Falling For You - H/R - NC-17
Title: Falling For You
Author/Artist: shocolate
Gift For: endure
Rating: NC-17
Featured Character or Pairing(s): Harry/Ron
Summary: What possible reason could there be for Ron not to help Harry?
Warnings: ANGST – which was asked for, in capital letters.
Word Count: 7939
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Author's/Artist's notes: Written for the 2009 weasley_fest. So many thanks to my precious emmacmf for the beta and the brainstorming on the plotty bits – she was so right!


Falling For You
.:*:.

"Suspended, Auror Weasley, and facing charges," barked Chief Auror Robards.

"Yes, sir," Ron said stonily.

"Do you have anything to say in your defence?"

"No, sir."

"No explanation?"

"No, sir," Ron said.

"The statements your squad members have made could send you to Azkaban, Auror Weasley."

"Yes, sir."

"If Auror Potter regains consciousness, and is able to remember the incident, his statement could be just as damning."

"Yes, sir."

"And if he dies, Auror Weasley, you'll be facing a murder charge. He reached his hand out to you and you deliberately didn't take it, and he fell. To his death, as far as you could tell."

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed, Auror Weasley." The Chief Auror took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Auror Kennedy, take him down to the cells."

.:*:.

Ron lay on the hard bunk, staring up at the ceiling of his cell, looking straight through the spider spinning its web across one corner. He hadn't moved since he lay down and the rough grey blanket was barely disturbed; the cup of tea on the small table had gone stone cold; the cheese was curling away from the bread of the abandoned sandwich, beside it.

He didn't turn his head when the cell's door opened, merely croaking, "No visitors," through a dry throat.

He coughed, but seemed disinterested in the visitor pulling up a chair.

"Ron," Hermione said quietly.

"I told them no visitors," Ron said, his eyes still on the industrious spider. "That has kept even my mother out. If she has tried to get in. If she has left… Harry's bedside."

His voice barely cracked on the name.

"Ron, we have to talk about Harry."

"They'll feed him with a tube down his throat," Ron went on, ignoring her. "No dried up cheese sandwiches he hasn't asked for. As if anyone would ask to be fed through a tube for years."

"Auror Weasley," Hermione said firmly. "We have to talk about what happened to Auror Potter."

He finally turned his head and looked at her, blinking several times to bring her face into focus.

"Are you appearing for the prosecution, Advocate Granger?" he asked.

"Of course not," Hermione said. "They wouldn't have assigned the case to me, and I wouldn’t have taken it."

"Well, I'm quite sure you've heard that I have refused representation, Advocate Granger."

"Ron, you have to let me help you…"

"No," he interrupted.

"Ron, I'm your friend…"

"And you think friends can rely on each other for help?" he asked coldly.

"Ron, from what Seamus says he saw…"

"I'd trust Seamus with my life."

"…it's enough to send you to Azkaban," she whispered.

"Yes, Advocate Granger."

He turned his face to the wall and closed his eyes as he heard her leave.

.:*:.

Uneaten meals came and went for a couple of days before two Aurors were sent to take him down to the courts for his hearing; he went without protest, walking between them with his wrists bound and his head bowed. He kept his eyes on his feet as he entered the courtroom and crossed to the chair in the centre of the dais, silently sitting and letting his captors chain him in place.

Kingsley spoke to the top of his head, but he didn't look up.

"Auror Weasley," Kingsley said, "you have been charged with the attempted murder of Auror Harry James Potter: how do you plead?"

Ron finally raised his eyes to Kingsley's face.

"Guilty," he croaked.

The collective intake of breath threatened to leave the room airless.

With a set jaw, the Minister called his first witness; Seamus Finnigan strode across the dais, without looking at his old friend and colleague, and took his seat.

Ron looked back down at his hands.

"Auror Finnigan," Kingsley said, "you were part of the Auror raid on the lighthouse on Wolf Rock on the third of this month?"

"Yes, sir."

"You were in pursuit of Walden and Saffron McNair?"

"We were, sir."

"And Auror Weasley was the first out on the platform?"

"He has the longest legs, sir."

A titter ran around the courtroom.

"I beg your pardon?" Kingsley said.

"Auror Weasley usually gets places first, Sir," Seamus explained. "He has the longest legs. Sir."

"Yes, well," Kingsley said. "Auror Weasley had time to run to the far side of the platform by the time your suspects Dissaparated?"

"Yes, sir."

"How wide is the platform, Auror Finnigan?" Kingsley asked.

"About twenty-five feet, sir."

"And Auror Weasley was within reach of the railings at the far side of the platform?"

"Sir."

"And yourself and Auror Potter?"

"Were in the middle of the platform."

"And the rest of your team?" Kingsley asked.

"Were behind me, sir."

"And were they within reach of the railings, or the doorway?"

"I can't say, sir," Seamus said. "They were behind me."

"Hmmm," Kingsley said. "Then, as Auror Weasley chased your suspects to the far side of the platform, and looked down over the edge, what happened next?"

"A Muggle helicopter came in to land, sir," Seamus said. "Right on top of Auror Potter and myself."

"You were exposed, Auror Finnigan?"

"Sir?"

"You were… vulnerable," Kingsley said. "Exposed in the middle of the platform, and the helicopter blew you both towards the edge. Towards a hundred foot drop."

"Yes, sir."

"And what happened next?"

"I was blown up against the rail, sir, and I caught hold of it."

"Could you see Auror Weasley?"

"Yes, sir, he was in front of me."

