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The cold air nipped at Harry and Ron, leaving their faces pink and cold. Ron dipped his face further into his coat, wishing he remembered the warming charm Hermione had tried to teach him. “Bloody freezing!” Harry mumbled his agreement, his face hidden behind his red scarf, a previous birthday gift from Molly.
The two boys shuffled their way through the snowy street of Hogsmeade. They took their time in each shop, prolonging their time before they had to reenter the cold outside. Both their satchels were full of sweet treats and other necessities, such as quills and ink. Finally, they found themselves heading towards the pub. They stepped through the door, immediately hit by the warm interior. Their cheeks flushed at the warmth, but they were grateful. Ron took the lead in finding an empty table for them.
“Feeling famished after being out in that cold.” Ron popped an unwrapped sweet into his mouth.
Harry rolled his eyes, grinning. “You're always hungry, Ron.”
Ron shrugged. “I'm still growing, Harold. I need my protein!”
Harry's nose wrinkled at the name. “Still not my name.”
Their banter was cut short when the waitress approached. The two boys politely ordered. Once she left, Harry looked back at Ron. “So why didn't Hermione come with us?”
Ron popped another candy into his mouth. “Something about a girl's day, whatever that entails. She's with Ginny and Luna.” Harry nodded.
The waitress appeared again, this time with a plate and two butterbeers. She set a drink in front of each of them and the plate in the middle of the table. The boys thanked her. Ron grabbed a chip, popping it into his mouth. “S’good.”
Harry shook his head at Ron talking with a full mouth. “Manners, Ronald.” The boy teased.
Ron, being the mature boy he is, stuck his tongue out at Harry. Harry rolled his eyes. “Very mature.” Yet he was smiling, so Ron knew he wasn't actually upset at him.
Ron bumped his foot against Harry’s. “Should we head back after we finish? Could play chess.”
Harry’s lips quirked upwards. He found Ron's obsession with chess to be endearing. He also couldn't deny that he found Ron cute when he played. The way Ron got so serious, and his brows furrowed as he scoped out his next move. But he found many of Ron’s traits cute. His nose scrunching when he was annoyed, or the way he went all red when embarrassed. Harry believed Ron to be the cutest when he got all shy and awkward. The way he would fidget and stutter over his words. Harry could never get enough.
A harsher kick to his leg had him blinking back into focus. “What was that for?” He exclaimed, catching a few patrons' eyes. He lowered his head in embarrassment, still glaring at Ron.
The Weasley boy shrugged, smiling innocently. “You zoned out. Alright, mate?”
Harry huffed, rubbing his leg where he was kicked. “I was until you kicked me like a football.”
Ron's head tilted to the side, brows furrowing. “Football?”
Harry thought he looked adorable. “Muggle thing.”
Ron nodded, his interest lost as he returned to eating.
Harry, however, found himself watching Ron again. The dimmed lighting reflected off the red head, bathing him in a warm glow. His freckles stood out against his pale skin, coupled with the red flush of his cheeks. He looked softer. Harry was used to Ron’s loud and sassy side. It was only when they were completely alone that he was allowed to see the softer, unguarded side of Ron. Harry wished to see it more. It drew him in, giving rise to an addiction he never expected. He found himself craving more. He liked Ron. He liked the real Ron. He liked seeing Ron happy, gushing about things he liked, from chess to Quidditch to even Viktor Krum ( even though it made him feel slight jealousy ). Harry liked everything there was about Ron. He just wished he were brave enough to say it.
“Ready?”
Harry blinked, eyes meeting Ron's. The Weasley raised an eyebrow in question. Harry’s lips tugged up, unable to stop himself from grinning. “Yeah, let's go.”
Once they paid, the two boys stepped back out into the cold, crisp air. Snow had begun to sprinkle down while they were inside. The ground had yet to be fully covered, but would be soon. They quickly slid their gloves on and zipped their coats to the top. “Bloody winter,” Ron grumbled at Harry’s side.
He snorted, “Could be worse-”
“Don't jinx it, Harry! You have horrible luck.” Ron grumbled, shoving himself into Harry.
Harry stumbled while laughing. He shoved his glasses back up as they began to slip. “I won't!”
Ron shook his head, yet he didn't move away. Harry noticed. He could feel him, could feel the warmth sinking into him despite the cold around them. He pressed closer, firmer now. Ron didn't pull away. Neither did Harry. They kept walking, their gloved hands brushing more than they should.
Ron glanced at Harry. There were small bits of snow clinging to his hair and lashes, leaving wet traces as they melted. Fog blurred his glasses, again hanging low on his nose, dangerously low to slipping off. His cheeks were flushed red, and his nose. It reminded him of the Muggle story Rudolph, that Hermione had told him about. The thought had him smiling, a soft huff of laughter leaving his lips.
Harry glanced at him, glasses slipping impossibly lower. “What's funny?”
Ron grinned, “Nothing.” He lifted his hand, pushing Harry’s glasses back up with a gloved finger. “You're going to lose these someday.”
Harry was sure that if his face got any warmer, he'd explode. “Good thing we know magic. Maybe I can duplicate them, so I never run out.”
Ron huffed, amused by Harry’s suggestion. “Good luck with that, mate.”
Silence fell, but it was comfortable. The boys walked side by side, their hands occasionally brushing. Neither knew who made the first move, but their hands shifted, now comfortably entwined. They remained that way all the way back to the castle.