Ron and Harry friendship headcanons:
Ron is the first in to say I love you to Harry that he can remember
He said it before leaving end of first year
Harry started crying, Ron panicked
It was also the first time Harry had ever initiated a hug
Ron gives Harry piggy rides sometimes because he didn’t have siblings who would
Harry is the only one Ron shared his food with
They sleep in the same bed when Harry stays over at the burrow
They have a very complicated secret handshake
Ron helps Harry research his family history
They were eachothers first kiss because they wanted to practice
It ended in a lot of giggles and laughs
That’s all I have right now
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@hinnymicrofic
September Prompts Day 21: Murderous
Harry was the Man Who Conquered. The Head Auror.
And he had never faced a situation quite so tense.
Ginny fixed him with a murderous gaze before slowly moving her eyes to her brother. “Which of you was it,” she said in a low, dangerous voice that typically preceded hexes, most likely the Bat-Bogey variety. “I want the truth. Now.”
Harry was used to making decisions on the fly, but this was ridiculous.
“Answer the question, boys,” Hermione said disapprovingly, perching on the couch, her book closed for once.
Harry made an executive decision.
“It was Ron,” he threw his best mate under the bus with no small amount of remorse.
“Harry!” Ron cried out in betrayal as both women honed in on him with murderous gazes and flared nostrils akin to bloodthirsty hellhounds (he ought to know; he had a case related to them not two months ago).
“Did you do it, Ron?” Ginny asked, now very calmly. Somehow, this was worse than the angry tone. Hermione was fingering her wand as she stood up, also very calmly.
Harry loved his girlfriend and best friend. He really, really did.
He was just also extremely scared of them, as any sane person would be.
“I cannot believe this,” Hermione intoned lowly. “From you of all people. I would’ve expected this kind of impulsivity and short-sightedness from Harry—”
“Hey,” Harry cut in broodingly, because doing suicidal reckless things was kind of in his nature, but shut up when Ginny raised an eyebrow.
“But not from you,” Hermione shook her head sadly, ignoring Harry completely, which he was grateful for, but also a little offended by. “How could you?”
“Hermione, c’mon, I didn’t mean to do it!” Ron cried out desperately, confirming his guilt and sealing his fate.
Then he proved just how little Harry’s friendship meant to him.
“Harry was the one who brought it up, anyway.”
“Ron,” Harry said hoarsely, disbelievingly, as the girls’ murderous looks were trained once again on him.
“You started it, mate,” Ron shook his head sadly too, proving he spent far too much time with Hermione.
“Harry,” Ginny said slowly. “Did you bring up the party to Mum?” Hermione stared at him incredulously.
Harry saw his life flash before his eyes.
He could lie to the press, the whole world, his coworkers, the Weasleys, even Ron and Hermione and Teddy, but he couldn’t lie to Ginny.
He took a deep breath. Steeled himself.
“Yes. I did.”
“How could you?” Ginny whispered. Harry could swear there were tears in her eyes, but Ginny Weasley never cried. “Do you realize what this means for us, Harry? What the next three months of our life are going to be like?”
“I know,” Harry nodded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
Hermione sighed. “Of course you didn’t,” she murmured.
Ron made an indignant noise. “Why is it when Harry’s to blame you two go all soft and when I am you look murderous?” He complained.
The girls threw scathing looks at him. “We haven’t forgotten that you’re the one who dealt the final blow, brother,” Ginny said threateningly.
Ron gulped and shut up, because he had a sense of self-preservation.
“I’m sorry,” Harry repeated, because despite how ridiculous it sounded, he could display some self-preservation too. Occasionally.
“I know you are,” Ginny said soothingly, murderous expression disappearing, as she hugged him and kissed his cheek. Hermione sighed and sheathed her wand.
“I hope you know we’re leaving all the work to you,” Hermione informed them.
Harry and Ron blanched, exchanging looks.
“We know nothing about party planning,” Ron said flatly.
“Well, you should’ve thought of that before promising Mum our help,” Ginny smiled, showing all her teeth. “Unless you’d like to also be the one to tell her we can’t.”
Harry would, quite frankly, rather face Voldemort again.
Ever since the extended Weasley family (which consisted of most of the Order and the DA along with the actual blood family) had started marrying and having children, getting together on days such as Christmas and birthdays had become nigh impossible.
Mr. Weasley had discovered the American holiday of Thanksgiving, and his wife had decided that was the one day every single person of their acquaintance would sequester themselves in the Burrow and celebrate.
It was the most exclusive event of the year, according to Witch Weekly, and Mrs. Weasley’s mania regarding it exceeded even her grief after the war and the craziness of her children’s weddings.
And Harry and Ron had just promised to help her plan and organize it, something the others took literal vacations to avoid (George and Angelina were currently in Botswana; Percy, Audrey and Oliver were pretending to be sick while definitely not being so; Bill, Fleur and Victoire had escaped to France; Neville was apparently swamped with work at the office while Harry knew he was tending to plants in his terrarium all day; Teddy had suddenly started throwing tantrums with destructive accidental magic again according to Andromeda; Kingsley was assigning himself paperwork, which was truly desperate).
“We’ll do the work,” Harry said defeatedly, Ron nodding morosely beside him.
Nothing for it, after all.
Ginny smiled and kissed him, which made his outlook a lot more positive.
She was worth the entire world.
Even spending his days buried in invitations, letters from various great-aunts and fifth and sixth cousins, gifts, catering orders and décor options.
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