Title: Little Weezy

Author: John Faina

Ratings/Warnings: Teen (13-17) for a bit of cursing and kissing. Do not read this if you have a problem with two boys showing affection for each other.

Pairings: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter OR Ron Weasley. Or anyone else who appears in this story, any buildings, plants, broomsticks, magical creature references, food, wands, anything. Except the idea for the story of course.

Genre: Humour/Friendship/Romance

Little Weezy

A sudden yell reverberated throughout the Burrow, disrupting an otherwise rare moment of quiet. Mrs Weasley looked up sharply from her knitting, though she was used to such things at this point in her life; Mr Weasley was at work, Percy scoffed impatiently in his bedroom, in the middle of quilling up a letter to the Minister for Magic about something or other; Ginny jumped, sending her new poster of the Weird Sisters fluttering to the floor; Fred roared with laughter while George struggled to smother his own, a hint of panic in his eyes, and Harry dropped the piece of toast he'd been trying to eat down in the kitchen.

"You - you - you think this is funny? You - PUT ME BACK RIGHT NOW!"

Harry widened his eyes at the ceiling (he was directly underneath Fred and George's room), where rowdy laughter could clearly be heard over Ron's yells. There was something off about the pitch...Hastily picking up his fallen toast, Harry chucked it into the bin on his way out the door. He passed by the den, where Mrs Weasley sat - "Try and make them sort it out, won't you, dear?" - and headed up the staircase, taking them two at a time.

Stopping as he reached his destination, Harry pressed his ear to the door. By now, George had joined Fred in laughing.

"Listen - Ronnie - we're really sorry - we just wanted to test - !"

"I know you wanted to bloody test it!" a strange voice shouted. Harry pressed his ear even harder to the door; the voice was unmistakably Ron's, but it sounded younger than Harry remembered it. Much younger.

Grinning, he turned the knob and strolled inside, half-afraid of what he was about to see. All three Weasley brothers jumped, shouting his name simultaneously.

Harry blinked at the scene before him. When he had arrived at the Burrow three weeks into the summer holidays, Ron had grown about two inches since the last time he had seen him at the end of their third year, thus gaining great height over him. Now, however, as Harry gaped at him, he was not an inch over four feet. In fact...he was positively tiny. Actually, he was...a child. A child whose clothes were far, far too big for him.

His eyebrows furrowed, Harry quickly looked up at Fred and George, a question on his lips. Fred managed to stop laughing long enough to go ahead and answer it.

"Harry - Ron agreed to test out this thing we're making, but it - it didn't go so well - "

"Didn't go so well?" Ron demanded, glaring up at him, and holding his arms out to the side, causing the shirt he was wearing to quite resemble a tent. An involuntary laugh escaped Harry as well, as an expression crossed Ron's face that was dreadfully familiar, yet somehow completely different from the one he was used to. And his high-pitched voice - there was nothing else for it - Harry collapsed against the doorframe, joining in as well with the twins' laughter.

Ron was not amused. "Harry!" he said, as if this was base treachery. "Are you - ? Have you gone mad? Look what they did to me!"

Harry made an attempt to straighten up and answer him, failed miserably, and ended up on the floor with tears of mirth in his eyes. Ron scowled darkly at him and turned to the twins.

"Are you going to put me right or not?"

Fred and George glanced at each other. "Well - " said George.

" - don't be too upset, little brother. But - the antidote to our experiment - " said Fred.

" - is not quite ready yet, I'm afraid."

"What?" Ron shouted, looking down at himself. "You mean I'm stuck like this?"

"Only for a little while," Fred assured him.

"How long?" Ron asked through clenched teeth.

"A few days at the most," said George.

"A FEW - "

"What were you trying to do?" shouted Harry, interrupting Ron before he could explode properly.

"We thought we'd try out a new sweet we've been working on - it's supposed to reduce the lines and wrinkles of age - but, well - "

"Apparently, it reduces much more than that!" finished Fred with a broad grin. "Don't worry - all we have to do is remake the sweet with the crucial ingredient's counterpart. Can't tell you what either of them are, though - don't want the secret getting out, see."

Harry nodded. "How old is he, d'you reckon?" He looked down at the tiny Ron, who had folded his arms across his chest angrily. "C'mon," he said to him, holding out a hand teasingly. "Let's go see Mummy, shall we?"

"Piss off," said Ron, causing the entire room to explode once more with laughter.

"Somewhere around four years old, I'd say," said George, peering at him closely. "You shouldn't use words like that, Ronnie," he scolded. "What would our dear mother say?"

The look on Ron's face then might very well have been intimidating if not for the circumstances - he merely looked like a red-headed, bad-tempered child.

"Really, Ron," said Harry. "Let's go to your mum and get her to shrink your clothes for you."

Still glaring at them all, Ron followed Harry out of the room, stepping easily out of the puddle of trousers around his feet. Harry grabbed them, slinging them over one arm. Ron's shirt was big enough on him to pass for a dress. Down the stairs they went, Fred and George remaining intelligently up in their room, and into the den where Mrs Weasley still sat. She looked up as they entered - and let out a shriek.

"Good heavens! Is that - ? But that's Ron!" She stared at her youngest son as though he were Voldemort himself, completely forgetting about her knitting.

Ron huffed. "Hello, Mum."

"What - what happened?"

"Fred and George are what bloody happened - " Ron burst out, but Harry cut across him hastily.

"It was a little experiment gone wrong, I think - they're upstairs working on the antidote right now. He should be back to normal in a few days."

"A few days? No, no, surely, there's something else to be done," Mrs Weasley said, getting up from her chair, still staring at Ron as though he were quite likely to explode at any moment. "I'll just...let me consult my book...Ronnikins," she breathed. Ron rolled his eyes. "You look just like you did when you were little!"

"I know," Ron responded shortly.

"Oh, when I get my hands on those two - !" But before, she could tell them exactly what she planned to do, Mrs Weasley had swept Ron into her arms and hugged him to her tightly. "My little Ron," she cooed, combing her fingers through his hair. "Ooh, you were so precious!"

Ron struggled fruitlessly, the tips of his ears flaming. "Mum - don't - "

"I'd almost forgotten," she went on to say, "how small you were. How lovely and innocent..." She finally let him go, kissing him on his now red cheek. Ron wiped it off at once. Harry hid his grin with difficulty.

"We wondered if you might be able to shrink his clothes," he said, holding out the trousers on his arm.

"Of course, dear!" chirped Mrs Weasley, taking them and handing them to Ron. "You might want to get into them first, unless you want Harry to see you starkers."

Ron groaned loudly, and stepped back into the trousers, clutching them about his waist. With a wave of her wand, Mrs Weasley shrank each garment until they fitted him just right. Ron buttoned up the trousers and looked up at them.

"Well - what the bloody hell am I supposed to do now?"

"Ronald Weasley, you watch that tongue," Mrs Weasley said firmly. "I am going to check up on whether or not I'll be able to change you back myself and then I'm going to start dinner. If there's not a way - you'll get on as you usually would, just - a bit smaller. When I get my hands on those two!" And she stalked away into the kitchen, muttering to herself.

::::::

Dinner was an odd enough affair. Ginny and Percy, upon discovering that one of their brothers had been charmed into a small child, reacted much as everyone else had, first with shock and confusion, and then amusement. Or, in Percy's case, amusement badly concealed by his usual air of disinterest and self-importance. Mr Weasley thought the whole thing was positively brilliant, and only ceased raving and questioning when Mrs Weasley poked him sharply in the side with her fork.

"Er - I mean - that was very wrong indeed, boys," he told Fred and George. "Very wrong of you."

Harry and Ron grinned at each other.

The evening was spent teasing Ron and getting him to say things; it was outstandingly entertaining to hear a small kid speak in elaborate sentences, or, occasionally, use a curse word. His tone was no different than it had been, only the pitch of his voice had changed. And, as it turned out, he could still kick Harry's arse at Wizard's chess. Ron retained a rather smug attitude about this, until Harry threatened to lock him in the attic with the clanking, clattering ghoul - he was no longer bigger than Harry, and so would not be able to put up much of a fight. Ron stuck out his tongue at him, then blushed when he realised how childish it was to do so. Harry laughed.

