How To Mend a Broken Soul

How to mend a broken soul.

All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for their daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere
And their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow
No tomorrow no tomorrow

And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you
'Cos I find it hard to take
When people run in circles
It's a very, very
Mad world

Children waiting for the day they feel good
Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday
Made to feel the way that every child should
Sit and listen, sit and listen
Went to school and I was very nervous
No one knew me, no one knew me
Hello teacher tell me what's my lesson
Look right through me, look right through me

And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you
'Cos I find it hard to take
When people run in circles
It's a very, very
Mad world

("Mad World", Tears For Fears)

Day One: I'm Okay...

"Ron? Are you sleeping?"

Ron felt his mattress shift under a new weight and sleepily opened his eyes; Harry's dark figure was towering over him, outlined by the moonlight. "What's wrong?" he asked, blinking several times.

He couldn't see Harry's face, but he could well tell the silence that ensued was filled with uneasiness. He had expected that to happen. When they had gone to bed earlier that night, he had wondered if maybe Harry would talk to him, because none of the Weasleys had bought his smiling reassurance that he was doing fine and not to worry. But Harry hadn't, and Ron didn't dare bringing the subject up on his own.

"Harry?"

"I...can't sleep," a chocked up voice answered.

Ron sat up, so that now the light fell right on Harry's face, and felt his heart constrict at the pain and fear he saw written there.

Harry sighed deeply and tried to smile: "Must be the excitement of being here, I--"

"You don't have to lie, y'know," Ron gently interrupted, cocking his head to the side. "I won't laugh at you because meeting You-Know-Who and almost dying there traumatized you."

Harry didn't reply anything to that, but his eyes spoke volumes.

"I know it's kinda girly, but...wanna lie down?" Ron tentatively asked, scooting away from Harry.

Harry didn't need to be asked twice.

It hadn't been two pleasant months, to say the least. Harry had barely had a single decent night of sleep in all his stay at the Dursleys, and his waking hours were dull and tasteless, even more so than usual. He couldn't concentrate on books, nor did he feel cheerful enough to send many owls to Hermione, Ron or Sirius, though all of them frequently asked how he was.

At long last, two days before, Ron had sent him an ecstatic note - not only the note; Pigwidgeon had been delivering it - saying that Dumbledore had given his permission for Harry to go spend some time at the Burrow. Harry had arrived the very morning, feeling an incredible weight taken off his shoulders as soon as he was surrounded by the familiar Weasleys' friendly faces. And yes, seeing Ron again had been the best part, by far.

Harry had spent the whole day laughing and eating and running with the whole Weasley gang, and when they finally went to bed, he felt serene, sure this time he'd fall asleep in no time. But when he found himself lying on his back in the dark shelter of Ron's room, the familiar anguish sprung back to life in the pit of his stomach, and soon Harry felt sweaty and trembling...like every goddamn night. He hadn't been able to stop himself. During those two horrible months, how many times had he wished to have somebody there with him to hug him and comfort him, and now that Ron was lying a mere two feet away from him, Harry knew he'd go insane if he didn't swallow his pride and seek refuge in Ron's bed, no matter how weird that'd surely look.

He slipped under the covers, suddenly enveloped by warmth, Ron's body so close to his and yet not touching it. "Thanks..." he finally whispered, scooting closer to Ron; their legs were brushing against each other now, their foreheads inches apart.

"You're welcome," Ron replied simply, smiling at him. He hoped and feared at the same time that Harry would begin to talk, because he didn't have the slightest idea how to behave. His mother would be more comfortable with that kind of thing, he longingly thought. But then, he doubted Harry would want to talk about his fears to her.

"Ron..."

"Yeah?"

"I..." Harry sighed and closed his eyes, wishing the words could just spill out for once and for all. For two months he had thought of talking to Ron about his panic attacks day and night, and now that he could, now that Ron was there, he just felt speechless. "I...y'know, I keep having those nightmares..."

There. The hardest part had been done. Now he could speak. He looked into Ron's caring eyes and felt...felt home. Felt safe.

"About what happened..." Ron faltered.

Harry nodded before he could finish and said: "About a lot of things...But most of all about Voldemort...I keep dreaming that I'm stuck on the ground and I can't stand up again and I can hear his feet coming closer...and the cup is just in front of me but I can't seem to reach out..."

