Chapter Text
Ron shifts uncomfortably, scratching at the skin just above the bandages on his arm. The previously white material has dirtied with wear, strings starting to fray along the edges. There is a particularly long one that Ron’s tucked into the top edge of the brace, making it look like it might fall off at any moment.
The large tea stain across the material stands out, reminding Harry how hard this is going to be. Ron had insisted after only two days at home that he could do it himself only for Harry to find him on the floor, holding his broken hand against his chest. The tea had burned his skin and Harry had to clean up the wrap and dry it while making sure to keep Ron’s arm stable while applying burn cream. It had been a complete disaster that led to Ron spending the rest of the day in bed.
Ron is picking at the soft material now, a habit he’s seemed to form after only a few days with it. The waiting room is quiet and Harry’s thankful for that. Ron seems to be more sensitive to loud noise after his capture and he tends to flinch at even the smallest of sounds now.
Ron jumps when the door opens. They’re in the private auror quarters, a precaution to keep Ron out of the Prophet until the case can blow over. It’s imperative he stays out of the public eye just in case there is a straggling dark wizard that may come after him. Harry even upped security in their small cottage rather than Ron going to a safe house.
“Mr. Weasley, we can see you now,” Healer Miller announces, a kind smile on her lips. They’ve called in a muggle doctor to aid with the case, a squib who Doctor Miller has already utilized while Ron was in St. Mungo’s.
Harry can hear Ron let out a breath, flinching in pain when he goes to use his bad hand to push himself up. Harry is quick to aid, tucking his arm under Ron’s and taking a bit of weight so it’s easier for Ron to get up. He already looks winded and Harry knows that the apparition really took it out of him. He can barely walk from the bedroom to the kitchen in this state and he doesn't seem to be improving yet. Harry is hoping a proper cast will help.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Harry asks. They’ve already talked a bit about Harry joining, but he wants to make sure Ron’s still on the same page. Ron can barely stand by himself at this point and Harry’s worried he won’t get all the information if he goes in by himself.
“Yeah,” Ron answers, allowing Harry to lead him into the room. Ron instantly tenses as they step inside, blue eyes darting around. It’s the same room he spent days in and out of consciousness. There is no way Ron was going to settle down enough to get much information from the doctors.
“Hello, Mr. Weasley.” This one is the doctor, standing in a white lab coat next to the bed. She reaches her hand out for Ron to shake. “I’m Dr. White. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Dr. White seems to realize her mistake when Ron glances at his right hand, held firmly against his chest in his attempt not to disturb his arm. Harry knows it’s been causing him a lot of pain the last few days. Dr. White gives him an apologetic smile as Ron introduces himself. “Please call me Ron.” Dr. White nods at the request turning her attention to Harry.
“I’m Harry,” he introduces, taking her outstretched hand after a bit of maneuvering to keep Ron steady. She graces him with a kind smile, gentle as she reaches forward to hook her arm under Ron’s.
Ron is having none of that though, nearly tumbling into Harry as he finches away at the sudden touch. He looks guilty the second he realizes his actions, pink dusting his cheeks, but Dr. White doesn’t even mention it as she steps away, giving Ron a kind smile as she gestures toward the bed.
It’s a bit high and Ron struggles to get up. Harry does everything he can to hoist Ron up without drawing too much attention. It isn’t for the doctor’s sake, but Ron’s, who seems disappointed in his own inability to even sit on a high bed.
Once Ron’s seated, a tense silence slips over the room until Dr. White clears her throat, stepping forward to start the conversation. “Well, the first thing we are going to do is an x-ray. I want to make sure the bones have set properly before I put a cast on your hand,” she explains.
“Cast?” Ron asks, glancing at Harry with worry. The most Ron has ever had to deal with in terms of broken bone was his arm or leg wrapped for a few days while it healed with the aid of magic. He’s never had anything so constricting from what Harry knows, which makes sense because normally broken bones heal up within a few days with magic.
“Yes, muggles set bones using plaster so they can heal properly. You’ll have the cast on for two months and then we’ll get you a removable cast if everything is healing properly. This is when you’ll start physical therapy. The removable cast will stabilize your hand when you aren’t doing physical therapy and allow you to take it off in order to start working on your mobility,” Dr. White explains.
Ron looks a bit worried at the prospect, but nods, holding out his arm when Healer Miller indicates for him to do so. It only takes a few muttered words before the room is filled with a 3 dimensional x-ray of Ron’s arm simply hovering in the air. Dr. White seems a bit awe struck as she steps into the image, examining the bones around Ron’s hand and wrist.
“I’m noticing a bit more damage to his wrist than indicated,” Dr. White explains, pointing to the clearly broken bone. She moves up his hand, frown pulling down her lips. “I’ll need to reset this bone as well as this bone so his fingers will heal properly. It would seem the other bones have set correctly.”
“How do you reset a bone?” Ron asks, leaning against Harry. Harry doesn’t know how much longer he’ll make it. He looks like he could collapse at any moment.
“It doesn’t look like there has been much healing the last few days so I should be able to put them back in place without much of a problem. I’m simply going to put pressure on your finger until it goes back into the proper place,” Dr. White answers, turning her attention to Healer Miller. “Is this live? Will I be able to see the bones moving?”
