How To Mend a Broken Soul

Day Four: Boyfriends and pink robes.

"But mom, it's summer!"

"Tsk-tsk-tsk, I don't care about what season it is, George Weasley! It's almost midnight, and school starts again in less than two weeks! From now on, I want you all to go to bed before eleven pm. No discussion."

"But the last week's the best week..." Fred whispered stubbornly, going up the stairs behind Ron and Harry, while George stared at his mother for two more seconds, before cowering away; nobody could beat Molly Weasley at a staring contest.

"Hey, want to come in our room to play poker?" Fred whispered to the two boys as they reached the twin's floor. Ginny had gone to bed at least an hour before.

Ron looked at Harry, praying for him to decline the invitation. He had been waiting all day for the night to come, often had almost hopped on the spot with excitement, and he didn't want his brothers' to delay the moment when at last it'd be him and Harry, alone again...Tell me, what makes you so sure you're going to kiss again, hmm? After all, he didn't kiss you this morning, did he?

It had been atrocious. Even since Harry had fallen asleep the night before, Ron had been thinking hard about everything. And although by the time morning came, he had gotten nowhere, when Ron woke up, the first thing his eyes met were Harry's eyes, then his tender smile, and it was enough to convince him that he definitely, definitely wanted to get to kiss his best friend again. Actually, that morning, Ron was already relishing the kiss to come when Harry turned and got up, stretching, and Ron hid his head in his pillow to cover his embarrassment. Once Harry was away, Ron rolled on his back, closing his eyes and trying hard once more to figure out what was going on between them. They couldn't just snog the hell out of each other one night and be just friends the next morning, could they? Coz that sure wasn't fair!

After half an hour, Ron finally came to two certainties: he liked kissing Harry. Very much. ...damn, this was only adding up to one certainty. He had lots and lots of uncertainties, though. About how Harry felt, if Harry liked the kisses as much as he did, if Harry saw him any differently now, because he kinda thought he saw Harry so. About what Harry's reaction might be if Ron admitted everything to him, whatever this everything was - Maybe you should figure that out before opening your mouth... - and what might come out of Harry's stay at the Burrow, what he, Ron, wanted to come out of it, for a start.

But the rest of the day had been as perfect as could be. They did all the usual stuff, and Ron lost count of the times Harry "accidentally" touched him - the brushes of their hands had been the most delicious torture of all - or the number of times he caught sparkling green eyes looking happily at him. He had felt high all day.

"...Ron's state, I guess we're going to decline your offer, sorry..." Harry was saying to Fred, laughing.

Ron blinked, brought back to the present time by the mention of his name, and wondered how long he had tuned the conversation out. Great, you must have looked like a fine idiot once again...

"You coming?" Harry asked him, almost in a whisper, once the twins had closed the door to their bedroom. Ron felt his skin break into goosebumps. Can you say "bedroom eyes"? Harry was standing there, on the first step of the staircase, a hand nonchalantly leaning on the banister and his body half turned to Ron and half ready to climb, and he was radiating sensuality, even though Ron knew he certainly wasn't pulling it out on purpose, for the simple reason that Harry was definitely the kind of guy that didn't even think he could be sexy.

Ron felt giddy all over again, and had to concentrate very hard not to grin like a fool. Maybe he didn't concentrate hard enough, though, for Harry chuckled at him and turned away, climbing the stairs. Hoping Ron couldn't see his hand shaking against the banister.

The day had been both Heaven and Hell and Heaven again. Everything was so nice that Harry didn't want it to end ever--

(didn't want to leave Ron ever)

--but at the same time he couldn't help but look forward to the evening, wondering with both childish excitement and teenagerish anxiety about whether they were going to kiss again or not. They had to. They had to. They couldn't just make out like crazy and then go back to being platonic, right? Right?