"Could you see his face?"

"No, sir, he had his back to me," Seamus explained.

"What was in front of him, Auror Finnigan?" Kingsley prompted.

"A gap in the railing, sir; a gap of about six feet."

"And could you see Auror Potter?"

"Yes, sir."

"The helicopter had blown him directly through the gap, Auror Finnigan?"

"Yes, sir," Seamus said heavily. "He was almost over the edge, sir, one hand scrabbling for the railing."

"Did he try to reach anything else?"

"Yes, sir. He reached his hand out to Auror Weasley, sir."

"Are you sure about that, Auror Finnigan?"

"Yes, sir."

"Could you hear him saying anything?"

"The helicopter was too loud, sir."

"Could you see his face?"

"Sir?"

"Did you see him say anything?"

"Yes."

"Auror Finnigan?"

"He looked up at Auror Weasley and held out his hand, and he said, 'Ron'. Sir."

"Are you completely sure?"

"Completely, sir."

"And what did Auror Weasley do?"

"Nothing, sir," Seamus said quietly, into the utter silence. "He was holding the rail, sir. Tightly."

"And could he see Auror Potter?"

"Yes, sir."

"And could he have reached Auror Potter? Without losing his hold on the rail?"

"I… believe so, sir."

"But he didn’t," Kingsley said.

"He didn’t."

"What happened next, Auror Finnigan?"

"Auror Potter… fell. Sir. Down the side of the lighthouse."

"Over a hundred feet, onto jagged rocks?"

"Yes," Seamus whispered.

"You didn't cast a Cushioning Charm?" Kingsley asked.

"No, sir. I'd lost my wand when the helicopter blew me down."

"Did Auror Weasley cast a Cushioning Charm?"

"No, sir."

"Did Auror Weasley have his wand?"

"I believe so, sir."

"I understand the helicopter had landed, by this time, and the rest of your team was able to cross the platform?"

"Yes, sir," Seamus said. "Auror Goldstein reached us at the same time as the Muggle pilot. The Muggle was panicking, sir, because he'd seen a man go over the edge, and I tried to calm him down. Auror Goldstein leant over the edge and cast a Cushioning Charm."

"And was he in time, Auror Finnigan?"

"Almost," Seamus said. "He hit Auror Potter as Auror Potter hit the rocks, sir, and it was enough to slow him down, but he still… he was badly injured."

"And then?" Kingsley prompted.

"Auror McGrier Obliviated the Muggle, sir, while Auror Goldstein lowered himself down to the rocks. He held Auror Potter up, above the reach of the waves, while... someone… I don't know who… Apparated to the Ministry, for help."

"What did you do, Auror Finnigan?"

"I'd lost my wand, so I took Auror Weasley's out of his hand…"

"What was Auror Weasley doing?"

"…looking, sir. Down."

"And then?"

"We were too high up to help," Seamus said. "There was no more room down on the rocks, so we watched as the Healers and Aurors arrived to… remove Auror Potter."

"And then?"

"When they were clear, sir, Auror Weasley still wouldn't turn away from the rail, so I took his arm and Side Alonged him back to the Ministry."

"Where what happened?"

"Where we all gave our statements, except for Auror Weasley, who didn't say anything, and was arrested. Sir."

"Thank you, Auror Finnigan," said Kingsley. "I have no further questions for you, and Auror Weasley has refused representation, so…"

"Sir, there must be a reason why Auror Weasley didn't reach out to him…"

"Thank you, Auror Finnigan."

"…I couldn't see how hard he was fighting the wind from the helicopter… if he couldn't let go of the railing…"

"Thank you, Auror Finnigan."

Seamus got to his feet and reluctantly left the court, where an angry buzzing broke out.

"Auror Weasley," Kingsley said heavily. "There is damning evidence against you; do you have anything to say in your defence?"

Ron shook his head and a heated muttering rippled through the crowd.

"Ron, please," a lone voice called out, from the back of the heavily robed Wizengamot.

Kingsley sighed and called the rest of his witnesses; Aurors and Healers testified as to the severity of Auror Potter's injuries – that he was unable to appear, as he was still unconscious, possibly never to awaken.

Finally Anthony Goldstein took the stand to seal Ron's fate by corroborating Seamus's version of events on top of the lighthouse, but he could add very little, as he insisted his view had been blocked by the helicopter. He could only confirm that he'd been too late to stop Auror Potter from falling, but had done his best to cushion his fall.

Any questions about Auror Weasley's behaviour were deflected with a firm repetition that his view had been blocked by the helicopter.

He refused to speculate.

Ron refused to defend himself.

The Wizengamot found him guilty and sentenced him to six years in Azkaban.

He was escorted from the courtroom, head bowed, without looking back, and chaos broke out; journalists pushing through the crowd and jostling his friends and family, Quick Quote Quills floating above their heads.

The Aurors managed to separate them, escorting Hermione and the Weasleys up to the Atrium, where Seamus tried to apologise and Anthony looked like he was going to throw up.

Bill brushed them both aside and escorted his parents and Hermione through the crowds and into the fireplace.

.:*:.

As the weeks passed, Hermione visited St Mungo's less often. She couldn't bear the sight of Harry's pale face; she felt she'd failed him, by not protecting Ron.

It wasn't rational and Ron was a grown man, who could get himself sent to Azkaban without her help, but if Harry wasn't able to, then she should have taken care of him.

