Head of Hogwarts

*Chapter 7*

The sun was setting behind the cattle fields when everyone congregated in the sitting room, all changed out of dripping formalwear and into pajamas and dressing gowns. Mrs. Weasley appeared from the kitchen, a tray of steaming mugs following her on thin air, which everyone grabbed at - the rain had stopped but the icy breeze was still there. A thunderous sob rumbled through the ceiling, causing everyone to jump.

"I don't think Olympe will be joining us tonight." Mrs. Weasley sighed as she squeezed into a spot on the sofa among the girls. A heavy silence hung over the family as the trumpeting of nose-blowing echoed down the stairs.

"I think Pomona Sprout conducted a wonderful ceremony for Hagrid." Charlie piped up from the rug, "Very cheerful lady; kept the atmosphere light."

"That's because half the guests fell asleep when she started listing the contents of Hagrid's garden." George muttered, slumped across an armchair. Percy gave him a venomous glare from the armchair opposite as Bill sniggered from his shadowy corner.

"I thought it was very fitting. Hagrid would have been thrilled to hear someone appreciate his garden!" Hermione stated. George rolled his eyes - 

"Maybe, but the rest of us could've done without the seventeen uses of pumpkin seeds." 

The room was soon aroar with arguments. The liveliness was refreshing after so much talk of death. I looked to Ron who, like me, was sitting on the floor, but across the coffee table, by the fire. He had been very unresponsive that evening, just staring into the crackling flames with a line cut into his forehead. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who noticed:

"Ron," Ginny called as the family began to settle down, "are you okay?" His shoulder twitched slightly.

"Yeah, just tired... I think I'll get some sleep."

He had left with a swish of his grey dressing gown before anyone could wish him a good night. My gaze didn't leave the door where he exited; I knew I was to blame for this. I hadn't had a chance to apologise since the funeral, especially as he had been actively avoiding: talking to Luna and Neville (despite finding the floaty woman irritating) and avoiding the free seat next to me on the train ride home. 

"What's gotten into that boy? He seemed fine during the funeral service..." Mr. Weasley pondered.

"It's been a hard day for everyone, I'm sure he just wants some healing-time alone." Penelope suggested over the top of her mug. I felt a pair of analytical eyes fix on me from the sofa - Hermione had known us long enough to know when we were fighting.

"I think I'll go to bed, too. Penelope's right, it's been a long day. Thanks for the tea, Mrs. Weasley." I made a swift escape up the stairs as Hermione opened her mouth to say something.

The last dregs of sunlight scattered through the window and onto the bed, tracing a golden outline across the pulsating lump under the duvet. The members of The Chudley Cannons scowled and flipped me off from their respective posters, loyal to their miserable owner. Not wanting to disturb him, I slowly pulled off my socks and dressing gown, and crawled under the bundle of blankets on the floor beside Ron's bed. From between the ends of his ginger hair, and the edge of the orange-striped duvet - pulled right up over his nose - I watched the closed eyelids drawback and a pair of watery eyes stare at me. I didn't know where to begin.

"Did I wake you?"

Seriously, Potter, is that the best you have? You piss off your friend and now  you're being all polite? 

Ron didn't reply.

Yup, definitely a stupid question.

He rolled over to face the window. I was losing him; fast. "I'm sorry."

A pause - holding my breath in anticipation.

"Yeah, you mentioned."

And breathe.

"No, I mean, I'm sorry for what I said earlier today; I was being a jackass."

"You're always being a jackass."

I decided it was best to ignore that.

"You were right, it wasn't my fault. I just- Hagrid was the closest thing I had to a father, and I ignored him. I couldn't even be bothered to write, let alone visit. I was thinking: maybe if I knew what he was doing, I could've done something to stop him, y'u know?"

The lump of duvet wriggled around to face me again. The crease between furrowed eyebrows had dug its way back across his forehead.

"I know. But no one else visited either, and you're not the only one who saw Hagrid as family, or the only who blames themself-" My stomach twisted as Ron flinched. he didn't want to mention that.

"You blamed yourself?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Look, the point is, bad things happen to others - not just you - and we suffer just as much."

"I know."

"And it's not you, you're not the cause, sometimes shit just happens."

"I know."

"And sometimes it's okay to tell others that you feel bad; because everyone does. Yeah, you're Harry Potter, 'The Boy Who Loved', our 'saviour and redeemer', and whatever, but you're also just a fucked up man who can't let go, just like the rest of us. And sometimes it's so hard for the rest of us to talk to you about the crap in our lives because you're all so perfect, 'dealing' with everything, bottling it up. You know, I haven't been able to talk to anyone about the whole Hagrid situation because everyone's all going 'Oh, poor Harry', 'Poor, poor Harry', 'He must be suffering so much', 'Oh, he's so brave!'. Well, guess what? The rest of us suffer to!"

He was sitting up, his ears as red as his hair. He drew his legs up to his chest and dug his face into them. I had no idea what Ron was going through. He had held this in for so long - he was the one who was brave, the hero, not me. 

I crawled onto the bed next to him and pulled him into my chest. My t-shirt began to stick to me. He was crying. "Sometimes- I wish I'd never met you, Harry Potter. Life would've been so fucking easy."

I was crying too.

I know, I thought to myself, I sometimes wished that too.

"Well," I released him. He sat up and looked at me, tears twinkling down his cheeks and collecting in his stubble. He looked angry, as if I existed on purpose, just to spite him. "I'm here now. I want to listen. We're best mates, for fuck sake! I'm not going to let you go through that again."

"But-" Ron choked. The sudden beam in his face and the hope that now filled those tears made me want him more and more. It was unbearable to be so close, yet not close enough. I clasped his damp face in my hands, before he could argue, and pushed my lips against his. They were wet, and tasted of the sea. I could feel his shoulder slump - giving into my affection. 

He was mine, and I was his. 

The warm waves of his kiss lapped through me. I pulled back slowly against the current, and whispered onto his burning skin.

"Never."