“I’ll be able to recast the spell when you finish, but it won’t update without doing the spell a second time,” Healer Miller explains.
“That’s fine,” Dr. White nods, stepping forward. Ron eyes her wearily, giving her a nod at her look for permission. She reaches out slowly, deliberate in her actions before she takes Ron’s hand into her own.
She’s gentle as she takes the dirty wrapping off, allowing the bandage to fall to the ground. Harry can see the pain flashing across Ron’s features, nose scrunching and teeth grinding together. “Would you like something for the pain?” she asks.
“No,” Ron is quick to answer. She nods, manipulating his fingers and wrist. Harry can see the liquid gathering in the corner of Ron’s eyes, biting into his bottom lip in his attempt to keep the tears at bay. Harry laces his free hand with Ron’s, allowing the other to hold as tight as needed as Dr. White manipulates his hand until she’s satisfied. Healer Miller casts another spell upon Dr. White’s request and she steps back to look at the bones.
Harry can actually see the change in positions, Ron’s pointer and ring fingers now straight. Dr. White seems satisfied with her work, indicating for Healer Miller to drop the spell.
“I’m going to put a cast on now. I’ve been working with Healer Miller to utilize magic in setting the cast so it should be a quick process.” Ron nods at the words, now leaning completely against Harry as Dr. White holds his hand.
Harry watches in fascination as Healer Miller mutters a spell under her breathe as Dr. White wraps plaster around Ron’s hand and up his arm. The plaster easily molds to Ron’s skin with the aid of the spell and Harry is once again amazed by the use of magic.
“Am I able to go now?” Ron asks when the cast is complete. Dr. White is helping Ron pull a sling over his head and adjusting his cast to sit properly within the material.
“I just wanted to discuss a few more things,” Dr. White explains. Ron seems a bit dejected, but nods. Harry makes sure to pay particularly close attention as Dr. White explains how to care for the cast as well as information about the break and a follow up appointment. Ron clearly isn’t listening so Harry’s happy he stayed as he absorbed all the information Dr. White and Healer Miller supply.
It’s thankfully only another fifteen minutes before the pair are allowed to leave. The receptionist already has an appointment card waiting for them when they step out of the room, Ron leaning heavily against Harry as they exit.
Harry thanks the receptions as he walks by, accepting the offered appointed card. Harry simply shoves it into his pocket without looking, knowing they’ll be able to make it no matter when it is.
The apparition point is a struggle as Harry hoists Ron against his side, careful not to move his arm too much. Ron is nearly curled into himself from pain, holding onto Harry with his free arm. Harry gives him a warning before they diapperate, appearing in their living room.
“Did you want to eat something before you head to bed?” Harry asks, Ron’s face now pressed into his neck. He has his arms circled around him, careful of his cast.
“No, just sleep,” he mutters, allowing Harry to lead him to the bedroom. This time Ron doesn’t ask him to stay. Instead, he curls up in a ball away from Harry, cradling his arm against his chest. Harry can hear the quiet sniffling that indicates Ron is finally allowing the tears to fall.
———————————
The department makes aurors see a mind healer after every high profile case. The number of sessions is determined by the mind healer and Ron was officially going indefinitely. It wasn’t unusual for injured aurors to go back for a few weeks, but this is the longest Harry’s ever heard.
It would seem his first session didn’t go well either. Harry was thankful the mind healer wasn’t located near the department so it was easy to slip Ron in and out without running into anyone. Ron wasn’t ready to see their coworkers and Harry didn’t really blame him. They’d be all over him asking him how he’s doing when it’s pretty clear he isn’t doing well.
Ron doesn’t hang around when they arrive home. He touches Harry for the least amount of time possible, shaking off the arm Harry attempts to slip around his waist like usual. Harry ends up placing a hand on Ron’s arm, frown tugging down his lips as he gives Ron a warning. They’ve barely touched the floor of their living room before Ron shakes his arm off and uses the furniture to get him to the bedroom.
Harry flinches when he hears something fall, wrapping his arms around his waist when a particularly loud scream echoes in the small house. This time something collides with the wall on purpose. The glass shatters and Harry sucks in a breath when Ron’s anger fades into gut wrenching sobs.
Harry takes in a deep breath, bracing himself as he walks toward their bedroom. He allows himself another moment, squeezing his eyes shut before he pushes the door open.
Ron is a wreck.
He has managed to ball himself into the furthest corner from Harry, knees drawn to his chest and hands pressing his face into his legs. He’s shaking, shoulders stuttering with each breath. There is blood dripping from his good hand, his bad hand sticking out at an awkward angle in his attempt to wrap it around his knees.
Harry wants to rush over, wrap him in a hug and protect him from the world. This was only the beginning of a long journey and Ron was already shutting him out, running away from the comfort and support Harry wanted to supply. Ron wasn’t ready for that comfort. He wasn’t ready to face Harry yet and Harry wasn’t going to push him to do something he wasn’t ready for. Instead, his first priority is the shattered glass which he mends with a flick of his wand, watching as it mends together, the picture now hanging back on the wall like nothing happened and the glass vase back together. Harry wishes it was that simple.
