The Long Day Is Over

A/N: Yes, it's been done before... but Ron and Harry showed up in my brain and demanded I write about them, and I just couldn't refuse them. Mostly Ron/Harry friendship with brief mentions of Ron/Hermione (because this is one of my stories, after all). Title comes from a Norah Jones song of the same name.

Ron stared at Hermione's retreating form as she headed toward the door of what used to be his dormitory, wondering if he was allowed to do that now or if he should be ready to look away should she turn around. He had not come up with an answer before she reached the door and looked over her shoulder, arranged her lips in a shy smile, and left the room.

He shivered involuntarily and blushed scarlet, trying not to remember how those lips felt against his own. He gulped, wondering how it was possibly for life to change so drastically in such a short amount of time.

The rustle of bed curtains behind him interrupted his thoughts.

"Ron! Hermione! Where are you?" Harry exclaimed from his four poster.

"Harry, I'm right here," Ron said, turning around to face his friend. "And Hermione's gone to take a shower, she'll be back soon."

Harry didn't answer him. He was sitting on his bed now, feet on the floor, green eyes darting all over the room so quickly that Ron was sure he was not really seeing anything.

"Ron," Harry said, startled. Ron assumed he meant to continue his thought, but suddenly his body was shaking violently and his mouth opened but no words came out.

"Harry? Harry, look at me," Ron said firmly. He had a hand on each of Harry's shoulders. He couldn't help but notice that Harry was still much thinner than he should have been, despite how much Fleur had tried to feed them in the past month.

"We're... we're here..." Harry mumbled. He was looking Ron in the eye now but his expression was distant, until his eyes widened further with what Ron knew was realization. "No!" Harry shouted suddenly. "No. No. No." He repeated the word over and over again as he began to thrash, and it was all Ron could do to keep him still.

"What? What is it?" Ron asked, although he doubted Harry was going to answer him. His first thought, out of habit, was that Harry was having another one of his scar-induced visions. But how could he? He had defeated the source of those dreams early this morning, and for good this time... hadn't he?

Ron's panicked thoughts had made him loosen his grip on Harry's shoulders, and in a flash the smaller boy had darted towards the lavatory. Ron ran after him, arriving just in time to watch Harry throw himself into the nearest stall and hear him empty the contents of his stomach violently.

And somehow, Ron knew that the sandwich Kreacher had fixed his friend before he went to sleep was not the cause of his nausea.

Ron tried to give his friend a minute to compose himself, but even after Harry had stopped heaving he made no effort to pull himself off of the bathroom floor. He continued to shake, and as Ron approached him he realized that Harry was no longer sick; he was sobbing.

"Bloody hell," Ron mumbled to himself, darting to the sink to get a glass of water and a damp cloth before approaching Harry. "Harry, mate, sit up for a minute." Harry gave no indication of having heard Ron.

Murmuring a few more vulgarities he hoped Harry could not hear over the noise he himself was making, Ron put the glass and the cloth back on the sink's counter and grabbed Harry under the arms to force him into a sitting position. He flushed the toilet, retrieved the cloth and glass, and sunk to the floor next to his friend, who was still shuddering and gasping.

Ron supposed this must be what he looked like earlier in the day when he had awoken suddenly from a nightmare that turned out to be a very real, very awful memory. He had barely been able to catch his breath, and he had no idea what he had done if Hermione had not been sleeping next to him. Ron shook his head, trying to quell his improper thoughts about Hermione for a moment. He forced Harry to drink some water and wiped his forehead with the cold cloth. He then hesitantly began to rub circles on Harry's back, wondering if that gesture would still be soothing when it was purely platonic.

Of all the situations he had found himself in since they arrived back at Hogwarts the day before, this was somehow the strangest. He was sitting on the floor of a bathroom stall, the Boy Who Lived Again leaning heavily on his right side. Harry continued to gasp for air, his head falling to rest on Ron's shoulder. He wrapped his right arm firmly around the smaller boy, running a shaky hand up and down Harry's right arm.

"I'm glad you're breathing, mate- really, I am- but I'd prefer it if you could do it a little slower. I think it works better that way," he joked feebly. Harry didn't laugh, but his breathing calmed slightly and Ron supposed that was as good of a reaction as any.

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled finally.

"S'ok. Not your fault you're sick, yeah?" Ron said, uncomfortably.

He felt, rather than saw Harry shake his head.

"No, not... not for this. Fred- I'm sorry," Harry said again.

"Oh," Ron said stupidly, finally realizing what Harry had so fervently objected to when sitting on his bed. Once he had realized he was in Gryffindor Tower, he must have remembered the events of the past day and a half as vividly as Ron had in his sleep. "I'm sorry too," Ron continued, "Lupin- and Tonks." Harry shuddered again. Or was it Ron this time?

"Colin Creevey," Harry whispered.

"No," Ron protested weakly. "How? He's Muggleborn, he shouldn't have been here-"

"Must have snuck back in. Saw his body."

"Blimey," was all Ron could say in reply. Harry's head was still resting against Ron's shoulder. Ron used his left hand - the one that was not awkwardly wrapped around his friend- to try to surreptitiously wipe his own eyes.

