Chapter Text
Ron finally made it home. He rooted through his pocket for the key and quickly let himself into the building to escape the rain. He climbed the narrow, rickety stairs to the third floor. Once he reached the flat, he glanced left and right, finding himself alone in the corridor. He pulled his wand from his pocket and quickly cast a drying spell before opening the door to a seemingly empty flat. He put his wand in his trouser pocket, kicked off his muddy shoes, and closed the door behind him. The silence was unnerving. Living with Harry meant that the flat was rarely quiet, let alone completely lifeless as it was at that moment.
He hung his cloak on the coat rack that stood by the door and looked around the quiet flat. The dim evening light shining across the room confirmed his suspicions that the living room had been untouched since he left for Auror training that morning.
He walked around the room, picking up the shirt and trousers he had discarded on the floor before leaving. Absentmindedly, he folded them and placed them on the sofa before moving into the kitchen.
He turned on the tap and splashed the cold water on his face. Ron knew today would be difficult; he knew what to expect, or so he told himself. Grabbing a cup from the dishrack, he filled it up before turning off the water. He then made his way to Harry’s room.
“Harry,” he knocked on the door. He waited for a beat, but when he didn’t hear a reply, he tried again. “Open up mate, I know you’re in there.”
He was once again met with silence.
Ron sighed before taking out his wand from his pocket. “I’m coming in, alright?” he said, mostly out of courtesy, before unlocking the door and entering the room. The room was dark; the shades were down and the curtains closed.
“Harry, mate. Wake up. It’s nearly seven.”
“ ‘m awake,” Harry replied blandly but didn’t move from under the covers.
Ron flicked his wand toward the far side of the room to draw the curtains and pull up the shades. The faint light revealed the room to be in quite a state: clothes strewn across the floor, both dirty and clean; tissues and papers littered near the bed; photo albums that appear to have been thrown into the corner lay in a heap. Ron pushed the mess to the back of his mind and approached his friend. He lay a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder and sat on the edge of the bed.
“I brought you a glass of water. Come on, sit up.”
Harry pulled back the covers and stared for a moment, as though assessing whether or not to comply. After a minute, he heaved a sigh and sat up. Ron passed him the water. He took a small sip at first then thirstily downed the rest. He placed the empty cup on his nightstand and felt around for his glasses.
Ron studied Harry carefully, noting his red eyes and lethargic movements. He bent over, picked up Harry’s fallen glasses off the ground, and passed them over to him. Harry mumbled a quiet thanks as he wiped lenses on the edge of his shirt. They sat in silence, neither man knowing what to say.
“Have you had anything to eat?” Ron finally asked.
Harry shook his head, “No, ‘m not hungry.” Not a moment after, his stomach rumbled, calling him out on his lie. Ron smiled and shook his head in amusement.
“Get dressed. We’re going out to eat.”
“Ron… I can’t today . I’m- I don’t⸺”
“We’ll go to Muggle London. I’ll pick up some fish ‘n chips, and we can eat in the car,” Ron cut him off, knowing the reason behind his friend’s hesitance.
Today was a difficult day to face the world. Today, witches and wizards all across the country were celebrating. Today, the Wizarding world rejoiced in the fall of Voldemort and the Death Eaters at the Battle of Hogwarts. Everyone was celebrating except them. How could they laugh and make merry when so many loved ones died over the course of this war? Sirius, Remus, Dora, Ted Tonks, Dumbledore, Moody, and dozens of classmates. Hell, they’d come so close to losing Fred too. He was unconscious at St. Mungos for more than a month. It had been the longest six weeks any of them had faced; just thinking about them brought tears to Ron’s eyes.
Maybe one day, they will be able to celebrate, sometime in the future, years from now. Two years wasn’t enough to forget the fear and pain. It wasn’t enough time to heal from the emotional and mental turmoil of their time in hiding as they hunted down the Horcruxes. No, two years was barely enough time to process what they lived through, let alone to heal.