He steps forward tentatively, tucking his wand away until Ron allows him to heal the small cut on his hand. The floor creaks under his feet and Ron tenses at the sound, blue eyes peeking out from behind his knees. They’re darker than before, bloodshot and sad.
“Hey,” Harry whispers, crouching in front of Ron. The other doesn’t grace him with an answer, simply stares at him like he’s staring right through him. “I’m going to heal your hand, okay?” The only indication that Ron heard him is the small twitch in his bleeding hand.
Harry reaches out tentatively, gentle as he takes Ron’s hand in his own. Ron doesn’t fight him, simply lets him pull his hand away. The basic healing spell is simple, one of the first they learn in training, and with a small flick of his wand the skin is sowing itself together. There’s still blood though and Harry takes the corner of his own shirt and rubs it over Ron’s knuckles.
“Let’s get you to bed,” Harry says, gentle as he tucks an arm under Ron’s good one. It takes all of his strength to pull Ron off the ground. He’s basically dead weight, leaning against Harry for support. The side of the bed Ron is closest too is normally Harry’s side, but he places Ron there gently anyway.
Harry goes about pulling off his shoes and socks, tossing them aside to pick up later. Ron’s shirt is next and it takes a bit of maneuvering to pull it over his head, grabbing him a clean pajama shirt and slipping that on. The trousers pose a more difficult problem and he ends up helping Ron lie down on the bed, tugging the legs awkwardly. It takes a bit of work, but eventually he gets the pants over Ron’s hips and he’s able to tug them down. He replaces them with a soft pair of pajama pants, again struggling at Ron’s hips.
Ron looks completely worn when Harry pulls the covers over him, tucking them around his chin. That seems to spur Ron on a bit as he curls up on his side, tugging Harry’s pillow tight against his face and pressing his nose into the soft fabric.
“Do you need anything?” Harry asks, brushing some hair from his face. It’s a bit short right now as his captures seemed to have hacked off some of the strands. Harry knows it frustrates him, but it still sits nicely at about chin length. It’s easier not to freak out about the hair for Harry since hair will grow back, but Ron is simply seeing it as another thing they took from him.
“Please just leave me alone for a while,” Ron mutters, sniffling. He rubs the blanket against his nose and Harry notes to clean the sheets whenever Ron gets up. Harry hates the if that crosses his mind at the prospect of Ron getting up. He couldn’t have those kinds of negative thoughts. Ron was already struggling and he didn’t need that from Harry.
“Okay,” Harry struggles to keep his voice even as he allows his hand to brush against Ron’s cheek. The other tenses at the touch and Harry pulls it away quickly. “I love you.”
Ron simply hums in answer, mind already somewhere else.
Harry goes to the bathroom, places a silencing charm and cries.
———————————
The owl flutters through the window, landing elegantly on the sill. Ron eyes the creature with a frown, startling when it hoots at him in indignation. The official owl sticks its leg out, eyeing Ron before she ruffles her feathers.
Ron scoots forward in his chair, reaching for the note attached to the owl’s leg. Harry grabs the owl treats as the note slips away, holding his hand out for the owl to grab the treat before she flutters her wings and heads out the window.
“Oh,” Ron says, disappointment clear in his voice. Harry watches emotions flash across his pale features until his face seems to harden with defeat. It’s an emotion that’s clouded his features for a few days now, ever since that first session with his mind healer. It's been worrying Harry more and more as the days pass.
“What is it?” Harry asks, sitting across from Ron. He wants to reach out, take his hand, but Ron is becoming more and more distant as the days pass. The comfort his arms provided those first few days seems to have worn off and Ron’s pulling away from him suddenly and shrugging him off.
“It looks like they’ve set a date. They want me to testify,” Ron explains. Harry watches as he tries to hold himself together, watches as his features crack until they break completely.
Ron’s never been one to make himself small. Yes, he’s slouched so he doesn’t stand out in a crowd because he’s so tall. He’s shrunk into himself in embarrassment, with a pretty pink blush tinting his ears. This was different though. This was Ron shrinking back in fear and pain. This was Ron, strong and confident Ron, who seems to have lost everything he gained after Auror training, the success of complete cases and a well deserved promotion that solidified he was everything Harry ever thought he was.
“How are you?” Harry asks because he doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t know how to make this better. He wants to be there for Ron, but he keeps pushing him away. It’s leaving Harry frustrated with both himself and Ron, but he doesn’t dare say anything, not when Ron is working so hard to even keep himself together on a regular basis.
“How did they get a date so fast? These usually take months to secure.” Ron ignores his question, but he’s been doing that a lot lately. The answer is always fine or the question is brushed aside. It simply solidifies that he’s not fine.
“They started the process right after you went under. Auror Davis basically started the process when he woke up,” Harry explains. He hates that he’s resentful, because Auror Davis slept this off for a few days but was otherwise unscathed. He returned to work only two weeks after he had woken up with barely a scar to show for his work.