She couldn't concentrate at work, she avoided the Weasleys; Neville was the most understanding of boyfriends, but even he'd lose his patience, eventually. She sat and stared at Harry's still figure, sure she'd missed something.

Not that there could possibly be a reason to let Harry fall to his death, but.

But Ron.

Ron.

Neville thought that Ron had frozen, terrified, and was punishing himself.

Seamus blamed himself.

Anthony hated being seen as the hero; even the lowest of the low of the journalists had stopped asking him for a quote.

Hermione hadn't seen him for weeks when she entered the bare hospital room to find the curly haired Auror sitting beside Harry's bed, brooding darkly.

"Sorry," he said, getting to his feet, "I'll get out of your way."

"Don't be silly," Hermione said. "If anyone deserves to be here, it's… well, no, no one deserves to be here. I hate that anyone has to be here, that Harry has to be here."

Anthony nodded awkwardly, flushed and sat down again, and Hermione looked at him through narrowed eyes. He was a good deal more confident than when they were at school, and she couldn’t think what she'd said that could have made him blush.

"I keep thinking I've… missed something," she breathed, taking the chair on the other side of the narrow bed and having a perfect view of the redoubled blush that flooded Anthony's cheeks. "What am I missing, Anthony?"

"I can't think of anything that would help," he said.

"But… something that wouldn't help?" she prompted.

He shrugged. "It's no use," he said.

"Anthony, please," she begged, "you know something. You saw something."

"Not me," he whispered.

"Something that happened on the platform," she pressed.

"No," he said finally. "Not on the platform. Earlier. Earlier that morning."

"Anthony…"

"Ron."

She looked at his flushed face, heart racing.

"Ron?"

"Ron saw something that morning," he said in a great rush, "and he was upset, or something, but not enough to let him fall, I'll never believe that it wasn't an accident."

She didn't dare prompt him to go on; she didn't think she wanted him to.

"He," Anthony swallowed hard, "he saw me and… Harry… together."

Her eyes opened wide and moved to the still figure, on the bed between them.

"Oh, not together together," Anthony stammered. "Just I was kneeling… and… you know…"

"I… had no idea," Hermione whispered.

"I know," Anthony said.

"None," she said faintly. "I mean, since Ginny, he… there've been… girls… I… thought…"

Anthony shrugged. "We're not… weren't… dating, or anything… it was just convenience… I saw him in a Muggle bookstore, buying books on…" He gestured at his lap. "And he got all defensive and I wanted him to know I wasn't… shocked, or disgusted, or anything… so, I… groped him… really clumsily."

"You should have been in Gryffindor," Hermione said.

"Yeah, not the smartest thing I've ever done… sorry." He trailed off. "But since then we've had this sort of… thing. Just a thing. Convenient. Because there's no one else who he can… could… no one knew."

"Oh, Anthony," she breathed. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry?"

"For you," she explained.

"It's not like it's my bloke lying there," he said. "You have far more reason…"

"Sorry you've been through this," Hermione interrupted. "On your own, too. Worrying about Ron, feeling guilty about what he saw."

"I know it wasn't my fault," Anthony said slowly, "but…"

"It doesn't help," Hermione finished for him.

He shrugged.

"That morning," she said tentatively. "Tell me what happened."

Anthony flushed.

"Not… details," Hermione said swiftly. "Just… what Ron did."

"We didn't hear him come in," Anthony said, his eyes going to Harry's still face. "We were in Harry's office and Harry had his back to the door… doing… stuff, and the first I knew was someone swearing, loudly. Harry half turned round and Ron was standing in the doorway and… I was kneeling down… he could see my hands on… and he was looking at Harry like… I am gonna say he was angry, but only to you."

"Oh dear," Hermione breathed.

"Not to the Wizengamot, or something… he wasn't hurt someone angry… and never hurt Harry angry," Anthony broke off and shook his head. "He was really upset, and he turned and ran out and Harry swore and frantically buttoned up and looked down at me and I was all, 'no, go on, sort it out,' and he ran out of the office and I tidied myself and followed him, and… and Kingsley was there, grabbing people by the scruff of the neck and shouting about the McNairs and Seamus scooped me up as he passed me in the corridor and we were off to the Scillies. I'm pretty sure Harry didn't get a chance to speak to Ron, but everyone was tense about the mission and… I didn't notice anything extra… and I didn't see Harry fall. I'm just… Ron didn't do it on purpose, he can't've. The helicopter, or…"

"Then why has the idiot allowed himself to get sent to Azkaban?" Hermione demanded. "If there wasn't something actually preventing him from reaching Harry."

"I don't know," Anthony said sadly. "I don't know what happened, and I don't know what I should've said, and I don't know what to say."

"I'm glad you told me," Hermione said, reaching out to him. "You shouldn't have to go through this alone."

He took her hand and they rested their clasped hands on Harry's gently moving chest.

.:*:.

Hermione had never visited Azkaban, before, her responsibilities in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement not including taking the statements of the already convicted. The Dementors were long gone, but the island fortress was still cold, dark and damp, and Ron was in there, alone.

She knew he was still refusing visitors, so flashed her Ministry credentials and the Auror on duty escorted her to his cell. Ron was sitting on a metal chair, looking out at the overcast sky between the bars on his small window; he was paler and thinner than she'd ever seen him, his hair long and half covering his eyes as he turned to look at her.

She bit her lip and wrung her hands, her heart sinking at the sight.

"Oh, Ron," she breathed.

"Any… news?" he croaked.

"News?"

