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Harry loved seeing Ron happy. “Remember second year?”
“Dad’s old car?” Ron grinned from behind the wheel, all freckles and bright blue eyes.
Harry’s heart leapt. “No detention this time.”
Ron’s laughter filled the caravan. “Snape was a right bastard, wasn’t he?”
“Hmm. Honorable, brave, and an utter bastard.”
Pine trees gathered close around their campsite. Ron watched as Harry’s muttered incendio set the campfire ablaze.
He’d always loved Harry’s magic, felt the draw even at eleven.
He just hadn’t realized what it meant, not till too late.
“You don’t mind camping?”
“You mean after—“ Neither mentioned the Horcrux hunt, but Ron nodded.
“It’s different, though—isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Ron looked away. “Different.”
“Hey— It’s different.” Harry smiled.
Hours later, they lay under the stars, “Ron?”
“Hmm?”
“Why’d you ask about camping?”
Sigh. “I’m not leaving you, you know? Not ever.”
“I know.”
“And I’m sorry. Don’t think I said.”
“You came back.”
“That’s what you said then.”
“That’s what was important.” A long pause. “I’m sorry, too.”
“Why’re you sorry?”
“Hermione.”
“She’s happy with Krum.”
“You must miss her.”
“Not really. I got you.”
“I’m not leaving you either.”
“Harry.”
They were in each other’s arms the next moment.