“Shit,” Ron mutters, allowing the now crinkled paper to fall from his fingers. The breakfast in front of him is forgotten, barely a bit taken, as Ron pushes the chair out carefully when his good arm. He struggles to stand, wobbling a bit, unsteady on his feet. Harry moves to help, but one glare from Ron has him stopping in his tracks, a frown tugging down his lips as Ron uses the wall to walk to their bedroom.
He doesn’t know what to do. Ron’s struggling down the hall, shoulder pressed to the wall in his attempt to hold himself up. Harry knows this is only partly due to his injuries. The other half is his lack of sleep. The nightmares seem to plague him each night, pulling him from sleep only an hour or two after he’s finally drifted off. They always startle him awake and he doesn’t let Harry do much else than attempt to breathe with him.
These nightmares are so much worse than the war. Ron had spent many sleepless nights seeing Fred’s dead body and watching Harry walk off to his own death. There were moments his brain would kill his whole family, but Ron had always been able to ground himself after those dreams. He’d allow Harry to hold him, reassure him and Ron would do the same for Harry.
This was different though. The reminders of his time tortured are still written all over his body. He can barely use his hand, weak to even push himself up from a lying position in bed. He has periods that he can’t even walk from the pain overstimulating his body. The scar on his cheek is so sensitive Ron can’t even lie with his face pressed to the pillow. The imagines of that dreadful month haunt him both awake and asleep and he won’t share with Harry. The only time he’s talked about it was when Robards took his statement while he was still in the hospital.
Harry is so lost in thought that Ron has suddenly appeared in front of him again. He’s dressed now in a comfortable pair of trousers and a cozy jumper, arm held in place by the sling over his shoulder. He looks tired, even more so than he did at breakfast and Harry realizes he probably should have followed so he could have helped if Ron needed it. It would seem just getting dressed took a lot out of him.
“I have to go to the mind healer,” Ron informs. He doesn’t look happy about it at all, but Harry knows he won’t cope out because he wants to go back to work and this was a big part of doing just that. They’d never let him back in the office without the mind healers approval.
“Yeah-” Harry is a terrible person. He forgot Ron had an appointment today. They usually only have one appointment a week, but Ron’s been upped to two appointments after the last appointment seemed to trigger him. Plus, Ron’s torture was some of the worst the department has ever seen so it isn’t a surprise he has to go twice a week. “Let me just get dressed.”
Ron still isn’t able to apparate himself and there was a chance the floo system could worsen his injured arm if he landed wrong without the aid of someone else. Harry could tell Ron was getting annoyed that he had to rely on Harry for such a basic thing as transportation, but there was nothing that could be done.
The look on Ron’s face is seeping with anger and annoyance when he walks back in the room. Harry knows he is only trying to mask the mental and physical pain he’s feeling. It was definitely going to be another sleepless night for them both.
———————————
Ron wimpers next to him, a groan leaving his lips. He curls into himself, face scrunched in pain just before he shoots up in bed. It takes everything in Harry not to reach out, to pull him close and comfort him. The last time he did that Ron had practically shoved him off the bed, still reeling from the nightmare as he tried to bring himself back to the present.
“I can’t do it,” Ron breaths, clenching the fabric against his chest. He’s breathing erratically as he looks around the room frantically, like he’s looking for an escape. “I can’t do it. I can’t do it.” The covers are kicked aside, sweat glistening in the moonlight as Ron nearly stumbles off the bed in his haste to escape something Harry can’t even see.
“Ron,” he tries, climbing across the bed. He wants to reach out, but Ron is looking at him like he’s not in their bedroom. Harry suspects that he isn’t. Harry remembers the days it used to take him ages to come out of his nightmares even with his eyes open. They used to play out in front of him, curling in the darkness of the room.
“I’m not going. I can’t do it,” Ron repeats, blue eyes wild as he sinks to the floor. The cast is held tightly to his chest, his good hand now curled into his red locks. “I can’t see them.”
The trial. He was talking about the trail. He wasn’t ready to face these dark wizards yet, barely even a week out of the hospital, barely even two weeks out of the torutre that he probably just rehashed in his session with the mind healer today.
“Ron,” Harry calls, finally getting the attention of those blue eyes. They’re swirling with pain and Harry aches to help. “Can you breathe with me?” He wants to reassure Ron. He wants to tell him everything will be okay. He wants to tell him that he doesn’t have to testify. It would all be a lie though. Ron had to testify to put the dark wizards away and Harry doesn’t know when he will be okay. He knows he will. Ron is strong. He is going to get through this, but Harry doesn’t know when.
Ron nods frantically, hand shaking as he reaches forward to wrap it around Harry’s outstretched one. Harry moves slowly, deliberate as he sits on the floor across from Ron, bringing Ron’s offered hand to his chest as he attempts to keep his own breathing under control.
They stay like that for a long time. Harry doesn’t dare break the silence that has fallen over the two of them, listening instead to Ron’s breath steadying. There is still this shake on his exhale, this little stutter, but he closes his eyes and works on matching Harry breath for breath.
“I don’t know if I can do it,” Ron whispers into the darkness, breaking the silence that has fallen between them. There is turmoil in his blue eyes when he finally opens them, meeting Harry’s green with more worry and pain that Harry has ever seen. “I don’t think I can face them.”
