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Heavy Weather	By : Wolfiekins Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Ron Views: 3651 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Cold Front
- 1
A/N: This fic takes place between Harry's fourth and fifth years at Hogwarts. Could be a prequel of sorts to MOONSHADOW & LIGHTNING SHADE. Maybe. Thunderstorms are my most favorite thing, and Minuial Nuwing's PERFECTION fic inspired me to write this.

Beta work by knightmare and Evil Auntie Snape. Thanks, luvs!

This series continues in BY DEFINITION.
~~~~~HEAVY WEATHER~~~~~

Wednesday, 4 August, 1995

"C'mon ya big baby!" Harry prodded evilly. "Nothing's gonna happen!"

Ron peered cautiously from the kitchen door, barely sticking his head across the threshold. He crossed his arms and frowned, just as a bright flash of lightning arced across the dark, summer sky.

"Bloody hell, Harry," he whined, "I don't fancy being struck...."

He was cut off by a roiling grumble of thunder that shook the wavy old panes of The Burrow's windows.

He jumped.

Harry laughed.

"Well, I guess that Fred and George are right," Harry taunted, planting his hands on his hips. "Ickle Ronniekins really is afraid of a sodding thunderstorm!"

Ron took a deep breath and marched out into the yard. The rickety screen door slammed shut with a loud bang.

He cringed at the noise.

It was well past midnight, and most everyone else was sure to be asleep. He and Harry had stayed up very late, playing Exploding Snap and Wizard's Chess until even his nosy twin brothers had finally gone to bed. That's when they had nicked a few of Fred and George's hidden butterbeers, drinking them down as they chatted. There had been so much to talk about. So much had happened since the end of their fourth year at Hogwarts and the Tri-Wizard Tournament. There was so much to say, and the minutes and hours had flown by.

He watched as Harry shrugged, turning away to stare up at the roiling clouds.

His father and the advance guard from The Ministry had rescued Harry from the Muggle purgatory that was the Dursley house in Little Whinging. Ron was ecstatic that his friend was going to spend a few days with his family before leaving for Grimmauld Place. With the upcoming hearing at The Ministry, Harry needed all the downtime he could get.

He had missed his Gryffindor housemate terribly that summer. Dumbledore had been most emphatic that Harry remain incommunicado until the start of term. He'd even tried to convince Hermione into stealing away to visit Harry at the Dursleys, but she had flatly refused.

Hermione could be a real bint at times!

Harry had been somewhat withdrawn and understandably angry when he first arrived at The Burrow. It had taken his Mum and Dad nearly half a day to explain to Harry the necessity of their actions. After that, though, he slowly opened up and now almost resembled the Harry that Ron had known so well.

The Harry that he missed.

The Harry that he needed.

More than he cared to admit.

Fourth year had be a revelation of sorts for Ron. The business of the Tri-Wizard Tournament had thrown him for a loop. That was when his feelings, his true, genuine feelings for Harry had been dragged to the surface and laid bare, like bones bleaching in the scorching desert sun. He'd nearly lost it then, for those few weeks. If it hadn't been for Viktor, he'd never have made it through.

He'd treated Harry horribly, and he said as much this very night.

His friend said he understood, flashing that trademark smile/smirk that never failed to take his breath away.

Gods, Harry was so blasted gorgeous! Especially now.

"C'mon, Ronniekins!" Harry called out as he ran about the dark yard.

"This is crazy, Harry," he moaned sullenly.

Harry angled towards him, lowering his head as he charged. Harry brushed passed him, grabbing his arm and spinning him off balance.

"Yeah, that's the point," Harry replied breathlessly, lunging at him and leaping on his back.

He stumbled slightly as Harry dug his heels into his hips and whispered in his ear.

"Don't be such a Percy, Ron! Have some fun!"

Harry sniggered loudly as the lightning increased in intensity.

He nearly fell over at the feeling of Harry's warm breath washing over his ear and the side of his face. It felt strangely energizing. And then there was the wonderfulness of Harry pressed so close to him. He was just leaning his head into Harry's when the giggling wizard pushed away, bounding across the yard after an unusually fat gnome.

He grinned widely, pleased to see his friend actually enjoying himself again.

