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Harry was having one of the most miserable times he’d ever had at Hogwarts. People talked about him behind his back and right in front of him.
People accused him of putting his own name into the Goblet of Fire, of wanting attention, or of trying to steal the spotlight from the ‘real’ champions.
None of it would have bothered him quite so much, of course, if Ron had been by his side. Harry would have given anything to have the entire school—or the entire wizarding world—against him, if only it meant having Ron on his side again.
But he wasn’t going to force him. If Ron wanted to believe Harry had put his own name into the Goblet, or if he was jealous like Hermione had said, then that was his problem.
For the moment, Harry hated everything about Ron.
His red hair, his stupid freckles and his blue eyes.
He hated him.
Or at least, that was what he wanted to do.
Ron, for his part, didn’t want to be anywhere near Harry. He even got up early so he could have breakfast away from him. He spent time with his brothers or sat with other people in their year to do his work.
As far as Ron was concerned, Harry didn’t exist.
Or at least, that was what he wanted to believe.
——
Hermione did everything she could to bring them back together, but without any success. They were both being stubborn, even though she knew perfectly well that they missed each other.
They couldn’t deny it.
It was obvious from a mile away.
Trelawney’s class was a complete bore without Ron there to laugh with Harry at the professor’s ridiculous predictions, or to make up their own predictions together. The permanently dreamy atmosphere of the classroom certainly didn’t help when Harry was already bored out of his mind.
Things took a turn, however, just before Snape’s class, when Hermione was hit by a spell that made her front teeth grow. Somewhere in the middle of the ensuing row, both Harry and Ron ended up with detention.
Harry absolutely did not want detention, but he couldn’t help the little flicker of hope in his chest.
Maybe, somehow, being stuck together would make him and Ron friends again.
Their punishment was to clean an old classroom that had once been used for Defence Against the Dark Arts and was now cluttered and filthy.
No wands, as Snape had made perfectly clear.
And they were to start at eight o’clock that evening, after dinner.
——
Ron didn’t say a single word to Harry. With fifteen minutes to go, he left the Great Hall and headed for the classroom they were meant to clean, Harry following close behind.
Not a word passed between them.
The only sound was their footsteps echoing along the long corridor until, outside the classroom, they found Snape waiting for them with a look of disdain.
“You will clean and tidy this classroom until it is immaculate. Without magic. If I catch either of you using magic, this will not be the only room you’ll be cleaning.”
He looked between them before turning sharply on his heel and sweeping away down the corridor, his black robes billowing behind him.
Ron entered the classroom without saying anything and began moving chairs and desks into one corner so he could clean the floor. Every now and then, he found himself face-to-face with Harry and would roll his eyes or huff under his breath.
Harry pretended he was alone.
He cleaned the blackboard, the equipment and the desks.
Apart from the scraping and shifting of furniture, no one would have guessed there were two people in the room at all. They didn’t exchange a single word.
It grew later and later, and they still weren’t finished. Their noses itched from all the dust they were stirring up, and their wrists were beginning to ache from scrubbing and dragging chairs and tables about.
Then, during a moment of silence, they heard a very familiar laugh coming from somewhere down the corridor.
Peeves.
They heard him singing to himself, his voice drawing closer and closer.
Dangerously close.
Until he appeared in the doorway.
“Oohohoho! Potty and Weasley! Potty and Weasley!” he sang. “Oohoho, they’re going to kiss in the dark classroom! Potty and Weasley!”
“Peeves, leave us alone,” Harry said irritably.
“No, no, noooo!” Peeves sang in that infuriating voice of his. “But I’ve only come to help!”
He flew into the classroom, turning loops and somersaults through the air.
“Peeves, piss off! There’s nothing for you to do in here,” Ron snapped, clenching his fists.
“Oh, what terribly rude students! Perhaps I ought to—”
Without warning, Peeves shot across the room so quickly that a powerful gust of wind followed him.
Neither boy quite understood what had happened in those few seconds.
There was the sound of someone stumbling.
A door slammed.
Then another.
He had locked them in.
Ron ran to the classroom door and tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge, not even when he attempted Alohomora.
Then something else caught his attention.
First, banging.
Then quick, ragged breaths.
He couldn’t see the face of whoever was making them, but the terror in the sound was unmistakable.
Harry had been shut inside a cupboard beside him when Peeves had swept through the room.
Harry’s chest began to tighten.
It felt as though the walls of the cupboard were closing in, growing smaller and smaller until there wouldn’t be any room left for him at all.