As it neared time for bed, Mrs Weasley followed them up the stairs and shrank a pair of Ron's pajamas for him. They got into bed; she bent down and gave Ron a kiss on the forehead, running her hand through his hair as she had done earlier.

"I love you, dear," she whispered, perhaps so that she wouldn't embarrass him in front of Harry. Harry didn't mind. In fact, a part of him felt a wistful, hopeless longing...

"Love you too, Mum," Ron yawned, his eyes fluttering closed. It appeared that, though he still had the mindset he'd always had, his body was young, unable to handle too much exertion or lack of sleep. Mrs Weasley smiled fondly at him, turned and blew a warm kiss to Harry and left the room.

Harry had a nightmare that night. When he awoke from it, gasping and sweating, he found himself trying to hold onto the images he had seen...Voldemort and...Wormtail...some old man he didn't know...they were plotting...what? Murder? And something about the Quidditch World Cup...?

"Harry?" came a small voice.

Harry started, staring wildly around the dark room. Were they here now? What was going on? His breathing shallowed and he began feeling around for his wand before he realised that it was Ron was standing next to his cot, looking worried.

"Harry, I think you were having a nightmare," Ron said, taking a step closer to him.

Harry peered at this small version of his best mate, and struggled to catch his breath, while simultaneously letting out a sigh of relief, thus causing him to choke. As he coughed, gasping a bit, Ron's expression turned concerned.

"What happened, Harry?" he asked, cocking his head. "Did you...see something?"

Harry jerked his head, forcing himself to sit properly upright. "Yeah - yeah - it was Voldemort a-and Wormtail - "

Ron flinched so violently at hearing Voldemort's name unexpectedly, that his small body almost couldn't handle it. Harry had to grab him and steady him before he hit the floor. "Sorry," he apologised quickly.

"S'alright," Ron muttered. "So what happened? Is he - ?"

"He's plotting something," Harry told him, feeling absurdly as if he were telling a child this, even if he did have all of Ron's usual spirit. "I can't remember what...He killed this old Muggle man - I think he's plotting to kill - someone else - "

Ron's eyes were wide. He looked scared and this caused Harry's heart to ache in an odd sort of way.

"Ron - " he began, not really knowing what he was going to say. Ron watched him, waiting, terrifed. "Ron, it's - probably nothing. Just a dream."

"A dream," Ron repeated. "Right. Yeah. Could be. I reckon you ought to tell Dumbledore, though - "

"Yeah. Yeah, I will," Harry told him, finding himself speaking reassuringly. When Ron continued to look scared and worried, he found himself melting, all his own fears and concerns slipping away for the time being..."C'mere," he said softly before he could stop himself. He didn't know what he was doing - Ron looked at him questioningly. He gestured and Ron approached him cautiously. "Can you - I mean - will you sleep on here with me?" he asked. "Only, I don't fancy either of us having to suffer through the rest of the night, scared out of our minds - "

"I - I don't understand," said Ron.

"Well, I think it'll be easier for us to go back to sleep if - you know - "

"Harry."

"What?"

"Is this because I look like a frightened little kid who needs protecting? You have got that protecting-people-thing going on."

"What protecting-people-thing?"

"Hermione calls it a saving-people-thing, actually. You just have this instinct - "

"Well, what's wrong with it?" Harry interrupted, confused.

"Nothing! I'm just saying, I look like this cute, innocent little bugger, all scared, and you feel like you have to protect me. You'll make an excellent daddy one day," he teased. Harry scowled.

"Fine. Go on to sleep then."

"Hey, mate, I wasn't trying to - "

"No, I know," Harry told him, feeling guilty at once. "My nerves are still rattled is all..."

Ron nodded. "I mean - I can, if you like - " he gestured to the cot rather bashfully. Harry had trouble hiding his smirk. It really was difficult to hear past the small voice and see past the small body. The little freckles that were just visible in a patch of moonlight shining silvery through the window were, with no other word to effectively describe them, rather cute.

"Sure," he said, scooting over and holding the blankets aloft. Ron, after staring at him for a moment, climbed in underneath them.

"It's not like this is weird or anything," he whispered. Harry laughed quietly.

"It seems weirder to you, I promise you that. To me, you're like this little sibling or a - teddy or something," he said, knowing that this was sure to get Ron all riled up. Sure enough -

"I am not!" he snapped indignantly.

"Actually, you are," Harry insisted, poking at his side teasingly. Ron struggled to move away without falling off the cot. "You're titchy - "

"I'm warning you, Harry - "

"What? You're going to try and have one over on me? Go on - give it your best shot." Harry poked his side once more. "I'm stronger than you now, don't forget."

Ron growled, jerking away from him. Harry thought he detected something more than menace in that growl...with a grin of delight, he poked Ron again, in the same spot as before. Ron emitted an all-too-familiar squeak and attempted to protect himself with his arms. Harry gave one more experimental poke, and Ron practically squealed with laughter. Harry stifled it with his hand, laughing softly himself.

"Quiet, or you'll have your entire family in here."

"It'll be your own fault for bloody torturing me!" Ron yelped as Harry poked him and poked him. He broke into uncontrollable laughter, wiggling and thrashing about like an overlarge fish. Harry began to tickle him using all five fingers, unable to stifle the urge. Ron practically squealed and shoved at his hands, trying to throw him off, but had no luck at all.

"Harry - Harry, please! I can't take it, I can't take it - !"

Eventually, once he had brought tears of laughter to Ron's eyes, Harry relented. Ron lay there, breathing as though he had been held underwater for an hour; he tossed a half-hearted punch in Harry's direction.

"You idiot," he gasped. "Of course you understand that I'll be getting you back for that as soon as Fred and George put me right..."

Harry shrugged. "I was never going to get another opportunity like that."

"Always been a dream of yours, has it? Tickling me into madness?"

"More like relishing in my own rare, physical advantage," Harry corrected him, "but that could be another way of putting it, I suppose."

Ron suddenly gave a great yawn. "You just wait...when I'm two feet taller than you again..."

"I'm sure you'll do me spectacular damage," Harry said quietly.

"Merlin, Harry," Ron murmured, his tone annoyed. Ten seconds later, he was indeed fast asleep.

::::::

When Harry next awoke, Ron was still lying on his back, but he had sprawled out all over the place. One of his arms was resting on Harry, the back of his small hand on his chest; the other arm was hanging limply off the cot and he had somehow managed to shove a leg underneath Harry's own. If the cot had not been set up against the wall, Harry would have been half in the floor.

Blinking blearily, Harry sat up, causing Ron's arm to fall away from him. Surely it was not time to get up yet? He looked toward the window, trying to take in the light that was intruding...it wasn't too bright. So, it wasn't quite morning yet...Harry yawned widely and fell back into his pillow, pulling Ron away from the edge of the cot as he did so. Ron groaned, shifting a bit, moving closer to Harry, who smiled, and carefully removed a few strands of red hair from his eyes and away from his freckled face, too sleepy to think about what he was doing. Ron shifted even closer to him, while turning onto his side facing the opposite wall, and emitted a plethora of sleep noises before settling down, his rump jutting into Harry's middle. Harry buried his grin in Ron's hair, giving a squeeze to his soft, smooth arm. Mrs Weasley was right - Ron had been heartbreakingly precious when he was young, even if his personality wasn't quite so, and that was a phrase Harry never thought he'd use in his entire life. But he had seemed very concerned about Harry when he'd had that horrible nightmare when he had offered to climb in beside him to sleep for the night.

Ron then reached behind him, felt around a bit, and pulled Harry's arm over him like a blanket, snuggling up to it with a contented little sigh.

His insides warmed with something he couldn't quite identify. He held Ron to him, his mind whirring at top speed. What did this mean exactly? He felt almost as if Ron were his at that moment. He knew this was ridiculous...

Perhaps it had something to do with the sweet Fred and George had tried to test. Maybe it was causing Ron to give off some sort of...cloud that rendered those around him doomed to overprotective instincts. Even in his own head, the idea sounded stupid...