Ron, who wasn't immobilized, reached out a very shaky hand and softly, very softly brushed it against Harry's cheek, wondering what the hell he was doing, but amazed at how soft Harry's skin felt under his fingers. Harry didn't seem to notice the gesture, or maybe he just didn't mind.

"But my scar didn't hurt me all summer," Harry added, putting on his brightest smile. Ron smiled back, actually greatly relieved by that bit of information. His father hadn't talked once about what was going on at the Ministry all summer, but Ron figured that as long as Harry's scar wasn't going awry, things weren't too bad.

"But I...well I kept waking up not knowing where I was, and...well, once I knew where I was, I can't say this was of much comfort!" Harry went on, chuckling bitterly.

Ron's fingers trailed down Harry's cheek to his jaw, featherlike, until the tip of his fingers unexpectedly came bumping against Harry's fist, which was coiled under his chin.

"The Dursleys, they didn't understand why I was acting even weirder than usual...they said I looked sick and that I'd better not pass it to their Dinky Duddydums." As broken as his voice was, venom still slithered in every word, and he had almost spat out Dudley's nickname. "Uncle Vernon was fuming every time I woke up screaming in the middle of the night, like I could help it!" Harry felt the black clouds of anguish twirling inside of him again, the unnamed fear gripping at his heart, and it was all he could do not to start shaking right then and there.

Slowly, shyly, Ron brushed his fingertips against Harry's fingers, a little jolt of imprecise excitation coursing through his veins when Harry's hand unwound slightly, so that Ron could slip his fingertips between two of his fingers, in a weird touching attempt at locking hands. Anything so that Harry didn't forget where he was, and that he was safe.

"And of course I couldn't tell them what had happened at school, coz then...well I'm pretty sure they'd have thrown me out of their house in the blink of an eye, scared that I would bring them even more trouble."

"At least you'd have had a good excuse to come at our place..." Ron said, smiling encouragingly.

Harry's lips twitched up, but his smile didn't reach his eyes, far from it. He cleared his throat and avoided Ron's eyes, but it was burning on his tongue, he needed to say it once and for all: "But the worst part was when I couldn't sleep......Ron...huh...have you...have you ever been so afraid that you can't even remember who you really are?"

It was the final blow. When Harry rose up his now tearful eyes to look at Ron, not really expecting an answer, Ron snapped. He didn't even think about what he wanted to do, or what he would do, or what he was doing. He just felt drawn to Harry with more strength than he had ever been drawn to anybody before, and he didn't fight it.

Harry's eyes widened in shock when Ron's lips came crashing against his, and he instinctively reached out his hand to push Ron away, but stopped in mid-movement. Something was telling him shoving Ron away like that would put an end to their friendship, and that was almost the only thing that kept him sane these days. So he let Ron kiss him. Not that it was really a kiss, Ron being too awkward and Harry too unresponsive, but after two seconds the touch became tenderer still, less aggressive.

When Ron pulled away, he was a deadly white. Harry just stared at him, not really sure the kiss had really happened. Maybe his brain was just fucking up with him a bit more...

"Oh god I'm really sorry..." Ron spattered out, his cheeks going from white to bright red in less than a second. Their fingers were still intertwined. "Oh god...Harry, I--"

"It's okay," Harry interrupted, surprised at the sound of his own voice. "It...wasn't that bad," he tried to joke, but his smile was unsure.

Ron looked down at the sheets between them and sighed. "I'm so sorry....it just...when you said what you said, you looked so...so sad and so...broken, and...I just did the most intimate thing I could think of...just so you know you've still got people loving and caring about you." He shyly raised his eyes to Harry's face again, and to his great surprise, Harry was smiling softly at him.

"Thanks," he whispered. "That's..." he sighed, suddenly finding himself at a lack for words. "That's really...that means a lot to me," he finally said, his eyes shining with gratefulness.

Ron went slightly pink again, and couldn't refrain a grin, which made Harry chuckle, and soon both were feeling rather comfortable again.

Then Harry sighed, smiling weakly. "Y'know...I wanted to send you an owl, often, but...I didn't want to look like a fool..."

