You Were Never Lovelier (Ron/Harry)
title: You Were Never Lovelier
author: FawkesRises/acidquill
disclaimer: don't own em
rating: pg
characters/pairing: sort of RW/HP
word count: 528
notes: originally part of a series over at ff, but it just wasn't working so I disbanded & reinvented. set 7th year, post defeat of Voldie. really just an excuse to write schmoopy awesome boys.
Ron stumbled up the stairs to the familiar door to the 7th year boys’ dormitory. He shoved the door open and stepped inside, almost pitching forward when he tripped over a pair of Dean’s shoes.
“Damn.” he muttered.
He looked around. None of the others were back from Hogsmeade yet, not even Neville.
Ron shifted the weight on his shoulder - not that it was very heavy, Harry didn’t weigh that much even at seventeen. And that is exactly what, or rather who, Ron had just carried all the way from the village.
Ron shuffled over to Harry’s bed and the other boy didn’t even twitch when Ron laid him on the bed. Ron glanced at him and sighed. The Boy-Who-Lived was going to be The-Boy-Who-Had-A-Bitch-Of-A-Hangover in the morning.
Ron snorted at the thought and crossed to his own bed to undress.
He grimaced when he saw the back of his coat. Harry had drooled on it. If Harrry weren’t his best friend… But Harry was. And Ron couldn’t exactly leave him to sleep it off in The Hog’s Head. Ron himself was more than a little buzzed. Everyone was these days.
Voldemort was gone, dead. Harry had defeated him not even a month ago. Since then the entire wizarding world seemed to set off on a never ending party. Which for some people, was a better thing than for others.
Ron didn’t think it was good for Harry. While the rest of the world was celebrating, their savior drank himself into a coma every night. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why.
He could count them off on his fingers - Cedric, Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, Moody, Hagrid…
The names were like a chant, one that he knew Harry repeated to himself with every drink he took.
It was frustrating not knowing how to help; it hurt to see his friend like this. Ron never said anything to Harry of course. He just wanted to do something - something more than just carry his best friend home at the end of the night.
Ron had slipped on his pajamas and was about to crawl into bed when,
“Ron…”
The voice was slurred and barely above a whisper.
Nevertheless, Ron was at his friend’s bed in an instant. “What is it?”
Harry pushed himself up and for a moment Ron found himself lost in unfocused green eyes. Then suddenly Harry’s lips were pressed to his. It was as if someone had just brushed a feather over his mouth.
Then the feeling was gone with a quiet “Thank you.”
Harry's voice was still impossibly soft and for a minute Ron just stood there, his head buzzing. What had just happened? Did he imagine that?
He licked his lips… nope. He couldn’t blame his imagination for this, the taste of Harry was there - vaguely sweet with a bitter hint of firewhiskey.
Ron looked down. Harry was sprawled out again on the bed - his chest gently rose and fell; his green eyes still behind their lids. For once, he looked peaceful.
Not giving himself time to think, Ron leaned over and softly kissed Harry back before whispering, “See you in the morning.”
-end
author: FawkesRises/acidquill
disclaimer: don't own em
rating: pg
characters/pairing: sort of RW/HP
word count: 528
notes: originally part of a series over at ff, but it just wasn't working so I disbanded & reinvented. set 7th year, post defeat of Voldie. really just an excuse to write schmoopy awesome boys.
Ron stumbled up the stairs to the familiar door to the 7th year boys’ dormitory. He shoved the door open and stepped inside, almost pitching forward when he tripped over a pair of Dean’s shoes.
“Damn.” he muttered.
He looked around. None of the others were back from Hogsmeade yet, not even Neville.
Ron shifted the weight on his shoulder - not that it was very heavy, Harry didn’t weigh that much even at seventeen. And that is exactly what, or rather who, Ron had just carried all the way from the village.
Ron shuffled over to Harry’s bed and the other boy didn’t even twitch when Ron laid him on the bed. Ron glanced at him and sighed. The Boy-Who-Lived was going to be The-Boy-Who-Had-A-Bitch-Of-A-Hangover in the morning.
Ron snorted at the thought and crossed to his own bed to undress.
He grimaced when he saw the back of his coat. Harry had drooled on it. If Harrry weren’t his best friend… But Harry was. And Ron couldn’t exactly leave him to sleep it off in The Hog’s Head. Ron himself was more than a little buzzed. Everyone was these days.
Voldemort was gone, dead. Harry had defeated him not even a month ago. Since then the entire wizarding world seemed to set off on a never ending party. Which for some people, was a better thing than for others.
Ron didn’t think it was good for Harry. While the rest of the world was celebrating, their savior drank himself into a coma every night. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why.
He could count them off on his fingers - Cedric, Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, Moody, Hagrid…
The names were like a chant, one that he knew Harry repeated to himself with every drink he took.
It was frustrating not knowing how to help; it hurt to see his friend like this. Ron never said anything to Harry of course. He just wanted to do something - something more than just carry his best friend home at the end of the night.
Ron had slipped on his pajamas and was about to crawl into bed when,
“Ron…”
The voice was slurred and barely above a whisper.
Nevertheless, Ron was at his friend’s bed in an instant. “What is it?”
Harry pushed himself up and for a moment Ron found himself lost in unfocused green eyes. Then suddenly Harry’s lips were pressed to his. It was as if someone had just brushed a feather over his mouth.
Then the feeling was gone with a quiet “Thank you.”
Harry's voice was still impossibly soft and for a minute Ron just stood there, his head buzzing. What had just happened? Did he imagine that?
He licked his lips… nope. He couldn’t blame his imagination for this, the taste of Harry was there - vaguely sweet with a bitter hint of firewhiskey.
Ron looked down. Harry was sprawled out again on the bed - his chest gently rose and fell; his green eyes still behind their lids. For once, he looked peaceful.
Not giving himself time to think, Ron leaned over and softly kissed Harry back before whispering, “See you in the morning.”
-end