He looked around desperately, but it was pitch-black.
He didn’t even realise how quickly he was breathing or how violently his heart was hammering against his ribs.
He was panicking.
He didn’t want to go back into the cupboard under the stairs.
Not again.
“No, no, no, no! No! No! Let me out! Let me out!”
Harry screamed, terrified, his words breaking apart between sobs and panicked cries.
A short while later—though to Harry it felt like hours—the door flew open.
A freckled face appeared on the other side.
Ron looked utterly terrified for him, and without even thinking, he grabbed Harry and pulled him out.
“Shh, shh, I’ve got you. You’re safe. You’re not—you’re not in that cupboard, Harry.”
It was the first time Ron had spoken to him in weeks.
Ron knew Harry was terrified of small spaces, and silently cursed the Dursleys for being the reason why.
He held Harry tightly against him as they rocked gently on the floor, trying to calm him down. Harry was still breathing far too quickly, trembling from head to toe.
“You’re safe. You’re not going back in there, I promise,” Ron said, cradling his head and stroking his black hair.
For a second, Ron seemed to realise what he’d just done.
But he didn’t move away.
Neither did Harry.
“Ron…” Harry managed in a trembling voice.
Then, a moment later, he began to sob harder than he ever had in front of him.
“Ron, I didn’t put my name in the Goblet. I swear I didn’t.”
“I know… I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been a git, Harry. I’m sorry.”
Ron continued holding him carefully, trying to soothe him, but Harry couldn’t stop crying. The stress of everything he’d been through that week, combined with the vulnerability of that moment, had completely broken through whatever defences he had left.
So he simply let himself cry.
It took more than twenty minutes for Harry to calm down.
He clutched Ron’s robes as though his life depended on it, eventually reduced to quiet hiccups as, little by little, his grip on the fabric began to loosen.
“Feeling better?” Ron asked, pulling back slightly so he could look at him, though he was still holding him and stroking his hair.
Harry nodded and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
“I… I don’t like small spaces,” he whispered.
“I know. I know, Harry…”
Ron pulled him close again and kissed his forehead.
He had never kissed Harry’s forehead before.
The hairs on the back of Harry’s neck stood on end.
“Ron…?”
Harry straightened slightly.
Their eyes met.
For several seconds that somehow felt like minutes, neither of them moved. The only sound in the room was their breathing.
They were getting closer without either of them seeming to realise it, until the tips of their noses were almost touching.
Ron had never seen Harry’s bright green eyes quite like this before. They were strange and beautiful, like emeralds, framed by thick lashes still wet with tears.
Harry could see every freckle scattered across Ron’s nose. His eyes were as blue as the sky on its clearest days, surrounded by long, pale lashes.
Lashes that were slowly lowering.
Harry’s eyes began to close too as they leant towards one another.
Until their lips met.
And in that moment, they both knew they didn’t want to be apart.
At least not then.
They kissed as though, somehow, they had both been waiting for this without knowing it.
With all the feelings they had spent weeks trying so hard to turn into anger.
And with love.
When they finally pulled apart, it was only by a few inches.
Ron was bright red.
Harry suspected he looked much the same.
Neither of them said anything.
They simply stared at one another, breathing a little too quickly.
Harry’s eyes dropped to Ron’s pink lips.
“Bloody hell,” Ron breathed.
Harry looked back into his eyes.
And then he kissed him again.
———
They kissed.
And then they kissed some more.
For quite a long time, actually.
Long enough that they forgot they were locked inside that classroom. Forgot they were meant to be serving detention.
Harry even forgot about the Triwizard Tournament.
They talked, though not very much, and in considerably better spirits they eventually finished cleaning the classroom, even if they still couldn’t work out how to get out.
They tried everything they could think of. The windows were no use either; they were far too high up in the castle to climb out of them.
Eventually, they settled against one of the walls.
They talked.
They kissed a little more.
And at some point, overcome by exhaustion and sleepiness, Harry drifted off in Ron’s arms.
Ron followed not long afterwards.
——
Hermione found them like that hours later, after realising neither of them had come back.
Her eyes grew slightly misty at the sight of them asleep, tangled together on the floor, Harry’s Invisibility Cloak in one of her hands and the Marauder’s Map in the other.
She called their names until they finally began to stir.
The moment Harry and Ron realised how they had fallen asleep, both of them went red right up to their ears.
Hermione laughed.
But she understood.
Of course she did.
After all, she was the brightest witch of her age.
And really, this was something she should have seen coming.
The End