Archive of Our Own ^beta

Something was wrong with Harry. 

No one else seemed to notice, but Ron was observant, far more observant than anyone ever gave him credit for. While annoying, it wasn't anything he was going to correct. It was far easier to let people undervalue him because it made it that much sweeter when he outperformed their expectations of him. 

Which he did, every single time.

"Have you seen Harry lately?" Ron asked, wanting to piece together what Hermione might know. She often gave away information without realizing it in her haste to be right all the damn time.  

"Probably stalking Malfoy again," Hermione said, shaking her head slightly as she didn't bother to look up from her Charms book. 

The odds were in her favor. Harry probably was stalking Malfoy, something he seemed to do in his free time instead of hanging out with him. They didn’t even have time for a game of Exploding Snap lately.

"Has he seemed off to you?" Ron asked, keeping his tone light instead of concerned. He had a hunch about what was going on and didn't want to overstep by letting her know. 

It wasn't his place to spill Harry's secrets. 

"Malfoy isn't exactly normal," Hermione said dryly. "He hasn't said two words to me all year, which is peculiar, but—"

"Not Malfoy," Ron snorted. "I meant Harry." 

This time she did peer over her book to look at him, but he averted his attention to his homework instead. 

"He's been quieter than normal, but I think he's still grieving Sirius." 

While that wasn't exactly wrong, Ron didn't think that was what it was. He knew Harry; they shared things about each other that no one else would ever know—could ever know. He knew his best friend in and out, could read his mood just by an expression, and could understand his thoughts with a side glance.

Fred had George; well, Ron had Harry.

Just like his brothers, if one of them was sad, then they both were. 

Ron was going to get to the bottom of the mystery and help in any way that he could. 

For Harry.

It took a while to find him, far longer than Ron had expected. 

"You alright?" Ron asked, voice quiet so as to not interrupt Harry feeding a swarm of Bowtruckles.

"Yeah," Harry lied, tone dull in a way that had Ron's heart clenching. Harry did that often, pretended to be alright because he didn’t want to be a bother. As if having emotions and letting others help could ever be a bother.

Harry could never be a bother.

A Bowtruckle climbed on top of another one to get to Harry's fingers that were dropping bits of wood for them to eat.

"When I was younger,” Ron began in a soft tone that had Harry’s head turning slightly to see him. “My sister spent a lot of time with my mother, and Fred and George had each other. Percy was too busy with his studies. I was lonely despite being in a massive family. So, I created friends in my head to make me feel better, and while they helped back then, none of them could compare to you."

Harry's head snapped to him, eyes widening.

"You are my best friend, Harry. I know that something is bothering you, and I don't want to pry—really, I don’t—but I do want to help."

"Ron," Harry choked, eyes a bit wet before he looked back at the Bowtruckles.

"It's okay," Ron promised. "Whatever it is, it changes nothing."

"It changes everything!" Harry argued bitterly and dejectedly, throwing down a handful of wood in emphasis. "You wouldn't understand."

If it had been a few years ago, Ron might have taken the bait, allowed himself to get angry, but Harry was probably right. He didn't understand a lot of things when it came to Harry and Hermione. Their life experiences were vastly different from his own, and he was often confused when it came to them and their reactions—was never sure how to respond without offending them.

"You're right," Ron agreed, smiling a bit when Harry froze. "I don't understand. I'm not as smart as Hermione, but I try. I'm not as courageous as you, but I try. I haven't been the best friend to you, but I try. I keep trying because it's all that I can do."

"You're my best friend, Ron, and I'm scared."

Ron's brows furrowed as he watched Harry bite his lip and wipe his eyes.

"You can tell me anything, Harry, you know that."

Harry's hands shook a little, and that was Ron's limit. He pushed aside some of the more violent Bowtruckles to slide next to Harry and pull him into a hug.

Harry's hold on him in return was so strong that it hurt, but he didn't dare move, not unless it was to hug him back just as fiercely.

"Do you mean it?"

Ron held on tighter. "You know I do."

There was a pause, a long one where he wasn't sure that Harry was going to continue, but after a few minutes a soft,

"I don't think I like girls like I'm supposed to."

There it was.

Ron had suspected, had seen the same signs that he had with Fred years ago. Only, his older brother hadn't had the same worry, the same fear.

