Ronarry One Shots

| Mansuetude PT. 2

Summary, Warnings, Ships and Writer are the same as the previous chapter

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Harry let out a breathy chuckle of happiness. As much as he hated seeing the tears in Ron's eyes, hearing him say those words had made his heart swell.

"No one's said that to me before," Harry said quietly.

"Same here," Ron replied, a single tear escaped his eye.

Harry frowned. It almost seemed impossible. Ron had a real family. He had parents, didn't parents tell their children they loved them? Ron was watching Harry's expressions, and seeming to read his mind, he said in an almost angry tone,

"I guess they just assumed I knew. But...when you're a kid of seven...sometimes it's nice to know you aren't forgotten." He shrugged. "They'd rather have you anyway." He suddenly looked very distant.

"Stop," Harry whispered, wrapping his hands around Ron's waist. Pulling him close. He wanted Ron to come back. He had never, not once, even considered the fact that his best friend felt like this. Unloved, forgotten, lost, terrified. Enough to...to actually hurt himself. He just didn't understand.

"Ron," Harry said, he raised a hand to Ron's chin and lifted it, forcing him to look at him as he spoke, "Promise me you won't do it anymore."

There was an uncomfortable silence that followed. Ron's gaze dropped and he pulled his face away from Harry's touch. Another tear had fallen, but this time Ron brushed it away.

"Promise me," Harry repeated.

Ron sighed deeply, and nodded, not speaking. Almost frustrated, Harry pushed him back down onto the bed, he hovered his face close to his friends. "Just talk to me, okay?" he whispered, stroking the side of Ron's face, "You don't have to do that. Just..." He sighed, wishing there was some kind of friendship manual to help him deal with something like this, "Just let me help you."

Ron remained silent for a moment, but then nodded again. "Okay," he whispered. He hesitated, then gave Harry a gentle kiss. "Can you...say it again?"

Harry smiled, both in relief and amusement. "Only if you do."

"I love you," Ron said immediately, his hands sliding up Harry's arms.

"I love you, too," Harry replied quietly, enjoying the touch.

Ron hesitated, then managed to look directly at Harry once again, his eyes still glistening. "You're really not angry?"

"No," Harry said quickly, he rolled to his side, pulling Ron with him, "I'm just confused, I suppose."

Ron's gaze immediately lowered, like he was ashamed. Harry pulled him closer and kissed his forehead, willing him to relax. "Everything will be okay," he whispered, "We're...we'll survive this, okay? But I understand. I'm scared, too."

Harry wished they could have stayed like that forever. Having Ron in his arms was something he never could have predicted. Neither was how it felt. Comforting, pleasurable, intoxicating. Both of them just clinging to each other like life support. And the words of their conversation that had led to it reverberated in Harry's mind. Was it friend love, or was it love love? Would either of them even know?

But a significant amount of time must have passed as they had laid there, exchanging soft kisses and gentle strokes, and soon voices were calling for them. Ron pulled on a shirt once more, giving Harry a 'please don't tell' look, before they left his room. Once they were back in the main house, Harry felt like they had entered a different world. What had conspired between them in less than an hour had shaken him. He couldn't stop seeing the scars and cuts. He couldn't stop imagining Ron feeling so sad and alone and trapped in a world that terrified him.

The other thing was, he didn't want to stop touching him. Their touching had been so...bizarrely right. The fact that Ron was a guy, and his best friend, had seemed to go completely out the window. They just moved together. Molded together. Everything Harry did, Ron reciprocated.

So as they moved through the house, and around the yard, helping with chores and setting up, Harry stayed close to Ron. Like he was a red haired magnet, drawing Harry to him. And Ron seemed to feel the same way, because every time Harry glanced in his direction, Ron was already looking at him.

Later that evening, one day before the wedding, Harry was walking around the yard, inspecting the tables and chairs. The tent had not yet gone up. Harry felt he needed some air. He had been thinking about Ron so much that day. Feeling his touch even when he wasn't there. Ron's quivering fingers on the back of his neck. His timid voice asking if Harry was angry with him.

As Harry stood back to eye the placement of the tables, he suddenly felt hands on his waist. Hands he was now familiar with. His mouth immediately twisted into a smile and he allowed Ron to pull him backwards into the small thicket by their house.

"Hey," Harry said in an amused tone, turning himself around. Cold had come with the dark and they pushed close to keep warm.

"Hi," Ron replied, "Sorry if this is...not appropriate or whatever."

Harry shook his head, laughing gently, and before either of them could say more, their lips found each other in the dark. When Ron seemed to sigh happily, Harry smiled, glad that his best friend was at peace for even just a moment. Harry moved to his neck just as Ron's hands slid under his shirt.

"Very appropriate," Harry whispered heavily, biting gently, "What're you doing out here, anyway?"

"Looking for you," Ron replied, "It's not like we haven't been staring at each other all evening."

"Well you found me," Harry whispered, "Now what?"