Harry Potter Oneshots

seven-ron/harry

ship: Ron/Harry

prompt: "Half the time I get too embarrassed to say anything."

setting: Weekly Weasley dinner

warning: cheesy, cursing

category(?): Fluffy!

words: 449

Harry was sitting in an armchair away from everyone else. Not that he felt excluded, not at all. He just wanted some space to himself. He rather liked watching the Weasleys together. They just, fit.

"Hey, uh Mate?"

Harry was taken from his thoughts and saw Ron. Harry looked at him. "Yeah?"

"Can we uh, talk?" Ron jerked his head toward the stairs. "Alone?"

Harry thought it weird Ron wanted to talk alone, but simply stood, wiping his hands on the legs of his sweatpants. "Let's go, then."

They climbed the stairs quietly, only the creaking of the old stairs and laughing family fading in their ears.

Finally they reached Ron's room and each sat together on his bed.

After several moments of silence Harry blurted, "Out with it then, everything's all right, yeah?"

Ron shrugged, and summoned all his courage. "Hermione said if I didn't tell you she would, and it needed to come from me."

Harry leaned back with a chuckle. "What? Are you tired of me?" He paused. "You're not, are you?"

Ron shook his head and smiled. "Far from it. Far, far from it."

Harry raised a bushy brow.

"Half the time I get too embarrassed to say anything."

Harry was confused. Why couldn't he just come out with it already?

"Nevermind..."

Harry grabbed his sleeve. "Don't fucking dare!"

"What?"

"You're scaring me, Ron! Why can't you just tell me?!"

"Because for all I know, you'll hate me!" Ron yelled.

"Why the hell would I hate you? You've been my bestfriend for ten years."

"I just..." Ron flopped onto his bed, closing his eyes. "I like you, Mate. Have for awhile now."

"Well I'd hope -- oh." Harry closed his mouth.

Ron was refusing to look at him as he churned the new information over in his mind.

When he did finally look up, Harry had pulled him sleeves over his arms and was looking at his arms.

"Ah, I screwed everything up, didn't I?" Ron groaned.

Harry shook his head, the curls he had quivered. "No,"

Ron's head snapped up from watching Harry play with his sleeves to look at his face. "Pardon?"

"I uh, like you too."

"Bullshit."

Harry laughed. "No, not bullshit. Think I'd have smelled it."

"You dork." Ron rolled his eyes, laughing as well.

Harry took his hand carefully, and Ron shook his head. "If you don't stop playing with those sleeves Mum's gonna kill you. It stretches the jumpers."

Harry chuckled. "Smells like it's dinnertime."

"Ooh! I hope there's chicken."

Harry rolled his eyes. Same old Ron.