"And that's okay," Ron murmured, his hand rubbing soothing circles on Harry's back. "I know that a lot of Muggles aren't too keen on that, and some Wizards too, but it's okay."

Harry shuddered, shoulders shaking, and Harry had been right. Ron didn't understand, not in the same way, because that wasn't something he could relate to.

"My uncle said—" a sob and more shuddering.

"Your uncle's opinion is worth as much as the Doxy droppings in my Aunt Muriel's outhouse."

A shaky laugh that was more wet than dry before, "He's wrong then? He said that it was unnatural, that people like that were perverse."

"Of course he's wrong," Ron promised, placing a hand on the back of Harry's head. "That man can't see past his own hatred and ignorance. His thoughts are just as meaningless as Snape, okay? Don't listen to shite that man has to say.”

Ron didn't have a lot of money, but he was willing to bet the little that he had that Vernon was a bitter man who hated himself and resented the life he built and was jealous. Jealous of the magic and money that Harry had. Jealous of a life that he'd never get to live or be part of.

A sniffle before Harry let go of Ron and rubbed at his eyes, pushing his glasses up in the process.

"I'm really glad you sat in my compartment in first year," Harry whispered, cheeks a bit red. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Warmth filled Ron. A warmth that he used to long for when he was the lonely child that watched his older brothers play with each other as he talked to himself and played solo.

"Me too," Ron said, voice cracking with emotion. “You make me want to be a better person.”

“I don’t know about that,” Harry laughed, head shaking. “I’m a mess.”

“I think that we’re allowed to be. We have our whole lives to figure it out, why not be a mess now?”

“That’s pretty wise,” Harry said, eyes crinkling in a way that Ron knew he’d be alright. “I think you’re just as smart as Hermione.”

“No really,” Harry said when Ron scoffed. “She’s book smart, but you are calculated. You think ahead in ways that she doesn’t.”

Pleased but embarrassed, Ron cleared his throat as he looked down at his shoes and whispered his gratitude.

“Should we head back up before she worries about us?”

Ron snorted. “She’s doing a review of the past five years in Transfiguration, she won’t even notice that I left.”

“God, why?” Harry said, tone aghast as he dumped the last bit of wood on the ground and gestured for Ron to follow him.

“In preparation for the N.E.W.T exams.”

“That’s not until next year.”

“She stabbed me with a fork at lunch when I said the same thing.”

They shared a look, one that said, ‘She’s a bit out of touch’ and it filled him with that same warmth to know that he not only had a best friend, but he had found his own Fred, or his own George. He had found someone that would always understand him. 

“So,” Ron began that had Harry narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “Who’s the lucky guy? Anyone I know?”

A grimace was followed by a flurry of emotions that had Ron pausing slightly as he nearly tripped over a large tree root. The reaction alone meant that Ron wouldn’t like the answer. Considering the topic at hand, he knew he’d have to tread carefully.

“I don’t want to lie to you, Ron,” Harry said, tongue poking through his mouth. “But I’m not ready for that yet.”

He could appreciate the honesty. That at least was a step in the right direction.

“I’ll be here for you when you are.”

Harry squeezed his arm briefly, a soft smile on his lips. Words weren’t exchanged, but that was okay, because Ron knew what he was thinking anyway.

Always would.

Ron took a deep breath, mentally apologizing to Harry before he ransacked Harry’s trunk in an attempt to find what he was looking for.

Whispers during dinner spoke of a duel, one that Snape had interrupted, and Ron knew. It all clicked in that moment, and he was glad that he hadn’t forced the conversation months ago. He hadn’t been ready then, would have probably put his wand in his mouth and ruined a piece of their friendship.

“Aha,” Ron whispered when he found it. He put on the invisibility cloak and quickly made his way out of the common room, careful not to touch anyone, but he was pretty sure he had accidentally bumped into Dean who turned around so quickly that he tripped and fell on Seamus. A casualty of love.

There were several people in the corridors and on the staircases, much to his annoyance. Didn’t they have anything better to do than linger outside of their common rooms? It’s like they had a social life or something.

By the time that Ron made it to the Hospital Wing he knew it was late enough that most of the stragglers should have dispersed, and hopefully they’d be completely gone on his way back.

The door to the Hospital Wing was partially cracked open, which was one small blessing. He peered through the windows and when the coast was clear he slowly pushed it open, inch by inch to ensure it didn’t creak.