“Ron-” Harry starts. He wants to tell Ron how strong he is. He wants to tell Ron that he can do anything. This torture has torn away all of Ron’s confience, ripped it away piece by piece in only a month when it took years for Ron to build it.
“I’m going to sleep on the couch,” Ron announces, cutting Harry off. He tugs his hand back and Harry is so shocked by the sudden change that he simply sits there blinking as Ron climbs off the ground painfully. Ron was pulling away slowly but surely and Harry couldn’t do a thing about it.
“But Ron-?” Harry tries, finally pulling himself out of his stupor when Ron nearly trips over the end of the bed. He catches himself before he can stumble to the ground, only sparing a glance over his shoulder at Harry.
“I don’t want to wake you. You should get some sleep,” Ron informs, using the door frame to hold himself up before he slips out the door. Harry watches in shock as he goes.
He doesn’t know what to do. Harry has never been good at comfort and reassurance. That was always Ron’s forte. He knew exactly what to do when Harry was in a mood. He knew how to handle his nightmares. He knew how to help Harry unwind after a long and tiring mission. He knew exactly what to say.
Harry has no idea what to do.
Ron’s always been satisfied with a hug. He’s always melted in Harry’s arms as Harry runs his fingers through his hair. Harry would mutter a soft I love you and Ron would curl up against him and be better the next morning, that lopsided smile back at full force. Harry would do anything for that smile right now. He’d do anything for Ron to even allow him to touch him.
“Shit,” Harry mutters, rubbing at his tired eyes. He’s barely been able to sleep. Ron’s restless most nights and Harry ends up staring at the ceiling alongside Ron, suffering silently with him because that’s all he can do, that’s all Ron will allow him to do.
“I don’t know what to do.” The darkness of the room allows him to fall into his own thoughts, a shiver running down his spin. He tugs at the blanket on the bed, a small smile pulling up his lips at Mrs. Weasley’s housing warming present.
And suddenly Harry knows what he needs to do.
With a sigh, he pushes himself off the ground. The wood creaks under his feet as he drapes the blanket over his arm so it doesn’t drag on the floor. The room is dark when he enters, Ron’s feet sticking off the end of their couch. He’s much too tall to sleep comfortably, but Harry doesn’t want to push.
Instead he spreads out the blanket, watching as it gently covers Ron’s shaking form. Unlike the couch, the blanket is long enough to cover Ron’s shoulders and his feet, something that Mrs. Weasley made sure off. Ron’s fingers instantly wrap around the soft material, blue eyes sad when they look up at Harry’s.
“I’m here when you’re ready,” Harry assures. He wants to reach out, brush the hair from Ron’s face. He gives Ron a soft smile instead, earning himself a small nod in thanks before Ron closes his eyes in an attempt to sleep again.
Harry doesn’t sleep that night. The bed is too empty and it reminds him of those long nights waiting for even the smallest indication that Ron was alive and well only to find out he was alive, but he wasn’t well.
———————————
Ron dresses up for the first time in three weeks. The trousers hang low on his hips, weight loss still prominent as Ron pulls himself away from Harry more and more, succumbing to the confines of his mind. The blue button down shirt matches his eyes. It’s one of Harry’s favorite shirts but he knows Ron isn’t wearing it because of him like he normally does. He has on his official Auror robes, the first time he’s worn them in months.
“Let’s go,” Ron mutters, holding his hand out for Harry. He won’t let Harry hold him close, wrap his arm around his waist even to apparate. He’s only holding Harry’s hand out of necessity now and the second they appear at the ministry’s apparition point (only available as an exception when someone can’t floo) Ron’s hand is out of his.
Harry is thankful the apparition point isn’t far from the Auror department, following along a little behind Ron. He’s easier to watch that way, to keep any eye on since Ron’s still unsteady on his feet. He can barely make it around the house in the best of days and though Robards had offered a home visit to discuss the case, Ron had insisted he could come in. Harry is sure Robards would have disagreed if he had actually seen Ron’s state but he was simply going off Ron’s word.
Harry knows Ron is dreading the visit even if he had insisted on coming. He isn’t ready for the questions and comments from their coworkers. He isn’t ready for the hustle and bustle of the office. He isn’t ready for the heavy feeling that comes with the office, the Auror department holding a certain strain that comes with catching dark wizards day in and day out.
He has to pause at the door and catch his breath. He looks tired, hunched over as he leans against the wall. He has his blue eyes closed and Harry wonders if he’s preparing himself to walk through that door mentally. He knows that Ron’s been doing some new exercises to help with his anxiety and trauma just from observing Ron and it seems he’s utilizing those tools now. Harry can’t even imagine how much anxiety Ron is feeling at the moment. It’s been months since he’s been in the office and last time he was at the height of his career and now he could barely walk to the office from the apparition point.
“Ron!” It’s like Auror O’Brian knew they were outside. “How are ya? I wanted ta visit but the list was restricted.”
