It’s beautiful. Warm, welcoming and immensely comforting. But it’s not for him. Harry can wish all he wants but the Burrow will never be his home. He already has so much: piles of money, wizarding blood in his veins, a place at Hogwarts, a godfather, wonderful friends… So why is it always the things he doesn’t have that he lies awake thinking about?
Harry would give all the gold in his Gringott’s vault to have a family and a home like Ron’s. To be able to lie here in this cot at the end of Ron’s bed every night of the summer. To see Ron’s groggy eyes and mussed hair when his mother calls them to breakfast. Ron is different here, so much more confident and comfortable than he is at Hogwarts. His easy smile makes Harry warm and relaxed -- and completely happy. He loves that smile. But it isn’t one he’s seen anywhere else. It’s not for him.
Never satisfied, Harry chastises himself. Even here at the Burrow, in this comfortable cot, surrounded by friends, he is still dreaming of what he doesn’t have. At this moment - after a long, fun, full day - he wants nothing more than to climb into Ron’s bed beside him, drape an arm around him and press his face up against the side of his neck where he knows that it smells like tea and fresh dirt. Even in this, in his friendship with Ron, he wants more than is offered to him.
Harry doesn’t know where these thoughts come from. He is well aware that boys don’t crawl into bed together and snuggle up. He is aware too of what some people would say about it. Still, Harry wonders just what would happen if he did do it, if he pulled back the covers and got in...
Ron would open his eyes, turn and see him. He would look confused at first, but then shift over and make room for him. Harry would slide in beside him and pull Ron, close. Ron wouldn’t look confused anymore. He would understand now. He would put his arms around Harry and it would be warm there, in his arms. He would be all pressed up against Ron, he would have to pull away to look in his face. Ron would kiss him then, softly. And Harry would part his lips, draw Ron’s face closer, and pull his body over on top of his. He would be so warm there, between Ron’s body and the thin mattress. He would slip a hand under Ron’s shirt and feel the bare, hot skin on his back. They would move against each other quietly, so as not to wake the twins. But small sounds would escape them, no doubt, as Ron certainly wasn’t known for being quiet…
In fact, Ron isn’t particularly quiet right now. Harry fights to keep his eyes closed when he hears the soft whimpers from the bed near his. He listens a minute and decides Ron is asleep and dreaming. Of what, Harry is fairly certain. Of whom, he has no idea.
The room is suddenly silent again, except for the faint snoring of Fred and George. Harry shifts, rolls over to face away from Ron – just in case. If Ron happens to be awake, Harry doesn’t want him to know he heard him. Harry has a wonderful friendship with Ron, he tells himself yet again. He has his loyalty, his trust, his companionship. Those are important things. Things he should be grateful for. The other things he wants – touches, warm bare skin, those sweet soft sounds – they’re not for him.
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