"Harry…"

"No," she said, crossing the cell to sit, facing him, on the edge of his narrow bed, "no change."

He shrugged and turned back to the window.

"Ron, you have to…"

"No, I don't," he interrupted.

"…what?" she asked, wrong footed.

"I don't have to do anything," he said bleakly. "There is nothing for me to do, not until…"

"Until?" she prompted, unwillingly.

"Until there is news," he said, "one way or the other. I owe it to him."

"Ron, no," she said. "Even if he… he wouldn't want you to… hurt yourself."

"He didn't want to fall," Ron said.

Hermione blinked away tears.

"Why are you here, Hermione?" he asked wearily.

"I… I know what happened," she said.

"What?" Ron demanded.

"I know what you… saw, that day," she said.

"I saw him fall," Ron said. "I watched him reach out his hand to me…" He looked past her, his eyes focussing on something she couldn't see. "…I watched him fall."

"I meant… earlier," Hermione said. "I know about Anthony."

She wouldn't have thought it possible, but he went even paler.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said quietly.

"I know you saw Harry and Anthony… performing a sexual act," she said.

Ron snorted.

"I saw Harry having his cock sucked," he said bluntly.

"And you were upset," she prompted gently.

He flushed.

"And Anthony told you I wanted to hurt his boyfriend," he said. "He's parading around as the Chosen One's widow and telling everyone I did it on purpose…"

"You didn't," Hermione whispered.

Ron looked down at his hands, fisted in his lap, and relaxed them with a visible effort.

"Anthony isn't parading anything," Hermione said. "You heard his evidence." Ron shrugged. "He told me. He was at the hospital, yesterday, and he told me. He wasn't Harry's boyfriend, they were just…"

She broke off, flushing.

"Fucking," Ron supplied helpfully.

"… and you caught them and he said you looked… angry… and Harry went after you, but then you were all swept up in the mission, and he didn't have a chance to talk to you."

"To talk to me?"

"To tell you…"

"To tell me why Anthony was sucking his cock?" he demanded. "I'm not stupid, Hermione, there are only so many reasons to let a bloke suck your cock."

"But he was upset that you reacted so… badly," she said. "He wanted to…"

"Badly?" Ron interrupted.

"You were shocked, Ron, upset," she said. "He thought you were angry… disgusted."

"Disgusted?" he echoed.

"That he was… gay."

Ron blinked.

"I wasn't disgusted," he said quietly. "I was… upset, yes… but not anymore."

"What does that mean?"

"Anthony," he said. "I was… why Anthony? What has he ever… they'd… but Anthony's saved his life, now, hasn't he? Anthony, not me. Not me."

"Not… oh, Ron," Hermione breathed. "You weren't disgusted, where you?"

"No."

"You were… jealous."

The silence echoed loudly in the small stone room.

"Anthony deserves him, now," he said, bleakly, turning to look out of the window.

"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione snapped, making him flinch.

"What?" he demanded.

"Harry wasn't in love with Anthony when he was awake," she said. "You can't just hand him over to him, now that he can't speak for himself."

"He can't speak for himself, because I let him fall," Ron shouted, leaping to his feet.

"Deliberately?" she asked.

"Of course not!"

He loomed over her, breathing heavily, face anguished.

"Of course not," she said gently.

His legs seemed to give way and he crumpled to the floor, his head in his hands. She half reached for him, her hand hovering as her fingers brushed the ward separating her from the prisoner.

"Harry," he whispered.

"Ron," she said. "What happened?"

"I let him fall."

"What happened?"

"I let him fall."

"But why?"

He looked up at her. "I…" he shook his head.

"Why, Ron?"

"I… froze," he whispered.

"That wasn’t your fault," she said comfortingly.

"Harry," he said in an anguished voice. "Harry… looked right in my face… reached out to me… and I… froze… panicked."

"Anyone could…"

"Anyone didn't," he interrupted. "I did. I let him fall."

"Ron…"

"I was so angry," he said bleakly. "Him and Anthony. Fucking fucking Anthony, and I was so jealous and then he was looking up at me and he looked so… scared… scared of falling… but it was the same look on his face when I saw them together. Scared of me, of what I'd say, what I'd do. So I did nothing. Nothing. And he fell."

"Ron, it was an accident," she said.

He shrugged.

"Don't punish yourself, like this, please."

"Punish myself?"

"I know you feel bad," she said. "Responsible, even. But to punish yourself with six years in Azkaban!"

"So" he said, "you think I should be out there…" He nodded at the window. "…going to the pub… watching Quidditch… getting my cock sucked… being trusted at work not to freeze and let someone else die… while Harry is… isn't…"

"I'm telling the Ministry what happened," she said decisively.

His blank eyes blazed.

"You are not," he said tightly.

"You shouldn't be in here," she said.

"Don't interfere, Hermione," he said. "This isn't like telling a teacher about a broomstick; this is what I… deserve."

"You are a selfish idiot," she snapped.

"Selfish?"

"Your parents have one… son in a coma and one in Azkaban," she said. "If you couldn't prevent the former, you could do something about the latter. You can't just put your life on hold while his is."

"Your word against mine," he said sadly.

"This isn’t over," she said, getting to her feet.

"Let me know when there's any news from St Mungo's," he said.

"Oh, I will," she said in a low voice. "I will personally come up here, if he dies, and watch you try and kill yourself with your bare hands."

He flinched.

"This. Isn't. Over," she warned him. "You think about it, and I'll be back."

.:*:.

