Ronarry One Shots

Trouble

Summary: "Hm," he hums and his hand stills as he looks around the vacant street. He seems cautious, but there's no one else around. It's just him and me and the damp asphalt and my new-found knowledge that he tastes sort of like raspberries.

Ships: RonWeasleyxHarryPotter

All credit goes to noarc on Ao3

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"Well I s'ppose... this is you."

He slams the car door shut and it feels terribly final. I hate this.

"S'ppose so."

He nods stiffly and I keep my eyes locked on his hand, now resting on the silver frame. His fingers tap rhythmically, warm on the cold metal – I know that, because he's touched me, finally, for a blissful, ignorant moment, in this very car, this stupid car, with its stupid symbolic meaning because – I recall for the hundredth time – he's rescued me in it before, many years ago.

We were different then, only kids.

Funny how my perception of being in trouble has changed. I used to think flying away together in his dad's car would be the pinnacle of trouble. The most daring thing we'd ever do. The grown-ups would be raging over two boys that broke some rules.

This is so very different.

"Hm," he hums and his hand stills as he looks around the vacant street. He seems cautious, but there's no one else around. It's just him and me and the damp asphalt and my new-found knowledge that he tastes sort of like raspberries.

"Well, she'll be waiting, I think," he tells the door and lifts a hand to run through his hair.

"Yeah," I consider the steps up to my house. I've no idea what I'm going to do with the memory of his fingertips on my skin.

Should I say Thank you? Good night?

"Er," he's just as articulate as me. "Harry, I--"

My name sounds strange when he says it like this, and he finally looks at me.

His eyes are deep but it's cold tonight. I better get inside soon.

"Yeah?"

He just looks at me and I'm looking back at him and now we're stood here looking at each other while the air deflates from his lungs without forming further words.

He stays silent and maybe the raspberry taste has worn off by now.

And maybe I had it right, all those years ago.

Maybe running away with him in Arthur's flying car really is the thing that gets me in the most trouble I've ever been in.