Ronarry One Shots

| Fragile PT. 3

The following day was not an easy one. Harry had barely slept, listening carefully for approaching feet. By the time morning came, there were a brief few minutes where he was blissfully detached as he and Ron kissed. But his reality hit hard again when he immediately noticed the bruises on Ron's neck. Bright purple and blue. Obvious.

Violently. Obvious.

"I don't think I have anything to cover it up," Ron said quietly after rifling through his dresser drawers, he wrung his hands together when he turned towards Harry.

Harry took a large breath. His eyes settled on his trunk for a moment, then his gaze went back to Ron, who looked apologetic, and nervous. Harry didn't say anything, he knew Ron would walk right into what Harry was hoping for.

"Look," Ron said, stepping toward Harry, "I'll stay in my room. Just tell everyone I'm not feeling well. If anyone comes up I'll just cover up with the blanket, okay?" He stepped closer to Harry hopefully. "It'll be fine."

Harry smiled at him, pulling Ron into a hug with a slow exhale. He had, once again, predicted accurately.

"You shouldn't have to do anything," Harry said, rubbing Ron's back, "I'm the one who hurt you."

"It's okay," Ron replied, he was resting heavily against Harry now, "Really. I know you weren't trying to."

Harry squeezed him once then let go, reveling inwardly at his small victory. After he gave Ron a quick kiss he left the room, promising to visit soon. He gathered himself for a moment in the hallway, then went downstairs to breakfast where the Weasley's were all already tucking in, chatting heartily.

"Harry!" cried a happy voice, and suddenly Harry was accosted by Hermione flinging her arms around him, nearly knocking him down. Harry choked out a laugh, momentarily startled.

"It's so good to see you!" Hermione said brightly, "Where's Ron?"

"Er..." Harry said, stumbling away from her grasp and adjusting his glasses, "He's not feeling well, he's in bed."

"That what was wrong last night?" Fred asked curiously from a few feet away at the kitchen table, looking around at him.

"Yeah," Harry said evenly, brow furrowed, sitting in the only one of two empty seats across from Fred. Hermione took the second empty seat, next to Harry, and asked,

"What happened to your arm?"

Harry quickly tucked his arm farther into his lap and took a large sip of juice with his other. Hermione hadn't spoken loud enough for anyone else other than he and the twins to hear.

"Nothing," Harry said nonchalantly, "Banged it up doing some yard work."

"Pulling weeds?" Fred asked flatly. Harry glanced up at him, Fred was giving him a strange look that Harry couldn't identify, and though he had anticipated this, he still didn't like it; out of everyone he had prepared for, Fred hadn't been one Harry had given too much thought about. But he felt he could fix this, he just had to time things right.

"Garden gnomes," Harry replied with a shrug, not breaking eye contact.

Fred stared at him for a beat longer, then he went back to his breakfast. George, seeming to have picked up on something from his brother, looked at Harry curiously, then also went back to his breakfast. As soon as he was done he told Hermione to wait for him downstairs and went up to Ron's room. Ron was sitting in his bed flipping through an old quidditch magazine.

"Everything okay?" He asked, looking on cautiously as Harry flung open his trunk.

"Um," Harry said absently as he pulled out a neatly folded sweatshirt, he closed the trunk after making sure his Quidditch Through the Ages book was resting on top once again, he looked at Ron, "Hermione is here. Fred is acting kind of strange toward me. And Hermione noticed my arm-"