She was still letting him stew, several days later, when it happened. She'd been too angry to go to the hospital, not trusting herself not to say anything if Anthony or, worse, Mrs Weasley was there, so she wasn't there, when it happened.

A Monitoring Charm at the MediWitches' station flared and the Healer on duty rushed to Harry's room. He was frowning and blinking short sightedly around the room and croaking something through parched lips. After someone gave him his glasses and a sip of water, he cleared his throat and croaked, "Where's Ron?"

The authorities at St Mungo's were unsure of who to contact with the news that he was awake, as his Auror records had listed Ron Weasley as his in case of emergencies contact, so they compromised by Flooing his next of kin, and a dishevelled Arthur Weasley tumbled through the fire from the Ministry.

"Harry," he said excitedly, rushing into the room.

"Where's Ron?" Harry said immediately, his patience visibly wearing thin. "No one'll tell me anything, Arthur."

He struggled, weakly, to sit up against his pillows, looking confused.

"Harry, are you alright?" Arthur asked.

"I'm fine," Harry said tightly. "What happened?"

"You fell."

"I… yes, that I remember," Harry said. "And I'm in one piece and if you don't tell me what happened to Ron…"

"Ron is… perfectly safe," Arthur said carefully. "You've been… out for quite some time and…"

"How long?" Harry interrupted.

"Four months," Arthur admitted.

Harry's tense shoulders relaxed and he sighed and sagged back on his pillows.

"Harry?" Arthur said. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Harry said. "I was worried that I'd only just… that I'd been out cold and come round and Ron wasn't here… that something had happened to him, or he was still angry with me."

"Angry?" Arthur said. "Why should he be angry with you?"

"He… he saw something," Harry said. "Something he shouldn't've seen, and he got upset, but he must have got over it, by now, and he's been here, right? While I've been asleep?"

"No," said Arthur, after an uncomfortable pause.

Harry frowned. "He… he hasn't been here? He's still angry?"

"I don't know," Arthur admitted helplessly. "I haven't seen him."

"Arthur," Harry said quietly, "for the last time, where is Ron?"

"Azkaban."

"Azkaban?" Harry echoed. "What happened?"

"He…" Arthur shrugged, looking baffled. "He let you fall, Harry."

"What?" Harry gasped.

"Harry, you're confused," Arthur said comfortingly. "Your team, they… saw you reach out to him, and he let you fall. They testified, in court."

"No," Harry said furiously. "And Ron? What did Ron say?"

"He didn't say anything," Arthur said. "He wouldn't defend himself."

"The… the fucking idiot," Harry spluttered. "What the fuck does he think he's doing?"

He threw back the covers and tried to climb out of bed.

"Harry, you're not well," Arthur said, pushing him back onto the bed. "You've been unconscious for four months, with serious head injuries, and you don't remember what happened."

"Yes, I bloody well do," Harry said, his eyes blazing. "I remember being blown over the edge and being terrified that Ron was gonna grab me and fall, too. And I remember reaching out and… somehow… wandlessly… casting a shield to hold him in place. Safe. And not dying with me and because of me and angry with me."

He broke off, chest heaving, as Arthur stared at him, aghast.

"What does he think he's doing?" Arthur breathed. "Why has he taken the blame and gone to prison?"

"Because he's a bloody idiot," Harry muttered. "Because he felt guilty about being so angry about what he saw? Because I nearly died, with him angry with me? I don’t know, but I'm gonna kill him."

He straightened his shoulders and glared at Arthur as he sat up again.

"And I'm gonna kill him now," he said firmly, pushing himself to the edge of the bed. "As soon as you find my clothes."

The older man met his determined gaze.

"Well," Arthur said finally. "You can't go by yourself; let me go and sort things out."

.:*:.

Harry grudgingly took several strengthening potions, before discharging himself and letting Arthur side along him to the Ministry entrance to Azkaban prison.

The Junior Aurors on duty may have been a match for the angry Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, a Senior Auror, or the victim of the crime in question, but not all four of them at once; they escorted Harry down to Ron's cell, an impatient Arthur insisting he'd give them ten minuets before coming and knocking their pig-headed heads together.

Ron was sitting, cross-legged, on his bed, leaning against his pillows and staring blankly at the wall, opposite. Harry's heart ached at the sight of him.

"Any news?" Ron croaked, looking wearily up at the opening door.

Their eyes met.

"Harry," Ron mouthed silently.

Harry stalked across the cell, glaring at the forlorn figure on the bed.

"Harry?" Ron whispered, raising a shaking hand towards him.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing in here?" Harry demanded.

Ron blinked and opened his mouth to speak, but, seeming to have trouble finding any words, he just gazed up at his furious and wide awake and very alive best friend.

"What were you thinking?"Harry asked.

"I… l-let you fall," Ron stammered.

"No, you didn't," Harry said.

Ron frowned. "You reached out to me and I let you fall," he said bleakly.

Harry flinched. "Really?" he asked, in a wretched voice. "On… purpose?"

"No!" Ron gasped, shaking his head emphatically. "Never… Harry… but I… froze."

"You. Fucking. Idiot," Harry said heavily, sagging and sitting on the foot of the bed.

"What?" Ron asked defensively.

"You didn't freeze," Harry said.

"I did," Ron said. "You were… reaching out to me… and you looked so scared… and I was pathetic… I did nothing."

"You didn't freeze," Harry repeated. "And I didn’t reach out to you."

"You didn't?" Ron asked pitifully.

