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Disaster and hilarity, here we come, thought Ron wryly as he followed Harry’s cloud of dark curls out into the cold, white grounds of Hogwarts. Ron shoved his hands in his pockets as snow creaked satisfyingly under their feet. They left a trail of footprints from the huge, grand doors of the castle towards Hagrid’s ramshackle little hut, which already glowed with warmth from within, anticipating their arrival. Ron broke the comfortable silence as the hut came into view.
“So why did you let Hagrid pick out our robes, again…? And why is he the one giving dancing lessons?” He lowered his voice, aware of how far sound could travel on the quiet grounds. “He doesn’t exactly hit me as the most graceful or the most fashionable guy around.”
Harry chuckled and spun around to face Ron, walking backwards into open space as he spoke. Something about the way the cold had kissed Harry’s face with a soft layer of red, and the way snow was settling in his hair, was grabbing Ron's attention. He just about managed to hear what Harry said, though, thank Wizard God.
“Well, do you have any better ideas? Hagrid offered, and I did figure he probably just wanted company or something, but it couldn’t hurt.”
Ron raised an eyebrow. “Um, yes it could. Have you looked at the way Hagrid dresses?!”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Of course I have.”
By that point, they were at the door, so Ron didn’t get any more followup questions. Harry spun around on the doorstep, his Gryffindor-striped scarf flowing gracefully behind him, and knocked on the door. Shave and a haircut, two bits.
He barely got to bits before Hagrid was swinging the door open, a warm smile lifting his moustache at the edges.
“Aahh, boys! Right on time. Come in, come in, quickly now or you’ll let the cold in.”
Neither of them had to be told twice. Ron shut the door behind him and hung his scarf up next to Harry’s. Harry had haphazardly kicked his shoes off. Ron tucked both pairs neatly against the wall.
Flames crackled in the fireplace, and Hagrid was already rummaging in a trunk at the far end of the room. Ron realised something felt… different than the last time they’d been here. The floor space felt smaller. Squinting in the low light, he belatedly realised what was taking up all the room, just as Harry was about to step on the end of a rather large, scaly tail. Heart leaping in surprise, Ron yelped and reached out on instinct, grabbing Harry’s arm to hold him back. Harry stumbled, but stopped short of the impending incident, almost falling back onto Ron as the two steadied themselves.
“Ron, what-?!”
“ Dragon ,” Ron hissed. Harry blinked, looked around, then his eyebrows disappeared into his hair.
“Oh, yeah! Woah, that’s the one I fought.”
Hagrid piped up from where he was still making a mountain of clothes next to the huge trunk, clearly looking for something specific he hadn’t found yet. “Sure is. You must’ve put up quite a fight there, Harry, ‘cause the bugger’s been tuckered out like this ever since.” There was a chuckle in Hagrid’s voice.
Upon closer inspection, Ron could see the dragon’s breath rise and fall slowly. Its body was wrapped around the perimeter of the room like the hut was its nest and they were its babies. Or its hoard , the less optimistic part of his mind supplied. He glanced at Harry, and saw that he looked a little uneasy. But just as quickly as it came over him, it was gone, replaced with that familiar Potter confidence. That had always amazed Ron about Harry; he could access flawless confidence - or at least the impression of it - no matter the situation. Ron wasn’t exactly shy or timid in everyday contexts, but if he did find himself frightened or upset, he found it practically impossible to put on a brave face.
“Ah, there we are!” Hagrid placed two identical-looking sets of robes to one side, then returned to his mountain. With very little effort, he scooped up the entire thing and dropped it at once back into the trunk, forcing the pile down with the lid as he shut it.
By the time Hagrid turned to face them, Harry had already leapt over and started grabbing his new robes, holding them up to inspect them. Ron followed, trying not to burst out laughing when he snuck a sideways glance at Harry’s face and saw barely concealed panic. Harry looked back at him, and his struggles must have shown, because Harry almost broke too. Ron had to look away and take a deep breath. Poor Hagrid was looking so expectantly at them.
“Well? What d’you think? Pretty snazzy, ain't they?”
Ron silently begged Harry to speak first. He did, but it wasn’t what he expected to hear.
“Last one to finish putting them on has to walk back to the castle without their shoes!” And with that, and a mischievous twinkle in his eye that made something funny happen in Ron’s chest, Harry spun around and fled for the far corner.