::::::

"Oi, Fred! George!" Ron called, stomping huffily into the twins' bedroom. Harry followed behind him, his face rather flushed.

"We're working on it, we're working on it," said Fred, waving him away impatiently.

"No - listen, there's another issue."

George turned, his eyebrows raised. He scanned Ron quickly, and, when nothing appeared to be physically wrong with him, looked at Harry, who avoided his gaze, opting instead to stare at the floorboards.

"Alright. What is it then?" he asked.

Ron looked up at Harry as well, his blue eyes blazing. "Your sweet is making Harry act like a complete nutter."

Fred turned around at these words and came to stand next to George, looking curious. "But Harry didn't eat it," he stated questioningly.

"I know that," Ron said, "but - it still did something to him. He keeps - ruffling my hair and - and picking me up and about five minutes ago, he hugged me and told me that I was the sweetest thing he'd ever seen! It was something in that - that thing you guys gave me. We both think so - Harry says he doesn't know what's come over him. Says he can't - he can't - what in the name of Merlin is so funny?" Ron bristled.

Both Fred and George were doubled over in laughter, holding onto each other for support. Harry glared at them with just as much intensity as Ron. Eventually, they managed to hiccup themself back into sobriety. Fred, straightening up, told them, "Well, lads, we may have - er - put in an extra little something - "

" - that was supposed to have possibly caused the consumer to become, not only younger-looking, but - "

" - irresistable as well!"

"So it worked, then?"

Harry and Ron stared, horror-struck, at them.

"Irresistable?" Ron was the first to croak. Fred and George nodded happily.

"Of course, the strength of that irresistability stems from the types of relationships the consumer has with the individual people in his or her life. And what those people already felt for the consumer. Say - Mum. She adores the pants off of you already. Now that our special ingredient has apparently become active - " said Fred.

" - she'll have a harder time containing her motherly love than she usually does!" finished George triumphantly. "Prepare yourself for enough hugs and kisses to last you the rest of your life, little brother."

"Oh no," Ron groaned in misery.

"That's right," chirped Fred. "As for Harry - it looks like he adores the pants of you as well." He winked.

Harry, who had instictively ran a hand through Ron's hair, jerked it back at once. Ron blushed beet red and said nothing.

"I shudder to think what Hermione might do if she were here," said George, a mischeivous glint in his eye. Harry scowled at him.

"Ginny's going to be revolting, of course. Almost as bad as Mum probably," Fred said, turning to George matter-of-factly, as if they were discussing the day's weather. George nodded.

"Yes, and Dad'll pinch his cheeks and do that odd chuckle - you know the one? Percy, thank heavens, probably won't have noticed anything's changed, the great prat - "

"I notice you two are immune," Harry stated dully.

"We never liked Ron much, did we, Gred?"

"No, not much, Forge. We've just been using him for stuff like this, really...not that it was intentional, mind you."

But no sooner than those words had been said, something incredible occured; Ron pulled a hurt face at the pair of them (Harry suspected it was fake, but it tugged at his heartstrings all the same), and lowered his gaze to the floor. Before any of them knew what was happening, the twins' grins had faded, and they had rushed forward to comfort him.

"Wait a moment - we're sorry - we didn't really mean it - "

"Don't make that face, Ronnie - George didn't mean what he said - "

"Oi! You were the one who told him we only use him!"

"Well, I didn't mean it that way - "

Ron stared at them, obviously amazed. "Fred - George - shut up." They fell silent at once; Ron appeared rather relieved, yet a bit pleased at the discovery that his brothers did care about him after all. "Get to finishing that antidote. I don't know how much more of this I'll be able to handle."

Fred was the first to recover; his eyes widened as he backed away from Ron as quickly as he could. George soon followed. They both nodded vigorously.

"Get out," they said simultaneously, pointing. Ron was quite happy to do so. Harry followed him out the door, utterly bewildered by the whole thing.

"Blimey," muttered Ron as they headed down the stairs, "it's going to be a long day."

Harry snorted.

They emerged into the kitchen, where, seated around the table, were Mr and Mrs Weasley and Ginny. Ron said not a word to any of them as they took their own seats.

"Good morning, dears," greeted Mrs Weasley warmly, setting plates of eggs and bacon in front of them, and kissing Ron on the top of his head. Ginny smiled shyly at Harry; he smiled politely back. "I must say it does look rather odd seeing the two of you come down the stairs together."

"Why?" Harry asked, swallowing his bacon.

"Ron's usually so much taller," Ginny explained, grinning. Mr Weasley followed her example, peering over the top of his issue of the Daily Prophet.

"Well, Molly, I'd best be going," he said, setting the newspaper upon the table. Pushing back his chair, he stood and kissed his wife on the cheek. "Good-bye all!"

"Bye, Mr Weasley." "Bye, Dad." "Goodbye, Arthur."

Ron had spoken without thinking; Mr Weasley smiled, bent down, and swept him up away from his breakfast, spinning him around once before setting him back in his chair.

"Dad!" Ron spluttered, looking quite dazed. Mr Weasley pinched his cheek fondly as everyone watched with varying degrees of surprise and amusement.

"See you later, my boy. I might bring you home something special this evening...how does that sound?"

"Excuse me?" said Ginny, indignantly as Ron's stormy expression cleared considerably and hopeful excitement took its place. "Just because Ron looks like a toddler doesn't mean he gets to have gifts!"

Mr Weasley blinked, glancing at her, and shook his head. "Oh...you're right. Sorry, don't know what came over me...Well, you know what? I'll get the both of you something! And Harry too, of course."

"No - Mr Weasley, please don't - "

"Nonsense, Harry, I can't very well leave you out of the loop. How about a nice box of sweets? I'll pop in Honeydukes and get you all a box of sweets," he promised, ruffling Ron's hair, and stepped into the fireplace. Before anyone could protest, he had taken a handful of Floo powder and tossed it in as well, and was gone within a moment.

Harry and Ginny looked over at Mrs Weasley, who wore a bemused expression, her eyes lingering on the fireplace. Ron bent over his plate, shoveling the rest of his eggs into his mouth as quickly as possible. Harry thought he seemed determined not to say another word, and found that he could quite identify with this decision, the number of times he had wished to simply become invisible to avoid stares and whispers...Reaching over, he patted Ron's leg underneath the table. Ron gave a start and shot Harry a look.

Fortunately, there were no further incidents that morning. Once the breakfast dishes had been cleared away, Ron silently tugged on Harry's sleeve and jerked his head towards the front door. Catching the message, Harry lead the way, and they burst out of doors into the bright, warm sunshine. Ron let out a relieved breath of air, collapsing against the nearest tree stump.

"You won't be able to avoid them for days, you know."

"I'll do it when I can, then."

"Does all the attention really bother you?" Harry asked, curious, as he had never exactly got the impression that Ron ever minded that sort of thing. In fact, Harry had thought he downright enjoyed it.

"When your parents do it, it lessens the fun," Ron said. "Or any of your family really."

Harry frowned, wondering what it might feel like to be so used to receiving affection from one's parents that it became tiresome after a while. Ron noticed his frown and figured out its meaning at once.

"I mean - " he began, pausing. He didn't seem to know what to say. "It's not so bad...I mean, it's nice, I suppose, I just - I'm not ungrateful or anything - "

"It's okay," Harry said quickly. "I understand."

Ron nodded. "Sorry," he added as an afterthought, looking quite ashamed.

"You don't have to apologise." Harry couldn't resist - he ran a hand through Ron's hair for about the fourth time so far that day, brushing it out of his wide blue eyes. As soon as he realised what he was doing, he yanked his hand back, blinking nervously. Ron stared at him for a full minute, and burst out laughing.

"Merlin, Harry - you really can't help yourself, can you?"

A smile tugged incessantly at the corners of Harry's mouth as well. He felt he ought to have warned Ron that his laughter was not advisable at this point - but in the end, there was no stopping it. Harry tackled Ron to the ground, chuckling along with him now, and sank his fingers into his soft middle.

"No - ! Oh, not again - Harry - Harry - I can't breathe!"

Ron kept on laughing, breathlessly, until Harry sat back on his knees, relenting. Opening his eyes rather cautiously, it seemed, Ron rolled over onto his stomach and pushed himself up from the ground. He whirled around to face Harry, pointing dramatically.