"I'm so sorry," Harry said again, and Ron pretended not to notice his voice cracking.

"Not your fault," Ron muttered gruffly, knowing Harry well enough to know he blamed himself. "And you killed the bastard whose fault it was, so I should be thanking you."

"I saw you- I was under the cloak, after-"

"After you scared the stuffing out of me by pretending to be dead, you mean?"

"Yeah, that. I saw you and Neville." Ron wracked his brain, trying to remember what exactly he had done in those moments when he was sure his life was over. It came to him suddenly.

"Greyback."

"Yeah."

"What an animal. Only wish it hadn't taken us so long. We weren't even after him. Tried to go after Lestrange, but she was dead set on dueling the girls and Greyback kept us distracted. Neville and I both wanted a piece of her." Ron's whole body stiffened as he spoke, part in anger and part in shame. "Don't know when I got so blood-thirsty. Just thought that if you were gone we were all done for anyway, might as well get the most dangerous ones out of the way before they took over."

"I'm sorry."

"Feel like I've heard that somewhere before." Harry hit him feebly, and Ron almost smiled.

"Your mum got her good, though."

"Yeah. Thanks for deciding to come back in time to save her." Harry shrugged against him.

"Least I could do."

They sat in silence for a while. Ron dropped the hand that was on Harry's arm to sit behind him on the floor, feeling awkward about their physical proximity now that Harry seemed to be feeling better. Harry hadn't come to the same realization yet. He was still slumped against Ron, eyes closed, head resting on the taller boy's shoulder.

"I'm glad you're not dead," Ron said suddenly, stupidly, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"I am too. I mean, I thought I was ready, when I thought I had to... but I'm glad I still here."

"Am I interrupting something?" Hermione's voice startled them both. Ron turned his head to look at her as Harry hastily sat up. Hermione was standing at the door to their stall, freshly showered and dressed, with her arms folded over her chest and a poor imitation of a disapproving look on her face.

"Of course not. We were just waiting for you," Ron insisted, grinning. He hated how his smile pulled at his skin uncomfortably, as if his face wasn't quite sure how to do it anymore.

"In a stall in the boy's bathroom?" She raised an eyebrow. She was looking back and forth between them, and Ron could tell by the look in her eyes she was trying to put the pieces together. She must have realized by now that there was a reason he and Harry ended up sitting next to a toilet, and she was sure to notice that Harry's eyes were red from crying. Ron wondered if his were, too.

"We've hung out in bathrooms before," Harry said, shrugging. "Although, it's usually the girl's bathroom. It's about time you hang out with us in ours." Ron laughed in agreement and tried to reach for Hermione's arm, but she jumped out of the way before he got there.

"Oh, I'm not hanging out anywhere with the two of you until you shower." She said, wrinkling her nose in a way that Ron could not help but notice was completely adorable.

"All right mate, you heard her," Ron said, standing up finally and reaching a hand out to Harry.

"I am not showering with you," Harry declared, crossing his arms like a petulant child. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Well, I didn't want to cuddle with you on the bathroom floor either, Potter, but shit happens."

"Honestly, is this what happens when I leave the two of you alone for twenty minutes?" Hermione tried to look exasperated, but her eyes shone with unshed tears and a smile hovered at the corners of her lips.

"Yes. Clearly, you shouldn't let us out of your sight. Especially me. And considering showers take about twenty minutes..." Ron waggled his eyebrows. Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry gagged.

"Are you serious? How long have I been asleep?" Harry asked, pulling himself to his feet. "I mean, I know I asked you to hold it in until we finished the damn thing, but I didn't think you would be letting everything out as soon as it was over!"

"Relax, Harry," Hermione said with a giggle. "Ron will be showering by himself. Unless he's really having that much trouble completing the task, then I guess you're going to have to help him."

"Not happening," Harry declared, heading towards the nearest shower stall.

As soon as Harry was out of sight, Hermione turned her eyes toward Ron. She opened her mouth as if to ask a question, but no words came out. She shrugged, as if apologizing for changing her mind. Ron shrugged back and attempted a smile.

"I was going to see if Madam Pomfrey needed any help," Hermione said, speaking finally.

"That's a good idea. I'd join you, but some brilliant witch told me I need to shower," he answered, his heart clenching as she genuinely smiled in response. "I'll come find you when I'm finished?"

"Sure," she answered, "and make sure Harry's ok?"

"Of course," he answered, and he watched her leave the room for the second time that morning.

With his heart still fluttering embarrassingly, he shuffled toward the shower next to the one his best friend occupied.

"Ron?" Harry's voice called from the other side of the tiled wall.

"Yeah?"

"Just making sure you were there," Harry mumbled, but Ron managed to hear his words over the roar of the water."

"I'm right here, mate," he promised.

"Hermione's not in the with you, is she?" Harry asked. If he had a galleon, Ron would have bet Harry was smiling when he said it.

"Do you think I'd be talking to you if Hermione was in the shower with me?" Ron responded, complete with an eye-roll that Harry couldn't see.

"Good point," Harry conceded. There was a pause before Harry called out to his friend again. "Ron?"

"Yeah?" Ron repeated.

"Thanks."

"Anytime."