* * *
The day the whole world changed started out remarkably unremarkably.
Potions was the disaster it always was. Really, Ron wondered, how long would they be expected to sit around watching Snape and Draco make eyes at each other? Surely this was a violation of some student/teacher...something.
Defense Against the Dark Arts was a torture of mind-numbing boredom. Professor Wink was sure to last longer than any other DADA professor they'd had so far, but that was only because she was too dull for anything to happen to her.
The morning was passing in a blur of unintersting.
And then, at lunch, Harry received an owl post.
He opened the message, and Ron watched his friend's gaze drop to the bottom of the page to see who had sent it. He appeared surpised by what he found there.
'Harry?'
'Hang on.' Harry returned to the top of the page and read the message slowly. He looked up from the letter, grinning.
Until his gaze met Ron's.
Harry stared coldly at Ron. 'Did you want something?' he asked icily.
And even the hostility Harry showed Ron was starting to be boring in its predictability. Ron sighed. 'I only meant to ask who the letter was from.'
The smile came back -- a little. 'It's from Remus.'
Hermione gasped and leaned across the table. 'Seriously?'
Harry gave Hermione the full-flooded grin. 'That is an interesting choice of words, Hermione,' he said, flipping the message across the table to her.
She skimmed the letter, then smiled faintly and returned it to him. 'I suppose I'm happy for them,' she said.
Harry considered her a moment and must have decided this to be all the endorsement he would get from her. He nodded once and refolded the letter.
Ron was not surprised that Harry hadn't shown the letter to him. 'What does it say?'
Harry flicked him the briefest of glances from the corner of his eye. 'Oh. Just that he's caught up to Sirius.'
'"Caught up to?"' Ron repeated blankly.
'They had to split up again about a month ago,' Harry explained. 'Muggles poking about and so forth, finding things they shouldn't have; had the Ministry sniffing the air again.'
'I hadn't known,' Ron said, frowning.
'I, for one, consider the whole affair reckless and ill-advised,' Hermione declared. 'Sirius is running a great risk, and for Professor Lupin to put himself in such a position of danger -- for Sirius to allow him to be put into such a position--'
'Hermione,' Harry cut in, 'they had no choice, don't you see? After everything they went through, Remus wasn't about to let Sirius get away from him again. Sirius tried to stop him.' He smiled. 'Though half-heartedly, he admits. Come on,' he cajoled her. 'We all do foolish things in the name of love.' The instant the words were out of his mouth, Harry tensed, and Ron noted how studiously Harry was Not Looking At Him.
Hermione gave her hair an indignant toss. 'I do not intend to be a fool in the name of love.'
Harry laughed. 'Hermione, you will never be a fool in the name of anything.' He stood. 'Come on; we'll be late for Herbology.'
The grey unchangingness of the day hovered over Ron's head like an almost-visible cloud. Harry continued to hold him at arm's length. Not as though he were angry; more as though he were...afraid? No, that wasn't it, either. But something was going on with Harry, and Ron had a feeling he was simply going to have to wait it out -- and that he might have a very long wait indeed.
* * *
That evening, Ron found himself wandering about Gryffindor Hall with nothing to do. Or, rather, he had plenty to do -- hours and hours of homework lay piled on the table beside his bed, and there were holes in the heels of his favorite socks, for starters -- but he found himself incapable of giving attention to any of it. The day was so dull he was turning into a blob of lethargy and mental fuzz.
He wandered into the common room, finding Hermione, predictably, sitting at one of the tables, books and papers scattered around. Her hair was piled on top of her head, held in place by a quill. Her face was ink-smudged, and her eyes looked a little wild. Ron smiled.
'Hey, Hermione,' he said, perching on the arm of a chair to his friend's right.
'Ron,' she said shortly, her attention never leaving her books. She made several notations on the scroll before her, shook her head impatiently, and crossed them out.
'Problems?' he asked, not unkindly, but amused. The great Hermione Granger, stumped by schoolwork. That was a rare occurrence indeed.
'Muggle Studies is impossible,' she complained.
'Hermione, you lived with Muggles all your life, before you came to Hogwarts,' he countered. 'You oughtn't need to study at all.'
Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Living it isn't like studying it for school. I have to memorize names and dates and...' She waved her papers around. '...and who on Earth cares what was the name of the assistant something-or-other under some American president who was shot because the president's daughter was involved with...someone who somebody didn't like?' She looked up at Ron. 'You're in my light.'