Why didn't you kiss him this morning, then? You'd have known right away. Harry unconsciously slowed down, looking a bit forlorn. Sure, he hadn't kissed Ron that morning. Actually, he hadn't even really felt like kissing him. And so what?! That happens! Right? He was sleepy, and hungry, and yes Ron was adorable with his eyes puffy from sleep and his hair all messed up, but...Maybe Harry simply was afraid. In any case, he just flung his legs over the side of the bed and stretched his limbs, while Ron buried his head in his pillow, mumbling something about morning coming far too damn fast. Harry laughed, playfully shook Ron on the shoulder - was it his imagination or did Ron tense? - then gave up and went down alone.

It was strangely quiet and a tad depressing, to eat at a deserted table. Harry ate as slowly as he could, but after a while of staring at his empty cup of tea and having the disagreeable feeling that he was back in Trelawney's room, he finally cleaned his plate and went back up. Ron was just on his way down and the two boys met in the third staircase. Harry smiled, but something in Ron's attitude made his smile vanish, and they didn't speak. Harry pushed himself against the wall to let Ron pass.

But there was no uneasiness now, amazingly. Harry and Ron looked at each other, standing in front of the open door; Harry smiled shyly; there was a flash of mischievousness in Ron's eyes; and without any word they both knew they were going to sleep in the same bed again that night.

"You don't mind if I read a bit?" Harry asked Ron a while later, opening a thick book on Ron's pillow. Ron was lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, on Harry's left. The bed was decidedly not meant for two, and the boys were thigh to hip, arm to arm. Harry knew it'd surely be hard concentrating with Ron so close to him, but he did feel like reading. It seemed like a very nice end to a very nice day, as opposed to his days at Privet Drive, where he had forced himself to read, just to stop thinking about how miserable he felt.

"Sure...What's this?"

"Mm? Oh, Lord Of The Rings," Harry replied, showing Ron the cover. He had the one book edition, which he had found in the middle of the books that were piled up in Dudley's old bedroom. He figured Dudley would never notice it was gone.

"What is it about?"

Harry looked at Ron quizzically: "I know that's a Muggle book, but...are you saying you've never heard about it?"

"Nope," Ron said, looking unmoved.

"Really?!" Harry had almost shouted it.

Ron laughed: "Hey, the wizarding world is pretty closed in on itself, in case you hadn't noticed!"

"Yeah but still...I mean, this book is a reference all around the world!"

"Oh. Well...then maybe I'm just illiterate," Ron said softly, sounding hurt at his own words. He shivered when Harry's hand came covering his.

(Quite soft. Must be because he didn't play Quidditch all summer.)

"T's'okay, you know. Actually...I'm only reading it now because they just made a movie about it...I got to see it coz Dudley wanted to for his birthday, and they didn't trust me anywhere near enough to leave me home alone. Anyway, I'd have never had the courage to read the book before seeing the movie." He smiled brightly and Ron smiled back, then leaned down to take a look at the book, his flaming red hair brushing against Harry's face in the process.

(Pale flesh tanned skin slender fingers freckles hidden wall of fire his cheek just looks SO soft and what smells so sweet no reading the book reading the book we're reading the book.)

"Elves?" Ron said after a while, chuckling. "Elves don't exist!"

"I didn't say it was a historical book!" Harry protested. "And plus, now that I've seen this world, I'm ready to believe they exist, too!"

Ron turned his face to him, grinning. "No but Harry, I can assure you, elves don't exist! People checked, y'know!!" He giggled and shook his head.

"Well well, you'd think being a wizard you'd have a mind a little more opened to magical possibilities," Harry said, raising one eyebrow mockingly. "And thanks for destroying my dream, by the way." He looked down at his book and pretended to ignore Ron.

There were a few seconds of silence, then Ron softly ventured: "...well...y'know, people checked, but...you can never be sure, can you?"

Harry suppressed a laugh and cocked his head to the side to look at his friend, grinning.

(damn. That way his hair has to fall on his forehead...)