They had talked about everything that night, the battered old chessboard between them, the fire blazing away happily in the huge hearth of The Burrow's sitting room. Ron had listened intently as Harry talked about his loathsome Uncle and Aunt, and his cousin Dudley. Harry also spoke about the Tournament, and those horrible moments with the Polyjuiced Barty Crouch, Jr. in Moody's office. He moved to kneel next to his friend as Harry described the dementor's attack in the narrow alley. And he had actually held Harry when he spoke of Cedric, the words pouring from his friend as if a sort of emotional floodgate had been released.

He had always known that something had passed between Harry and Cedric; but he'd completely underestimated the depths of their relationship. It sliced through him like a sharp blade, hearing how the Hufflepuff had captured Harry's heart. He could barely draw breath as Harry had described what happened in the graveyard in Little Hangleton.

And after.

He'd heard some of the story before, of course, but not like this. It was almost too horrible to take in.

And it was even worse when he realized that Harry had been there. For all of it.

He cursed himself silently for not realizing sooner how badly Harry had been hurting over Cedric's murder. He'd been so selfish. So damned blind. A rotten friend. A horrible companion. He'd kept telling himself that there was nothing he could do, with Harry stuck at the Dursley's and Dumbledore forbidding any contact. It proved to be of little comfort, though. A true friend would have found a way. Somehow. But when the time came for him to speak, to say the words he'd practiced and rehearsed for so long, they caught in his throat.

He could only hug Harry tightly, offering lame expressions like "I know, mate" and "I'm sorry, mate."

But despite all this, Harry had recovered remarkably fast, quickly regaining his composure and drawing Ron into one of their impromptu wrestling matches. Even though Ron was now much taller and larger, Harry still gave him a good run for his money. They ended up sprawled in front of the fireplace, winded, sweaty, their hair mussed into next Thursday.

The warm, late night breeze ruffled the lace curtains, nearly blowing out the collection of candles that burned on either side of the mantelpiece. It had been an unusually hot and dry summer. Even now, at this late hour, it was still somewhat warm and stuffy. Both teens wore nothing but jeans and strappy t-shirts. They had lounged on the sitting room's threadbare carpet, stretched out and laying against piles of pillows pulled down from the sofa. Eventually, Harry had moved over to lean against him, his head of raven-black hair propped against his stomach. They had chatted for awhile longer, mostly about the upcoming year at Hogwarts and what sort of DADA professor they might be saddled with.

Harry hoped it might be Remus. Even though he knew better, Ron kept it to himself.

They had fallen into a comfortable silence when the first distant sounds of thunder wafted into the sitting room. Harry sat up quickly, a mischievous grin spreading across his handsome face.

"Aww, cool! A thunderstorm! Let's go see!"

Lightning flashed again, jolting Ron out of his reverie.

A pair of chubby gnomes scurried just past his bare feet and across the overlong grass, disappearing underneath one of the hydrangea bushes. A tiny sliver of moon was visible through the broken, puffy clouds off to the east. Looking west, he saw nothing but a dark gray mass, moving slowly towards them. Lightning blinked and flashed almost continuously behind the storm clouds. He started as a jagged fork of lightning shot down to the earth. The anticipated rumble of thunder rolled over and through him as the first fat drops of rain splattered down from the skies.

Harry laughed loudly, throwing his head back and arms wide.

"C'mon, Ronnie! This is going to be a good one!"

His friend stood there as another bright flash illuminated him, searing Harry's image into Ron's brain for all time.

Giggling, Harry turned and ran, scribing huge circles around the yard. The huge, warm raindrops plinked loudly against the slate of The Burrow's roof.

Thunder splayed across the sky as lightning streaked through the low-lying clouds. It seemed to Ron that all he had to do was reach up and he would actually be able to touch them. He did reach up then, stretching as much as he could, closing his eyes and preparing for the wonderfully cottony feel of the heavy, sodden clouds touching his fingertips. The rain felt amazingly good against his sweaty skin.

More thunder jerked his eyes open.

Lightning flashed once more, and Harry was twirling about, his arms wide, his bare feet dancing across the dark grass. Ron began jogging towards him as the sound of a wave of heavy rain thundered toward them across the nearby meadow. Harry heard it as well, ceasing his twirling and angling across the yard toward the sizable garden shed at the furthest corner of The Burrow's back yard.