"I didn’t reach out to you," Harry said. "I reached out to hold you back, to keep you safe."

"What?" Ron said, frowning deeply.

"I was terrified you'd come after me, and fall with me, and die hating me, and I managed to cast a shield, holding you in place."

"Hating you?" Ron echoed.

"Because I'm gay."

"I don't hate you," Ron said. "I was… upset."

"Because I'm gay."

"Because you're gay with Anthony!"

"But, Ron," Harry said sadly. "I never wanted you to find out like that, and you looked so… disgusted."

"I wasn't disgusted."

"You ran out of there…"

"Not because I was disgusted."

"Then why?"

"Did it occur to you that I've gone to Azkaban, rather than be without you?"

Harry blinked.

"Did it occur to you that I'd've woken up sooner, if I'd heard your voice?"

Ron blinked.

"I thought I'd killed you," he whispered.

"I saved you," Harry said. "So I didn't mind falling."

"Is this one of those conversations about our feelings that Hermione tells us we should have?" Ron asked in the tense silence.

"I'm… not in love with Anthony," Harry said carefully.

Ron nodded. "I wasn't disgusted," he said. "I was… something else."

Harry nodded encouragingly.

Ron winced. "Something beginning with 'J'," he volunteered.

Harry snorted. "Jerk? Jackass?"

"You know me," Ron said sadly. "Jealous."

"Of Anthony?" Harry asked.

"Yes."

"You… did see what Anthony was doing?" Harry clarified.

"Yes," Ron said, flushing.

"I… Not Anthony," Harry said firmly. "Never Anthony. Never anyone but… you."

"Me?"

"But you'd never…"

"You never asked."

They stared at each other.

"Just to check," Ron said slowly. "You don't want Anthony."

Harry shook his head.

"Nibbling on your bits."

"No."

"You want me?"

Harry nodded.

"You never asked," Ron said, a smile finally splitting his thin, tired face.

"I'm asking," Harry breathed.

"Please," Ron said. "Yes, please."

Harry grinned and reached for him, yelping and leaping backwards as he touched the ward protecting him from the convicted criminal.

"Fuck," he spat, shaking his throbbing hand.

"You alright?" Ron asked, kneeling up on his bed and leaning as close as he could.

"Is everything okay, Auror Potter?" the duty Auror asked, from the doorway.

"Take this thing down," Harry said tightly, gesturing at the invisible barrier.

"I can't, sir," the Junior Auror said. "He's a prisoner."

"Well, he shouldn’t be," Harry said, getting to his feet and wavering slightly, before locking his knees and glaring at his subordinate.

"Really, sir," the Junior said earnestly. "I can't. Not without someone from the Ministry who knows the Counter Jinx."

"Stay there," Harry said solemnly, pointing at Ron, who nodded eagerly. "I'll come for you."

Ron's eyebrows rose and he cleared his throat, suggestively.

"Later," Harry said bravely, through a scarlet blush.

Raising a hand in salute, he managed to break eye contact and strode from the cell, dragging the duty Auror in his wake.

.:*:.

Ron paced his cell, glaring at the closed door each time he turned on his heel. He'd started off picturing Harry storming into the Ministry, going all Chosen One on them, and returning to sweep him up in his arms and home in about half an hour.

He'd revised this estimate several times over the past three hours, and was now alternating between being worried that Harry had collapsed again and was back at St Mungo's and being scared he was still at the Ministry, getting angrier and angrier, until he gave up on him as a lost cause.

But Harry never gave up on him as a lost cause, and the door finally opened to admit a furious Hermione Granger, an exhausted Harry Potter and a scared looking Sentence Agent from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Harry crossed the cell and sat down on the narrow bed and Ron hovered in the centre of the room, his hands in fists at his sides, his weight balanced on his toes, ready to descend on Harry once the ward was lifted.

"Hermione?" he whined.

"I'm doing this for Harry, not for you," she said sternly. "I'm still angry with you."

"Me?" the Sentence Agent asked.

"Well, yes, you too," Hermione said. "Release him!"

The Sentence Agent sighed and raised his wand and Ron wondered what he'd done to make Hermione angry and felt a certain amount of sympathy for the flustered little man. A complicated wand movement and a murmured Counter Jinx later and Ron felt the ward dissolve.

"Go away," Hermione said, closing the door in the Sentence Agent's startled face and turning to glare at the two men gazing at each other.

"Well?" she said impatiently.

Ron laughed and lurched forwards, falling awkwardly to his knees in front of Harry.

"I'm sorry I thought I'd let you fall," he said, leaning against Harry's lap.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Anthony," Harry replied, his hand coming up to grab a handful of Ron's prison robe.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there, when you woke up," Ron said.

"I'm sorry I brought a grumpy Hermione back with me, for our first kiss," Harry smirked.

"That's enough," Hermione said firmly. "Harry, let go of him; Ron, do you have anything you need to take home?"

Ron looked round the miserable cell and shook his head, before clambering to his feet, hampered by Harry's grip on his robe.

"Harry," he said bending over him.

"First kiss," Harry said pointedly, tugging him down and brushing a soft kiss across his lips.

"In Azkaban?" Hermione demanded. "Is this really where you want to remember your first kiss?"

"You can talk," Ron muttered, flushing. "You kissed me when we were about to die."

"And you kissed her back," Harry said pointedly.

Ron planted an awkward kiss at the corner of his mouth and finally stood, blushing.