Ron opened his mouth, but didn't say anything. Well, maybe Harry was right. Maybe at the time Ron would have stupidly thought that Harry was overreacting. It was always easier to think people were listening to themselves when you hadn't lived what they had, when you didn't have their wretched figures under your eyes as a damming evidence that no, they weren't just being silly. "You should have come here sooner...we should have guessed..." he finally whispered, feeling his throat closing up.

Harry smiled sadly and shook his head. "T'wasn't your fault Ron. Dumbledore wanted me to go back to Privet Drive, remember?"

"He should have known there'd be nobody to comfort you there," Ron hissed through clenched teeth, suddenly losing all admiration for the Headmaster.

"Oh, he didn't seem too happy to send me there, y'know..."

"All the more." Ron fell silent, anger boiling inside him. If Dumbledore knew that Harry would go through all those sleepless, rotted nights, then he was not far from a criminal from Ron's point of view.

"Ron it's okay."

"No it's not," Ron murmured stubbornly, looking down with heated tears in his eyes. "He should have...he should have let you stay with us, stay with me...maybe you wouldn't have felt so bad here, coz we all love you, not like your so-called family of abusive psychos!"

"Ron what matters is that now I'm here, and I'm feeling much better with you around..." Harry cupped Ron's cheek with his palm, surprised at how hot the skin was, and scooted closer. All this felt...strangely right. Or maybe not right, but...well, it didn't feel wrong.

"You do?" Ron croaked.

"Yes." Harry smiled, gazing into Ron's brown eyes and realizing that he had never really looked at them before. He had pretty eyes. They were bright and soft and tender and...caring. About me. Ron cares about me. Of course, Harry had always known that, but somehow...it suddenly seemed to take a whole new meaning; or maybe it was just that for the first time Harry actually thought about it, not just took it for granted.

And suddenly, he thought he knew why Ron had kissed him, a few minutes before. Because right now, that's pretty much what Harry felt like doing. It just...he wanted to truly thank Ron, and it suddenly appeared very clear what would do the job far better than words. And his body was so intent on doing it that it didn't let Harry's brain the smallest second to scream out in protest and lay out a thousand of perfectly good reasons not to do it.

Their faces were so close already, Harry didn't have to move much to press his lips against Ron's. This wasn't like the first kiss, rushed and urging and rather brutal. This time, their lips were barely brushing against each other at first; then Harry gradually pressed himself closer, feeling Ron's lips trembling under his own. When Ron's lips started moving ever-so-slightly, Harry eagerly replied.

Harry let himself drift away into the kiss, drugged by the blissful feeling that all his troubles were flying away, far, far from that bed. He couldn't believe something so simple and impassionate could feel that splendid. He wasn't even kissing Ron at this point. Ron was kissing him. Featherlike touches of warm, satin-soft lips, hesitant and willing at the same time, and it was oh-so perfect.

And then they weren't kissing anymore. Harry wasn't sure how it had stopped, he just suddenly realized that he was gazing at Ron's face again. He was pretty sure his own eyes reflected Ron's incredulous look. O-kay...what goes now?

"Did you...had you ever kissed somebody before?" Harry eventually asked in no more than a whisper, blushing slightly.

Ron chuckled nervously and slowly shook his head no. "You'd know it if I had..."

The thought that Ron was really sweet when he blushed like that passed through Harry's head, but the memory of how his lips had tasted outdid it.

"And you?" Ron asked softly.

"Oh yeah, I snogged Dudley all summer long," Harry said. Ron's eyes got wide for a second, then they both fell into breathless giggles, Harry pulling on a genuinely disgusted face at the thought of kissing his pig-like cousin.

When the giggles had faded away, a quiet silence reinstalled itself, both boys gazing at each other lazily; it wasn't awkward, really, nor uncomfortable. They were too dazed to try and figure out what those kisses had been about, and too tired to try and do small talk to avoid the silence.

Ron was drifting back to sleep when Harry spoke at last. "Ron..." Ron's eyes fluttered open again. "...d'you mind if...can I sleep there tonight?"

Ron smiled and wrapped an arm around Harry's waist, pressing him towards his body wordlessly. Harry let out a sigh of relief and a smile of he-didn't-really-know-what and cuddled up close, shyly slipping one leg between Ron's ones, and he closed his eyes without fearing the nightmares for the first time in months, as Ron's soft cheek gently pressed down against his and he got sheltered in the warmth of Ron's neck and pillow.