Under the Gun (lizardlaugh) wrote in hprwfqf,
Under the Gun

Title: If it wasn't for you...
Rating: R, for swearing
Challenge:Harry takes up Occlumency again; it's hard on him and he takes it out on Ron
Summary: Harry's being a prat, Ron set's him straight... ok, well maybe straight isn't the right word
Warnings (if applicable): no smut *sigh*
Notes: Rushed, last minute... I am sure it is still midnite SOMEWHERE!!!

“C’mon Hermione, please?” Ron cajoled, tearing yet another hole in the parchment as he scratched out yet another line of his Transfiguration assignment. He could have sworn McGonagall had it in for him personally with all the extra work. “I’ll help you knit those ruddy elf hats for the rest of the holiday.”

“Really?” Hermione’s ears, previously deaf to Ron’s pleas, perked up every so slightly at his suggestion. She considered him for a moment over the great fat book she was reading, and then frowned. “But then you wouldn’t really be learning the lesson, and you would only be helping the Cause because I --”

Just then the portrait hole swung open to admit a frightfully angry Harry Potter. Without so much as a glance at Ron or Hermione, he stomped towards the staircase to the boys’ dorm. Stomp, stomp, stomp up the stairs and then SLAM!

“Oh dear,” Hermione gasped, letting her door stop of a book slip from her grasp without marking the page. “Should we go check on him?”

“I’ll go,” said Ron, rolling up his holey, ink blotched Transfiguration parchment and stuffing it into his book bag. “Not getting anywhere with this anyway.”

Hermione winced. “Good luck.”

The Occlumency lessons were not going well. In fact, they were going even worse than they had the previous year, if that were possible, despite the fact that it was Dumbledore, not Snape, giving the lessons. Ron wasn’t sure why things were going so horribly, and Harry wasn’t exactly forthcoming on the subject. All he knew was that Harry was returning angrier and angrier, sometimes brooding for days. Sometimes avoiding Ron for days. Ron didn’t like that too much for many reasons, a few of which he wasn’t quite ready to admit, even to himself.

“Er, how’s it going?” Ron asked, tentatively poking his head though the door as something glass went careening past and shattered against a wall. “Rough time of it, mate?”

Harry, pink cheeked, breathing hard and green eyes brilliant with rage sneered, “Oh no, of course not, Ron. Everything is PERFECTLY FUCKING PEACHY!”

“Oh, hey, listen, no need to yell,” said Ron, growing irritated. “I just thought I’d come and check on my best friend before he hurt himself tearing the bloody room apart.”

“Hermione sent you up here, didn’t she?”

“No,” said Ron. “I came up here on my own.”

“Well, then you can leave on your own. I don’t need you watching out for me.” Harry said, turning his back to the door.

“Someone needs to watch out for you before you hurt yourself,” said Ron. “What’s Dumbledore doing to you, anyway? He couldn’t possibly be any worse than Snape.”

Harry began laughing. Low at first, but soon his whole body was shaking with terrible, hysterical laughter. “You have no fucking clue.”

“Try me,” said Ron. He wasn’t about to let Harry get away with this any longer. “Why not try talking about it instead of acting like a great big prat and shutting me out.”

“Why not try FUCKING LEAVING ME ALONE?” Harry yelled, turning on his heal to face Ron again.

“No,” said Ron, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ll have to bodily toss me out. I live here too, you know.”

Harry picked up a jar of broom polish sitting on his nightstand, the jar of broom polish Ron had given him for Christmas, and threw it against the wall. Broom polish spattered everywhere and shards of glass went flying. “I said LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!”

A tiny river of bright red blood trickled down Harry’s brown splotched cheek where a piece of glass had struck him just below his left eye. Ron desperately wanted to wipe it all away, but Harry would probably punch him if he dared. Not that Ron was afraid of Harry punching him, seeing as how he had a good six inches, forty pounds and five older brothers on him.

“I said, NO.”

“FUCK YOU!” Harry grabbed his cloak. “I’m leaving.”

“If you say fuck one more time, Harry, I might begin to think you are coming on to me,” said Ron, blocking the door. “You’re not going anywhere, and I am not leaving you alone. Not until you tell me what has gotten into you lately.”

“I’m not coming onto you, in fact, I never want to see you again,” Harry snarled, trying to push his way past Ron. “Now get out of my way.”

A horrible fist clenched around Ron’s heart and gave it a nice, long squeeze. “You don’t mean that,” he said quietly.

Something recognizable briefly flickered across Harry’s face. “Maybe I do,” he said, defiantly, but Ron could tell he didn’t mean it. At least, Ron hoped he didn’t mean it.

Ron swallowed hard, not quite sure what to say. “I don’t know what is going on with these lessons, but whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“I-I can’t.”

“Then I can’t let you leave.”


But Harry couldn’t tell him, he just couldn’t. It was very strange... it was as if Dumbledore was trying to prepare him for something.

