Sea green, sea blue

sea green, see blue

help this was only supposed to be like 10k words. it tripled in size. how did that even happen.

anyway hey thank u @viasplat on tumblr for reading through this and editing it and leaving a bunch of insanely nice comments while reading, it made me so giddy and even more excited to post this!!

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It's adaptation, really—them, the two of them, how they gravitate towards one another but don't fit like those puzzle piece soulmates that literature loves to wax poetic about. Not that the puzzle piece soulmates don't happen, no—Ginny and Luna fall together like two halves of a single soul the moment that they meet, fast friends at first, and then, a few years later, something a bit more—childishly flirtatious and absolutely adorable, no matter how much Ron's brotherly instincts try to turn up his nose at the very beginning. For a relationship such as Ginny and Luna's, they don't need to adapt, per se, only adjust, rearrange, to make sure they both fit comfortably in each other's lives, and then that's it.

For Ron and Harry, however, it's different.

They're different, is the thing. Similar in many ways, sure, understanding of certain plights, but... different, nonetheless. It's simple to overlook this when they're eleven and meeting on a train, but impossible to ignore as they grow older and more aware, more wary—and, of course, more concerned and tuned in to the other's well-being, to how they behave and think and act and react to certain things.

Thinking back on it, Ron figures the earliest moment he has this sort of realization is during the summer between first and second year, when Ron sends letters—so many letters, more than necessary, of course, but so desperate for a response. His brothers have always received letters, as well, waving around whatever parchment their friends sent them on with an air of joy and well-intended bragging, wanting to show off their friends, the fact that there are people out there willing to recount every last detail of some Muggle film just because the Weasleys have never even been to a—a cinema, is what Hermione called it. It's an odd and, realistically, insignificant thing to become so focused on, but having grown up in the shadows of various elder brothers like he had, any chance to step up to their level, whether it be through his intelligence, through Quidditch, through reputation—through anything , Ron takes it. And that includes wanting friends, the way that Fred and George have friends, the way that Percy has his group that may not always seem friendly but, in actual fact,, meshes really well with the way that Percy thinks. The way that Bill has friends, and Charlie—far away as he is, focused on his job more than anything else, sometimes more than family itself—Charlie has a few good friends, too, that he's met in Romania.

And Ron meets Harry, first day, before classes even start. Met him at the station, and again on the train, and when the school year comes to an end and he feels connected to Harry—to both him and Hermione, of course, but especially to Harry—in a way he has never been able to put into words, and Harry promises, looks Ron right in the eyes and swears on it, that he'll do whatever he can to write to him...

Ron believes him, is the thing. For good reason, as well, because Harry hadn't been lying when he said it, but Ron hadn't quite known the extent that Harry doing whatever he could meant, and how it simply just isn't enough. Instead, at the time, Ron frowns at unreturned letters and writes to Hermione instead, that feeling in the pit of his stomach sinking when she says that Harry hasn't written her, either. Half of him is concerned, but the other half, filled with insecurities that his young brain is still unable to articulate quite yet, becomes convinced that Harry has simply decided that a Weasley may not be a worthy friend.

"Chin up, Ronnie," George tells him, after finding Ron staring down at an empty piece of parchment that he had been trying to write on for over thirty minutes. "Who're you so anxious to get a reply from, anyway, hm? If it's that Seamus kid, I'd bet he keeps catching his letters on fire b'fore he can send 'em." He grins, like he's offering solace, offering relief, only to look at Fred a moment later when Ron does nothing more than puff out a sigh and sink down in the chair he's currently sitting on.