You're so cute...Harry thought with a sigh. Annnd here you go again, thinking he's cute! As if staring at his butt wasn't enough! But there Ron was, looking back at him, inches from his face, looking so genuinely sorry about his earlier affirmation, and yes, he was cute. In every sense of the meaning.

Ron grimaced and bit on his lip, his bright eyes shining with worry, and Harry's brain still had the nerve to tell him to be prudent - to yell at him to be prudent - but Harry lost no time in shushing it up. I think yesterday's Half-dressed-snogging-session quite states that I can kiss Ron without fearing he'll call me nuts, he thought, albeit a tad nervously. Anyway, he didn't want to think right now, he just wanted to see if Ron's lips would still taste as sweet as they looked, so, his upper strain of thoughts bathed in deliciously simple obviousness, he just leaned up and gently pecked Ron on the lips. Then he smiled sheepishly at his best friend and turned his attention back to the book, abstractedly licking his lips.

I kissed him. I kissed him. ...god I want to kiss him again! No. Wait. If he wants to, then...Okay, read. The Elves next un...no wait, I already read that. Ah yes. It was hard to say what colour they were...I kissed him...wait, what are they talking about again? God I can't believe I kissed him again. ...cloaks. Wonder if they're invisibility cloaks. Maybe it'd make things too easy...they were: grey with the hue of twilight...I could put on the cloak one day and watch Ron shower...what?! twilight...I wonder where that came from...no, read, goddamnit. Set in another light...that doesn't make sense...ah, I skip--

"...uh...Harry?" Ron softly asked. It had been at least five minutes since Harry had kissed him.

"What?" Harry didn't turn his head to look at his friend. He hoped Ron couldn't see just how much his hands were trembling, no matter how hard he was gripping the edges of the book.

"...uh...well..." There was a long silence, again. Harry finally sneaked a look at his best friend, who was fidgeting with a corner of the pillow they shared. Ron took a deep breath and said, not looking up, "I was wondering...Okay, here goes: are we dating?"

The second the words left his mouth, Ron felt a wave of relief wash over him. He hadn't even realized that all his thinking of the day had been about that, but suddenly, it looked crystal clear. Please, let him say yes, please let him say yes, please please please...Oh god, what if he says no? Why did I even need to open my mouth again, why?! We could have gone on kissing, and...oh god, please let him say yes!

Harry's instinctive reaction was to smile. Ron smiled shyly back, obviously more and more embarrassed by the second. Harry had never thought about...about that. He had thought about them kissing again, he had thought about it a good deal all day long, but...dating? Dating Ron? His best friend? His male best friend? Was it just him or did it sound very weird?? This could change so many things...I'm not sure I want anything to change, really. Only...if we could go on kissing... "I...I don't know," he truthfully admitted, his smile getting wider in spite of himself. This is Ron. My best friend, Ron. Best friends aren't supposed to date, are they? ...but then, I guess best friends aren't supposed to kiss either, so...Well, let's see things that way: If I thought it'd be logical for him to date Hermione because they were so close and such friends, then...I guess it'd make even more sense for him to date me, right? Coz after all...he's like the one person that knows me best, ever. ...why didn't they do classes about that in Hogwarts? Who needs to know how to turn a drawer into a hamster anyway?! ... ...um, Harry? I think you should speak again now. "Uh...do you want us to be?"

Ron had watched Harry chewing on the inside of his cheeks for what seemed like hours, not daring to break the pensive silence that had fallen in the room. Although he had a slight suspicion that his inner praying was so loud everybody in the house could hear it and laugh. Do I want us to be boyfriends? Yes, as a matter of fact I think I quite do...Actually I want you to be my boyfriend so darn much I'm not sure I could take it if you didn't want me. But how the hell am I supposed to admit that?! "Do you?" Ron almost slapped himself for such a lame dodging and quickly stammered: "Because I...I think I do, I mean..." God, the air was stiffening in that damn room! "I mean I like...um...I like kissing you and...it's boring to always..." He looked down, chewing the left corner of his mouth: "Well I hate to have to always wonder if maybe it's not a good idea to kiss you and all, y'know, so well...I'd quite like to know if I can do it and it's okay, or if I can't coz we're just friends..."