He glanced around. There was light coming from three different directions, and he was eclipsing none of them, but he made an apologetic sound and moved into the other chair at the table. 'Sorry.'
They sat for about five minutes, Hermione frantically and often angrily searching for things in her notes, Ron staring disconsolately around the room, before Hermione set down her quill and glared at him. 'You aren't studying.'
Ron blinked. 'Ah. No, I don't appear to be.'
She narrowed her eyes. 'You do have homework, don't you?'
He waved a hand in the general direction of the boys' dormitory. 'Scads. Reams. I'll never get it all done.'
'And yet, here you sit, not working, and keeping me from my work, as well.'
He held his hands up in self-defense. 'I'm just sitting here,' he protested. 'I'm not keeping you from anything.'
Hermione sighed. 'Ron, you are upset about something. I will be unable to concentrate on my studies until you either tell me what's wrong or, well, go away.'
A bit put out, Ron huffed and rose. 'I'll shove off, then,' he said stiffly.
'Good night, Ron,' she said, not in the least contrite.
At the foot of the stairs, though, he stopped, turned, and came back to the table. 'The thing is, though...'
Hermione rolled her eyes and closed her book. 'Yes, Ron?'
He returned to his original perch on the arm of the easy chair. He wondered where everyone else was, but Hermione was staring at him with her 'Please hurry so that I may show adequate concern for you and get back to my life' look, so he decided he'd best be on with it.
'I've been thinking,' he began, but decided that wasn't how he wanted to start. 'Have you ever--' He shook his head. 'Bloody hell; this isn't -- have you ever loved someone who was all wrong for you? Someone who -- someone who could, in fact, be dangerous to get mixed up with?'
'Ron Weasley, you may be the densest boy in all of England,' she said sharply.
He drew back. 'I beg you pardon?'
She waved her hand. 'Never mind. You were saying.'
He slid into the chair and regarded Hermione over its arm. 'I was thinking of...well, Sirius and Professor Lupin, for instance. If Sirius is ever caught again -- and now that Professor Lupin is with him, he could be in trouble, as well; they could both be thrown into Azkaban -- or worse.' He shuddered. 'Look at your American Muggle. Shot because someone else was dating someone inappropriate. Or Snape and Malfoy. That must be terribly against regulations, students and teachers and all of that, but on they fumble as though none of it mattered.'
'I don't suppose it does, to them,' Hermione said thoughtfully. 'There's that old Slytherin arrogance--'
'No, no.' Ron shook his head. 'It's nothing to do with being a Slytherin, or even a Malfoy, come to that. It's more...does being in love turn one's brain to mush?'
Hermione stared at Ron for a moment, and Ron suddenly felt as though this hadn't been the best topic to bring up with her. She sighed, picked up her quill and fiddled with it for a moment, then put it down again. She looked back at him, and her eyes held a mix of pity and regret. 'You tell me, Ron,' she said quietly.
Ron jumped back so fast he almost hit his head on the opposite arm of chair. 'Wh -- I don't know what you're talking about.'
'Oh, don't play dumb! It doesn't suit.' He dropped his eyes, and Hermione sighed again. 'If you want to talk about people who can put one in danger, then by all means, let's. Let us talk about how dangerous it would be to be involved with Harry Potter.' Ron was having just a little bit of trouble breathing. 'And yet, I have not seen where that has stopped you from being in love with him.'
Ron was having a great deal of trouble breathing. 'Hold on, Hermione--' he gasped, but she shook her head.
'I may be dedicated to my studies, Ron, but I am not oblivious to my surroundings. I see how you and Harry are.'
Ron harumphed. 'Harry. Harry's furious with me, and I haven't a clue why.'
She peered at him. 'Furious? You think he's mad at you?'
'He isn't pleased to see me, lately,' he returned, crossing him arms in irritation.
Hermione started to laugh. It was a quiet sound and not terribly mirthful, but she was definitely laughing. 'Oh, Ron,' she said, shaking her head at him, 'I take back what I said about your maybe being the densest boy in Enlgand.' He quirked up an eyebrow. 'There is no "maybe" to it.' She reached across the arm of the chair and squeezed his hand. 'Harry's in your room, I would imagine. Go talk to him.'
He eyed her suspiciously. 'Talk to him about what?'