“Hey! You got a head start!” Ron sputtered as he rushed to figure out how the godawful robes even went on, not wanting to be beaten. Hagrid chuckled and busied himself making tea.
Just as Ron was fastening his trousers, the last step before victory, he heard a triumphant “Yes!” from behind him. He whipped around to see Harry turning to him at the same time. “I win!” Harry crowed, punching the air with both fists. Indignation rose in Ron’s chest.
“No, I won!”
Harry scowled and turned to Hagrid to be the tiebreaker. Hagrid just looked up from the tea he was setting down on the table and shrugged.
“Sorry lads, I wasn’t looking. Let’s just call it a draw, eh?”
Harry tipped his head back and groaned dramatically. “Ughhhhhhh.”
“Alright drama queen. Come get your tea.” Hagrid tried to sound stern, but his version of stern was always still warm and welcoming.
Ron wriggled his way into one of Hagrid’s slightly-too-big dining chairs and wrapped his hands around a mug of steaming tea. Harry did the same in the chair next to him, and Ron kicked his leg under the table. Not too hard, just enough to push his buttons.
“Hey!” Harry whined at him.
Ron grinned into his tea. Harry’s hand pushed at his shoulder lightly, and Ron rocked with the momentum of it. He felt at home.
Meanwhile, Hagrid lumbered across the room and put on some music. It was classical and generic, like a textbook royalty-free waltz. Ron sipped his tea, anxiety beginning to flutter in his belly. He had known they were partially here for dance lessons, but he hadn’t seriously thought that through until now. He had no idea how to dance. That was probably why he was nervous. Definitely nothing to do with imagining being that close to Harry with beautiful, swelling music playing.
Almost immediately, Harry was wriggling off of his chair and gesturing for Ron to hurry up and follow him. Ron took a deep breath and trailed quietly after him. He caught Hagrid’s eye, and the man gave him a reassuring smile and nod. Ron tried to swallow the lump in his throat and nodded stiffly back. Harry turned in the middle of the hastily-cleared “dance floor” in the middle of the hut and smiled at Ron so brightly he almost felt like squinting.
“I call lead!” Harry’s hand shot up in the air. Ron laughed and Hagrid raised an eyebrow and tutted, almost not audible over the music.
“Well, alright then. But Ron will get a turn too after you, Harry.”
Harry pouted a little, but still nodded. Ron didn’t really care who went first, he just wanted to get this over with before he had a heart attack or something… or worse. He eyed the dragon sleeping soundly on the floor. Hagrid put a massive hand on his shoulder, making him jump.
“Don’t worry about him. He’s slept through worse.”
Ron opened his mouth to ask what he meant, but then Harry piped up.
“Yeah, and besides, it was music that put him to sleep. Why would music wake him up? Come on, Ron.” He rolled his eyes.
Ron sighed and stepped into the makeshift dance floor. He wasn’t even going to try to unpack that. He shared a blank look with Harry, neither of them knowing how to start. They turned their wide gazes to Hagrid.
“Ah. Right, then.” Hagrid motioned to Harry and positioned himself in a way that was easy for him to mirror. He showed him where to put his hands; one on Ron’s shoulder blade with Ron’s arm on top, and the other one in the air for Ron to take. Ron tried again to swallow the lump in his throat, and took Harry’s hand. His other hand rested on Harry’s shoulder. His dress robes were rough under his fingers, and Ron secretly wished they could’ve just done this in their uniforms. He was pulled out of that thought before long by Harry enthusiastically starting to step before Hagrid had explained what to do. Ron almost tripped, and Harry giggled, slowing his feet.
Hagrid talked them through the steps, and they soon fell into a comfortable rhythm. There was a bit of clumsy stepping on feet, and a bit of Hagrid calling out their nervous hover hands - “If you don’t actually hold on, it kind of defeats the purpose. It’s supposed to help you balance, lads,” - but they more or less got the hang of it before long.
Ron suddenly realised he had been so focused on his footwork that he had barely looked at Harry. He glanced up, and forgot how to breathe for a moment. As they spun around together, the winter sun through the window lit Harry’s face from a hundred different angles, filtering through his hair like a halo, and it struck Ron like a spell to the chest that the first word that came to mind was pretty. He held Harry’s hand a little tighter on instinct, and willed his nerves to not make him backpedal on it. He could feel his face heating up. What was wrong with him?
