He Just Knows

    Ron was dreaming. He must have been. He was too content and warm to be awake. But something roused him from his sleep. He could hear a rustling and shifting of blankets. Soft enough to dismiss as the restless sleeping of a seventeen year old boy, but Ron knew different. Six years in a dorm with Harry had made Ron sensitive to everything about him. Ron knew the difference between Harry’s squirming and his nightmares.

Turning his head to further inspect the source, Ron saw a Harry-shaped lump fidgeting under the covers. With every movement Harry made, his tiny cot on the floor creaked. He knew Harry wasn’t awake, because if he were, there would definitely be more noises coming from him. Harry was absolutely quiet during bad dreams. He didn’t make a sound, just twisted and turned, but Ron knew that Harry’s heart must have been weeping.

That’s why the last few years at school Ron had taken to sleeping with his curtains open, so he would know when Harry needed him. Luckily, since Harry was at the burrow that whole last week, there was nothing separating the two boys, save a few feet of air. It wasn’t as if Harry would ever tell Ron anyways, but he didn’t have to; he just knew. He knew from the night Harry arrived at the burrow a week ago, and the tears that lingered long after Harry had gone. He knew from the secret whispers in his ear about how much he missed Dumbledore. He knew from the laughter and smiles after a good Quidditch game in the backyard. He knew from the hugs that lasted just a second too long. Ron might have be daft about many things, but he wasn’t daft when it came to Harry. Ron had always known when Harry needed him, and tonight was no exception.

Lifting the covers, Ron climbed out of bed, wincing when his bare feet make contact with the cold wood floor. The small amount of steps to Harry‘s bed seemed increasingly far as the creaking of the floor boards get louder with every step. Sitting down on the edge of Harry’s bed, Ron lifted the covers to reveal a face of anguish. Harry’s hair was plastered to his forehead, and there were tiny crease marks on his usually smooth face. His fingers were curled up tightly, clutching the insides of the blanket in an attempt to shut out the cold of Ron’s tiny room.

Leaning down, Ron brushed Harry’s fringe from his forehead. Almost immediately Harry began to relax, and Ron felt something swell up inside of him. He hadn’t done this often. It was always just been a gentle push to wake Harry from his nightmare, followed by a mumbled “Thanks“. Then Ron would retreat back to his bed, and both boys would pretend to fall back asleep. But some nights, when Ron couldn’t stop himself, he would watched Harry for just a little bit before he would wake him. There was something so vulnerable and open about Harry when was sleeping. There was a sense of innocence and beauty that wasn’t there in Harry‘s waking moments, and it saddened Ron to realize he couldn’t remember when that had disappeared.

Feeling reckless, he leaned down to place a gentle kiss upon Harry’s scar. A soft sigh escaped Harry’s lips and a small smile graced his face. Ron was once again filled with an overwhelming urge to be close to Harry, to make him happy and safe. He knew he was supposed to be with Hermione. That’s what everyone expected. He knew he loved her too, but it wasn’t the same as the love he had for Harry. After last year, after Dumbledore died, Hermione and Ron had gravitated towards each other and Ron had gone with it. It only seemed natural to do what everyone had been expecting. Besides, Harry had been with Ginny. Things were going just as he used to hope.

It was only after Harry and Ginny broke up that Ron was forced to reconsider what he was doing, and what he really wanted. Things with Hermione weren’t always easy but they were safe. Ron knew that he cared about her and that she cared about him too. They were safe together, and not many things were safe in Ron’s world anymore. But that just wasn’t enough for him. The only thing that had ever been enough was Harry.

When Harry arrived at the Burrow this summer, looking better then Ron had expected, he felt his heart go through his chest. There had been some indescribable feeling at the mere sight of him. Harry had grown slightly, his hair somewhat longer and curling at the nape of his neck, and his eyes were more intense then ever. There was no doubt about it, Harry had matured. There was a confidence and determination that was brought about by the end of sixth year, and Ron would’ve been lying if he didn’t admit to finding that dead sexy. A thought which hadn’t scared him nearly as much as it probably should have.

Ron wasn’t so sure if it was normal to see life in your best mates eyes, to find hope in their laugh, and security in their presence. He wasn’t so sure if it mattered anymore. All that mattered was that in two weeks the new term was due to start again, and he and Harry wouldn’t be going back. In two weeks they’ll be out there fighting, out there looking for Horcruxes. To be honest, Ron wasn’t even sure if either of them would live to see another year. Which was why he had given up caring if what he wanted, no, what he needed, was normal. All he knew was that Harry filled the other part of his heart and soul, and he wouldn’t let that go for anything or anyone.

An almost inaudible groan from the body below brought him back to his senses. Harry was waking up, and Ron wasn’t sure what would happen if he was caught in his current position, stroking Harry’s hair. Before he convinced his body to move, Harry’s eyelashes fluttered open and he looked up at Ron blearily, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

“Ron," his name was spoken softly, Harry’s voice rough and deep with sleep.

“Um….I’ll just go then. You were having a nightmare, that’s all, mate.” Ron’s voice cracked and he knew that he sounded nervous, but it was too late to stop the words that were already out of his mouth.

Standing up to leave, Ron was stopped by a calloused hand grasping his arm.

“You don’t have to go, Ron. You could stay.”

Before he could respond, Harry was scooting over. Looking down, Ron couldn’t figure out how two almost grown boys would fit on such a small bed, but he lied down anyways. Being the taller one, Ron could feel every part of Harry’s body aligned to his own. Feet to head, they were intimately huddled under the covers. Ron slipped his arm under Harry’s head and it came to rest lightly against his neck. They were silent for so long that Ron almost believed Harry had fallen back to sleep.

“Ron, you still awake?”

“Yeah, hard to sleep with your bony elbows poking into my side.”

“Prat,” Harry said affectionately.

“You know you love me anyways,” Ron replied cheekily.

“Yeah, guess I do.”

Ron’s breath caught in his throat and for a moment he thought all the blood might be rushing to his head.

“Harry, mate, did you just say you love me?” His voice was muffled slightly as he spoke into Harry’s hair, but the gravity of the question wasn’t lost on either boy.

Harry shifted slightly and leaned up on one elbow, staring down at Ron. He looked at him for several long moments as if trying to memorize his face. Sitting up slowly, he brought both hands down to cup Ron’s face, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. He worked his way down Ron‘s face, kissing every freckle. Harry kissed all the way down his nose and neck, and even behind his left ear to kiss the one freckle Ron didn’t think anyone else even knew he had.

Looking up into Harry’s eyes, Ron didn’t need Harry to say he loved him. He didn’t need to be told. He knew in the way Harry clung to him, from the brush of fabric against his stomach and from the hand that fluttered beneath his shirt. He knew from the gasp that came from Harry’s mouth as Ron gently nipped Harry’s lower lip, sucking gently. He knew from the moan he heard as he traced down the line of Harry’s collar bone, and from the salty taste of tears on Harry’s cheek. Most of all though, Ron knew Harry loved him in the way Harry’s body instinctively curled into him as he fell asleep, and in the way he slept the whole night through.

There were many things Ron wasn’t sure of in his life. He wasn’t sure about his future or his family, he wasn’t sure if Harry would ever kill Voldermort, or if they’d ever find all the Horcruxes. At that moment, Ron wasn’t really sure of much, but he was quite sure that he would sacrifice all the certainty in the world for a chance with Harry.