Chapter Text
“What’re you doing?”
“Hiding.”
Harry laughed as he shut Ron’s bedroom door. His window was open and they heard the laughter and bustle of the rest of the Weasley’s, and Hermione, helping set up for Bill and Fleur's wedding. Harry had been sent to look for Ron, who was laying on his bed cross legged, staring at the ceiling.
Harry sat on his best friend’s bed.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, noticing he looked somewhat concerned.
Ron just shrugged. “Why spend the rest of your life with one person?”
“I mean,” Harry said, his forehead wrinkled as he thought, “If you love them…why not?”
Ron propped himself up and gave Harry a dubious look. “The war is here. People are dying and being locked up and tortured. Why put your heart out there and love someone if they might just…”
Hermione’s laughter rose from the lawn and floated through the window. Something flickered in Ron’s eyes as his sentence trailed off, then his gaze shifted back to Harry with a sort of sadness.
“Honestly…” Harry said with a sigh, “I don’t know. I think about what could happen to you two, a lot. And that’s bad enough. But to lose someone you love?”
They fell silent. After a moment, Ron’s lips twitched into a crooked smile.
“Are you saying you don’t love me?” he asked in a mock-offended voice, raising a hand to his chest.
Harry snorted, shoving Ron’s leg. “You’re my best friend,” he said with a chuckle, “That’s.. different love, you know?”
Ron sat up, raising an eyebrow. “Different love?” He looked fascinated.
“Well,” Harry said, shrugging. He thought. “You know…friend love and then…like…snogging and shagging love.” He laughed at Ron’s amused expression. “I don’t know, okay?” He shook his head.
“Well you can kiss someone and not love them,” Ron said thoughtfully, shrugging one shoulder, “I didn’t love Lavender, you didn’t love Cho.” He shook his head, “Bloody hell, what if we die and those are the last girls we kissed?” he chuckled and Harry couldn’t help laughing as well.
“So kiss Hermione,” he said through his laughter. But Ron immediately stopped chuckling.
“I don’t want to kiss someone who doesn’t want to kiss me,” he replied, his smile faltering. Then he dropped back onto his pillow, continuing with his crisis.
Harry stared at him, feeling guilty. Everything Ron was talking about, everything he was concerned about, was really his fault. Harry looked toward the window then back at his best friend. He stood and moved toward the door, and Ron barely glanced in his direction. Harry had his hand halfway to the doorknob when he turned back around.
Before he could change his mind, he went back to Ron’s side and bent down, and kissed him, quickly. Then stood back up. Ron blinked and sat up.
“Now you don’t have to worry,” Harry said, trying to stay calm, despite the fact that his lips were tingling.
Ron sputtered a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “So was that a friend kiss or a love kiss?” he asked, tilting his head and eyes twinkling in amusement.
“I… have no idea,” Harry replied truthfully.
“So…” Ron said, climbing out of his bed and standing, “Do it again.” His tone was daring, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, which made him seem hesitant.
“You want me to kiss you again?” Harry asked, surprised. And when Ron just looked at him quietly, Harry felt himself smile. “Alright.”
He closed the gap between them, and Ron began to look even more nervous. Harry leaned forward and kissed him slowly, his hands instinctively going to Ron’s waist. His stomach fluttered when he felt Ron’s lips mirroring his motions. Harry pulled him close, roughly, and one of Ron’s hands drifted to the back of his neck, the other sliding up Harry’s stomach and chest under his shirt. Harry paused, to catch his breath.
“Don’t stop,” Ron whispered, pleading.
“I won’t,” Harry replied just as quietly, he kissed Ron softly on the cheek and tugged at the bottom of his shirt, “Off.” He was startled at how guttural he sounded. Demanding.
But Ron obliged, quickly yanking his shirt off. Harry watched him, then froze, frowning. Ron quickly dropped his arms, his nervousness turned to fear, and eyes went wide.
“Harry,” he said hastily, “Don’t-”
Ron tried to turn away but Harry grabbed both his wrists. He looked Ron in the eye, heart filling with concern. He twisted one of Ron’s wrists gently, looking at the inside of his upper arm. Several jagged, swollen, pink scars were prominent against his pale skin. Other older white scars were not as obvious, but there were several of those as well. And, making Harry’s stomach drop, two fresh wounds crossed over one of the pink scars.
He exhaled slowly through his nose, and Ron pulled his arm away from him, bending down to grab his shirt.
“Ron, what-” Harry started, noticing his voice was quivering with shock, and sounded miles away.
“Don’t worry about it,” Ron snapped, pulling his shirt back on, the cuts immediately being covered by the short sleeve. “Don’t worry about any of it.”
He tried to walk away but Harry grabbed him, feeling a surge of emotion. He had to fix it. He had to. He pulled Ron back into him, and Ron gave in quickly, his eyes going soft once more. Harry brought a hand to the side of his face, gently stroking his cheek, and then running his thumb over Ron’s bottom lip.
“Why?” he whispered, resting his forehead against the red heads.
“It helps,” Ron murmured, one of his hands snaking around the back of Harry’s neck, Harry couldn’t hold back a shiver.
“How long?” he asked, sliding his hand down to Ron’s shoulder, and brushing his lips across his cheek, close to his ear.
“A couple years.” Ron’s voice was shaking, as were his hands. He spoke again, his voice so small it was almost childlike. “Are you angry?”
Harry let out a breath and pulled Ron into a tight hug. “No,” he murmured, happy to feel Ron relax ever so slightly, “I’m not. You’re my best friend and I love you.” He tilted his head back just enough to kiss him again, and began pushing him backwards toward his bed. As he did this he felt Ron deepen the kiss, letting out a small moan into Harry’s mouth.
Egged on, Harry continued pushing him back. Still connected at the lips, they climbed onto the bed, Harry straddling Ron’s waist. He nipped at Ron’s bottom lip and he let out a pleased sound that was somewhat of a whimper, which made Harry’s brain go pleasantly fuzzy. He pulled away and started to tug Ron’s shirt off one again, and felt him hesitate.
“Off,” Harry whispered.
Ron slowly obliged, maintaining eye contact the whole time. Once topless, Harry eyed his torso, the dips and curves of his toned body, and felt a tightening in his groin. He was seeing his friend in a whole new light, and he was incredibly pleased about it. Then his mind wandered back to the cuts.
Harry pulled off his own shirt then placed his hands on Ron’s chest and pushed him down into the bed. He scooted back slightly then bent down, kissing Ron’s stomach, right above his waist. Ron shivered and sighed in a contented sort of way. Harry moved his way up, leaving a gentle trail of kisses until he was back at Ron’s mouth. When he knew Ron was completely distracted by his lips, Harry gripped his wrists tightly and swiftly pinned his arms above his head, then sat up.
Ron breathed heavily. His chest moving up and down almost violently, as Harry looked at his arms. Each fleshy inner side of his upper arms were littered in deep cuts, all in various stages of healed, or healing. Harry’s heart clenched. Then he bent down and kissed Ron’s right arm, just above the inside of his elbow, and began to work his way up, when he then kissed one of Ron’s fresh wounds, Ron gasped quietly and then let out a shuddering breath. Harry sat up, still pinning his arms. He kissed Ron’s lips, then moved to his left arm, repeating his actions. When he sat back up he pulled Ron with him, and was startled to see his eyes were glistening with unfallen tears.
“I love you, too,” Ron whispered.