A single word uttered by a certain scarf echoed in his ears. Bicurious. Ron felt a strange mixture of dread and wonder curl around his heart. He stumbled a little, and Harry helped him keep his balance.
Okay, we can have this crisis later , Ron told his mind sternly. Not right now. Just focus on the steps. But Wizard God was it ever difficult to do that when Harry was so close, and looking right at him. And was he pulling him closer?! Ron swore his face must be almost the same colour as his hair by now.
He had begun to consider how cute Harry’s smile was when the sound of Hagrid clapping his hands together mercifully startled him out of it.
“Brilliant, lads! Right, let’s give Mr. Weasley a turn now, shall we?”
Suddenly the hut felt suffocatingly hot, regardless of the snow outside. Ron stammered at Hagrid, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers.
“Isn’t there an easier way to do this? Like… magical enchanted dancing shoes, or something?” He was sort of hoping either the answer would be “yes, thank you for reminding me,” or the other two would take it as a hilarious joke. But Hagrid just shook his head.
“Afraid not! Now come on, swap arms.”
Ron caught a glimpse of disappointment flitting across Harry’s face as he turned back to him. It seemed like something more than just Harry wanting to lead. Ron wanted to ask if he was okay, but he figured if it was something he didn’t mind saying in front of Hagrid, he would’ve said it by now, so he reluctantly dropped it for the moment.
Again, the two boys started to drift around the middle of the little hut together in time with the music. Ron was pulled out of his focus by Harry speaking.
“Hey, Hagrid… isn’t someone’s hand supposed to be on someone’s waist? Is it different with a girl, or…?” It was a reasonable question, so why did it make Ron’s hackles raise so much? Why did he feel so defensive?
Then he realised why; he’d forgotten this was supposed to be practice for dancing with other people. Of course Harry was thinking about dancing with a girl. Ron knew he had already asked Cho and been turned down, but there were plenty of other beautiful girls in school who would no doubt be delighted to go to the Yule Ball with Harry freakin’ Potter . Ron fought off his oncoming spiral, trying to listen to Hagrid.
“Well, yeah. That’s an option. And not just with a girl, anyone can.” Ron felt a little brighter at that. He appreciated Hagrid taking his sorting into consideration and recognising that the phrasing of Harry’s question may have struck a nerve. “I just didn’t say nothing because I figured you lads already had a case of the hover hands.” The boys laughed quietly, feeling tensions lift a little from their limbs. “But if you want to try it-“
Ron jumped and let out a yelp as he felt Harry’s hand on his waist unexpectedly. Harry laughed, and even through a haze of embarrassment and indignation, it sounded far more like music to Ron than the boring waltz music coming from the corner. OK. Two can play at that game. Without giving himself time to think about it too hard, Ron grabbed Harry’s hand and put it back where it was, then grabbed Harry’s waist.
“ I’m leading, remember?” Ron teased, breaking into giggles as Harry pouted at him. He could hear Hagrid chuckling to himself, but the sunlight bouncing off Harry’s face was far more interesting, so he didn’t look over. I want to touch his face. Is that weird? That’s probably weird. Ron’s thoughts and heart started to race as they danced. The music swelled, and Harry’s expression grew thoughtful and serious. Ron could practically see gears turning behind his eyes, and he couldn’t look away. It felt as though something unseeable was building, but he had no idea what.
Just then, the music stopped. Suddenly feeling awkward, Ron offered Harry a shy smile, and to his delight he got another one in return as they both reluctantly let go of each other. Adorable. The word flashed in his mind, startling him, and he was tempted to shake his head like he was trying to get water out of his ears. He didn’t, because that would look insane, but vague dread crept up his spine, contrasting with the way his heart was fluttering.
Hagrid clapped his huge hands together, almost startling both boys out of their skin.
“Well done, lads! I’d say you’re ready.” Ron didn’t feel ready for much, but it wasn’t like he had anyone picked out to dance with at the ball anyway. “You head back to the common room, and don’t forget your uniforms!” Hagrid gestured to the messy heaps of clothes on his floor. Harry frowned.
“Can we come back for those later?”
Ron and Hagrid shared a confused glance. Ron had no problem with taking them back now, and he couldn’t figure out why Harry would.
