𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒?

Interlude

Interlude

There was a boy
A very strange enchanted boy
They say he wandered very far, very far
Over land and sea
A little shy and sad of eye
But very wise was he

And then one day
One magic day he passed my way
And while we spoke of many things
Fools and kings
This he said to me
"The greatest thing you'll ever learn
Is just to love and be loved in return"

"Nature Boy", David Bowie & Massive Attack

[-The Greatest Thing-]

Ron was worried. Deeply worried. And it was a strange, since the last time he had felt this way was under Voldemort's threat. Now, considering that, in a way, the object of his worry was still the same, well, it was almost funny. Almost. Because these days, there was nothing funny concerning Harry.

Since Malfoy had left, Harry had not been the same. Well, he tried to act as if nothing had changed, but he couldn't really fool Ron. Not after seven years spent in the same classrooms, sharing the same dormitory, the same fears and the same doubts.

No way.

Ron could easily tell that Harry was fading. As a forgotten fire, that was withering, ready to go out, regardless of the amount of alcohol the Golden Boy could consume, spending sleepless nights, visiting clubs or sitting on his couch and staring at the wall.

Ron would have voiced his suspicions to Hermione, but she was already torturing herself with endless guilt trips to be pushed further. Knowing this, he could only try to ease his girlfriend’s stress and check on Harry, assuring himself that his best friends wasn't about to do anything that he could regret. That everybody could regret.

Everyday, in the afternoon, Ron apparated to Harry's flat. He always brought something to eat and sat with Harry on the couch, carrying on a one-sided conversation about nothing. After two hours, he would leave.

But that was only that beginning. If Harry decided to stay at home, he would sit on the stairs in front of his door, while his friend either got drunk and passed out on the floor or cried his heart out and fell asleep on the couch. Afterwards, Ron would enter the silent flat and check that everything was in order, or as much it could be in order, considering Harry's life, before really leaving.

If Harry, instead, decided to go out, he would follow him, keep him out of trouble, and directed him towards home, which was necessary since he happened oh so often to forget the way. That’s exactly what Harry decided to do on this nigh. Ron frowned, his concern growing, and, buttoning his coat, followed his friend.

Ron sighed, slipping on a seat in a dark corner of the bar. Harry was sitting at the counter, absorbed by watching his reflection shattering within the bottles and the mirror behind them. Ron sipped a bit of tonic water, grimacing at the bitter taste that matched perfectly his bitter thoughts.

"Mr. Weasley?"

Ron blinked raising his gaze and meeting the soft features of a young man's face. He frowned, trying to remember where he had seen them before.

"You don't remember me, do you?" The man asked as he read his confusion, smiling slightly. "Mark. Mark Boylan. We met once or twice when I was with Harry," he supplied.