If we're "just friends", what would it be if we were dating?! Harry unconsciously chewed on his bottom lip and stared at Ron, wishing he knew a good answer to his question. He couldn't find any, so he decided to act instead, and kissed Ron again. "I love it when you kiss me," he whispered against Ron's lips a few seconds after; then he blushed.

Ron didn't see that though, because Harry's lips had barely left his when he leaned down to kiss him back. And then there was that very weird feeling they had never had before. That wave of energy, which seemed to flow into both their bodies at the same time, to...link them, or something. Yeah, link them. At least, Ron thought the word quite fitted that impression he suddenly got that if his lips left Harry's ones, horrible things would happen. Like...they wouldn't be kissing anymore. That would truly be horrible.

The wave kept going up and down in Harry's body, bumping against the top of his chest, turning around like a swimmer and diving back down, before bumping against an invisible wall just under Harry's belly button. It never went lower, as if the moment was too pure for Harry's body to get aroused. It was just on edge, reaching out for Ron even though both boys remained absolutely immobile, except for their lips.

Well, that is, for a few seconds. Then Ron's hand reached down just as Harry's reached up. Ron's came to rest against Harry's lower back, and Harry's slightly damp one brushed against Ron's cheek, his thumb stroking it a little shakily. Once again Harry found himself pushed down in the mattress and half covered by Ron's body--not that he would complain, ever. Actually, he wouldn't have had it any other way. He couldn't even see himself doing the same thing to Ron. It looked...too...too much like leading things, and despite the reluctant leader status he had endorsed more than once (...come again: why does everybody seem to think it's perfectly normal?), Harry was much more of a follower. At least, with Ron, he undeniably felt like letting his best friend take control. At least that way he was quite sure he wouldn't mess things up.

Ron gently sucked on Harry's bottom lip, one hand squeezed between the mattress and Harry's back, the other one idly tracing mystic patterns on Harry's cheek and neck. The boys had taken a good "let's kiss for three hours" start, but Ron was dying to hear Harry say the magic words, so he literally yanked his mouth away from Harry's.

"So..." he breathed, panting a little, "That...it's a yes, yes?" Can you sound more stupid?!

Harry giggled, also breathless. "Yes." God he's so adorable when he's happy like that...and all because of me. Cheers for me. "You're my boyfriend," he added, still quite timidly.

Truth be told, Ron looked almost delirious with happiness. "And you're mine..." He paused for the briefest of seconds, then exclaimed: "Didn't think I'd say that one day!".

Harry feigned to be hurt by the remark; he did his best pout, unaware that it made Ron want to ravish him with a fiery passion, and shifted so he was lying on his stomach again; he smiled when he found the book in a precarious balance near the edge of the pillow--and tried to ignore the fact that Ron's palm was pressing against his stomach.

Ron laughed, then leaned closer and pressed his lips against the smooth curve of Harry's neck, overwhelmed with ecstasy when Harry shivered at the touch--

(Warm shelter soft skin hot scent sweet lips velvety hair god is this perfection in the end? We're boyfriends, can't believe we're boyfriends, it seems so simple...)

--"I'm so happy I could throw up!" he said, then his eyes got round with horror as he realized he had spoken out loud.

Harry turned his head to him, eyes as wide as Ron's, and started laughing so hard his eyes soon filled with tears. "Please," he choked out, "please don't do it on me!"

"Very funny," Ron said, yanking his hand from under Harry, sulking. "I didn't mean to say it!"

"But you did," Harry said softly, after he had calmed down. His smile had grown quite devilish, which somehow didn't fit him, but made him all the more seductive. "...Ron?"

Ron looked up, quite suspicious.

"Now that we're boyfriends..." Ron's eyes sparkled; "...And that I already pissed you off..." Ron's brows furrowed; "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"It's about Hermione."

"What about her?"