Ron nearly froze when he walked by Madam Pomfrey’s office and could see her head looking his way before he remembered that she couldn’t see him. When her head lowered to her desk once more, he crept through the empty beds toward the back of the room, this time freezing when he could hear Harry’s voice.

“—‘m sorry, so sorry—”

“Sorry? Do you realize that I’ll scar? That I’ll forever have a reminder of your cruelty.”

“My cruelty? What of yours? Draco, you’re harming people.”

Draco? Ron grimaced. He had known what he was in for when their duel had hit the gossip mill, but it was another thing entirely to be faced with the reality of it.

“I’m not meaning to, not really. I—”

“If you’d just let me help you!”

“I don’t need your help!”

“Clearly, you do.”

There was a desperation to Harry’s voice that had Ron closing his eyes. Gryffindor had been expected of him due to being a Weasley, but he knew deep down that he would have also done well in Hufflepuff. He was too kind, had a bleeding heart. All it was going to take would be one pleading watery green-eyed expression and Ron was going to cave.

Ron was going to have to help Draco fucking Malfoy.

“I’m going to die, Harry, because I can’t do it. I can’t do what he wants me to.”

“Then don’t!” Harry cried. “Don’t do it. I’ll save you.”

“I’m not you, I don’t have nine lives. I can’t outlive the Dark Lord.”

“Fuck him,” Harry snarled, and that had Ron slowly walking forward until he could see them and not just hear them.

The sight of Malfoy had Ron’s eyes widening and he had to cover his mouth. There were bandages everywhere and they already needed to be changed as there were blood stains on them slowly spreading.

Merlin, what spell had Harry used?

“Your Gryffindor stupidity aside, I admire your vitriol,” Malfoy said, eyes soft in a way that Ron didn’t think he could do. Malfoy soft? Get real.

“Let me help you,” Harry said, eyes going glassy as he gingerly sat on Malfoy’s bed. “Please. I’ll talk to Dumbledore for you. He’ll understand.”

Malfoy looked to the ceiling, eyes just as wet as Harry’s.

“What about my parents?”

“They made their decision, and the repercussions are their own.”

Malfoy bit his lip before blowing out an exaggerated breath. “I’ll be branded a traitor. I’ll be enemy number three. Right after you and Dumbledore.”

“Third place isn’t so bad.”

“I really hate you.”

Harry laughed, holding out his hand and Ron’s brows arched as Malfoy entwined their fingers.

“I really am sorry,” Harry said, tone contrite. “I didn’t know what the spell did, I promise! I was just trying to stop you.”

“I was going to Crucio you.”

Merlin, they needed couple’s therapy.

“Would you have meant it?”

“I’d like to think I would have, but you have a way of getting under my skin.”

Harry’s lips twitched, much to Ron’s dismay. They even had inside jokes. It was obvious that Malfoy was going to be around for a long time. Part of him wondered how it had happened. When did they go from arguing and silly spats to whatever they were now?

Maybe Malfoy had caught Harry stalking him.

“It’s my charm,” Harry said, winking, and Ron nearly snickered when Malfoy flushed, actually flushed.

When Harry leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together, he knew that it was time to leave. He didn’t want to be around for anymore of their grossness. There would be plenty of time for that in the future. He’d just have to mentally prepare himself for it first.

Merlin, what was Hermione going to say?

By the time that Harry returned it was long after curfew. He made a sound when the curtains were pulled back and found Ron in his bed.

They shared a look, and the confusion turned to something wary as Harry laid down and faced him, nerves written on every inch of his face.

“Choice of partner aside, I’ll always be here for you.”

Harry let out a choked sound before he was tackled to the bed. “You’re the best-est friend I could ever ask for.”

“I know, and you fucking owe me for it.”

Harry laughed wetly. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

He had known by the end of their first year that Harry’s life wouldn’t be an easy one, that the future would be bleak at times and that he would struggle. But he had vowed to himself that he was going to be right there with him, through thick and thin because that’s what friends did for each other. Ron was going to be there for him, because Harry was his best friend.

Even if that meant tolerating Malfoy.

“Whatever you want,” Harry repeated with a yawn, head falling to a pillow as he closed his eyes.

Ron wanted a lot of things out of life. But when it came to his friendship he just wanted one thing. Harry.

Just Harry.