Ronarry One Shots

| The Curse of Wanting PT. 4

Ron blocks his Floo and doesn't answer the door when Harry calls. Hermione calls to make sure he's eating properly, but that's about the extent of what Ron can manage. Harry's wedding is tomorrow, and it's either ruined or still on. Ron is still determining which of the two is preferable at this point.

When his sister shows up, pounding on his door, he finally accepts his fate. She's here to murder him. He wishes he could say he's led a good life, but with a snakey bastard chasing you to the ends of the earth to torture or kill you, it's hard to imagine much good after that.

He opens the door, forcing a smile. "Hi, Gin."

Ginny grimaces. "Gods, you look awful," she hisses. "And you smell awful."

Ron looks down at his rumpled, stained shirt. He realises he still hasn't showered since... well. And now he's standing here in front of his sister and the fiancé of the man he shagged right on his own sofa.

Ginny rolls her eyes, storming in and closing the door behind her. "Let's get you in the bath." She grabs Ron's wrist and practically drags him down the hall.

"Oi!" Ron barks, but his sister doesn't say anything, just drags him into the bathroom and turns on the tap. He sits on the toilet, waiting silently and staring at his feet as the bath fills quickly with hot water and purple suds.

"Get in," Ginny instructs, and Ron would be daft to refute her.

As he removes his clothing, Ron gapes in the mirror at the love bites scattered along his neck and chest. Ginny doesn't react; just gestures for him to get in the bath. He swiftly removes his pants and trousers, sinking into the sudsy depths. He feels like he's five again, not twenty-five.

"We need to talk," she says directly.

Ron's stomach is already in knots, but he's trying not to think the worst. "What's up, Gin?"

She sighs, leaning her arms against the edge of the tub. "It's Harry."

Ron freezes, popping purple bubbles to avoid looking at his sister. "What about him?"

She grabs the sponge from the tub's edge and dips it in the water. "Do you know what he told me today?"

Ron shakes his head, barely able to breathe. Ginny starts scrubbing Ron's shoulders, his back, and even his chest. The touch is so intimate and kind, Ron doesn't deserve it.

Ginny grasps Ron's chin and turns his head, forcing him to meet her deep brown gaze. "He says he's in love with you."

Ron gapes at her, then blinks and shakes his head, forcing a laugh. "Course, he loves me. We're mates."

Ginny's brow furrows. "You know that's not what I mean, Ronald."

Ron doesn't know what to say, and Ginny sighs.

"I know you love him too," she huffs, flicking Ron in the forehead. "I'd have to be daft not to notice."

"Ow!" Ron snaps, "What was that for?"

She gives him a reproachful look. "Oh, what could it be for, indeed?"

Ron slumps in the bath. "I don't know what he told you, but... I can't remember what happened. I know what I... wish had happened. And if it did, I wish I could remember it."

"That's exactly what he said," she says, more sweetly, running her fingers through Ron's damp fringe. "And I'm here to tell you... I love Harry. We are getting married tomorrow, whether you like it or not—"

Ron swallows dryly, the pit in his stomach growing.

Ginny's fingers trail down his face, cupping his cheek. "But that doesn't mean you two can't love each other."