Harry smirked; "Don't act all innocent on me, Weasley. What about your crush on her?"

Ron went beetroot red in the blink of an eye, and Harry couldn't help but laugh. "I didn't have a crush on her," he mumbled under his breath, sitting up. Harry sat up as well and stared at Ron with mischievous glee. All the nightmares and deadly encounters and impossible tasks discarded, he had been dying to tease his friend with the Hermione Files for the longest time. He hadn't deemed it to be his privilege before, seeing how touchy Ron could be, but now he couldn't have felt surer of himself.

"Sure, you didn't," he went on. "And what about that whole thing at the Yule Ball, uh?"

"What thing?!" Ron exclaimed, looking genuinely surprised...but Harry knew better.

He raised his eyebrows and tried to mimic Ron's voice: "You're fraternising with the enemy!! He's trying to get closer to Harry! He's hoping you'll help him with the egg! You--"

"Okay, okay! Stop it!" Ron yelled; then he pouted, and avoided Harry's eyes. "But he was--"

"Oh, come off it!" Harry said, laughing. But then his laugh faltered. Harry suddenly felt jealousy pinch his heart and wondered why he had wanted to talk about Hermione in the first place. "I'm jealous," he said before he could think about it.

Ron positively beamed, but Harry couldn't see it, because he was staring at his lap. "You are?" he softly asked, as if speaking too loud would change Harry's mind.

"Yup," Harry said, frowning. "And that's saying a lot, because until now whenever I thought of you two together, it'd make me smile."

Ron made Harry look at him, still beaming, and kissed him tenderly. He ended up kissing him until Harry could barely remember where he was, then looked at him again and smiled, gently tracing Harry's jaw-line with his fingers. "I like it."

Harry frowned in a bewildered way. "Like what?"

Ron pecked him on the lips. "You being jealous."

His jealousy and Ron's kiss had considerably slowed Harry's brain. "Why?"

Ron chuckled: "Because...makes me feel special, I guess. Cherished. And also..." Ron paused, then said: "You're going to find it ridiculous, at best, but..."

Harry interrupted Ron with a kiss, just to make him sure of his support.

...okay, maybe he had more selfish reasons, as well.

Ron blushed slightly and avoided Harry's eyes, smiling in spite of himself. "Well...it's also that..." The next part was nothing more than a whisper: "It's the first time it's not me that's jealous of everybody else..."

He was genuinely expecting a laugh, and some teasing. That was underestimating Harry's intelligence and friendship, but Ron couldn't help it. The utter shame he always felt at wanting to be somebody else made him sick to his stomach, but he still couldn't help wishing he had more money, or was more intelligent, or stronger, or...His joyful thoughts were interrupted when Harry whispered his name, in a sing-song voice. Ron looked up defiantly, the voice corresponding exactly with Teasing Mode, but instead Harry just wrapped his arms around Ron's waist and leaned forward, tenderly pressing his lips against Ron's pouting ones. Ron shivered when the tip of Harry's tongue swept over his lower lip, and eagerly opened his mouth.

When the kiss was over, about two full minutes later, and the two boys had disentangled themselves from the sitting heap of legs and arms they had become, and when it was confirmed that virtually every cell brain Ron had had melted, Harry whispered against his lips, positively beaming: "Oh, but I wouldn't share you with anyone..." Then he pulled away a bit and looked thoughtful. "Y'know...I think I'm going to be a very possessive boyfriend."

Ron grinned, his eyes sparkling with delight. He laid his hands on either side of Harry's waist and beamed up at him. "And I think I'm going to be an outrageously cuddly one..." he said, before gently pressing Harry down on the bed and kissing him.

Yes, Harry wouldn't have it any other way.

Their kisses were feverish and gasping and wet, and yet they never tried repeating their previous tongue-experience. Not that it was a conscious action, or rather non-action. They had already so many things to discover, so many feelings to experience, that deepening it all was far, far away from their brains.

