So Much

Rating: PGish

Summary: Harry comes to stay at The Burrow, and lets Ron in on some unsettling news.

Author\'s Note: Minor canon noncompliance here, but nothing drastic (the manner in which Harry discloses some information is non-canon, as well as a little nightmare moment that isn\'t too much of a stretch.)







When Harry came stumbling out of The Burrow\'s fireplace that evening, sooty and pink with pleasure, Ron felt the happiest he had felt all summer long. He resisted the urge to leap upon him, and instead helped him up the stairs with his trunk. Harry was laughing over his cousin Dudley\'s massive tongue. When he asked Ron what else Fred and George had been working on, Ron came terribly close to blurting, Oi, Harry. Each other.



Instead, he said, "Oh, loads of stuff I\'m sure. They\'ve been keeping it all a big secret from Mum, but I bet they\'ll tell you. They\'re bunking with us, you know, because of Charlie and Bill." Harry looked at Ron curiously, as though he were quite unsure how this arrangement was going to work. He had seen Ron\'s bedroom before.



When they had heaved the trunk onto the landing, Ron stepped back to consider their next move. "I reckon you should leave your things out here. We\'re packed so tight in there you can barely open the drawers." Harry nodded, and Ron once again shouldered open the door. He and Harry surveyed the room.



Harry knit his eyebrows together. "Well.... not much room for another body, is there? I s\'pose I could stay in with Bill and Charlie?"



Ron rolled his eyes. "I think Charlie\'s spent too much time with those bloody dragons. Snores like one, anyway. But if you\'re sure..."



Harry laughed. "Nevermind it. I\'ll squeeze in here." His green eyes scanned the room and finally settled on the floor. "Got an extra blanket or something?"



"Probably," Ron said. He thought about offering Harry Fred\'s or George\'s, since they seemed perfectly content to share, but decided to put it aside until later.





___________________________________________________________





After dinner, Hermione and Ginny wandered away to do something girlish, and Fred and George had joined Bill and Charlie in a game of Exploding Snap in the living room. Harry chose that time to pull Ron aside in the garden.



"What\'s up, Harry?"



"It\'s my scar. A few nights ago, I had this horrible nightmare about Voldemort..." Ron winced. "About You-Know-Who. And he was with Wormtail, and they were... they were talking about killing. And I woke up, and my scar was just burning, and..." his voice trailed off. "Well. It hurt something awful, and... it scared me."



"You scar, you said? You don\'t think... I mean, he\'s not... Dad says they suspect he\'s in Albania or something. Not near enough to hurt you, you think?" Ron\'s stomach suddenly felt leaden. A thickness had come to his throat.



"No, I don\'t think so, it\'s just... I don\'t know. I\'m not used to it behaving like that, you know? I\'ve had it for all my life, and..."



"Sall right, Harry." Ron wrinkled his forehead. He worried his lip between his teeth, quite unconsciously. "You\'re safe here, you know?"



Harry\'s eyes met Ron\'s, and the sincerity he saw there made some of his unease dissipate. Ron had a way of making him feel slightly invincible at times, and though Harry knew that it was rubbish, it was still comforting. When Ron reached out and palmed his shoulder awkwardly, Harry couldn\'t help but smile.



"I know. Thanks for having me here. I feel better with some company, truly."



Ron nodded. "Want to ask Dad about it tomorrow?"



Harry nodded back.





________________________________________________________________







In the joviality and chaos, Ron and Harry forgot to ask about an extra blanket. When they finally came up from the sitting room, where they\'d been talking excitedly about the Quidditch World Cup (much later than Mrs. Weasley had admonished them to), everyone had already gone to bed. Even Fred and George had tired themselves out, though Ron tried not to think about how.



Harry took his pyjamas to the bathroom, and Ron changed into his as quietly as possible. He was pulling the hem of his t-shirt down over his belly when Harry rapped quietly on the door.



"Oh, rubbish," he said when he came in and looked down at the wooden floor.



"\'Sall right," Ron whispered. "You can have my bed. No big deal."



"Where are you going to sleep, then?"



Ron shrugged. "I\'ll take the floor. Look, here, I\'ll bunch up some clothes." He moved to pick up some of the laundry, but Harry elbowed him.



"Don\'t be stupid." He surveyed the beds. "Look, there\'s loads of room up there."



He was right. Fred and George were smooshed together on Fred\'s bed, back-to-back, their bare ankles poking out from under the sheets, crossed over one another\'s. The sole of George\'s right foot was pressed flat against the sole of Fred\'s left. If this perplexed Harry at all, he didn\'t show it.



