped into his stomach when he finally came across Ron, standing next to a tree, one hand covering his face, and the other pressed against the tree, struggling to stay on his feet.
Harry felt his eyes start to water, and his nose itch, but he quickly shoved those feelings down as he approached Ron, and wrapped his arms around his friends waist.
“No,” Ron choked out, trying to move Harry’s hands.
“Ron I swear to God if you fight me, I will fight back.”
Ron let out a sob, doubling over, and Harry held him, his eyes closed, trying to quash his own emotions. But when he opened his eyes, he felt something warm on his right arm.
Blood.
One tear released itself from Harry’s eye and he clenched his jaw. He tightened his grip on Ron’s waist. “I love you,” he whispered into Ron’s ear, “I fucking love you, do you hear me?”
Ron did not respond, only letting out a strangled, choked noise as he bent over Harry’s grip.
Harry slowly started to sit, forcing Ron to sit with him. Harry rested his back against a tree and pulled Ron’s back to his chest, refusing to let go. He looked down, at the blood dripping down from Ron’s right upper arm, and held him tighter. “Breathe with me,” he whispered, “Listen to me breathe. Come on. You can do it. Breathe with me.” He held Ron as tightly as he could and took several deep breaths, and felt Ron’s trembling relax, and his breathing became less shaky. Soon he melted into Harry’s arms, his breathing much calmer. “Good,” Harry whispered, relaxing his grip. The blood on his arm had become sticky, and he stared at it.
“I’m sorry,” Ron replied, his voice quivering, “I just…needed to. I know you need me to be happy but…”
“It’s okay,” Harry said, trying to keep his voice steady, “I should have never said that. It wasn’t helpful.”
They sat in silence. Harry did not let go. He rested his chin on top of Ron’s head as he held onto Harry’s arms. Even though it was unbearably warm, neither of them wanted to move. Seconds turned to minutes. In the distance thunder rumbled, threatening rain. Ron squeezed Harry’s arm and sighed.
“I’m sorry I said all that stuff,” he murmured, “I do…I mean I still…I do love you. It’s just hard. Everything to me…everything feels so hard all the time. It feels so heavy. I keep trying and trying to get out and I can’t.”
“Don’t ever apologize for telling me how you feel,” Harry whispered, “Ever.” He squeezed his friend tightly, he would have pulled Ron into him if he could. Keep him safe. “We will figure this out together, okay? You’re not alone. I’m here, with you, always. We will figure this out.”
“I don’t deserve you,” Ron muttered.
“Of course you do you idiot,” Harry said, chuckling lightly, and his heart swelled when he heard Ron let out a scoff of a laugh, “You’re mine, now, and you deserve everything good. I’ll give you the world. I’ll protect you.” And he meant every word.
Ron sighed, content. “I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you, too.”