"Am I to get that whenever I laugh in front of you, now? Don't - bloody - make - me - laugh!" He punctuated each word with a blow to Harry's shoulder.

Harry held up his hands in surrender. "Don't blame me! Your ridiculous brothers - "

A sudden shout from somewhere above them made them glance up. Percy had stuck his head out of his window.

"Would you mind very much keeping it down out there?" he called. "Your childish games and shrieking are very distracting!"

Ron folded his arms and glared up at him.

"Oh, don't look like that, Ronald. Your face will stick that way." Percy's tone had softened considerably, grown almost fond. They hardly had time to dwell on this before he had retreated back into his room. Ron glanced at Harry, who raised his eyebrows, grinning.

"Argh!" he cried, throwing himself backward onto the ground.

::::::

That evening found Harry and Ron sitting on the floor of Ron's bedroom, steadily working their way through a few Chocolate Frogs and a large box of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans, curtasy of Mr Weasley. Even Mrs Weasley had not been able to refuse Ron's pouting face when he'd begged her to let them take the sweets upstairs.

All the sugar and magic were, unexpectedly, making Ron rather more fidgety than usual. Harry watched as he darted about the room, trying to capture a Frog that had escaped its wrappings. He hopped onto the bed after it, then onto Harry's cot, teetering precariously, but when he made to jump onto his wardrobe and out of the open window, Harry seized him around the middle and hauled him back to the middle of the room.

"I think that's enough for you to be getting on with," he told him, chuckling.

"But I wanted to catch it!" Ron complained, plopping down onto the rug. "I've never had one get away from me before!"

"Yes, well, he was leading you to your death," Harry said, clearing away all the wrappings they had managed to strew about the place. "I suppose it's quite stupid of me to ask - are you the least bit tired?"

"No," Ron said at once, "why? Do you want to stay up? We could stay up all night if you wanted - "

His energy was infectious. Harry felt excitement mounting a bit as he said, "I doubt you can stay up all night..."

"No, I can!" Ron insisted. "We've done it loads of times in our dormitory, don't you remember?"

"Yeah - that was when you were older."

"I am older, I'm just - smaller."

"Exactly. I don't think you'll be able to handle it." Harry was only messing with him now; he didn't care how long they stayed up.

"I can, honest," said Ron, his expression eager. "C'mon, Harry, don't be a prat."

Of course, Harry could not have refused him even if he had tried.

::::::

An hour later, Ron was passed out atop his Chudley Cannons bedspread.

Harry, after watching him sleep for a moment, bent down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, whispering, "Goodnight." He was just so peaceful when he slept...nice and peaceful.

It was only when he'd retreated to his cot for the night that Harry realised the impact of his actions, how they must have made Ron feel all that day. It couldn't be too pleasant to have your best mate fawn over your every move, Harry thought with a shudder, yet, he truly could not help it. He was going to curse Fred and George beyond their wildest imaginations one day for this...Fortunately, Ron seemed to understand to some extent. True, there had been occasions where he'd had to shove Harry away from himself, to stop him touching his hair or squeezing his shoulder, but it was done mostly in good humour.

The thing was, Harry marveled to himself, that Ron seemed to have a harder time keeping him at bay than his own mother - and that was saying something, for Mrs Weasley very nearly swooned each time Ron walked into the room. When Ron had said he was hungry that evening, she had disappeared straight into the kitchen and had not emerged for close to two hours, whipping up nearly everything they had, not excluding a one of Ron's favourites. Fred and George had mimed vomiting to each other at this, but Harry caught them shooting Ron fond glances more than once at the dinner table, right along with himself, Ginny, Percy, and Mr Weasley.

He fleetingly wondered why he was the one most affected, when Ron was neither his brother nor his son to begin with. He supposed it was because he loved Ron like a brother, and reacted the way he did because he wasn't as used to him as the rest of his family...Having friends was a somewhat new concept to him after all.

And with these thoughts, Harry fell into a restful, nightmare-free sleep.

::::::

"I mean, really, Fred, who came up with the idea to give it to him in the first place?" Harry overheard Mrs Weasley asking as they decended the stairs into the kitchen the following morning. "The poor thing's half-afraid to be in the same room with any of us - oh! Good morning, Ron, dear. Harry." She spotted them and smiled warmly. "I've just finished breakfast."

Ron walked rather warily over to the table and sat down. Harry sat next to him.

"Well - George thought - " Fred started, but George threw his brother a dark look and he backtracked. "That is to say - I thought I'd just put the finishing touches on it. The right ones. So I obviously wanted to try it out - George too - and Ron just happened to be passing by - "

"I thought you tested everything on yourselves first?" Harry said, raising an eyebrow at them.

"Yeah!" exclaimed Ron suddenly. Everyone looked at him; he appeared unperturbed. "You had to have known the effects already, you gits!"

"But we didn't, honest!" said George soothingly.

"Okay - " said Fred, quailing under the stern look his mother was giving him, "there may have been a reason we didn't. But it was only a joke! Really, just a laugh. And, come on - it's pretty hilarious, even you have to admit, Mum - "

" - and we know how to put him right again," George insisted. "Tomorrow, I reckon - "

"Day after, at the latest," finished Fred.

"That is beside the point," said Mrs Weasley firmly, going over to Ron and placing her hands on his shoulders, squeezing them. "You two didn't know for certain what on earth would happen - you could have done him serious damage! Don't think for a moment that I've forgotten about the time you turned his teddy into a giant spider - to this day he can't stand the mere mention of them - " Sure enough, Ron had shuddered ever-so-slightly; Mrs Weasley threaded her fingers through his fiery hair, continuing on. "Or, heaven forbid, the time you nearly got him to make an Unbreakable Vow - he could have died! And ought I dare mention the time - "

"Alright, Mum, we get it," George said quickly, yet having the intelligence to look slightly ashamed of himself. "It won't happen again."

"It had better not," she said. "Now, I want you to apologise to your brother."

Fred and George exchanged incredulous glances. George was first to speak.

"So sorry, Ronnikins."

"Yes, there is no power on this earth which can redeem us for the terrible, terrible thing we've done - "

" - and we are forever in your debt from this day forward, and only - "

"Alright, alright," said Mrs Weasley snapped, "off with you."

Hanging their heads, the twins made for the stairs, and, to his slight confusion, winked at Harry as they went.

"A bit late to be having a go at them, isn't it?" Ron asked his mother around a mouthful of bacon sandwich.

"Nonsense," replied Mrs Weasley fondly. "And don't speak with your mouth full."

::::::

"Harry! Harry, over there! Quickly!"

Harry, hovering there in the air on his broomstick at about fifty feet, swiveled around at this outburst to stare where Ron was frantically pointing. He swore loudly and shot off in that direction, forcing himself to go into a dive as he neared the spot where the airbourne apple was about to hit the ground. With seconds to spare, he managed to catch it before soaring back to Ron, his heart pounding horribly in his chest. He'd never missed a catch - something that he prided himself upon and that Ron had always greatly admired.

Presently, Ron gaped at him, his small hands clutching the handle of his Cleansweep. He looked sort of odd perched there. "Are you mental?" he asked. "I threw it - and you just stared at me. What was that all about?"

"I - " Harry began, pausing as his face grew rather hot. In truth, when Ron had thrown the apple, he had seemed to lose a bit of balance, and Harry had feared that he would fall off his broom. He'd been making sure, without a thought to the plummeting piece of fruit, that Ron wasn't going to hurt himself. It would have been his fault if he had; he'd been the one to suggest they play Quidditch out in the garden.

Ron groaned then, slapping a palm to his face. "You were trying to protect me again."

Harry said nothing.

"I can take care of myself, you know."

"Not truly," Harry couldn't help but argue. "If something really awful were to happen, you would be almost helpless, small as you are."

"Oh, and you, the shortest kid in the year, underage, would be able to - "

"Look, like I said before - don't blame me for this." A warm breeze blew past them, ruffling their sweaty hair.