Ron shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, but his stomach fluttered a bit. "True. All right then. I\'ll take George\'s." Ron knelt on the mattress and scooted over into George\'s bed. He felt strangely protective as he untangled the bedclothes and made his way between them, though he wasn\'t sure of whom. Had he placed himself between Harry and his brothers to shield Harry from a shock, or to shield Fred and George from potential prying? Ron shook his head and pressed his face into the pillow. It smelled like George, a bit mossy and vaguely like smoke. He smiled into the fabric and inhaled a bit deeper.



"Night, Ron," Harry whispered as he drew the covers up around his waist. He settled his head against Ron\'s pillow. It smelled like Ron -- warm earth, and something slightly sweet, like hay. It smelled safe.



"Night, Harry."



_________________________________________________________________





It took Ron a long time to fall asleep, even though he knew he had to be up before the sun to make it to the Portkey. His thoughts kept drifting between Quidditch (though he was surely rooting for Ireland, he couldn\'t help but feel more than a little excited to catch a glimpse of Viktor Krum), his twin brothers (he was fairly sure they were out for the night, but one of his ears was pricked in their direction, nonetheless; he occasionally caught a small sigh or a groan and shot to attention), and Harry.



Ron stared at Harry\'s back, watching it rise and fall with his breathing. His nightmare worried Ron somewhat more than he\'d let on. He wanted to make sure to remember to speak with his father about it, if only for some reassurance. Certain though he was that Harry was safe here, they wouldn\'t be home for much longer, and You-Know-Who had managed to find his way into Hogwarts before. Ron\'s lips pursed and his forehead creased thinking about it.



Just as he was about to drift off, Harry startled him awake. His shoulders were twitching, and his feet were jerking back and forth under the blankets. Ron sat up. Harry made a strangled sound in his throat, and Ron\'s heart grew faster. "Harry?" he whispered. Harry didn\'t respond, though; his muscles kept working under his sleeping skin.



Ron leaned over to look. "Harry," he hissed again. Harry\'s face was screwed up tight, looking pained. The scar on his forehead looked dark and angry, and almost as though it had a pulse. Tentatively, Ron brought two of his fingers to it and touched down lightly. Harry\'s scar was burning hot.



Ron didn\'t know what to do. He shook at Harry\'s shoulder gently, but he didn\'t stir. He shook harder. Still nothing. "Harry, wake up, you\'re having a nightmare," he said, close to Harry\'s ear, which was throwing heat of its own towards Ron\'s lips as he spoke.



Harry blinked. His eyelids twitched. Ron shook again, and this time, Harry started blearily awake. "You all right, Harry?" Ron asked, as he peered down into Harry\'s strained-looking face, concerned.



"Yeah," said Harry, a bit confused. He brought one hand to touch his forehead. "Headache," he said, and then dropped his head back onto the pillow. He leaned into it and took a deep breath. Ron watched. Harry shifted himself around and seemed to fall immediately back asleep.



For a few moments, Ron watched with concern. The pulse in Harry\'s scar seemed to fade away, and he was soon breathing evenly, as though nothing had happened. Ron\'s own pulse, however, was still not back to normal. He reached for Harry\'s forehead again and, lightly, so as not to wake him this time, pressed his fingers there. Warmth still radiated from it, though it was not the same searing heat as before.



From behind him, Ron heard his brothers stir. He glanced back toward them. Fred was rolling over in his sleep, sighing and moaning softly. Ron watched as he drew his hips up against George\'s bottom and leaned into the curve at George\'s neck. George\'s body shifted gently to accommodate him. Unconsciously, they curled into each other and seemed to merge into one.



A small tremor went through Harry\'s body, and Ron felt it at his knee. He turned to look down at him. Harry was jerking a bit, here and there, but didn\'t seem to be in distress. Odd little pangs hit Ron in the chest, seeming to come from both directions. Without thinking about it, he lifted his hand and pressed it against Harry\'s shoulder. His fingers curled around its warm roundness, squeezing. The pressure there seemed to be calming, and he felt Harry\'s body relax somewhat.



Slowly, Ron lowered himself into the mattress. He took his left hand, gingerly, and allowed it to fall across Harry\'s sleeping frame. Remembering the almost-sweetness and strange comfort of George\'s nearness that morning, Ron inched closer. Harry seemed to sense his proximity, and his elbow moved backward until it brushed against Ron\'s arm. Harry\'s breathing grew steadier and deeper.



Ron shut his eyes and, secure that everybody around him was safe and warm and at peace, he slept.