Harry reached the shelter of the shed just before the wave of rain hit. Ron was still several yards away as the visible curtain of water washed over him. It was like stepping into a shower, all warm and soothing and wonderful. By the time he reached the shed and darted under the low, pitched roof shielding the double doors, he was drenched.

Lightning flashed and thunder grumbled nearly continuously. It was raining so hard it was difficult to make out the outline of The Burrow. Ron shivered, despite the fact that the rain was incredibly warm.

He took a few steps backward. A pair of warm hands settled onto his shoulders.

"Hey, glad you could make it, Ron," Harry giggled. "Isn't it brilliant?"

Shivering, Ron turned around.

Harry was smiling up at him, barely discernable in the gloom. A flash of lightning illuminated his features.

"Isn't this great?" he gushed. "I just love thunderstorms!"

Ron simply stared at his friend. Harry was smiling, looking past him and out across the meadow at the approaching storm. The wind picked up, blowing warm drops of rain under the small overhang of the shed.

He marvelled at Harry's wide eyed expression. He was certain he'd never seen anything quite so beautiful before.

Another flash, followed by a nearly instantaneous crack of thunder.

"Hey, maybe we should get back inside, yeah?"

Harry didn't look at him as he responded.

"No way, Ron. This is too good to pass up."

Harry's hand curled around Ron's bicep, pulling him backward. Ron heard the click of the latch and the familiar squeak of the hinges as the double doors of the shed swung open. Harry pulled them just inside the wide threshold. Running his hand down Ron's arm, Harry tugged at his friend's hand.

"Here, Ronnie. Best seat in the house."

Harry had hunkered down, pulling his knees to his chest, leaning back against the doorframe. The almost constant lightning lit up his smiling face.

"C'mon."

"Okay."

Ron lowered himself down, taking care to leave a polite space between himself and Harry. He wrapped his arms tightly about his chest, his shoulders hunched up. He leaned back against his own side of the doorway as the storm raged just a few inches away. Lightning crackled and thunder boomed as rain pounded the shed and everything about them. They watched in silence for many minutes as the storm raged on. Harry breathed in deeply with each and every flash of lightning and crack of thunder.

"I just love this," he murmured.

Ron nodded in response, barely aware that Harry had scooted right next to him. The warmth of Harry's skin, the feeling of it, sent a shiver down his spine.

"Yeah, it's really cool."

Harry pressed closer to him, his head gently leaning on his shoulder. Harry reached over and wrapped one arm about his waist.

Ron swallowed, almost afraid to breathe. The rain decreased in intensity but the thunder continued rolling quietly all about them.

Harry said something, but Ron didn't quite catch it.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Harry, please. What?"

Harry stared out at the rain for a few moments before turning to look at him. Lightning flared once again, washing them both in intensely bright light. The pain and longing in those emerald green eyes nearly knocked Ron over.

"You don't want to know."

"Yeah, I do."

Harry blinked a few times before taking a deep breath.

"I was just remembering. You know, this cool storm we had last spring."

"Yeah?"

"We'd been out flying. We were taking a rest when this storm blew up from nowhere. And then.....Ron, I, uh,.... "

"What?"

"Me and Cedric. I, uh, we, ya know," Harry murmured.

"It's okay, Harry. You can tell me anything. Really."

Harry wiped the back of one hand across his nose. He pressed even closer, his other hand squeezing Ron's shoulder tightly.

More lightning and thunder and rain.

"Really?"

Ron nodded. Harry took a deep breath.

"I loved him, Ronnie. And he loved me. I know it. And that bastard killed him, and I couldn't do a thing to stop it. I just watched him die."

A crackling bright bolt of lightning struck somewhere very close by. Static electricity danced across Ron's skin as the odour of ozone wafted across the yard.

"Harry, don't..."

"I loved him, Ron, but it wasn't enough. I couldn't save him. It was all my fault..."

Ron moved towards Harry, suddenly frightened for his friend.

"Harry, mate, don't do this to yourself, okay?" He watched as a tear streamed down Harry's cheek. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's NOT your fault, alright?"