Her eyes sparkled. 'Just go up there, Ron. I'm sure something will come to you.' With that, she went back to her work, and Ron saw that she would not return her attention to him anytime soon.
With a melodramatic sigh, Ron heaved himself out of the chair. But...where to now? He didn't want to take Hermione's advice and go to the bedroom. If he did, he'd run into Harry, and that...
He shook his head angrily. Who did Hermione think she was, saying Ron was in love with Harry?
Who was she to know him that well?
Of their own volition, Ron's feet carried him to the stairway, and then up it. He frowned when he realized he'd been drawn unerringly back to their room. For a moment, he considered not going in, but at this point his only other option was returning to the common room, where Hermione would yell at him again. He took a deep breath and opened the door.
* * *
The room was quiet. Neville was sitting on his bed with a scroll in his lap, looking almost ridiculously thoughtful as he worked on the mysterious project he'd been at for months -- the one he wouldn't show to anyone. Other than that, no one seemed to be about.
Ron nearly collapsed with relief. Hermione didn't know so much, after all. Go talk to Harry, indeed. Harry wasn't even here.
'Hello, Ron,' Neville said absently.
'Evening, Nev.' Ron shut the door behind him.
And then cursed as the light glanced off shining black hair and two circles of glass as Harry's head appeared between the curtains of his bed. 'Ron?' For a moment, it was as it always had been -- eager anticipation shone in Harry's eyes and voice as he looked about for his best friend.
'Hello, Harry,' Ron said hopefully.
Harry frowned, and the anticipation blinked out, replaced by -- by nothing. It wasn't anger that Ron saw in Harry's eyes. It was absence. He saw it more and more these days. 'Is Hermione still in the common room?' Harry asked neutrally.
Ron nodded. 'Going mad about her Muggles Studies test.'
Harry shook his head. 'I don't understand how she can study that.'
'I don't understand how she can be so bad at it,' Ron returned, and they giggled slightly. After their laughter died away, Ron held Harry's bright, wary gaze in his own. 'She said I should come talk to you.'
Harry swallowed and looked at Neville, who couldn't have been paying less attention to them. 'Oh?'
Ron nodded. 'But she wouldn't say why.'
Harry adjusted his glasses. Ron's forehead crinkled; that was a gesture the other wizard only made when he was nervous. Harry hesitated a moment, then he sighed and held the curtain open. 'Best come over, then.'
'We needn't -- we don't take advice from Hermione.' He tried to smile but found he just didn't have it in him.
'No, she's right,' Harry said. 'We need to talk.'
'Okay,' Ron said, unsure what was about to happen. He climbed behind the curtain and Harry let it fall closed around them.
Little light came through the curtain, and Ron could barely see his friend in the shadows. 'What do we need to talk about, then?' he asked.
'Um.' Harry exhaled. 'I. Uh.'
'This is ridiculous,' Ron said. He felt Harry stiffen. 'I can't see you at all.' He pulled his wand from his robe. 'Lumos,' he said quietly, and a soft glow lit the small box formed by the curtains. 'That's better.'
Harry groaned. 'I'm not so sure it is.' He lowered his head, staring at his hands, and his hair fell forward over his eyes.
'You need a haircut,' Ron said, and, hardly aware his hand was moving, reached over and brushed the dark strands away. Harry went dead still, his breath hitching in his chest. Horrified, Ron snatched his hand back, clenching it as he dropped it onto his knee. For pity's sake, Weasley, he scolded himself, why don't you just have a sign made that says, 'I love Harry Potter.' You can put a string on it and wear it around your neck.
They sat for a moment, not speaking, not even looking at each other, and Ron found himself hating Hermione. Finally, he couldn't take any more. 'Harry, why are you mad at me?'
Harry startled and looked up. 'I'm not!'
'You've been distant all month. We hardly ever do anything together -- and never anything alone -- we don't talk--'
'We're talking now.'
'I'm talking now. You're sitting there, looking as if I've sprouted an extra set of arms.'
Harry growled in frustration. 'I had a plan!' he said, far more loudly than he'd probably intended to.
Neville's pen stopped scratching for a moment. Ron flicked his wand and set a privacy spell around the bed.
Harry sighed, returned his gaze to his hands, and went on, quietly, 'It was a damned good plan, and it was going to work. I was certain of it.' Harry had exchanged his robes for a thin t-shirt and loose pants, and he looked so small and dejected that Ron had to hold his arms against his sides to keep from reaching over and gathering Harry into them. 'And then...and then I chickened out.'
