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“I love you!” Harry stared up at Ron from the floor.
“You’re only saying that because you’re drunk.” Ron groaned, attempting to wedge his hands under Harry’s armpits and haul him off the floor.
“No.” Harry moaned, “I love you!”
“Uh-huh,” Ron muttered, trying to manhandle the uncooperative wizard. “I love you too, mate. Let’s get you off the floor. Pub’s closing, we need to leave.”
Ron waved at the barmaid, Hannah Abbott, as Harry gripped at Ron’s arms. Hannah smiled and slipped into the back. Harry and Ron were the only remaining patrons, mostly due to Harry’s inability to walk.
Harry yanked down on Ron and, losing his balance, Ron tipped forwards, landing on his knees in front of Harry. Harry scrambled around, mimicking the position.
“You're so beautiful.”
“Harry.” Ron gulped; looking at the carpet nervously. “You’re drunk; you don’t mean any of this.”
“Please,” Harry begged, glasses slipping down his nose. “It’s taken everything I’ve got to say it; please listen.”
Ron could never say no to Harry; slowly, he nodded in defeat.
“I’ve loved you for so long.” Harry shuffled closer. “Please, tell me I’m not imagining this... what’s between us. Please tell me you-”
“You’re not imagining it.” Ron conceded. “You’re not… I feel the same”
Ron faltered; it felt incredible to say it aloud finally, yet still so wrong for it to be like this. He didn’t want Harry to have to be so drunk he couldn’t walk to admit his feelings.
“You… you do?” Harry’s mouth pulled into a confused smile. “Why haven’t you said anything? Why have you waited until now?”
Ron lifted an eyebrow and Harry blushed, looking away.
“I know. I made a right mess of everything with Ginny… but that’s all in the past, right? Cause… I love you and you…”
“Harry, stop.” Ron sighed, “You’re not even going to remember this in the morning.”
Harry frowned, one hand coming up to rest gently on Ron’s cheek. Despite knowing it was a mistake, Ron leant into the gesture. How he wished it would last.
“I will.” Harry said, “This is the most important moment of my life; how could I not remember?”
Harry was barely staying upright while on his knees. His pupils were fully dilated, but his glasses slipped down his nose, Harry couldn’t possibly see, but he didn’t notice.
“Like you did last time.”
He hadn’t meant for Harry to hear him; he hadn’t even meant to say it aloud, but it hurt too much to ignore. Ron didn’t want to be a hidden secret or a hushed disgrace; one Harry could only admit to at the bottom of a Firewhisky bottle.
“What?” Harry asked startled.
Ron tried to look away, but Harry’s held his head with his hand. There was a long silence before Ron could mutter the words,
“This isn’t the first time.”
Harry somehow managed to understand Ron’s words despite barely being conscious.
“How many?” He asked, dark regret sweeping his features, “How many times have I told you?”
“This is the third time.”
And every time hurt more than the last. Each time Harry had no recollection of the event the morning after and Ron was crushed, despite reconciling that it was for the best.
“When?”
“The night before your wedding. The night your divorce was finalised, and now.”
Harry would undoubtedly forget this incident as well. Ron pulled Harry’s hands from his face and rose carefully from the ground.
“So sorry if I can’t believe this time will be any different.”
Harry shot up from the floor, staggering as he reached for Ron.
“No,” Harry said, “This time will be different, I swear.”
Ron shrugged, it hurt too much even to consider the possibility.
“You’re still drunk.” He said watching Harry sway precariously
Harry frowned silently at Ron then launched himself across the room, towards the floo.
“I’ll bloody show you, Weasley.” Harry slurred as he tipped floo powder on the floor. Harry scooped up the green powder, tripping and landing on his hands and knees.
“Uh-huh.” Ron rolled his eyes as Harry crawled into the green flames.
He shouldn’t follow. Let Harry sober up, and then they could go back to normal, forgetting this had ever happened. Again.
Ron stepped into the floo and entered Grimmauld place. He could hear banging from the kitchen.
Ron reached the sitting room as Harry burst through the kitchen door, waving a small vial.
“What’s that?” Ron asked, nodding to Harry’s hand.
“Sobering potion.” Harry grinned, unstoppering the potion and emptying it down his throat.
Sobering potions weren’t pretty, Harry’s skin turned bright red and steam poured off his body. Harry ran to the bathroom; the sound of running water filled Ron’s ears. Finally, it stopped, and there was silence. Most likely, Harry had purged any recollections of his words along with the alcohol.
Harry emerged from the bathroom, vial in hand and hair dripping water.
“Sobering potion is vile.”
Ron wondered if he even remembered taking it.
“Right.” He needed to get out of there, “I’ll just be heading off then.”
Ron couldn’t look at Harry as he crossed the room, unable to face the loss again.
“Wait,” Harry said, tugging him to a stop. “I’m sober.”
Ron tried studying Harry’s face, desperately beyond all sense of hope. Did he remember? Did he remember and regret it?
Harry said quietly,
“I’m in love with you, Ron.”
It was like someone had sucked all the air from his lungs. Ron wheezed lamely.
“Please say something,” Harry whispered nervously.
Ron moved forward, grabbing Harry’s face in his hands and crashing his lips against his best friend’s. They were firm and warm, although wet from the water. Harry’s hand wound around Ron’s neck, pulling him flush against his chest. Ron had wanted this for so long it almost didn’t seem real.
Ron gasped as they broke apart, and didn’t dare let the moment pass before he whispered,
“I love you too.”