Hermione rolled her eyes and opened the cell door, shepherding them through it ahead of her and down to the Duty Aurors at the Ministry entrance, where she put a warning hand on Harry's arm as she processed Ron's release papers. His tense forearm gradually relaxed beneath her fingers and she risked using two hands to sign the third set of quadruplicate forms. Glancing over at him, she realised she probably hadn't been the calming influence: Ron was standing beside him, two fingers hooked around one of Harry's. She smiled to herself as she finished the complicated paperwork.

"Right," she said finally, taking Ron's wand from the duty Auror and holding it out to him, "you're free."

"Thank you, Hermione," he said, holding it against his chest in both hands and taking a deep breath.

"I'm going to Side-Along you both home," she said firmly. "You're neither of you fit to Apparate."

She overrode their protests and held out her hand.

Harry nodded and took it and held out his other hand to Ron.

She turned on the spot.

.:*:.

Ron blinked and looked round the cosy room.

"Hermione," he said. "Why your home?"

"Because your flat hasn't been lived in for four months," she said. "Or do you really want to go back to your room at the Burrow? I'm sure your mum will let the two of you… work things out, in private."

Harry blushed.

"I'm going back to work," she said, "and I'll tell Arthur you're both okay. I'll spend the night at Neville's and you're to go to the Burrow first thing in the morning. There are clean towels in the bathroom."

She kissed them both on the cheek and Dissaparated.

They looked at each other.

"Do we have to talk about Anthony?" Harry asked.

"Do we have to talk about Azkaban?" Ron countered. "Or anything else beginning with 'a'."

"Not today," Harry said, "but they really aren't the same thing."

Ron shrugged. "What d'you think Hermione meant about towels?" he said.

"I think she means that neither of us have showered for four months," Harry said, a wry smile tilting one corner of his mouth.

"So?" Ron said. "We've been Charmed clean."

"So, I may be… may want… you're still in your Azkaban robe, Ron!"

"How does this… work, then?" Ron asked.

"What?"

"I've never done this, before."

"Showered?"

"With a naked bloke, no!"

"Neither have I," Harry protested. "Look, we don't have to… shower together, if you don't want to. We don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"I want to do everything you've done," Ron said emphatically.

"What?" Harry snorted. "Why?"

"So we're… equals," Ron said.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I really haven't done that much," he said.

"Excellent," Ron said. "Then that won't take long and we can carry on, together."

"I'm really not gonna give you a brisk blowjob and stick my finger up your arse, just so we're 'equals'," Harry complained.

The words echoed in the sudden silence as their eyes met and they flushed.

"Merlin," Ron croaked, stepping closer, grasping Harry's arms and kissing him.

Harry smiled into the kiss, tipping his head back as his arms went round Ron's waist and he leant into him.

"Shower?" he murmured.

"Yes," Ron said, taking advantage of Harry's parted lips to run the tip of his tongue between them.

Harry shivered and sagged in his arms as Ron deepened the kiss.

"Wow," Ron said, pulling back to look into the green, heavy lidded eyes in the flushed face tipped back to kiss him.

"Fuck off," Harry said brusquely, turning away.

"Wait," Ron said, catching his hand. "I'd… me… I'd look like that, too… if I was… you know, short enough to gaze up at you, like that…"

Harry snorted, but let himself be tugged closer for a kiss.

"Git," he complained.

"Shower," Ron said firmly.

They self consciously stopped holding hands and sauntered down the corridor to Hermione's bathroom. Harry closed the door and Ron jumped; Ron's hands rose to the clasps of his prison robe and Harry looked away; his eyes fell on a box of tampons on the shelf above the small sink, and he flushed, scarlet.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Ron complained. "We have undressed in front of each other for a decade!"

He picked up the box, opened the door to the bathroom cabinet, ignored Harry's squeak at the open box of condoms, stuffed the tampons onto a shelf and closed the door.

Turning around, he set his jaw and undid his robes, letting them slide off his shoulders and pool at his feet. He raised his eyes to Harry's concerned face and winced.

"You're not exactly drooling," Ron said, resisting the urge to fold his arms and cover his chest.

Harry tore his eyes away from Ron's body and looked up. "You're so… thin," he said.

"I'm always thin," Ron said, half turning away.

"No," Harry said, finally stepping closer and putting his hand on Ron's arm. "You're always skinny, and I've always loved it, but…" His fingers ran up and across Ron's shoulder, then zigzagged down visible ribs. "I've never seen you this thin."

"Prison food," Ron whispered, his eyes on Harry's face as Harry watched his hands mapping out Ron's chest. "No exercise. Broken heart."

Harry's hand came to rest, his palm pressed against Ron's heart.

He looked up.

"I'll fix it," he said.

"You already have."

"I'll feed you up," he promised.

"And give me plenty of exercise?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded solemnly and reached up for a kiss.

"Anyway," Ron said, unclasping the faded robe St Mungo's had found for Harry, "you can talk. What d'you call this?" his fingers brushed Harry's stomach and Harry shivered.

"Sorry about the lack of muscle tone," he said shakily, pushing his boxers down his skinny legs, "I've been kinda unconscious."

"What a pair," Ron said, a fingertip pausing in Harry's bellybutton.

Harry coughed nervously.

"Us," Ron said. "Not your balls. Us. All wasted away together."

"Well," Harry said, "I guess we know what we'll look like when we're old. Together."

"So, this is what we'll look like when we're forty?" Ron asked, grimacing down at his skinny chest.

Harry snorted and turned away to coax Hermione's Muggle shower into life.