Harry watches as Ron takes in a deep breath through clenched teeth before he practically transforms in front of Harry’s eyes. He’s suddenly standing tall, a small smile pulling up his lips. To anyone else, he’d look like his normal self, maybe a bit more worn and tired, but Harry can see the storm in his blue eyes, the haunting undertone that makes Harry’s chest ache.
Ron may be pulling away from him but Harry was also the only person he trusted to see him in pain, both physical and mental.
“O’Brian!” Ron flinches when O’Brian’s hand reaches forward to shake Ron’s. O’Brian doesn’t seem to notice as Ron instantly straightens himself and takes his offered hand with his good one, which leads to an awkward handshake. “Been getting into trouble without me?”
Harry’s chest aches as he watches the two interact, remembering a time when Ron wasn’t curled up in the corner of the bedroom or huddled under the covers lost in his own memories. It was a time when Ron’s trauma was far away, long overcome since the war. It was a time when his interactions weren’t fake and forced, when Ron was genuinely happy and looked forward to going into the office to chat with coworkers.
The conversation is short lived. Ron excuses himself after O’Brian tells him about his work with Beth - Harry’s partner before he took some time off - in his attempt to avoid the how are you that's coming. O’Brian seems disappointed. Harry knows he’s probably been looking forward to Ron’s return. O'Brian made it pretty clear he looked up to Ron when he first started in the department and that hasn’t changed. It doesn’t help that they’re friends now because of their work partnership.
There is a hush that falls over the office when Ron finally steps inside. He looks tired again, like the conversation with O’Brian really took it out of him. The effect is clear as he walks through the office, sending coworkers small smiles at their greetings and well wishes. He doesn’t linger though, brushing off each comment until he gets to Robards office, the furthest from the door.
“I’ll be in our office if you need me,” Harry informs even though he knows Ron won’t need him. He made it very clear Harry wasn’t to be in the room when he went to talk to Robards and Harry wasn’t going to fight him on it. Ron needed time to heal and process and he’d let Harry in at some point.
Ron nods before he disappears into Robards office and Harry hurries off to his own. It’s covered in a thin layer of dust which Harry banishes with a flick of his wand. There is a small pile of paperwork on his desk, stuff that’s gotten lost in his time away from the office that doesn’t seem to be too pressing if he hasn’t been owled about it yet.
He goes about doing the paperwork, door firmly closed in his indication to the office that he doesn’t want to be disturbed. It’s a very clear message, one he used to use when he was here full time. The only time the door was ever opened fully was when Ron was around, inviting their coworkers in for a chat, easily distracted. The memories are fond ones.
Harry works hard not to pay attention to the time so he’s a bit startled when there's a knock at the door nearly an hour later. Harry blinks a few times, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to bring him back before he opens the door.
Robards looks resigned on the other side, if a little green in the face. Harry’s stomach churns at the thought, wondering what details Ron’s shared that could make their hard boss look like he might throw up. Harry’s never seen Robards falter even in the most gruesome of cases.
“A word?” He asks, stepping in without an invitation. He closes the door behind him, a frown on his lips. “Have you talked to Auror Weasley about his time undercover?” It’s implied that this time includes the subsequent capture and torture that went along with his case.
“Not at length,” Harry answers honestly. “The most I know is from his statement at the hospital.”
Robards hums in thought, glancing around the room for a moment, like he’s contemplating his next move. Harry’s never seen him like this before and it makes him nervous. “It would seem he wasn’t all that revealing at his interview. I don’t believe he will be returning to work for some time.” Harry has to stop the bile that climbs up his throat, threatening to spill from his lips. It had taken all of Harry’s willpower not to throw up when he heard Ron’s initial interview and that was just the tip of the iceberg? “I don’t believe he’s even revealed everything at this point yet, but he’s willing to share for the record what is needed so he can put the dark wizards away for good. He has plenty to do just that without even going into detail about his time held captive.”
“When is the case?” Harry forces out. He needs to start preparing himself now.
“It’s in two weeks time,” Robards answers. “That’s why I wanted to check in with you. Do you plan on taking that time?”
“Yes,” Harry answers instantly. There was no way he was leaving Ron alone. “My leave is indefinite right now.” Robards nods.
“I look forward to having both you and Auror Weasley back on the force when you're both fit to come back. Auror Weasley is still in my office. I advise that you go fetch him,” Robards explains, only sparing Harry one last glance before he wishes him well.
Harry takes a moment to pull himself together before he exits his office. He tugs the door closed behind him, wondering momentarily when he’ll be here next, more specifically when he’ll be here with Ron next.
Ron is waiting inside the office when he gets there, looking tired and worn and like an absolute mess. Harry frowns, but doesn’t reach out, sees the way Ron flinches when he even walks into the room.
“Are you ready to head home?” Harry asks gently. Ron’s blue eyes look lost as he meets Harry’s green, nodding numbly before he allows Harry to lead him out of the office.
The office is quiet as Ron walks past them. Ron’s normally bright and warm demeanor is basically doom and gloom at this point, so unlike his normal bright personality. It’s clear the office can see the difference and Harry is thankful no one comments, no one even attempts to pull Ron’s attention so it’s thankfully a quick exit.
