Ronarry One Shots

That Day on the Hill

Ron flicked a baby dragonfly off his trouser leg, watching it flutter to the ground and land clumsily on its back. There were swarms of them this time of year, all colours and sizes. Them and an epidemic of bloody Scottish midges. Nasty little bastards, they were.

Harry rolled over on the grass beside him and sat up, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. He stared out across the hills in the direction of Hogwarts, which was nothing more than an odd, hazy shape in the distance. He hardly blinked, lost in his thoughts, unseeing.

"So how's the castle going?" he said after a while, still staring ahead.

Ron glanced at it, and even after spending practically every day there for the last two months, it still hurt him to see the dark outline of scaffolding that held the north side up. He dared not think about the interior. "Still needs loads of work," he answered, turning away to look instead at the lake. "I don't reckon we'll be done in time for September."

"That bad?"

Ron nodded, then said: "Yeah. Pretty bad."

Silence fell, broken only by the hushed breath of wind in the grass and the aged creak of nearby trees.

"I hate that I wasn't there to help defend it," Harry said at length. His hands fumbled with the hem of his t-shirt. "Things might've been different."

"Nah mate," said Ron. "There were too many of them. You were needed elsewhere, anyway. And don't talk bollocks - things are different. You made things different."

"Hm."

Ron could clearly remember the sound of the Hogwarts doors being broken down, flying right off their ancient, sturdy hinges. Followed by the crashing as giants stormed inside the castle, maiming stone statues with their swinging fists, roaring dismally, breaking unfortunate students who happened to get in their way as they fled to the safety of their common rooms. If Hermione hadn't figured out how to put extra wards on the door to Gryffindor tower and buy them some time - well, it didn't bear thinking about.

None of it did.

"I hate that I can't help rebuild it."

Ron had nothing to say to that.

Harry inhaled deeply and turned towards him, frowning. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Sounds like... phoenix. No, it can't be." He let out a sigh and picked at a blade of grass. Something in the dip of his eyebrows and pinch of his mouth suggested annoyance, maybe even anger. "He hasn't been back for years."

Fawkes. Ron was surprised Harry still mourned the phoenix's departure. But then, Harry had been rescued by Fawkes before - plus, it had been Dumbledore's bird and all. He supposed it probably was still alive. God knows where, though.

"Something's singing in the forest."

"I can't hear a thing, mate," Ron said. "'Cept these fucking midges buzzing around my face." He smacked himself in the neck loudly and Harry let out a snort. Pulling his hand away, Ron stared down at the small black smudge on his palm with a scowl. "I don't get why they attack me and not you."

"Skin type, maybe?"

"Must be."

"I've got something to tell you," Harry suddenly said.

Ah. Ron had wondered why he'd insisted on coming all the way out here - why he'd even shown up at Hogwarts in the first place. Shortly after the war he'd told Ron he wasn't ready to return to the school again, not yet. When he'd turned up out of the blue earlier that day Ron had been more than surprised. At first he'd figured Harry must have grown too bored to stay at their flat on his own, but now he wondered if it was because this was neutral ground. He had an inkling about what Harry was going to say, which just made his stomach twist up.