Christmas Stories - H/R - PG
Title : Christmas Stories
Author : shocfix
For : knic26
Pairing : Harry/Ron
Prompt : Christmas Stories
Rating : PG
Words : 597


Christmas Stories
****
Ron grumbled as he hung snowflakes in the window.

“What’s wrong with you?” Harry asked, standing on a chair to decorate the tree that was far too big for their lounge.

“Our first Christmas in our own place,” Ron said. “Two red blooded blokes; should be getting drunk, not decorating the place like girls.”

“Oh, shut up,” Harry said cheerfully. “I love Christmas.”

“You’re such a kid, sometimes,” Ron said, hanging one last snowflake and making them sparkle with a flick of his wand.

“I never had Christmases when I was little,” Harry protested, “so this is only my eighth proper one, so I’m entitled to behave like an eight-year-old.”

Ron smiled up at him. “Just since you met me, then?” he asked.

“’Course,” Harry said.

Ron grinned.

“’Though I did meet Hagrid first,” Harry said. “Also Doris Crockford. This is my eighth Dorissy Christmas.”

“Shut up.”

“And I saw your mum first, and I noticed Ginny before I noticed you.”

Ron scowled.

“Because I’m an idiot,” Harry said swiftly. “We’ve established that I was a complete idiot not to realise that Ginny was basically just you with breasts.”

Ron snorted. “That is a horrible image,” he complained, stepping closer and wrapping his arms round the back of Harry’s knees.

“You,” Harry said, his hands tangling in long red hair. “Eight Christmases with you.”

Ron sobered.

“Not eight, Harry,” he said. “I ran out on you, last year.”

Harry shook the head he was caressing, none too gently. “You did not run out on me,” he growled. “You would never do that; you spent the whole of Christmas day looking for me, that’s pretty special, in its own, pathetic way.”

“Cheers,” Ron snorted. “Whenever you want me to be pathetic for your amusement, let me know.”

“Seems to be a regular Christmas thing, actually,” Harry said.

“What’s that s’pposed to mean?”

“I cannot imagine, Won Won.”

“Bastard.”

Harry smirked and Ron pinched his arse.

“That necklace,” Harry mused. “So tasteful. So you.”

Ron sighed and rested his forehead against Harry’s belly.

“You’re right,” he said. “I’m pathetic.”

Harry tugged on Ron’s hair, tipping his head back so he could see his face.

“Stop it,” he said.

“Pathetic in the snow,” Ron pouted, “pathetic with Lavender. And the Christmas before, buying Hermione that awful perfume, ‘cos I reckoned that’s what girls like, and then she was allergic to it. And the Christmas before, not even knowing why I was so angry with her, and the Christmas before…”

“Shut up,” Harry said firmly. “How about Christmas sixth year, I was gutted that you were shallow enough to fall for Lavender; Christmas fifth year, I thought that was your move on Hermione and I was heartbroken; Christmas fourth, I reckoned even you would realise why you were frothing and I’d lose you; Christmas third, it was you and me and my Firebolt against Hermione; Christmas second, it was you and me and Hermione the cat; Christmas first. Christmas first, it was you and me. And your mum made me a jumper and it was like having a family. And seeing you and me and my family in the Mirror.”

Ron looked shamefaced.

“Remember what I saw in the Mirror?” he asked.

“Glory,” Harry said.

Ron huffed.

“Remember what I saw first,” he said. “Before you moved aside. I said, ‘I can only see you.’ Only you, Harry, that’s what I’d see now”

“Sap.”

“Well, you have this effect on me, are you proud?”

“Very. Kiss me and we’ll hang more decorations.”

“I’m certainly interested in how your balls are hung.”