Ronarry One Shots

| Fragile

Summary: It gave Harry such a release to chase the high of the comfort he got when Ron accepted his apology. Every single time. And Ron had proven time and time again that he was easily the one thing in Harry's life that would bend to his will.

Ships: RonWeasleyxHarryPotter

All credit goes to Weasleyship on Ao3

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Grief.

Harry felt it like a large, cold stone in his stomach and throat. He carried it everywhere. Not just the grief. The anger, resentment, guilt. It all gnawed at him...constantly. Even arriving at the Burrow early that summer, it was not enough to squash the feeling.

And he supposed that's where it all started. Lashing out, snapping at nearly everyone, who found it easiest to avoid him. Except Ron. Who would take whatever quips, whatever blows Harry decided to snap at him, he just took it in stride. Ignored it, mostly. And was always ready to say 'It's okay' whenever Harry would mutter an apology after he cooled off. And it was comforting. The first bit of comfort Harry allowed himself to feel. And without realizing it for however much time passed, Harry didn't know, but soon all his aggression seemed to hit one target. Ron. Snapping at him during meals for seemingly no reason, feigning annoyance when Ron tried to be nice to him, shoving him gruffly when he accidentally bumped into Harry in the hallway. And it gave Harry such a release to chase the high of the comfort he got when Ron accepted his apology. Every single time.

On one particular evening after a disturbingly difficult day for Harry, in which Lupin and Tonks had visited, Harry had pushed down so many emotions and self-deprecating mental abuse, that that evening in a blinding rage, found himself yelling in Ron's room. He had no idea what he was rambling on about except for one key point: life was unfair. His life was unfair.

He had been throwing things. Whether they were his from his trunk, or Ron's, he did not remember. All he remembered was when he stopped to catch his breath, Ron was just sitting on his bed, knees pulled up to his chest, watching him, his wand sitting next to him. Harry had stood, frozen for a moment, then walked over and sat on Ron's bed.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, for what felt like the hundredth time since he had been at the Burrow.

"It's okay," Ron replied quickly. And Harry had known that he would. And felt the familiar relaxing sensation that came with it, immediately erasing the guilt he had been feeling.

"I shouldn't have yelled," Harry said, "Probably woke everyone."

"I did a silencing charm," Ron had told him, "You're okay."

"I trashed your room..."

Ron merely shrugged. He dropped his knees and scooted closer to Harry, who looked over at him.

"Look," Ron said softly, "What you're going through, it's a lot. So I get it. Yell. Throw things. Take it out on me. I'm your best friend, I'll help any way I can."

The words seemed to take all the air out of Harry's lungs. There was nothing driving him besides his body when he lunged at Ron, swiftly pinning him down by his shoulders, and kissed him. He could feel Ron's body go very tense underneath him, which seemed to spark something in Harry's mind. He tightened his legs around Ron's waist as he sat up enough to look at Ron, still pinning him by his shoulders. He looked shocked, and slightly scared.

"You make me feel better," Harry said, searching his eyes. He saw something soften, though he still looked mildly terrified.

"Okay..." Ron said quietly. Slowly. "Then...you can keep going. It's okay."