A/N: Written for February's meet-cute marathon. Prompts listed at the bottom.

Word Count: 1,069

wildflowers and soft laughter

Ron pressed himself at the side of the window and then peered through the curtains. He felt ridiculous, in fact, it was ridiculous but if he was going to approach the mysterious stranger then Ron was going to have to psych himself up.

The mysterious stranger was, as a matter of fact, a thief. Ron was only willing to let him off the hook because he stole wildflowers from their front garden and he was absolutely gorgeous. He would come every Saturday in the early morning, hair looking a mess as though he'd just woken up or never heard of a brush, and the first few times Ron had watched in shock as the man had glanced around surreptitiously before creeping through the garden gate and kneeling down to pick some daisies, snowdrops and bluebells. Recently he had been more interested in the few poppies and dog roses that had sprung up.

After making a hasty bouquet, the mysterious stranger and thief, would slip back out the gate and walk off down the road so nonchalantly that Ron was always impressed.

He'd watched from the upstairs window a few times but never approached. Today, Ron was determined that that would change. It would be the ninth week the Florist as Ron had started calling him in his head, would've come by their garden. Ron justified that at the very least, he deserved an explanation.

Maybe then he'd be able to come to terms with the fact that the gorgeous man was no doubt straight and picking flowers for his girlfriend on his way to some romantic tradition they did weekly. Or it could be a sick family member, the gorgeous man just trying to bring a smile to those in need.

"You're a bloody idiot for crushing on someone you have just spied on," Ron muttered to himself and then pressed himself back into the shadows at the man approached.

As always, he glanced around. As always, he managed to open and lift the gate without it squeaking which Ron found nigh on impossible. Today he picked cornflowers, a few lily of the valley and cow parsley before nodding to himself. Forcing himself to move, Ron rushed around to the front door and opened it, walking outside just as the man closed the front gate behind himself. His eyes glanced up in clear shock and Ron was struck by just how green they were behind his glasses.

"Don't worry mate, no one bothers about the garden really. It's nice to see someone using them," Ron said genuinely. The man hesitated, clearly suspicious even as he smiled slightly.

"They're all beautiful. Thank you, in that case. I'm sorry I didn't ask before but I always thought the house was empty."

Ron walked down the garden path and hopped over the fence, unwilling to make it squeak in front of someone who managed to never unleash that sort of hellish noise.

"My name's Ron Weasley. Mind if I walk with you? I'm just curious now, I've seen you picking flowers a few times and well… feel free to tell me I'm being a nosy bugger."

"Harry."

He had a beautiful laugh, soft, the kind of laugh Ron got the feeling not many people heard.

"I'm not going anywhere interesting really, just taking these to my family. I'll happily stop if you want."

"No!" Ron shouted the word and Harry flinched slightly, Ron's whole body blushing in embarrassment. "Sorry, no, I meant, go ahead. Feel free. That's lovely that you're taking your family flowers, that's really sweet."

Harry looked momentarily uncomfortable and then looked directly into Ron's eyes.

"Well, they're just at the next left, you see."

Ron blinked and frowned. It was a small village, one he'd grown up in his whole life which made the stranger even more exciting because he was different. The only place on the next left was the village church however and then it was country roads and fields for as far as the eye could see.

Slowly, as they turned down the road and Harry looked increasingly hesitant, constantly glancing at Ron's face then away, Ron put the pieces together.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, I've dropped myself right in it."

"No, no, how could you have known?" Harry asked softly, placing a hand on Ron's arm as they stopped at the cemetery entrance. "The flowers just make a difference, they really brighten the place up so thank you so much for that."

Ron wanted to die of embarrassment. He'd been trying to work out if a guy was queer or straight if Ron even had a chance and all the while Harry was taking flowers to a dead relative in the church cemetery.

"Honestly," Harry continued, clearly seeing that Ron was mentally kicking himself. "It's no big deal. I'm not grieving or whatever, I just like to come by for a chat. I'll be able to tell them about how I met an incredibly handsome guy that has a garden of beautiful flowers."

"Handsome? That makes it sound like you're not straight."

What the fuck is wrong with you Weasley?!

"Definitely not," Harry laughed again. "This day is turning out to be bizarre, isn't it. Look, I'd love to chat properly, maybe I can come to yours after I finish up here? Or… well, I'd love the company but I know that's a bit morbid."

"No," Ron said softly, pulling himself together. "I'd love to get to know you more. Who are we going to meet?"

"My parents."

Harry started talking, using his hands to gesticulate as they walked along silent rows past crumbling gravestones and cenotaphs. When Ron introduced himself to Lily and James Potter, Harry smiled softly and squeezed his hand before placing the flowers down by his mum's headstone. They sat, Harry talking for a while with Ron occasionally adding anecdotal stories and through it all, whilst Ron kept thinking how bizarre it was, how natural it felt, Harry's hand fit perfectly in Ron's, their fingers intertwined as they sat.

When they stood, Ron inviting Harry back to his house for tea, it was as though something had passed between them. He wasn't surprised when Harry said yes, and when they kissed over ginger nut biscuits and strong tea in his kitchen a few hours later, all Ron could think was that he'd never felt quite as alive.

A/N: For Day 18 of the February meet-cute Marathon: Sometimes I steal flowers from your garden on my way to the cemetery/graveyard, but today you've caught me and have demanded to come with me and I'm trying to figure out how to break it to you that we're on our way to a graveyard.