At first, Dumbledore, unlike Snape, seemed to probe for happy memories. Hagrid arriving on Harry’s eleventh birthday to tell him he was a wizard. Meeting Ron on the train ride to Hogwarts. Winning the House Cup for Gryffindor in his First Year. Finding out that Sirius was his Godfather. Being friends again with Ron after the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament. More and more, the memories included Ron. Playing chess in front of the common room fireplace. Ron showing up with his brothers to rescue him that summer before Second Year. Ron sopping wet after being dragged from the lake. Ron stretched out across his bed in his too small pajamas that revealed a tantalizing glimpse of red freckled skin. Ron in the showers after Quidditch practice...

These were memories Harry most certainly did NOT want Dumbledore to see. He fought back, but Dumbledore fought harder still, and the memories changed. Ron, struck down, not moving on the chess board. Ron, being dragged beneath the Whomping Willow by a giant bear of a dog. The ache in his chest at the news that Ron had been taken for the Second Task in fourth year. Ron, coughing up blood and being attacked by those horrible tentacled brains in the Department of Mysteries. Ron, always in danger... always in danger because of me.

Harry found himself pushing Ron further away. This was partly because he was embarrassed of the not-so-platonic feelings he was realizing he felt for Ron but also... his very presence is Ron’s life put his best friend, the treasure he would miss above all others, at risk of dying or worse.

“Just let me go,” Harry said, trying to shove past Ron again, slip through his defenses, but he was too good a Keeper now to let Harry get through.

“Not until I get some answers and not until you apologize for being a prat,” said Ron, catching Harry around the middle and pulling him to the floor. Taller and heavier with a longer reach, Ron was easily able to pin Harry to the floor, straddling his hips and holding his wrists above his head.

“I’m not telling you anything,” said Harry, breathing hard, but not bothering to fight back, not until he could sense a weakness in Ron’s defense. His glasses were half off his face, making Ron weirdly out of focus. “You’ll have to have to stay here like this all night.”

“Got nothing else better to do,” said Ron, curling the long fingers of one hand around both of Harry’s wrists while the other righted his glasses and daubed at his left cheek. “I can sit here on top of you, or knit elf hats with Hermione. Easy choice.”

Harry laughed a little in spite of himself. “Are you sure about that, mate? So it’s not Hermione, you fancy, is it?”

The tips of Ron’s ears turned crimson and his mouth dropped open. “Y-you knew?”

“Of course, I knew,” said Harry, trying not to let the jealousy show through his voice. “How obvious can you possibly be?”

Ron was clearly distressed. “Well, I didn’t think I was being obvious, I mean...”

Harry didn’t understand what the big deal was. “Yeah, you are pretty transparent, you know.”

Ron let go of Harry’s wrists and swung his leg over so that they were sitting beside each other. “I-I’m really sorry, mate. You never said anything... I totally understand now...”

“Sorry?” Harry asked, sitting up and rubbing his wrists where Ron had gripped him. “Why should you be sorry? I thought I was the one being the prat here.”

“Well, I thought you, er, that you... that you might mind the fact that I... that I...”

“Of course I don’t mind,” said Harry, rolling his eyes, though he did mind.... just a little. Ok, more than a little. “I have been waiting for nearly two years now for you to make your move.”

“Y-you have?” Ron asked, swallowing hard.

“Yes,” Harry said. Maybe if Ron finally got together with Hermione, he wouldn’t notice if Harry sort of slipped away. “You should definitely go for it.” Harry tried to make his voice sound encouraging.

“Ok,” said Ron, turning to face Harry. He looked as though he was trying to brace himself for something. A moment later, Harry found out just what that something was... and it had absolutely nothing to do with Hermione.

Two moments later, Harry was pinned to the floor again, only this time he didn’t mind so much. It was all so very strange and awkward and Harry didn’t really know where his hands were supposed to go or what they were supposed to do. It was also very, very nice and Ron was a lovely kisser and his large, freckled hands felt absolutely wonderful on Harry’s bare skin.

"I'm sorry for being a prat," Harry whispered in Ron's ear. "It's just..."

"Forgiven," Ron groaned as Harry's hand slipped beneath the waist band of his trousers.

"I-I'm just afraid of losing you," said Harry.

"You've got a pretty good hold at the moment, it seems..."

"No, I am afraid something will happen to you, and it'll be all my fault," Harry said pulling away slightly. "If it wasn't for me..."

"Don't be stupid," said Ron, pulling Harry in closer again. "If it wasn't for you... I wouldn't have you, and that's the main thing."

“Maybe we should, um...”

Ron nodded, and both boys stumbled onto Harry’s four poster, pushing books and robes out of the way, shedding shoes and socks and jumpers as they went. Very soon Harry forgot all about Occlumency and Dark Lords. He even forgot about losing Ron, because no matter if one of them were ever taken from the other, nothing could ever take away this.
Tags: 2004, lizardlaugh, r
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