When they finally stopped kissing, Harry licked his lips and plunged his big green eyes into Ron's ones, panting a little, looking for some answers to questions he didn't even know. He felt like he would never catch his breath back, and it puzzled him because he felt like breathing was an entire part of their kissing. Or maybe it was just because...well, because it was Ron. Kissing him. Touching him. Looking at him the way he was doing right now, which made Harry feel so lost and found at the same time.

Then, he shyly raised his head and placed his lips against Ron's jaw. Then moved them higher, right against the soft skin leading to Ron's ear. He wasn't really sure about what he was doing. Ron had always been the one to do the caresses and stuff until then; Harry had only been at the receiving end, too shy or too dazed to reciprocate. But now that he realized it, he was afraid that Ron might feel frustrated, or even angry, and he didn't want that to happen. Plus, he truly wanted to make Ron sigh like he did

And sighs he did get. Ron's mouth fell open as Harry's tongue swept against the gutter of skin linking Ron's head to his neck, once, twice, like a cat lapping at his food. Ron's mouth closed again, then opened slightly, and he didn't realize right away that the deep breathy sigh he had heard was his own.

Harry smiled against Ron's neck, licking once again, not only to make Ron sigh again, but because his skin was soft and a bit spicy and he liked it. His tongue went up and Harry carefully closed his lips around Ron's tender earlobe, enclosing it in velvety warmth. Ron sighed again, keeping himself from falling flat onto Harry's body by extending a quite shaky arm over Harry's head.

And then, all of a sudden, Harry felt it again. That sort of longing feeling in his groin. Like his body had finally found something else that could reach out for Ron's touch...Harry blushed at the mere thought of it. Of course, he wasn't stupid; he knew perfectly well what was happening. Only...well, it had never happened like that before. It wasn't that embarrassing few times when he had woken up in the morning or the middle of the night with an erection he didn't really want to do anything with, and it wasn't like the very few times he had decided to "experiment", so to speak. This was...much more powerful. This was because of Ron. This was caused by Ron. This was frightening. In a not-too-bad way.

And it was so overpowering that Harry couldn't resist it, couldn't control his body. He started rotating his hips ever-so-slightly against thin air, feeling mortified for doing so, in case Ron would notice, but unable to stop. Ron's feverish kisses and soft caresses on his neck and cheeks weren't helping him concentrate, either.

Ron's arm gave up and he leaned on his forearm, his hand playing with Harry's hair; he hid his head against Harry's neck, biting on his bottom lip; he could feel Harry's thigh moving against his, up and down and around, a movement Ron didn't need to see to identify. He knew that if he moved his leg a few inches to the right, he'd inevitably feel the most definite proof of Harry's desire. He wasn't sure if he wanted to feel it, but the thought that he could was definitely arousing.

He started kissing Harry's neck again, trying not to move his hips as well. He wasn't sure were things would go if they both lost control of their bodies. Harry's skin was starting to turn hot from all the blood rushing under it; it felt weird, in a good way. He tried licking under Harry's jaw, just like Harry had done to him; if it had felt so good for him, maybe Harry'd like it too, right?

Ron soon felt like checking if all of Harry's skin was hot like that. Still tasting Harry's face--

(God, the little sighs he makes!!)

--he let his hand carefully travel down Harry's chest, over his shirt. He felt a little rush of excitement when his fingertips unexpectedly came to rest against skin (a gap between the shirt's buttons), then started his descent again. He found the flaps at last and his hand eagerly slipped under, then started creeping back up again.

It wasn't just the skin of Harry' neck.

Then he was kissing Harry's lips again. So hot. And that way Harry's tongue would peek out from time to time, brush against Ron's lips or the tip of Ron's tongue, and then retreat.

