For WolfWinks, I hope you like it!

There will be at least one other part of this.

Word Count: 1,222

Years One and Two

Ron Weasley was Harry Potter's first friend. They were friends from the very second the redhead had entered the compartment the other boy was sitting in.

They had laughed about the ridiculous excuse as Ron admitted mere minutes into their ride that he had not looked in more than two other compartments.

"They were full, though," he attempted to say through their laughter. "I didn't lie."

If this was friendship, then Harry would never let it go.

It was way to precious to even consider doing something like that, even as a joke.

It did not take Harry long to realise that Ron wasn't perfect, but no one really was.

The way he spoke to Hermione and to the Slytherins was not nice at all. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Ron did, however, do his very best to stop that behaviour, oncer Harry had pointed out how rude and not much different than the Dursleys that was.

The redhead still did it, but it was less and less frequent each day. And the comments were less harsh, too.

It was a work in progress.

Harry couldn't quite believe it, but Ron had organized Christmas presents for him. He got more than the laughable pretense of a gift from his Aunt and Uncle.

He had only absently commented once that he did not expect any real presents. Apparently, that had already been enough for Ron to write home to his family and get them to bake and knit things for him.

It was simply incredible. Harry would never let go of that pullover if he had to take it into his grave with him.

Harry's friendship with Ron and his friendship with Hermione were two completely different things.

The eleven-year old could not explain the difference even to himself. That, however, didn't change the fact that it was the simple and undeniable truth. Maybe it had something to do with the way that they had become friends, but his connection to Ron was somehow...stronger.

It didn't mean that his friendship with Hermione was worth any less, it was just different.

And different did not mean bad, no matter what the Dursleys had taught him. They were wrong.

Leaving Ron behind with those chess pieces was not easy. Hermione almost had to drag him away from the lifeless form of his friend.

"Come on, Harry," she coaxed. "All of us are here to stop Snape; he wouldn't want the man getting away with the stone because you had to watch him sleep."

"You're right," he replied. "Ron would not want that."

Harry could barely hear his own voice, but Hermione understood enough.

Together, they moved forward with more determination than before. It was not just some vague threat that should be the adult's job to handle anymore. It was so much more than that.

It wasn't possible that Ron could have forgotten him, could it?

He had promised to write Harry and he always kept his promises. He would not simply forget him that easily. Not after everything they had done together over the course of the last year.

Someone or something had to prevent Ron from writing the letters or Harry from receiving them. There was absolutely no other way, no other plausible explanation.

Or at the very least he hoped and prayed to every deity he could think of that this was the case.

Harry could not stop smiling on his first summer day away from the Dursleys.

And why on earth should he?

Ron cared enough about him to convince his brothers to steal a car and fly it over half the country, well aware of the consequences that would have if they were caught.

Friendship was just great like that. And the Weasleys were even better.

One day, he would be a part of a family like that. There was nothing he wanted more than that in his life. Not right now and not ever.

The whole debacle about him—Harry freaking Potter, the very boy they had almost worshipped last year—being the Heir of Slytherin, the one that was responsible for those poor people—and cat—being petrificated was horrible.

Harry was being bullied by the majority of the students and the majority of the teachers were not doing anything to stop it.

Ron was one of those who stood by him and that was all he needed to get through it. His opinion was the most important one of all; why should Harry care what others thought?

"Are you okay?" Harry asked frantically after Lockhart had crashed a part of the tunnel and created a wall that separated the two friends from each other.

"Yeah, just a scratch," Ron replied, lifting an incredible weight of the other boy's shoulders. "You?" The question was asked in a very similar tone to the one he had used himself.

Harry took a moment to check himself over. Nothing was broken or dislocated.

"I'm okay…. I will go on, then."

He began moving away slowly.

"Take care," Ron yelled, almost begging. "Please."

"I will do my best," Harry promised.

Harry returned to the barrier an hour or so later with Ron's little sister by his side.

"Ron?" he called out as soon as he saw the barrier metres and metres ahead of them.

A hole just barely big enough for the two of them began to open in the barrier and he did his best to quicken the pace.

"Harry! Are you okay? What about Ginny?"

"We're fine." Harry laughed in relief.

They were safe, now. They were all living and no injuries Madam Pomfrey wouldn't be able to fix in seconds.

"They shouldn't be celebrating me, I'm not a hero," Harry complained in the Great Hall that night.

"You are," Hermione argued, looking at him sternly. Her voice allowed no argument whatsoever.

"You saved my sister," Ron added. "Did you hit your head or something, mate?"

And that was a major reason why he had done it. Because Ginny was Ron's sister. If it had been just a random first year, Harry wasn't sure if he would have done the same. He liked to think he would, but he was not sure.

He was not a hero.

During the summer, Aunt Petunia tossed him a book about puberty and all that came with it.

"We don't want you getting some girl pregnant and being burdened with another freak," was the only explanation she offered.

Harry already knew some of it, but the entire section about gender and sexuality was new.

For all his life so far, he had thought that males would love females and vice versa. The fact that there were so many other possibilities were...mind-blowing, to say the least.

And Harry had a suspicion that he was anything but straight.

The confirmation followed roughly a month later in Diagon Alley.

More precisely, when Harry set his eyes on his best friend again.

Ron's broad shoulders and long arms. The smile on his face. The way his eyes shone and his hair looked in the sun. Every single freckle was a perfection in itself and while the redhead's nose might not be considered traditionally beautiful, it was so Ron.

He was not straight at all and he had a crush on his best friend. That promised nothing if not trouble.

Please tell me what you think!

~Marvelgeek42