Apple Crumble

By request, written from Harry's POV.

Title: No Good For You

Pairing: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley

Prompt: 090: Home

Related Links: This is a sequel to Apple Crumble and sequel Whisper

Rating: R

Word Count: ~799

Warnings: Angst, first person POV

Summary: Justifying it, even in his mind, doesn't work...

This can't happen. He can't leave me. I love him so much.

I watch as Ron sits on the bed, his face in his hands. I know he's crying under there but he won't let me see -he only ever lets me see when I've broken him, when I've pushed him too far and beyond what I should.

We stayed in each other's arms at the Portkey Terminal for what felt like forever. He pulled away, though, and he looked at me with hurt in his eyes and that broke me.

Fuck, I know this is wrong. I know that it's my fault. I keep asking for things that I shouldn't and because he loves me, Ron gives me what I want. God, when he did say no, it was like a slap in the face. When he cried and told me that sometimes he just wanted normal sex, I didn't know what to do. I felt like throwing myself off a bridge because I'd been selfish, too carried away in my own wants and needs to really pay attention to Ron -my Ron, who I don't think I could actually live without. And then I went and took what I wanted regardless of his feelings.

We left early. We're home now and he's sitting on our bed, face in his hands, crying. Over me. God, I'm a bastard. I'm worse than that, I'm a cunt. I've been the first in the past, on reading about an abusive relationship -and trust me, working where we work, we've seen them- to rant about how disgusting it is, to question why one human being could do it to another.

And here I am, as bad as the best of them.

I'm sitting in front of the closed bedroom door, hoping that it will stop him from walking out, though I know that's stupid because he has a wand and could apparate, or blast me out of the way and leave anyway. But he's just sitting there, crying into his hands. There's nothing I can do to help him, not when he gets like this.

I know how it must seem to him. He's the victim. He is. But I'm biting on my tongue to stop myself from remind him of what I've put up with in the past. The constant moods after the war, when he was down and depressed and unable to string a sentence together. I was there. When he lost all interest in sex for whatever reason, for two whole years. I was there and I helped him out of whatever was hurting him enough to stop him from wanting me. I was there for that and I took what felt like a massive insult on the chin and stayed. I was there when... fuck.

This is stupid. Trying to justify it. I've been there for Ron but there's no doubt he has been there for me through far worse. He nearly died for me. Several times -and not just in the war; afterwards, working together as Aurors. No curse has ever hit me because Ron is always there. Sometimes he just deflects them. Sometimes, he takes them for me.

For every time he's been in a hospital bed for me, I have always been beside it.

I don't know what to do. If this ends, I'll end, I think. I wouldn't know how to function without Ron. I don't know how that happened. I came from having nobody and throughout the years, Ron has become my somebody, and now I couldn't be without him. Hermione, too, but the bond never deepened with her like it did with Ron. Ron became my only attraction -my only obsession. I wanted to do everything with him and to him. I wanted to lick that spot under his ear which makes him moan. I wanted to massage his stinking feet because it soothes him first, and then it makes him hard. I even like the smell of the stench of his feet.

“Harry.”

I look up at him. His face is red and tear stained. He looks beautiful.

“I can't leave you,” he whispers, voice a croak. “I should. I know I should. I shouldn't still trust you.”

“But you do?” I hope aloud.

Ron settles his gaze on me and swallows.

“I think I do, yeah.”

“You shouldn't,” I say miserably, my guilt talking for me. “I'm... I'm no good for you, Ron.”

“I know that.”

Oh, Merlin, that hurts.

“But the thing is... since I was eighteen... I've loved nobody else. And ten years... that's a long time, Harry.”

“So...”

“I don't know,” Ron says bleakly. “Come here.”

I go. I'll always go. God, I love him.