Ron almost laughed. Harry Potter, chicken out? Not bloody likely. 'What plan?' he asked, but Harry continued as though he had not heard, still talking to his hands.
'It's easier with girls,' he told his hands. 'It's easier with girls because you can assume they like boys. I know that isn't fair, and it isn't always true, but generally speaking, with girls, all you have to panic about is whether they're interested in you specifically. You don't have to obsess about whether they'll punch you for even asking.' He ran one of his hands through his dark hair, but then he dropped it back into his lap and resumed addressing it. 'Of course, if it were a girl I were interested in, I wouldn't be having this problem.' He looked brightly at Ron, almost as though he didn't realize he'd said any of that aloud. 'Would I?'
Ron's mouth was impossibly dry. He swallowed twice and licked his lips, but it didn't seem to help any. 'Harry, are you...I don't understand what you're saying.' Because he knew what he wanted Harry to be saying, so Harry needed to explain -- fast -- what he was actually saying, before Ron's hopes got any bright ideas about rising.
'Of course you don't,' Harry said sadly. 'Because you don't spend the majority of your waking moments obsessing about someone you can't have and wondering what life could be like if ever you'd kick yourself in the backside and get on with it. You don't understand because you would never fall in love with someone you oughtn't.'
Ron shook his head. 'But you're wrong, Harry,' he said. 'I would. In fact I am, right now. I'm in love with someone who would be absolutely wrong for me. Someone I'll never have.' Ron frowned as Harry's bizarre ramble began to truly filter through his brain. 'At least, I didn't think I -- Harry!'
'What?' Harry looked panicked, like he'd been caught sneaking into Hogsmead again.
'Tell me about your plan.'
'I can't--'
'Please, Harry?'
'No way.' Harry crossed his arms. 'I won't.'
Ron leaned forward, his eyes blazing gleefully. 'Why not?'
'Because it's...' Harry harumphed and turned away. 'It's private, that's why.'
A reckless daring seized Ron. He and Harry hadn't ever really had secrets from each other. If Harry felt he couldn't tell Ron about his plan, Ron reasoned, it must be because the plan involved Ron somehow. And after the crazed speech about girls -- 'Harry, I want to tell you about a dream I have.' Harry didn't respond, but his eyes slid over to Ron's face, then away just as quickly. The redhead grinned and plunged on. 'I have a daydream, and I pull it out quite a lot, but particularly when Draco and Snape are mooning over each other during Potions. This person I'm in love with? I dream that I forget about this person being wrong for me. I dream that I ignore the ridicule and rejection I face if this person doesn't feel the same way about me as I do about them. I dream--' He took a very deep breath and leaned closer to Harry, who stiffened but did not retreat. '--I dream that I just walk up to him, up to this brilliant, beautiful, foolish boy, and say, "Harry, may I?"'
Harry was shaking. Ron bit back a whoop of triumph. His best friend was trembling, and Ron was elated. Because he was right. Harry shaking meant Ron had guessed right. He leaned even closer and raised a hesitant finger (hesitant because he wasn't entirely sure he'd guessed right) to Harry's cheek. 'Harry, may I?' he whispered.
Harry's head fell forward again, and he simply sat, trembling and not moving, and Ron feared he'd made the worst mistake of his life. Then Harry drew a great shuddering breath and raised his face to Ron's, and his eyes sparkled more brightly than Ron had ever seen them. 'Please do,' he said softly.
Ron reached up and pulled off Harry's glasses, setting them aside. He turned his hand over to cup Harry's cheek, and for a moment he sat staring into Harry's luminous green eyes. No wonder the other wizard had forced his eyes to go blank whenever he looked at Ron -- if Ron had seen even a fraction of the emotion reflected in them now -- well, if Ron had seen it, they would've had this conversation months ago, and maybe it wouldn't have been so painful, but he could understand how Harry, while uncertain of what Ron's reaction would be, would not want him to see it.
Ron realized that he was sitting in Harry's bed, with Harry, and that he was analyzing Harry's motives, when he could be kissing Harry. He laughed at his continued idiocy.
Harry misinterpreted the delay and put his hand to Ron's chest, sending a jolt through him. 'Ron, you don't have to do this just because you think I -- that is, if you don't want--'
'What I don't want, Harry,' Ron murmured, his lips mere inches from Harry's, 'is to waste any more time.'