"Why not?" Ron asked, squinting in the sunlight. "You're the one who cared so bloody much about me before Fred and George gave me that thing to make you act like - Dobby ten times over - "

"What?" Harry burst out, momentarily veiled to Ron's child-like charms. "That's the stupidest reason I've ever heard for being angry with someone," he said. "Only you would think up something like that to complain about - "

"So I complain too much now, do I?"

"No - well, yes, now that I think on it - but, will you just tell me what it is about this thing that I can't help that bothers you so much?"

"I think I've been rather understanding, actually - "

"For the most part," Harry agreed, nudging his broom a bit closer to Ron's. "There are some times when you seem to absolutely want nothing more than to haul off and jinx me. I haven't been that horrible, have I?"

Ron didn't answer right away, and avoided Harry's glare. When he did, however, his answer was a bit of a surprise.

"Yes, you have," he said fiercely. Harry blinked. "And - I want you to stay away from me."

"S - stay away from you?" Harry repeated, not really comprehending what had been said.

"Yes. Until I'm back to normal, stay away from me, Harry. This isn't good."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. He thought he maybe ought to apologise or something, but...he couldn't bring himself to do it. Ron was right anyhow - if Harry kept on, things would be weird between them, considering Ron's unsportmanlike behaviour. So, instead of coming back with some sort of heated retort, Harry nodded, lowering his eyes to his broom handle, and drifted off towards the back door, where he slowly dismounted. But, of course, he had to lift his eyes again to Ron, who was still hovering, to make certain that he was going to get down alright. Even from the ground, Harry saw Ron roll his eyes.

"Go away, Harry," he called.

"I can't," Harry called back, cursing the ridiculous instincts. "You have to come down."

"No, I don't," Ron said, shooting off for a distant tree. Clenching his jaw tightly, Harry hopped back onto his broom, zooming silently after him. He felt more angry now than protective, since Ron's words were beginning to sink in. Had their positions been switched, Harry would have been far more understanding - then again, Ron probably wouldn't have had the same issue, what with his caring and compassion being about the size of a Snitch.

Ron, upon turning and seeing Harry directly behind him, started and, with a yell, promptly rolled over on his broom, so that he hung from it like a monkey from a tree limb. He clung to it with both arms and legs while Harry darted underneath him, holding out his arms. Ron shook his head, trying to swing back around, but it was near impossible with the gust of wind that blew suddenly.

"Ron, you prat! Just drop!"

"No!"

With a snarl, Harry reached up and pried him roughly from the swaying broom, plunking him down in front of himself. Ron struggled a bit, but Harry placed his arms firmly around either side of him, holding onto the broom with two hands so that he couldn't escape and likely fall off again in haste. He flew them towards the ground. Ron stumbled out of his hold and away from him as soon as they landed on the grass.

"You're a right foul git, you know that?" Harry snapped, shoving his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

"You think so?"

"I know so," he said, shouldering his broom and scowling.

"Fine," growled Ron, marching into the house.

Harry waited a few moments before following suit.

::::::

Everyone at dinner that evening had noticed something odd going on, though they hadn't a clue as to what. Harry himself hardly knew. He, like the rest of them, couldn't help glancing at Ron every so often, but didn't so much as utter a word to him, and vice-versa. This carried on until Ron, without a word to any of them, stomped up the stairs to bed.

Harry gave it enough time, before heading up himself, for Ron to be able to pretend to be asleep if he wanted. Sure enough, when he ascended the staircase, leaving the questioning looks of the Weasleys behind him, he found that Ron's snores were a bit louder than normal.

He slipped underneath the blankets of his cot and rolled over to face the wall, still seething from that afternoon. After a few quiet moments in the dark, he began to have a thought...

If Ron couldn't handle something like this, a bump in the road in their friendship, then perhaps - it was because he didn't really want to be Harry's friend after all. Maybe he didn't actually like Harry enough to tough it out, and didn't particularly care if they stayed friends. This notion greatly troubled Harry, who screwed up his face against his pillow and made a fist which he clenched - until he remembered that Ron had thrown himself in front of him on a severely broken leg when they had been confronted by Sirius Black the previous year.

If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill us too! he'd yelled, positively green in the face.

Now Harry was confused. If Ron could handle being injured, being confronted by a "notorious mass murderer" in a room in the most haunted building in Britain, and still find the strength to show Harry extreme loyalty, then why did he snap if Harry showed him the slightest gesture because of Fred and George?

Huffing in exasperation, Harry rolled onto his back and stared at the dark ceiling. Ron was no longer snoring. Harry suspected he had really fallen asleep.

With nothing else to do, he attempted to do the same.

::::::

Something poked him.

Something poked him again...What was that?

"Harry." Something poked him yet again.

Harry groaned, shying away from the offensive touch, burying his head further into the pillow...but no use. The something poked him again.

"Harry."

"Wha...?"

"Harry, wake up," someone whispered.

He grunted unintelligably, opening one bleary eye. "Huh...?"

"C'mon, wake up." Now someone was shaking his shoulder. Harry fully opened both of his eyes, feeling rather disoriented.

"What?" he asked quickly, wishing to go back to sleep.

"Wake up!"

"I got that," he snapped. "What for?"

"I have to talk to you," Ron whispered. Harry blinked and shot upright, causing the blankets to fall from him; the room was a bit chilly. Luckily, his pajama top was warm enough...he looked at Ron, standing there next to his cot, with anxious expression on his face that made him want to cave to his every wish. He stamped on this urge, recalling all at once what had been said the day before.

"About what?" he asked cautiously, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "And why is it so important that you had to wake me up?"

"Because - " Ron started, twisting his fingers together, "er - well - I - " He stopped. Then, he said in a rush, "Because I'm an idiot, Harry, and I wanted to tell you I'm sorry."

Harry sat there a moment, not quite trusting his own ears, as his brain was still a bit muddled.

"And - well - that's it, I suppose," Ron said when Harry continued to remain silent. The tips of his ears were flaming in the moonlight. "So, I'll just - go back to bed then - "

"No, w-wait," Harry said, yawning widely. "Can you - will you say that once more?"

Ron appeared confused. "Why?" he asked, tilting his head a bit to the left.

"Not sure I heard correctly," Harry explained, half-believing that he was dreaming.

Ron scowled at him, but obliged. "I said I'm sorry. Really. I was being stupid."

A tentative, relieved smile broke out over Harry's face. He shook his head, ridding it of the last of the sleep that resided there. "That's what I thought - for a moment I was afraid you didn't - listen, Ron, I really appreciate - I mean, I'm sorry too, mate - "

Ron shook his head. "No - it was all me. I know there's nothing you can do about it - the thing is - " he paused, hesitating, it seemed. "The thing is that - that it doesn't really bother me."

"What doesn't?"

"When you, you know - act like a nut," Ron gestured, avoiding Harry's gaze.

"Then - " Harry started, not understanding, "what does bother you?"

Ron was most definitely not looking at him now. He shuffled his feet, staring hard at the floorboards. "It - the fact that - well, it's the fact that it doesn't bother me."

"What?" Harry asked, very confused. "Why does that bother you?"

Ron's head snapped up. He gave Harry an incredulous look. "What d'you mean, why does that bother me? Wouldn't it bother you?"

"Er," said Harry, wondering if he was supposed to answer in the positive. Honestly, he had no idea what was so awful about it. "Hang on," he said. "You're saying that you told me to stay away from you yesterday because my overprotectiveness doesn't get under your skin. How d'you work that one out?"

Ron ran a hand through hair, looking terribly flustered. "Merlin, Harry," he groaned. "Sometimes, you can be really thick...yes, since it doesn't get under my skin, I have to push you away."

Harry was struggling to make sense of what Ron was trying to tell him. "But...why?" he eventually settled on asking.

"Because I don't mind! It's - it's pleasing, actually."

There was a pause. "Er - I still don't think I understand - " Harry said, but Ron interrupted him.

"It pleased me that you almost missed a catch for the first time in your life yesterday, just making sure I was okay," Ron said, now looking fully into Harry's face. "Try and understand, Harry...I like when you ruffle my hair, and when you look at me as if I'm the sweetest thing you've ever seen, and when you - "

It was the way Ron was looking at him then (and his words), attentive and pleading, that activated Fred and George's charm once more, causing Harry to reach out and pull him into a fierce hug.