“S’pose so,” Hagrid shrugged.
“Why?” Ron couldn’t help but ask.
Harry grinned and dove for his and Ron’s shoes by the door. He grabbed both pairs and held them up.
“Because my hands are full!” And with that he was out the door, shrieking as his socks hit the snow.
“Hey! Harry!” Ron barrelled after him so fast he almost fell on his face. He screamed as cold and wet shocked his feet. He managed to regain his balance and root himself to Hagrid’s doorstep. “Come on, it was a tie!” He whined after Harry.
“Exactly!” Harry was undeterred, still moving away from him. Ron sighed with frustration, took a deep breath and launched himself away from the warmth and safety of the hut before he could overthink it.
The two whooped and laughed as Ron chased Harry through the grounds. Harry let him get close and make a grab for his shoes, then spun around so they were out of reach, cackling. It would’ve been all fun and games if it weren’t for the patch of ice that caught Ron off-guard.
Ron slid into Harry, yelping as he lost his footing. They both flailed ungracefully for a long moment in that ridiculous limbo between falling and standing. Somewhere in that fumbling moment, Ron instinctively reached out to grab at Harry for support, but that only succeeded in dragging them both to the ground. Harry bore the brunt of the fall, going backwards and not able to put his hands out to stop himself. Their shoes clattered to the ground, dropped too late, and Ron tumbled on top of Harry, landing face-down.
Through his laughter, he grunted as he propped himself up on his hands, preparing to get up. “Wizard God, Harry, you’re such a-…” he trailed off as he saw Harry’s face so close to his.
Snow in his hair almost framed him like a halo in some old painting. His cheeks were pink from the cold and the running. Little puffs of visible air billowed from his lips, and Ron couldn’t stop staring. Beautiful. For a moment, the rest of the world didn’t exist. Harry stared up at him, joy in his eyes and a hint of playfulness still teasing at the corners of his mouth. They were both silent except for catching their breath.
Then that moment had to end, because Ron was becoming increasingly aware that he was going to get frostbite or something if he just stayed here with his bare hands planted firmly in the snow and ice. He lifted one hand to illustrate this dilemma and shook the snow off it, shifting his weight onto the other hand.
“I should, uhh…” Ron began. Harry blinked and then seemed to come back to reality, looking a little shaken.
“Oh! Yeah. You should. We should- Yeah.”
It took another beat of just staring like they were buffering, but Ron did manage to get up and haul Harry up after him. When they were both upright and steady, Harry let go of his hand. Ron couldn’t help but feel a little like a kicked puppy about how brief that warmth had been. Harry shook his own hand around, wiping it on his dress robes and then shoving it in his pocket. He vocalised a shiver.
“Man, you weren’t kidding. That’s fucking freezing.”
“Yeah. Speaking of which,” Ron made another grab for his shoes, but Harry was too fast and held them behind his back, grinning. “Come on, Harry, my toes are gonna fall off!”
“Don’t be such a baby, we’re practically inside.”
Ron furrowed his brow in confusion, then looked just beyond Harry. He hadn’t even noticed how close to the school they were. An unpleasant feeling crept up his spine as he thought about the possibility that anyone saw what just happened. Although, what exactly did just happen for him to be embarrassed about? The fact that they fell over? No… it was more than that, and he knew it. He felt like whatever moment they just had together was something meant for just them. Like no one else should have been able to witness it. Deep in thought, he walked to the doors and pushed them open, stepping inside. Harry scampered to catch up to him.
“What’s up?”
He glanced at Harry, and he was frowning, concerned. Ron’s chest felt warm again. He smiled and shook his head.
“Sorry. Nothing, I’m good. Just spaced out for a second,” Ron reassured him. Harry hummed in understanding.
When they got back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry slung both pairs of their shoes carelessly on one half of the sofa - Ron practically heard his mother’s disapproving voice in his ear at the sight - and slumped down on the other half, sighing like he’d had a hard day at the office. His limbs were splayed every which way. He’s so dramatic. Ron couldn’t quite fight his smile.
“Ronnnnn, can you get the fire going?” Harry whined. Ron rolled his eyes. Okay, now the smile was mostly gone.
“You’re such a diva.”
“Am not!”
“Why don’t you do it? You’re the one who made us walk all that way with no shoes. It’s the least you can do, really.”
