War Effort
The war's been over for two years and Harry still has nightmares. Not so often as before, but at least twice a month he thrashes in the bed, tangling the sheets, and making small noises that are probably screams inside his head.
He's having one now. Ron lights the lamp, gets a glass of water from the kitchen, then calls Harry from across the room. He doesn't shake Harry awake anymore, not since the time he got hit with a hex between the eyes before Harry had even opened his.
Harry jerks upright, eyes opened wide, and stares at something that probably isn't there. Then Ron can see him slowly relax and focus. When Harry looks at Ron and recognizes him, Ron goes over and gives him the water.
Harry takes the glass in one hand and Ron's arm in the other, a firm grip, not quite clutching. He drinks the water down. Then he puts both arms around Ron.
They lie down together. Harry is shivering and Ron holds him close to help him get warm. Then Harry kisses Ron and Ron kisses Harry back and helps him out of his clammy pyjamas.
This isn't what Ron does, not with men, but he does it with Harry.
They move together, still kissing, Harry's hands on Ron's face, stroking with his thumbs. Ron thinks about Hermione, about the last time they were together. How her body feels under his hands, how her mouth twists when she comes. When are you going to tell him? she says. Soon, he says, soon. He's been saying that for a year now but he still believes it. Hermione's eyes are sad. I won't wait much longer, she tells him. He's not sure if he believes that or not.
Maybe he'll tell Harry in the morning, over the tea and toast. Maybe in the evening, when they're at the pub. Harry jams his forehead against Ron's shoulder and comes, gasping and thrusting against Ron's hand.
Afterwards, Harry lies across Ron's chest and Ron puts his arm around Harry. "I love you," Harry mumbles and then he's asleep.
Ron puts out the lamp. Maybe not tomorrow. But soon.