Harry's lower lip began trembling. The rain slowly began to grow heavier.

"But if it weren't for me, Ron, Ced would..." He gasped so loud that Ron started.

"Ced would still be here. I killed him."

Ron shivered, stunned. Harry's voice cracked, his anguish plainly evident.

"I killed Ced, Ron," Harry whispered. "It's my fault. All my fault."

Harry crumpled against him, suddenly limp and weak. He instinctively threw his arms about his sobbing friend, holding Harry as tightly as he could, hoping, praying that it would be enough. Harry was gasping for air, his chest hitching sharply. He shifted closer to Harry, pulling him in tighter as the storm continued to assault The Burrow. Harry buried his head into his chest, hugging him tightly. He returned the embrace, actually damning the stirrings in his jeans. Water fell from the skies in a deluge now, pounding the shed's roof in a nearly steady stream.

Ron couldn't count all the times he had dreamed of being so close to Harry like this. To hold him, to touch him, to feel him. It felt wonderful, Harry's unique scent amazingly strong. As the lightning and thunder slowly worked itself across the sky, Ron savoured the experience as much as he could. He was pleased that he could be so supportive in Harry's time of need, but he desperately wanted to be much more than that.

He finally realized that he wanted to be Harry's one and only. Harry's one, true love.

He wanted to be Harry's Cedric.

And with that, Ron kissed Harry softly on the top of his head.

"Please, don't ever talk like that again," Ron whispered into Harry's ear. "I don't think Cedric would want you to feel like this."

Harry sniffled and looked up at him.

"And neither do I," he finished softly.

Harry drew in a few shuddering breaths, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Ron, you don't mean...."

"Yeah, I do."

"Ron, I..."

"Harry, just let me say..."

Harry blinked vigorously as the storm crashed all about them.

"No, please, don't....I don't want anything to happen to you because..."

"Because I love you?"

Harry nuzzled against Ron's chest as the rain poured down. The lightning was growing more and more distant; the thunder less and less invasive. The pair just sat there for many long moments, holding each other tightly against the storm.

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"I just don't want to lose you. I couldn't bear it, you know?"

"I'm not going anywhere. No worries."

Lightning.

Thunder.

Rain.

"Ron?"

"Yeah, Harry, what?"

"I.....I, uh, I...."

"Me too, Harry. Me too."

They held each other for a very long time, silent, watching.

The gusting winds shifted, blowing the rain directly under the small roof. They jumped up, quickly moving just inside the open double doors. He sat down first, leaning back against the sides of Molly's large, wooden garden cart. The fresh straw lining the floor was amazingly comfortable and still warm from the heat of the day. Harry stood there, looking at him for a few moments before hunkering down and pressing in closely. Harry wiggled about until his back was against Ron's stomach, his head on Ron's chest. Harry sighed as he wrapped his arms about his friend. Harry felt amazingly warm in his arms, all smooth and firm and wonderful. He'd dreamed of moments like this for as long as he could remember. Right now, he never wanted the storm to end. It could thunder and rain for the rest of time as long as he could hold Harry like this. He leaned his cheek against Harry's damp hair, a low moan escaping his lips.

Yeah, this was nothing less than brilliant.

As the storm front moved through, the rain lessened, the air turning sharply cooler. He felt Harry shiver as the now chilly breeze blew in the open doors. Reaching up, he pulled on the mangy old sweater draped over the handles of the cart. His mum wore the pink and purple abomination on those cool mornings when she tended her flowerbeds or battled annoying gnomes. He managed to cover them both, pulling it up to Harry's chin and over one of his shoulders. He wrapped his arms about Harry's waist again, feeling instantly warm and safe under the fuzzy material. The sweater smelled just like his mum: lavender and roses, with the slightest hint of fresh cut grass.

Harry sighed, snuggling even closer, placing his hands over Ron's.

The storm moved away to the east, the lightning and thunder gradually fading away.

Soon, the only sounds were those of the steady drips of rainwater off of the eaves and the slow breathing of two souls fast asleep, entwined in each other's arms, safe and secure in the warm sanctuary of the Weasley's garden shed.

~fin~
- 1
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Heavy Weather