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The days on the run had begun to blur together. They had received the sword after the silver doe’s visit, but the path ahead was still uncertain, and Harry had started to lose heart.
Harry, especially, was having a terrible time those days. His scar had become a constant point of pain that left him irritable, made worse by the days he barely ate properly or had to keep watch over the tent.
One night, Ron had got up to use the loo when he heard someone being sick outside. He immediately strode out into the snow and found Harry bent over at the side of the tent, vomiting onto the ground.
“Harry! What happened? What’s wrong?” Ron asked, alarmed, holding him steady and rubbing his back. When Harry finally lifted his face to look at him, his eyes were wide and unfocused, his lips and face ghostly pale.
Ron could feel him trembling in his arms.
“It’s the scar… it hurts more and more,” Harry finally panted out, still shaking.
“For God’s sake, Harry, you look awful. Come inside, I doubt any Death Eater’s going to show up tonight,” Ron murmured, lifting Harry into his arms.
Harry and Ron had a relationship that technically couldn’t even be called dating, considering they had never officially gone on a date as a couple. They had come together after the torture caused by the locket Horcrux — before Ron destroyed it — Ron’s heart terrified that Harry would choose someone else, when in the end he had always chosen him. Ron.
The kiss they had shared that night still made Ron’s ears burn red whenever he thought about it.
Ron carried Harry into the tent, waking Hermione.
“Ron? What happened?” she asked in alarm, climbing down from her bunk to get a closer look at Harry.
“His scar. It’s hurting badly — I found him outside being sick.”
“Oh dear… I’ll make some tea” Hermione said quickly, hurrying towards the little kitchenette.
Ron laid Harry down on the bunk, brushing the fringe away from his forehead and setting his glasses aside. He felt helpless not being able to do anything for him.
“If you feel sick again, tell me, love, yeah?” Ron said softly, running a hand through Harry’s hair.
Harry immediately felt his cheeks grow warm. It was the first time Ron had called him love.
That definitely did not go unnoticed by Ron, who laughed quietly under his breath.
“You like it, don’t you? Me calling you love.”
“Git…” Harry muttered, though he was smiling despite the pain.
He did like it.
He absolutely loved it.
Hermione returned shortly afterwards with tea and some toast they still had left from the last time one of them had gone out for supplies. She placed it on the little table beside the bed while Ron helped Harry sit up, who still had flushed cheeks.
“Has he got a fever?” Hermione asked when she saw him.
Ron snorted.
“Oh, honestly, both of you!” Hermione exclaimed, turning away while shaking her head.
Ron passed the tray to Harry, who settled it on his lap and began eating. Hermione resumed what was probably her fiftieth reading of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, while Ron watched her strangely as he sat on the edge of the bunk with his back against Harry.
“Has something new appeared in the book? Maybe Beedle left a hidden message…” Ron teased.
“Of course not. I’m trying to decipher the symbol on the cover…”
“Maybe we really do have to visit old Lovegood, but Harry doesn’t want to go.”
The aforementioned only grunted while devouring his toast.
“Yes, because I need to know why Dumbledore left me this with that symbol,” Hermione said firmly, closing the book again.
“Oh please, not today. Don’t make so much noise…” Harry complained, resting his forehead against Ron’s back.
“Relax. Until you feel a bit better, we’re not going anywhere,” Ron replied.
“Ahhh… keep doing that,” Harry murmured.
“Doing what?”
“When you talk… the vibration. It makes me feel better.”
“Really?” Ron asked, turning around and pulling Harry against his chest. “Like this?”
“Much better. Keep talking…”
“But what am I supposed to say?”
“Here, read him a story,” Hermione said, handing Ron the Beedle the Bard book.
“Oh, good idea,” Ron said, settling more comfortably and opening the book at random. “—but…! What the hell, Hermione? This thing’s in runes!”
Hermione laughed and passed him her copy of Hogwarts: A History instead.
“There you have. That way at least one of you might finally read it,” she teased.
Ron rolled his eyes, but adjusted Harry — who was hugging him around the waist with his head pressed to his chest — and began reading aloud.
Harry’s expression softened almost immediately as Ron read. He had already gone through several pages before pausing to drink some water Hermione handed him.
“If you’re too tired, we can just go to sleep,” Harry murmured, sounding nearly dazed.
“It’s alright, love. I’ll keep reading until you fall asleep.”
Harry blushed and settled again while Ron resumed reading.
It only took another twenty minutes before Ron realised Harry was sleeping soundly, his face finally free from pain.
Hermione looked at them knowingly.
“Love?”
“Oh, shut it…” Ron whispered, though he was smiling. “I think I’ll sleep here tonight,” he added quietly while carefully easing Harry down onto the bunk.
“I certainly hope you mean sleeping,” Hermione muttered as she climbed back into her bunk.
“Hermione Granger, I never imagined you had such thoughts about us. Honestly, how dare you,” Ron joked while wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist, hearing Hermione laugh quietly to herself.
The redhead fell asleep with a smile on his face. He had helped Harry feel better — and on top of that, he had him tucked safely in his arms all night.
Despite everything happening outside that tent, at least that night, Ron slept happy.
The End