“But I-” Harry grumbled, sitting up a little straighter. He wouldn’t look at Ron all of a sudden. He lowered his voice. “I’m no good at it.”
Ron sighed at that, resigned. Harry looked like a kid who had to ask his mother to tie his shoelaces for him even though he was “too old” to need that. Ron’s heart ached disproportionately for him. It’s not that deep, Weasley. Wizard God, he thought sternly as he knelt down to start the fire up. “Fine.”
With the fireplace starting to crackle pleasantly, Ron stood and turned to Harry. To his surprise, Harry had moved the shoes off the sofa - more like just unceremoniously pushed them to the floor like a bored cat, but that was better than nothing - and was patting the seat beside him. He looked shy and apologetic, and the sight of that lit by the growing fire light did something disastrous to Ron’s insides. Ron felt himself grinning. He chuckled as he took a seat next to Harry, stretching his legs out to warm his poor frozen feet closer to the fire. Harry twisted to grab at something on his other side. Ron caught a glimpse of red, and glitter, and then he couldn’t see either of their torso or legs anymore. The invisibility cloak. He guessed it was just the first blanket Harry had to hand.
They just sat like that for a while, silently enjoying the fire. The way it crackled and danced. The way it soothed their poor mistreated feet. After a few minutes, Ron felt something that made him hold his breath; Harry’s arm brushing his own. He glanced over at him. Harry was decidedly not looking at him, but Ron could see that his jaw and shoulders were tense. It hadn’t occurred to Ron that Harry might be feeling just as tightly wound about this as he was, whatever “this” might be. The strange force in the air between them that whispered indecipherably in their ears and tried to pull them together like magnets. The realisation that he wasn’t the only one being whispered to made him feel a little better. He took a deep breath, and leaned towards Harry, pressing their arms together more firmly. Their hands also bumped together. Ron felt like he couldn’t breathe right. His hand is so soft.
From that simple act of acceptance, Harry seemed to fold all at once. He turned so that he could wrap both of his arms around one of Ron’s, and he tucked his face into Ron’s shoulder, but not before Ron caught sight of him smiling and felt his breath as he sighed happily. Ron was starting to worry his heart might actually burst out of his chest and into the fireplace.
Suddenly, he remembered something; Harry’s face lit by the sun through Hagrid’s window, looking disappointed. Ron broke the silence.
“Hey, Harry?”
Harry mumbled into his shoulder. “Yeah?”
“Can I ask what was wrong earlier, at Hagrid’s? You looked upset or something, for a second.” He felt Harry squeeze his arm a little tighter.
“I…” Harry sighed. “I dunno. It was nothing.”
“Oh, come on, you know I know you better than that.” Ron nudged at Harry, both of them swaying gently back to where they were, like those toys that don’t fall over when pushed. He felt Harry laugh more than he heard it.
“OK, fine. Um…” He sighed. “I just… it’s gonna sound so stupid when I say it out loud, I know it.” Ron just waited patiently for him to continue. “I thought we were having fun, y’know? And then you said that stuff about magic shoes, and it kinda sounded like you didn’t wanna do it anymore. Like you would’ve rather skipped it.” Ron’s heart lurched. He curled into Harry a little more, pressing their knees together under the cloak. He hoped it was comforting.
“No! Harry, no, I- Aagh, sorry. I only said that because I was… I was kinda nervous.” Completely freaking out would be more accurate, but that’s besides the point.
Harry shifted just enough so that he could look directly at Ron. He’s so close.
“Nervous?”
“Yeah.” Please don’t ask me why, Ron silently begged.
Harry looked like he wanted to ask why, but miraculously thought better of it, for whatever reason. He stared at Ron in deep thought for a moment. His eyes were so fucking pretty this close Ron could barely stand it. Harry spoke again.
“I don’t want you to hafta be nervous around me…” Ron could melt from how sweet that sentiment was. “You’re my best friend, y’know? Doesn’t feel right.”
“Thanks, good buddy. I’m OK, I promise.”
Harry tucked his head back down where it was. “Kay.”
Ron glanced at the wizard clock on the wall. About an hour until the Yule Ball started. Ron sighed, leaning his cheek on Harry’s hair, trying to subtly make sure he didn’t get his hair up his nose. He hoped with all his heart that it would be the longest hour of his life.