"Dunno why she can't get a proper shower," Ron complained, letting his boxers fall as he watched Harry step into the shower.

"Some Muggle things are… comforting," Harry said, tipping back his head and closing his eyes. He groaned as the water soaked his hair and ran down his body and Ron's hand drifted automatically to his cock as he watched the droplets dodging bony ribs and elbows. Idly soaping his chest and belly, Harry continued, "It's like making the tea or the bed without magic…" He opened his eyes to find Ron tugging on his strengthening erection and staring at him. "Um… Ron?"

Ron flushed. "This okay?" he asked faintly, his hand stilling.

"You wanking while you watch me?" Harry breathed. "Very okay." His own cock twitched and he ran a soapy hand up its length, tugging hard as his eyes fell to Ron's groin.

"Fuck, Harry," Ron said, "if even this… what if we…"

"Oh, wait until we," Harry said firmly.

Ron laughed and stepped into the shower, his eyes flicking back and forth between Harry's face and his hand. "Can that be on dry land?"

"Yeah," Harry breathed, leaning back against the wall to give Ron room under the spray. "I'm not up to anything too athletic, in the shower."

Ron took the soap from him, shivering as their fingers brushed; self consciously, he rubbed the soap between his hands and started washing, unused to showering with an audience. He glanced at Harry and almost laughed aloud: Harry's eyes were bright and fixed on the lathered erection arching out of bubbly red curls, his mouth had dropped open, his hand was wrapped around his own, eager cock.

"Help me out, here?" Ron asked casually, holding out the soap and stepping closer.

Harry almost grabbed it out of his hand, running it over Ron's chest and stomach as Ron's hands came to rest on the tiles, either side of Harry's head. He let the soap fall as he knelt and washed Ron's thighs, his fingers brushing the heavy balls hanging between them as Ron braced his feet apart.

"Can I?" Harry asked, looking up at the expectant face peering down at him.

"Anything," Ron breathed.

Harry ran a fingertip down the length of Ron's bobbing erection, before encircling it with soapy fingers and pulling his hand upwards. Ron groaned. Harry ran his thumb over the tip and pushed down, stretching the soft skin and revealing the purple head. Ron shifted his feet and thrust into Harry's hand as it completed its downstroke.

"Yeah," Ron croaked.

Harry nodded, his free hand falling to his own cock as he built up a rhythm, his tongue peeping out as he gazed at Ron's cock, appearing and disappearing into his fist.

Ron's legs started shaking and Harry stood, one arm around Ron's waist as Ron's arms wrapped around his shoulders; he buried his face in Ron's neck and felt Ron's warm breath in his hair.

He pressed his cock against Ron's and grasped both of them, moaning at the feeling as he thrust into the circle of his fingers.

"Christ," Ron gasped, reaching between them to join his hand to Harry's.

"Yeah," Harry breathed.

They both clung and rocked and thrust, not hearing the splashing water over the sound of the blood pounding in their ears, their awareness narrowed to the circle of their clinging fingers and brushing cocks.

"Please," Harry begged. "Rongodronplease."

Ron pushed him back against the wall, his mouth closing on Harry's neck as he thrust over and over against him, his cock sliding through their fingers, pressed hard enough against Harry's to feel it throb.

"Come for me," he muttered into Harry's throat.

Harry reached up with his free hand, grabbing a handful of Ron's hair and pulling his head back; their mouths came together in a wet and frantic kiss as Ron drove hard against him, swallowing Harry's cry as he felt Harry come in his hand.

With weakened legs unable to hold himself upright, Harry slithered down the wall, his softening cock slipping from Ron's hand, his gasping mouth planting kisses on whichever patch of pale, faded freckled skin he could reach as he collapsed at Ron's feet.

Ron whimpered and spread Harry's come on his cock, still tugging and reaching for his own climax.

"Le'me," Harry whispered, leaning closer and opening his mouth.

Ron cried out, his hand dropping limply to his side as he watched Harry's lips surround his cock, Harry's tongue lapping up his own come, Harry's cheeks hollow as he bobbed his head and sucked hungrily.

After an embarrassingly short time, his balls tightened and pulsed and he came down Harry's throat, bracing his hands against the wall only long enough to let Harry milk it from him before folding up and landing in Harry's lap.

He rested his face on Harry's shoulder and they held each other as their breathing returned to normal.

"Sh'll we turn off the shower?" Harry asked.

"Can'move," Ron muttered.

"Bed?" Harry said hopefully.

"Can'move," Ron muttered, sitting back far enough to meet his eyes.

Harry laughed and brushed the long wet hair out of Ron's face. "Bed," he said firmly, reaching up to turn off the shower.

Ron disentangled his shaking legs and hauled himself to his feet; grabbing a towel from the airing cupboard, he wrapped it around Harry's shoulders and leant in for a slow kiss.

"You really want to take me to bed, don't you?" he asked, rubbing his hair with a second towel.

"Just to sleep," Harry said. "I really can't do anything… arse related in Hermione's bed."

"You sure?" Ron said. "We could borrow her condoms."

He laughed at Harry's revolted face and led him down the hallway to Hermione's chintz bedroom. Removing a sceptical looking Crookshanks from the centre of the bed, he turned back the covers and climbed in.

Harry lay down beside him; carefully arranging their damp and bony arms and legs, they found a comfortable position to sleep in.

A position that would be comfortable enough to give them both their first good night's sleep in a long time.

A position that seemed comfortable enough to last for a lifetime.

.:*:.