Ron swallowed his emotions and knocked his hand against Harry’s. “What do you say? Come on. It’ll be good to get out for a while.”
Harry looked at his hands and contemplated Ron’s suggestion. He didn’t answer for nearly five minutes. Ron, who had grown more discouraged by the second, began to get up in defeat. Before he got too far though, Harry grabbed his arm and replied with a barely audible “okay”.
Ron whipped around and smiled brightly. “I’ll get changed out of my robes then. Get ready; we leave in ten minutes!” He picked up the cup from Harry’s bedside and walked out of the room, gently closing the door behind him.
***
Harry leaned his head against the window and watched as the evening sky grew darker. The open road looked endless as the trees whipped by, blurring out of focus. Ron was focused on driving; he was quiet for the most part but would occasionally comment on the other cars around them. Harry was suddenly reminded of Second Year when he and Ron drove Arthur's car to Hogwarts.
That was eight years ago, eight years since his second year; since Ginny got possessed, since Hermione got petrified for months, since he unwittingly destroyed Voldemort’s first Horcrux. What he would give to go back to his first year of Hogwarts when everything was still so simple; when Dumbledore was still alive, and he was naive enough to believe he was safe at school.
He hadn’t set foot in Hogwarts in exactly two years; he couldn’t bring himself to go back after all that they saw, all that they lost. Hermione had taken last year off, opting to spend time with her parents. She had luckily found them still in Australia and was able to restore their memories. After that, the three of them returned to England and spent the rest of the year healing their little, fractured family. She was on better terms with her parents now and had decided way back in September to resume her education at Hogwarts. He hadn’t seen her since the winter holidays when they all met at the Burrow for Christmas Eve. He missed her terribly, but for now, her bi-weekly letters would have to do.
He wondered if Ron missed Hermione too, especially after their breakup. The two had broken things off last summer, and by all accounts, it had been amicable, but Harry never found out why. He asked Hermione once, but she just said that their time apart gave them perspective on what they really wanted. He hadn’t talked to Ron about it yet. He tried a few times but always changed the topic at the last minute.
Harry’s emotions must have shown on his face because Ron turned to him when they came to a red light.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone casual, but his eyes reflected his worry. “You alright, mate?”
“Nothing, sorry. Just… thinking.”
Ron nodded, accepting his friend’s non-reply. After driving for a while longer, he spoke again. “Want to hear some music?”
Harry shrugged, not caring either way. He silently watched as Ron reached out and began to fiddle with the car radio. He finally settled on some soft rock station. The music washed over Harry who was too deep in thought to enjoy it, but Ron drummed his fingers along to the beat. This was another one of those new things, Ron listening to muggle music. In the year and a half that they had been living together, Ron had grown used to muggle things: technology, clothing, music, food. Hell, aside from the occasional magic and visits to the Burrow (and in Ron’s case, Auror training), they basically lived like muggles. And after the war, Harry didn’t want to question it. He didn’t want it to change.
He leaned back against the passenger seat when he grew tired of watching the world fly by and instead chanced a glance over at Ron, whose hands were firmly gripping the steering wheel. The smooth, continuous movement of the car eased the tight knot of anxiety in Harry’s stomach.
Ron had gotten so good at driving in the past few months, even better than him. It was one of the things that surprised Harry the most about their current situation. He didn’t think his friend would pick up on or enjoy driving as much as he did. Harry had bought the car last year, a few months after he and Ron moved into their flat. He decided that since he was taking a break from the wizarding world, it would be best to use muggle transportation instead. He had studied muggle driving laws and practiced driving in empty parking lots. He wasn’t counting on Ron studying with him and getting his driving license before he did.
Harry wasn't complaining, though. He liked it when Ron drove them around; it allowed him to sit back and enjoy the ride. “Your driving is nice,” he found himself saying.
Ron flushed under the compliment. “You think?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Mhm. It’s comforting.”
“I’m glad.” Ron smiled warmly at him. He knew how difficult it had been for Harry to find comfort in anything lately and was genuinely happy that his friend was able to enjoy the car ride at least.