And then Harry moaned his name. Well, maybe it wasn't a moan. Maybe it was more like...a sigh, a breath or something. Very soft. But it was his name. He was sure he hadn't dreamt it, he had heard "Ron..." as clear as day. Sparks travelled into his body, right to the tip of his fingers--just like it felt when your hand wakes up after minutes in an awkward position--and then his hand, his right hand, suddenly slipped further down. Past the smooth skin of Harry's stomach, past his belly-button, past the waistband of his pyjamas, and halted only once Ron's fingertips had slid under the waistband of Harry's boxers. Ron's eyes went wide, but he didn't retreat his hand. He couldn't, what would Harry think?!

Harry whose hips started moving faster, so close to Ron's own; Harry who started sighing again, his breath scorching against Ron's cheek, his scent drugging Ron's senses. And his name, a second time, louder, fuller. And Ron's hand, moving ever so slightly, following the movement of Harry's hips, waiting like a lion before deciding whether it would jump on its prey or not.

What the hell are you doing, Ronald Weasley?! Oh my god how can skin get so hot all by itself...No, focus: What are...oh god...

All of a sudden, Harry stopped his movement dead, and almost instantly, Ron's hand stopped as well, now trembling between the soft and hot skin and the rough fabric of Harry's pyjamas. In all honesty, Ron was amazingly relieved. He couldn't believe what he had apparently been up to. Not that it had felt bad, and it surely would have made Harry say his name again in that wonderful, breathtaking manner, but...

Both boys remained silent for a while, their breathing slowing down. Ron rested his forehead against the pillow, his cheek pressed against Harry's, his nose buried in Harry's raven hair.

Harry's eyes were wide open, staring at nothing in particular. It had taken all his willpower to stop his goddamn body to do what it pleased. And just in time, it seemed. Ron had been...he had been...right?? It seemed...a little too much, wasn't it? Harry nodded to himself.

"What are you nodding at?" Ron asked, his voice slightly muffled.

Harry chuckled. "Nothing."

"You smell good," Ron blurted out, then cursed himself again. Maybe Harry couldn't control his body, but he certainly should learn how to control his mouth! Harry chuckled again, more softly, and his hand came to rest on the back of Ron's neck, tenderly.

They waited a little more, content in the silence and the warmth of their bodies, then Harry whispered: "Maybe we should sleep?"

"Yeah." Ron sighed happily. "I don't want to move," he added, and this time he couldn't have cared less about his word-incontinence.

"Then don't."

Ah. So this was what perfection looked like in the end.

Although both of them had the not-so-diffuse feeling that perfection would become more and more perfect as days went by.

*~*~*

He always found it weird. How suddenly your eyes opened and you were awake, when just a second before you had been lost deep in sleep. He didn't know if maybe it was a noise that awakened him. It was always silent. And moreover, Weasley kids usually learnt how to sleep in the middle of the worst hubbub possible at the age of one. The image of them being able to sleep through the St Patrick's Day parade wasn't just an image. One year, when Ron was only about four, the Weasley family had gone to Dublin to celebrate it. They had occupied three little rooms in a small crusty hotel right on the main street, so that if it was too crowded they could just stand at the windows and gaze down at the parade. They had missed it, because Molly had forgotten to take her clock with her, and that was virtually the only thing that could awake them. Nobody in the hotel had believed them.

Tonight was no exception, he thought when his eyes snapped open, staring at the wall; everything around him was silent. But then, he remembered the other boy lying behind him, and carefully rolled over, just to check. Harry was trembling, eyes wide open but dead, staring into invisible dark voids. Ron could tell he was still asleep. He felt scared. He had never seen Harry like that, or anyone, for that matter. He didn't know what to do. Should he shake Harry until he woke up, or was it going to do more bad than good? He could not, however, let Harry in his nightmare, whatever it was. It was a horrible sight, him looking so fragile and lost and...crazy. Gathering up courage, Ron carefully slid an arm around Harry's shaking waist, and gently pressed the boy's body against his own. Harry's body tensed up, but Ron didn't let go. "Harry," he whispered, so nervous his voice was trembling.

Harry's eyes rose up to look at Ron's face, but they weren't really seeing anything, Ron was sure of it. "Harry..." he repeated, his arm leaving Harry's waist so he could stroke the boy's hair. "Wake up."