“I can’t-“ Ron breathes and Harry is surprised when he leans against Harry, allowing his arm to slip around his waist. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
Harry allows Ron to rest his full weight on Harry, walking him slowly back toward the apparition point so he doesn’t overwhelm him. “It’s going to be okay, Ron,” he whispers. Ron was one of the strongest people he knew. He’ll get through this.
But then they’re home and Ron is curled up in bed, hugging his injured arm to his chest and holding in his tears and Harry is suddenly worried Ron won’t come back from this.
It’s a fleeting thought but it leaves a glimmer of dread that starts to gnaw at his heart.
———————————
Ron barely talks to Harry for two weeks. He goes to see his mind healer and spends the rest of his time hauled up in their bedroom. If he can’t sleep, he finds his way to the couch utilizing the wall and promptly lies awake all night.
He basically looks like a zombie when the case rolls around. Harry imagines he hasn’t had more than a few hours of sleep the last two weeks. It reminds Harry of those months after the war, when he would purposely avoid mirrors in his attempt to avoid looking at himself, looking at the mess he became after the war. It had taken a lot of support and time before he could even get out of bed nonetheless start auror training. He knows he needs to allow Ron the time, space and support just like Ron did for him after the war.
When Harry enters their bedroom, he’s surprised to see Ron dressed in his best robes. They’re a deep blue. They normally bring out his blue eyes, but they seem to simply be accentuating the bruised smudges that have come with his sleepless nights.
He doesn’t look ready. Harry can see the pain in his eyes, those stormy blues reflecting all the devastation he’s still feeling from his capture. It’s a look Harry’s gotten used to these last few weeks, looking into a pair of lost blue eyes, ones that spend more time in Ron’s head than they do in the present.
“Let’s get this over with,” Ron mutters, tugging at his robes and adjusting them. He’s clearly uncomfortable, tugging at the collar of his shirt like it’s choking him. He has to shake himself out of his thoughts, before he places a hand on Harry’s shoulder, something he started doing after their office visit. It makes Harry’s chest ache as they appear at the Wizengamot.
Ron doesn’t even give him a second glance as he steps inside and finds himself a sat. Harry knows Ron’s been talking to Robards about the case and notes Ron seems to know exactly what seat he’s supposed to sit in. It would seem Harry isn’t allowed in the seat next to him either, not when Susan nods sadly from next to Ron, indicating he can take a seat in the row behind.
The case is relatively straight forward. They managed to find some witnesses, bringing each to the stand to talk about the illegal potions trade. They even nab one that claims to have overseen a murder, but Harry doesn’t believe it’s true when he watches the witness on the stand. There are more tells letting Harry know the person is lying rather than telling the truth. They end up calling a few of the dark wizards to the stand, ones that have turned for a shorter sentence before they bring Auror Davis up.
And then it is Ron’s turn.
Harry feels like he can’t breath when he watches Ron walk up to the stand. He sits heavily in the chair, breath labored from just that short trek. He’s rubbing the injury across his side that Harry knows still bothers him a bit.
He can see Ron take a deep breath when he finally takes a seat, frown tugging down his lips when they start right into the questions. It’s easy at first. They ask some questions about the case before he even went undercover and Ron covers them easily. He talks about his own strategies, the intel he was able to put together from the cryptic messages they received from Auror Davis. It’s easy for him to talk about his work as a strategist and Harry can see a glimpse of Ron before everything, that spark that used to light when he was doing what he was good at.
That spark instantly disappears when they get into his undercover days. They clearly aren’t as hard as his time captured and tortured. He talks about the potions, making note of the ingredients, making sure to point out all of the illegal ones that are involved in the process. There are moments when he seems to drift off when he talks about hushed moment he wasn’t involved in, overhearing talks of murder and illegal curses that most people didn’t even know existed.
Ron’s always been good at his job and it’s clear in his detailed descriptions, his theories that all seem to pan out in the end. Harry is immensely proud he got this much information before he was captured.
The problem is that eventually they start in on his time captured. Harry is thankful they don’t go into detail, don’t ask for specific information. Harry can see the pain written across Ron’s face, can see the visions flashing in front of his eyes as he’s forced to remember all the bad moments of his capture. The more Ron talks, the further into his head he gets, words jumbled and lost until they decide to take a break in order to give Ron some time to recover.
Harry hasn’t seen him move that fast in a long time, nearly jumping out of his seat and exiting the room. Harry barely catches sight of the flash of red hair before it disappears into the bathroom. He follows it, pushing the door open to find the room empty until he sees a pair of brown shoes visible from under the stall door.
“Ron, it’s okay,” Harry promises, turning to lock the door behind him. He knows Ron would have if he was able to do magic, but the cast still preventes him from holding his wand and his mental state didn’t bode well with wandless magic, which already took a lot out of a wizard in general.
The door opens tentatively to reveal Ron’s tear stained cheeks, blue eyes swimming as they land on Harry. He nearly collapses, breath heavy. Harry steps forward so he can catch him, listening to Ron wheezing in his arms, unable to catch his breath as he leans against Harry.