" - oomph!" continued Ron into his ear.

Harry pulled him swiftly and easily onto the cot so they both might be more comfortable. Ron relaxed into the embrace almost instantly, and maneuvered his way into Harry's lap, clutching the material of his shirt, mumbling something.

"Sorry?" Harry whispered. "Didn't catch that."

"I said I like it when you do that too," Ron whispered back, bunching the material of Harry's pajama shirt tightly in his fist. "So go ahead and take the mickey out of me."

"But I can't, can I?" Harry reminded him, smiling softly. "I enjoy hugging you as well so that would be fairly hypocritical of me."

"Yeah, but you can't help it. I can."

Harry shrugged, placing a kiss on the side of Ron's head. "Doesn't bother me," he said rather tauntingly.

"Did you kiss me?"

"Yes. Sorry."

Ron sighed, lifting his head from where he'd dropped it onto Harry's shoulder. "S'alright." He leaned up and pressed a pair of soft lips to the side of his neck in a way that was completely child-like. "Do you forgive me for acting like a complete git?" he asked.

"Course I do," Harry breathed into his hair, disbelieving that he could possibly fear otherwise. "Ron, you're absolutely lovely..."

"I - I still don't think you really understand," said Ron quietly. "You're under this charm...anything I do and say seems lovely and sweet to you and you can't resist, but I'm - I'm still me. This is me letting you hug me and kiss me and - me sitting in your lap. Think about when I'm back to normal. How are you going to feel then?"

Harry thought about it. Was he still going to have the urge to run his fingers through the much taller Ron's hair? He would have to reach up to do so...had he ever wanted to before? He couldn't recall. Would he want to hug taller Ron? Would he still feel protective of him?

He didn't know any of the answers for certain. But one thing, however, he did.
"Listen, Ron," he said firmly. "I love you. That's how I feel, and I expect that's how I'll always feel."

Ron seemed to have been struck speechless.

"You - you - ?"

"Yeah."

"Oh." Ron buried his face in Harry's shoulder again. "Well, that - that makes things quite clear, doesn't it?" He sounded half-strangled.

"Does it?"

Suddenly, Ron pounced on him, knocking him backward into his pillows. He kissed Harry's cheek and rolled away - probably to go back to his own bed - but Harry followed, wrapping his arms around his small form so that he couldn't. Ron turned to face him, with a wide grin, as if this was exactly what he wanted Harry to do. He scrunched up his big blue eyes as Harry kissed his freckled nose.

"Sleep here tonight if you want," he told him. Ron nodded, his eyes fluttering open again and gluing themselves to Harry's.

"This is mad," he revealed.

"I know," Harry agreed, removing a strand of hair from his forehead and brushing it back so that the tips of his fingers barely touched his scalp. Ron shivered slightly, blinking at him. Smirking, Harry repeated his actions and then began to trail his index finger slowly over his features.

"I was talking about the fact that I have this whole bed over there and yet - "

"Mm," Harry hummed quietly. "I know."

"My mum used to do that," Ron breathed after a few moments.

"Really?" Harry asked, interested, as he traced Ron's little mouth.

"Mm-hm," he said, and, once Harry had moved to a different spot, continued, "She would put everyone else to bed, and then come and tell Ginny and me a story. Ginny always fell asleep right away, so Mum would pick me up and finish the story off while moving my hair back and stroking my face just like that..." Ron said, closing his eyes.

"Did it help you sleep?" Harry asked, sweeping the back of his palm over his cheek.

"Yeah...it did..."

"Does it still help you sleep?" Harry teased gently. Ron nodded, suppressing a yawn. Harry chuckled. "You are very sweet, you know. When you're not busy being a stupid prat."

As if to demonstrate the former comment, Ron moved closer to him, pressing his forehead into the crook of Harry's neck.

"I love you too, you know," he shot back quietly. "Even when you are being a stupid prat."

Harry rolled his eyes, smiling. How could he have doubted that Ron would want to remain his friend? It was very clear to him now. Ron's loyalty and care reached depths that he'd never before given a thought - the stupid, lovable prat had simply been too guarded to show it.

::::::

It was nearly lunch the next day when Fred and George deemed the antidote ready for consumption.

The both of them popped their fiery heads out of their bedroom doorway, glancing out into the hall beyond, just as Harry and Ron were passing to go out into the garden for a healthy round of de-gnoming.

"Ron," said George, "if you'd like to be near six foot again, please step this way. And Harry, of course. Can't have one without the other, can we?"

His eyes widening, Ron stepped into the room, followed by Harry. Fred closed the door behind them.

"Just in case something goes terribly wrong," he explained, shrugging.

"Is that likely?" Harry asked warily.

"We doubt it," said George, "but, as it is, the only subject available to test this baby - " He held up a small, cylinder-shaped sweet. " - is Ron, so there can be no certainies. So, are you ready?"

"Er - yes - " Ron gulped.

George held the sweet out to him, and he took it. Fred came to stand next to his twin; they crossed their arms and stared at Ron with expressions full of concentration and determination. This was, in all actuality, a rather serious matter for them, Harry realised.

Ron lifted the small sweet to his eyes, inspecting it closely, then sniffed it.

"Wait a moment," he said, looking worried. "W-what if I eat this - and get even smaller?"

Fred shook his head. "You're far more likely to turn into an owl or - "

"You're joking!" Ron burst out, starting towards him in anger; Harry held him back.

"Just making a point," Fred said, holding up his hands, but appearing quite unfazed. "I'm saying there's a very slim chance of that happening. Now go ahead - eat it."

Ron squinted up at him and hesitantly raised it to his mouth, breathing on it. Harry watched, slightly anxious. Slowly, Ron opened his mouth, and popped the sweet inside without giving himself time to dwell upon what he was doing or what might occur. Harry held his breath, along with Fred and George. Ron now stood there chewing with his eyes shut tight, as if bracing himself for the worst possible outcome.

At almost the exact moment he swallowed, he began to shoot upwards and outwards. However, the joyful reaction they were all preparing did not burst forth, for as soon as Ron's growth became apparent, so did the fact that he was still wearing his shrunken garments. There was a terrible sound of ripping fabric before any of them could do anything about it -

"ARGH!" yelled Ron, his face screwed up in discomfort as his shirt burst open. He doubled over - his trousers were squeezing him, cutting off his air, before they too began ripping apart at the seams.

"Quick - go fetch some robes from the wardrobe - " Fred said frantically to George, who dashed off to the wardrobe at once. Rummaging inside for a moment, he withdrew a set of second-hand robes and tossed them at Ron, who clutched at them. He pulled them hurriedly over his head just as one final ripping sound was heard. And Ron was finished growing. The robes hung there, too short on him; he hadn't Fred and George short and stocky build.

He stood there, normal-sized with his large hands and feet, his hair mussed and his mouth gaping. Eventually, he straightened his back for he had been slightly hunched. They all stared at him. There was a pause.

And they all burst into uncontrollable laughter.

::::::

"Ron, I - I was wondering - " Harry stammered an hour later, "did you - I mean, did you really - ? Erm - you're not angry with me? For acting the way I did? I know you said you weren't, but - "

Now that Ron looked like the Ron he knew, Harry was finding it rather difficult not to feel humiliated and ashamed of the past couple of days.

They were currently sitting in Ron's room, avoiding each others' gaze and, until that moment, had been attempting some sort of conversation. It hadn't been working so well.

Ron looked up then, and met Harry's eyes.

"I'm not angry with you," he said quickly. "Really, I'm not." He sighed, resting his elbows upon his knees. "Listen, I was never under that mad spell, remember? Everything I did or said was...me all the time. It's...me that needs to ask you..." he trailed off, flushing.

"A-ask me what?" Harry bravely said, despite the fact that Ron's deep voice (deeper than it had been at least) was causing him to feel more and more guilty and embarrassed all the time.

"Well, you know, if you - meant anything that happened to - happen," Ron said, once again not looking at him.