And the mere inches vanished.
The kiss, at first, was hesitant and slow. Ron's brain was about to go into complete sensory overload, trying to sort out the taste, and the sensation, and the mere...fact of Harry. He tasted of pumpkin juice, and maybe currants, and something that was simply Harry.
And his lips were soft, but firm, and warm, and each time they moved, ever so slightly, Ron's entire body tingled. He responded in kind, and the hesitation was gone. Harry put his hand on Ron's thigh, grapsing handfuls of Ron's robe. Ron's hand at Harry's cheek drifted back, brushing against Harry's ear before tangling in soft black hair.
Both boys froze when the door to their room banged open and a pair of exuberant voices drifted to them.
'Did you see the look on Malfoy's face, then?'
'Where in blazes was Potter? He of all people should've been there for Draco's defeat.'
'"Draco's defeat? You sound like a two-Knute novella.'
'Dean and Seamus!' Harry whispered, panicked, against Ron's mouth.
'Harry, relax,' Ron soothed him. 'They can't hear us.'
'I know, but--' He pulled out of Ron's embrace and stared at him. 'I'm sorry, Ron, but can we -- I mean, can we not...oh, listen to me. Barely started and I've already flubbed it.'
'Harry.' Ron pulled him in again, his hand moving gently in the other boy's hair. 'We needn't rush into anything.'
Harry shook his head. 'It's not that,' he insisted. 'I just want -- I don't want to be paranoid the entire time.'
Ron nodded. 'We'll make everything perfect -- I promise.'
Harry smiled gratefully and kissed Ron again. 'Thank you for understanding.'
Ron grabbed his wand, which had rolled into the folds of Harry's blankets at some point. 'I'll see you in the morning, then.'
'Ron, no -- wait.' Ron paused and looked at Harry, who was looking a bit embarrassed. 'Could you -- will you stay here tonight?'
Ron blinked. 'Are you sure? Seamus and Dean -- Neville was awfully caught up in his project, but it isn't as if he didn't see me come in here.'
'I don't care,' Harry said, and Ron could tell that he really didn't. 'They can think whatever they want -- I want you here.' He grinned. 'I don't want to waste any more time, either.'
Ron laughed, and then yawned. Dear gods, but he was exhausted. Soul-baring rather took it out of one.
'Why, Ron, that's a brilliant idea,' Harry exclaimed, yawning as well. Before Ron was quite aware what was happening, Harry had pulled him down on the bed and was settling himself more comfortably against Ron's side. Ron pulled up the covers and shifted so he wasn't quite so much squashing Harry, and almost laughed as he realized that, despite the almost violent repositioning, he still had a hand in the other boy's hair. So this was going to be a thing with him, he imagined.
'You know,' Harry said, his hand resting on Ron's chest, 'today was dreadfully boring.'
Ron started to chuckle, and Harry popped up, panic flooding his face. 'I didn't mean -- no, Ron, I -- that is--'
'Harry,' Ron said, pulling the mortified wizard back down against him, 'I know what you mean. I felt the same way.'
Harry shook his head. 'I expected...signs, you know?'
'Like we'd be able to look back and say, "From the instant I woke up, I knew that day was going to be different from every other"?'
'Exactly.' Harry yawned. 'You understand me so well.'
Ron laughed. 'I don't understand you at all, Harry Potter. You are a complete mystery to me.'
Draping a possessive arm across Ron, Harry said, 'You've plenty of time to figure me out.'
Ron grinned, ridiculously pleased by Harry's promise. 'You are also, I understand, something of a planner.'
'Ron--' Harry groaned.
'Let's have it then, this great scheme of yours.'
Harry yawned again and snuggled insolently against Ron's shoulder (and anyone who says that snuggling can't be done insolently should really come watch this), his eyes drifting shut. 'It was a good plan,' he informed Ron. 'And it was going to work.'
'Until the part where you chickened out, right?' Ron got no response. 'Harry?' The other boy twitched. Ron grinned; Harry was out cold. 'Sneaky bastard,' he murmured fondly, kissing the top of Harry's head. 'But if you think you'll get out of this by falling alseep--' Ron fell prey to a yawn himself and pulled the covers up more securely around them.
Every day, Ron thought as he drifted into sleep, clinging to the wonderful, suprising reality of an armful of Harry Potter, every day should be this ordinary.
END