“I fucking hate this,” Ron chokes out, gagging as he doubles over. He’s holding his stomach awkwardly and Harry turns him toward the toilet just before he throws up the toast he had for breakfast. He gags over the toilet before he collapses on the ground, coughing as his shaking hand reaches for the toilet paper.
Harry hurries to reach it for him, using it to wipe the vomit on his chin. He grabs another piece to offer Ron a tissue, frowning when Ron’s shaking fingers reach out for the offered paper to blow his nose.
“It’s over after this. They’ll be put away for good because of the work you put into this case. You’re going to put them away for life,” Harry promises, wiping at Ron’s tears.
They stare at each other for a few moments before Ron nods tentatively, leaning forward to pull Harry into a hug. It’s the first real contact in weeks and Ron presses his face into Harry’s neck, taking a deep breath in before he pulls away.
“Are you ready to go back out there?”
“No,” Ron answers honestly, taking Harry’s outstretched hand. “But I have to do it.”
He holds Harry’s hand until he can’t anymore.
———————————
“I should have gotten out sooner.”
Harry starts from his spot on the couch, book falling to the floor. Ron flinches when it slams against the hardwood, frown tugging down his lips as he shuffles the last few steps to the couch. He tucks his arm against his chest, grabbing one of the pillows to cushion it.
“What do you mean by that?” Harry asks. Ron’s spent most of the last two day since the trial in his room, quiet and contemplating. Harry had tried to reach him a few times but never pushed if Ron wanted to be left alone, which was basically all the time.
“I should have bloody left when I found out they thought there was a mole,” Ron explains. He isn’t looking at Harry, picking at the pillow with his good hand. He looks upset, like he’s disappointed in himself for making the wrong move. “No, they knew there was a mole.”
“They knew?”
Ron nods at the question, blue eyes swirling with emotions when he finally meets Harry’s gaze. “They knew but I just needed one more thing to get them. I needed to catch their shipment of illegal ingredients. I was going to notify you, but I never got the chance.
“I left to send a patronus, but they were waiting for me. They knew it was me. I don’t know how long they knew. I don’t even know if the shipment was real or they were playing me. Fuck. I had so bloody much on them and that would have done it. I would have been out.
“I didn’t follow protocol though. I should have left the second I caught wind about a mole. I should have left before. I should have come home to you. We still would have had plenty to put them away. I was so fucking stupid.”
Harry listens carefully as Ron finally opens up to him, reveals the things that have been eating him up. “Ron,” Harry tries but Ron shakes his head, running his fingers through his still too short hair.
“I should have fucking left. It was so fucking stupid,” Ron cries and Harry jumps when the sparks fly from the lamp next to Ron. Ron’s magic literally explodes out of him as the coffee table clatters across the room, all of his anger and frustration at himself leaving him in waves of magic that Harry can literally feel. “I know better. I know to follow protocol. I fucking did this to myself.”
Harry’s breath catches before he’s tumbling over the couch, taking Ron’s hand in both of his. He grabs Ron’s chin, trying to be as gentle as possible as he turns Ron’s face to look at him again.
“This is not your fault. You did not do this to yourself,” Harry says, voice stern and words shaking. Ron’s been blaming himself this whole time. “Those bloody arseholes. They did this to you. They deserve to spend life rooting in a cell for what they did to you. This case was only successful because of you because of the information you got. You didn’t know they were coming after you.”
“I just-“ Ron’s eyes are wet when his blue eyes flicker up to meet Harry’s green and Harry’s thumb brushes across his cheek gently, gliding in and out of the new crevices from his injury. “I don’t know what to do.”
Harry pulls Ron in, hand tangled in his hair. He has to work at keeping himself calm in his attempt to calm Ron down, feeling the others ragged breath against his neck. “We’re going to get through this. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here for whatever you need, whenever you need.”
“My sessions,” Ron mutters against his neck, pulling away so he can look at Harry. “I want you to come. I want you to know.”
Harry’s heart pounds in his chest. This was the moment he’s been waiting for. He’s been waiting for Ron to open up, to let him in. He didn’t think Ron would allow him in his sessions with his mind healer, but he’d do anything to help Ron through this.
“Of course, I’ll do whatever you need,” Harry assures. He’ll help Ron no matter what, be there for him. Ron smiles at him, lips pulling up in the first genuine indication of happiness since before he left for his mission.
The moment is broken when an owl comes swooping into the living room. It’s Robards owl that lands gracefully on the back of the couch.
Ron looks at the bird curiously for a moment, untying the letter on the bird’s leg. He unrolls the small letter, blue eyes still filled with tears as they scan the page in front of him.
“What is it?” Harry asks when Ron looks up at him, the first glimmer of hope sparking in those blue eyes.
“It’s done. They’re away for life. They’re all away for life,” Ron confirms, surging forward to pull Harry into a hug. He’s crying into Harry’s hair, relief clear as he holds Harry against him, shoulders relaxed for the first time in months.
“You did it, Ron,” Harry says, holding Ron close. They still have a long way to go. This doesn’t fix everything. This doesn’t mean Ron won’t spend tomorrow in bed again, avoiding Harry’s touch. It was a step in the right direction though and Harry would be there to take every step next to Ron no matter how slow he needed to take them.