Harry did not answer at first. He thought about little Ron sitting in his lap, hugging him...he thought about kissing his freckled nose and trailing his fingers through his hair and over his face - and buried his own face in his hands to hide the extreme humiliation that flared up inside him.

"I - I couldn't exactly stop myself," he told Ron through his fingers, his voice sounding muffled, "but I can't say that I - didn't mean it to happen."

"Mean what to happen, exactly?"

"Everything." Harry looked up. "You - you were irresistable."

Ron ventured so far as to give him a half-smile. "So I've heard."

They were silent.

"But, Harry - what do you think? I mean, now that I'm tall and gangly and quite resistable again."

Harry opened his mouth, blinking. "I - well, I suppose I - hang on. What d'you mean?"

"Harry," said Ron, sighing heavily, "you - you told me you loved me last night. I don't suppose we can pretend you didn't. And I told you as well. I - I guess my question is - was that you talking, or - "

Harry nodded at once. Ron faltered. He probably hadn't expected that.

"O-oh - " he stuttered, dropping an arm to his Cannons spread and tugging at a loose thread there. "Well, then - my other question is - well, it's the one I asked last night. About how you would feel once I was back to normal."

Harry didn't have to think about this. "I still love you," he said, watching as Ron's eyes widened...they were achingly familiar. "I - I think I just sort of thought you knew - since the time we met on the train - I didn't know you were comfortable with being - with saying those sorts of things - I'm not either, particularly, but - "

Ron swallowed. "This - whole thing must've broken that sort of - barrier."

Harry chuckled quietly. "Yeah, I suppose so. But," he added as an afterthought, "I doubt I would ever be quite so mushy as all that on my own."

"Right." Ron cleared his throat.

"So...what shall we do now?" Harry asked after a moment of tense silence.

Ron toyed with the loose thread on his bedspread, unresponsive. Then, he suddenly glanced up, a hint of a mischeivous glint in his eye. "Would you say I'm considerably...taller than you?"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Erm - yes."

"Bigger as well? Maybe a little bit...stronger?"

"I'll agree with that first one," said Harry a bit grudgingly.

"Well..I was just thinking that now would be the perfect time to - " Ron suddenly bounded from his bed and Harry let out a noise of surprise as he lunged towards him and pinned him to his cot. " - get revenge on those times you nearly tickled me to death!"

Ron had one knee pressed into his middle; Harry stared up at him, fighting off a mad grin. He struggled to get up, but Ron held him firmly down and attacked.

Harry found that he could not draw air to breathe as his ribs were met with flying fingers - it was the oddest sensation - he was forced to laugh, though he was twisting and turning every way he could to escape. It was like torture, only he felt that he could endure it. His muscles spasmed -

"Get - get - get off, Ron - RON - now is - is not the time - !" Harry laughed until he feared his throat would burst. His stomach hurt. And it was only after all the fight had gone from him that Ron relented, standing up and offering his hand with a wide grin.

Harry, breathing hard, took it, and, without warning, was swiftly pulled to his feet and into his very first kiss.

"Mm," he said, utterly shocked, out of breath...but very, very pleased. Ron cupped his face, tilting it upwards, knocking his glasses askew in the process. Harry allowed them to fall to the ground. Hesitating only for a moment, he wound his arms completely around Ron's middle, enjoying the way it all felt.

They broke apart after what felt like about six seconds, but Ron didn't let go of his face. Harry slowly opened his eyes, feeling slightly dizzy. Ron's blurry face was smiling down at him, he could tell. He smiled back.

"You're really something, you know," he said, still having not quite caught his breath. "I've never been attacked quite like that before."

Ron laughed. "Well, it's not like I just bloody kissed you or anything like that."

"That's new too."

"Yeah," Ron said, leaning his forehead against Harry's. "Me too."

"I - I think I rather like it."

"Me too."

"I'd like to do it some more, actually."

Ron wrapped one arm around Harry, pulling him closer, his other hand still on his face. "Me too," he said with a grin.

::::::

It all made perfect sense, when he got right down to it, Harry thought. He didn't even particularly have to think about it. So he didn't.

But there was something he ought to have thought about before sitting down to the dinner table that evening - the extended consequences of his actions.

He hadn't known that if he were to innocently linger right close to Ron throughout the evening - brush hands with him occasionally - it would be noticed. He hadn't been trying to provoke anything, create anything - he hadn't even been trying to get Ron's attention. He had quite simply gravitated towards him, having subconciously marked him as the person he wanted to be close to, more than anyone else. So it came as quite a surprise to him when, during supper, Mrs Weasley came at him with:

"Harry, dear, are you feeling alright? You look a bit dreamy...feeling feverish at all?" Her eyes were narrowed, not quite in suspicion, but in carefully measured concern.

Harry started, blushing a little. He'd been, of course, thinking of Ron, and now they were all looking at him.

"N-no," he said. "I'm fine."

"Harry's a little bummed that Ron's gone back to normal," Fred informed the table, to expressions of varying confusion.

"What? No - no, I'm not."

"It's okay - we all know how much you liked being the taller one for a change," George joked. Everyone chuckled at that.

"Oh - well, yeah, I suppose - "

"But Harry was very attached to little Ron, wasn't he?" threw in Fred once more. "Doted upon his every wish worse than Mum, I reckon."

"What d'you - ?" Harry began, feeling the embarrassment creep up on him as it had done all day.

"Leave the boy alone," said Mr Weasley good-naturedly, seated at the end of the wooden table. Harry experienced a rush of gratitude. "We all went a bit batty there for a moment, didn't we?"

"He still seems to be very attached, though," Fred continued, ignoring his father's advice. "Look at him, how close they're sitting - and Ron appears to be fine with it and all."

Seeming unable to help themselves, the Weasleys spared them both glances before going back to their plates. Mrs Weasley, however, openly stared at them, her head slightly cocked. Harry swallowed uncomfortably, clutching his fork. Ron cleared his throat. Harry was actually quite surprised that he hadn't said something yet.

"Boys," she said in a soft voice, but firmly. Her brown eyes sparkled with something Harry could not identify.

"Mum, don't - " said Ron, but Mrs Weasley cut him off.

"No, no," she said, holding up a hand. "Listen to me. I think Fred brings up an interesting point. Harry is very close to you - "

At these words, Harry decided he should probably move. It seemed that there was something the matter with how they were sitting. He didn't quite understand it, but he slid down the wooden bench, positioning himself closer to Percy. Mrs Weasley faltered as he did so, and her face split into a sort of smile.

"Oh - Harry, dear, I didn't mean - " She made a motion with her hands, signaling him to move back down. Harry complied, yet he wasn't as near Ron as he had been, feeling slightly puzzled. She continued, still smiling at him. "I only meant that you're Ron's closest friend. Something that everyone is aware of, I'm sure."

Harry nodded nervously, his eyes flickering around the table, as everyone was gaping at the three of them now.

"Er - Molly - if you're planning to take this, let's say - well - Where the hell are you planning to take this?" Mr Weasley asked his wife, looking a bit helpless.

"Wait, Arthur." Mrs Weasley turned to Ron, whose ears were the colour of a Howler, and she asked very calmly and diplomatically, "Do you think you might be in love with Harry, dear?"

There was an uproar.

"Molly, for the love of Merlin!" "WHAT? Mum, have you completely gone - " "Oh, I say - what would the Minister say if he heard about - " "Alright, that's exactly what we wondered! Way to rattle the pan, Mum - "

"Quiet! Quiet, all of you," Mrs Weasley furiously said over all the noise. "Let him answer the question before you start shooting off!"

They all quieted down at once, though not without giving each other incredulous looks and muttering. Ron, the only one to have not had an outburst aside from Harry (who was really quite frightened by all of this), averted his mother's fiery gaze and looked down at his plate, totally unresponsive. Harry bit his lip hard.

"Ronnie," said Mrs Weasley.

Ron looked up. "Mum..." he groaned, his eyes pleading. Harry could tell that he was deliberately avoiding the stares of the rest of his family. "Don't..."

"You listen to me, young man," Mrs Weasley said softly, her anger gone for the moment. "I am your mother and this - " she gestured around her, " - is your family. Since you were born, you have been given all the love and care this family can provide for you. No one at this table is going to think any less of you for taking some of that love and care you have, and giving it to someone as wonderful and deserving as Harry. So long as you are in love with him, of course. Answer me please."