He was prepared to add a lot to that foolish request, but Harry's eyes suddenly focused and the boy sighed, a long deep sigh, and looked at Ron--really looked at him, this time. Ron couldn't believe it had been this easy.

Harry's eyes widened slightly, then he whispered: "Sorry, did I wake you?"

Ron smiled in the dark: "Nope. At least, I don't think so. You were awfully silent." And you scared the shit out of me.

Harry shot him a crooked smile: "Really? That's a good thing, coz I don't recall being awfully silent myself. I can't believe the "open your eyes you're just dreaming just really open your eyes" trick worked. It almost never works."

Ah, that's how Harry had woken up. Ron knew a lame whisper couldn't have been enough.

"What was the dream about?" he asked, wondering if that was really a clever question.

Harry shrugged his left shoulder - the right was pressed down against the mattress. "I don't remember how it started, but I..." His eyes unfocused and he seemed to think it over for a while, before saying, curiously smiling: "Well, I think for once it had the merit not to take place in that damn cemetery!"

Ron gave a half-smile, feeling very uncomfortable. He had almost never had any nightmares in his life--well, if you didn't count all the spiders ones, when he'd dream there was a huge tarantula walking on his covers and then would wake up and think it was really there, and stay literally petrified in his bed for a good twenty minutes before daring reaching out for his wand and casting the Lumos spell. But compared to Harry's nightmares, he couldn't decently pretend his childish demons were scary.

He had had a real Harry Potter-like nightmare the previous year, though. He had dreamt that Harry and Hermione were in trouble, right in front of him, and they were screaming to him to do something, even giving him spells to use, but he couldn't seem to do it, and he had faced their reproachful, then hateful, glares before they had been kidnapped--or worse, he hadn't had time to find out. He had woken up feeling like shit, and the worse was when he suddenly remembered that he and Harry weren't in speaking terms anymore, and Hermione, despite all her efforts, wasn't very present either.

But Harry had begun talking again. "...corridor, and I was alone and somehow I knew something was wrong, like...everything was too quiet, y'know? No ghostly whispers, no noise coming from the classrooms, and absolutely no one around...Then I realized I didn't even know where I was heading to, and I started to think maybe I was going to the Great Hall when I noticed that my robes weren't black, not even red like Quidditch robes, but a bright pink--"

Ron sniggered, then quickly shot Harry an apologetic look, smiling to himself.

"So anyway I understood I was dreaming and I thought...y'know, I thought that unless I managed to wake up very soon I could feel something very bad would happen, and I tried but it didn't seem to work and a door opened behind me and I heard that...that laugh, that hissing voice, and I knew what was coming, and I heard footsteps and...well, uh..." he looked embarrassed, "I basically lost it and since I couldn't seem to move anymore I put my hands on my ears and started to scream that I was dreaming, that this wasn't true and I didn't believe that he was there and...and then I woke up." Harry ended his account with a relieved sigh, and looked at Ron with peaceful eyes.

When Ron hadn't said anything for two minutes, Harry added: "All in all, that's one of the nicest dreams I've had in months."

Ron's face slowly melted from concerned surprise to uneasiness to pure inner turmoil.

Harry knew this wasn't very charitable, but he couldn't help it, he laughed. Ron seemed shocked, so Harry gently kissed him, just to make sure he wouldn't get all worked up. It seemed to work, and Harry whispered: "You don't have to worry 'bout it, Ron. I'm fine, really."

Ron seemed to ponder about it, then sighed and nodded. "I just wish I could take your nightmares away," he whispered dejectedly.

Harry smiled, his heart doing little flip-flops behind his ribcage. "Me too...well, I still know something that should work fine," he said, and cuddled up against Ron's body, once again slipping his head between Ron's pillow and his cheek.

This wasn't a very nice position to sleep - eventual neck-ache - but Ron wasn't about to tell that to Harry.