Harry felt something very odd in the pit of his stomach.

"I - " said Ron. The table held its breath. "Well, he - " Ron's expression appeared resigned as he glanced sideways at Harry. "He feels the same as me, you know."

No one said a word.

The silence continued until George had the gall to break it.

"Blimey," he breathed.

Mrs Weasley seemed to feel that she had done her duty; she sat back with satisfaction and glared around at the rest of them as if to say Well?

The first to have a reaction after George was Ginny. Appearing quite unable to restrain herself, she asked to be excused and fled the table without waiting for a response. This did the trick.

"Oh my," said Mr Weasley, with no apparent clue that his elbow was resting in the butter dish. "Oh my, my, my, my - "

"Oh, Arthur, will you be quiet?" Mrs Weasley snapped, looking up the staircase after her daughter anxiously.

Percy cleared his throat, perhaps to say something pompous in a highly disapproving tone, but Fred and George intercepted him with fervour.

"This wasn't something we ever imagined as a possibility! This is why we gave you the sweet, Ron - we knew there was something funny - something - "

"You knew?" Ron demanded, looking incredulous. "What d'you mean you knew? You didn't know - I didn't know, you unbelievable gits - "

"But Harry did, didn't you?" Fred asked, addressing him. Eyes clapped onto his face. Harry gulped.

"I - well, I - "

"Knew it," declared both Fred and George simultaneously, grinning from ear to ear.

"Wait a moment, I didn't - "

"Make it simpler on yourself, mate," said George.

Harry frowned and did not try to utter another word, for he knew that they told the truth; he just didn't see the big fuss behind it all. Percy, however, cleared his throat once more and said, "I, for one, have not a problem with this whatsoever."

They all blinked at him in surprise.

"There is perfect logic in that, for the past some-odd years, Harry has been starved for affection, yes? - And therefore, should fall for the first person to show him any true kindness, which was, of course, our dear Ron, who has always been very thoughtful and naturally good-hearted."

Harry felt himself going hot. That seemed to happen rather a lot lately.

Fred and George gaped at him. "You're talking about Ron?"

"Yes, yes, of course. I think this is really a very good thing. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going upstairs to write Penelope."

Mrs Weasley was beaming. She turned to her husband, who promptly began to cough. Once he finished, he looked down the table at them. Harry suddenly felt very nervous. But he merely said, "Well, boys. This is certainly surprising news." He cleared his throat, though in a different sort of way than Percy had done. "But make no mistake - I'll - I'll get used to it." He managed a smile.

Ron's freckled face split into a smile as well. Harry followed his example; he had always held a great liking for Mr Weasley. The idea that he might not accept - whatever this was - was not a pleasant one.

All at once, Fred and George began to whoop and cheer, and Harry noticed Mrs Weasley going teary-eyed. Ron turned to Harry, looking like he didn't know quite what to do with himself, something with which Harry was easily able to identify. This was all so sudden, so wonderful - except Ginny of course - but Harry supposed Mrs Weasley might be able to sort her out. He hoped.

"Oh, go on then - " said George.

"Kiss him!" said Fred.

"Or give him a nice hug," sniffed Mrs Weasley, tossing a look over at the twins.

"Yes, yes, a hug would be more advisable," said Mr Weasley, mopping his brow with the sleeve of his robes.

Harry couldn't help but laugh, despite the oddness of the situation. Ron grinned down at him, but neither of them made a move to do anything more.

"Er - I hate to disappoint you and all that, but - "

"Me?" Harry asked. "Oh no, I'm not disappointed. Quite the opposite actually."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah!" cried Fred and George. "He's actually really really pleased, isn't that right, Harry?"

"Boys, for heaven's sake," said Mrs Weasley. "You'd think this was happening to you."

"Well, we brought it about, didn't we?"

"Well, no, actually - "

"And we knew all along, didn't we?"

"Well - "

"And we now have the power, since we have brought such happiness to the lives of these two dear, sweet, lovely, wonderful boys, to hold it over their heads and remind them of this moment whenever we feel necessary!"

"What?" said Harry and Ron together.

"That's right."

"No way. Absolutely not. You're barking."

"Alright. We're barking. We really are only happy for you, little brother. And Harry too, of course. We won't do anything to spoil it for you."

The other three Weasleys remaining at the table, and Harry all squinted at them suspiciously.

"Honest!" said Fred, his hand over his chest, looking offended.

Mrs Weasley shook her head. "If I hear about you two bothering Ron or Harry one time, I'll - "

"Alright, keep your hair on, Mum," said George, raising his hands in surrender. "Only a joke..."

"Yes, alright," said Mrs Weasley. "Upstairs, please. Now. Your father and I wish to have a little chat with the boys."

Mr Weasley started and blinked. "We - we do?"

"Yes, dear," his wife said patiently. She turned back to the twins. "Well, off with you."

Once Fred and George had gone, Mr and Mrs Weasley turned to Harry and Ron. Harry started to feel quite nervous again, but the chat turned out to be a discussion of whether or not they would feel more comfortable being separated into different bedrooms with all that was happening. Harry could see why the twins had been sent out of the room for this. Ultimately, it was decided that Harry would spend the remainder of the summer holiday in Charlie's old room, which was on the floor below Fred and George's. Ron seemed to be a bit surly about this at first, but Harry didn't mind at all; here he was, in his favourite home in the world with people who actually liked him and were not disgusted by his mere presence. Anything they wanted him to do was completely fine in his book, especially since they were being so kind and understanding.

"Oh, I did imagine I felt something between you two boys," Mrs Weasley told them all, "but of course I wasn't certain, and I never imagined it might happen so soon. I thought perhaps - when you'd got a bit older - "

"You never told me this," interjected Mr Weasley.

"No, I didn't, dear, and that was because it was merely a passing thought. Mother's intuition, really."

"Oh," Mr Weasley said, looking rather lost.

::::::

Ron stopped with him at the door to Charlie's old room on their way up the staircase.

Mrs Weasley had already transferred all of his belongings (his trunk and Hedwig's temporarily empty cage) with a flick of her wand, so all he had to do was slip into his pajamas and climb into bed. Harry looked up at Ron; the landing was dark, making it quite impossible to see much more than the vibrant red hair and shadowed features, but he knew that Ron was looking at him as well.

"You're my best friend, you know."

Harry smirked at these words, though it was hidden. "I do, actually. You're my best friend as well."

Ron chuckled softly. "Well...goodnight, Harry."

"Night, Ron."

They both turned away from each other, but when Harry entered Charlie's room and crossed to the bed, he realised that he wanted so much more than that. No, it wasn't even simply that, it was - he could have so much more than that now. Hurrying back to the doorway, he hissed, "Ron."

Ron stopped, one foot on the stairs, his hand gripping the railings, and hissed back, "What?"

Harry hung onto the doorframe, leaning outward, unable to phrase what exactly it was that he wanted. "Erm..."

But, fortunately, Ron seemed to know. He let go of the railings and walked over to Harry, who experienced flutters in the pit of his stomach. What a strange sensation...Ron stood in front of him and whispered, "I guess it's time we started doing proper goodnights."

Harry laughed softly and whispered back, "What's a proper goodnight, then?"

"This I reckon." Ron then stepped forward and eveloped him in a hug, winding his long freckly arms around him, and buried his long nose in Harry's neck. Harry, smiling into his shoulder, stood on tiptoes so as to make it more fitting. He slid one hand up the back of Ron's neck and into his hair as Ron's hands slid further down his back.

"Yeah, I like this one," Harry murmured.

"Mm," Ron hummed, agreeing, into his neck, the vibrations of his voice traveling down Harry's spine. "Alright...goodnight, then."

"Goodnight."

Once they'd parted and retreated into their respective rooms, Harry lay down and discovered that he was going to have a lot of trouble getting to sleep. Between nightmares and Ron, was he ever going to get a decent night's sleep again?

And how were they going to tell Hermione?

He had no idea. One thing he did know, though, was that he was looking forward to going back to Hogwarts more than ever before.