Glimpses of Christmas (Harry/Ron)
Feb. 3rd, 2009 10:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seedeeTitle: Glimpses of Christmas
Pairing: Harry/Ron, mentioning of Ron/Hermione and Harry/Ginny
Rating: NC17
Wordcount: 1000
Challenge: #44. (see below)
Summary: Ten Christmases at the Burrow through Harry's eyes.
Warnings: Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny, angst
Notes: 10 drabbles, written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hprwfqf.
The prompt (I used the complete poem as an inspiration, not just the last stanza):
Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening
Robert Frost, 1922
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Christmas 1998
The warmth inside the house does almost reach his skin, as Harry stands outside and watches through the glass.
She decorates the tree, her cheeks are rosy and her hair's a burning flame. Her brother’s on the couch, giving her advice she seemingly ignores.
He loves them both, equally and differently, so easy and yet intricate.
It's nice outside, the cold, the dark, just watching what is there behind the glass. There are no expectations here, on this side of the world, no loss, no grief, no empty chairs or missing smiles, just darkness and the window, for another minute.
Christmas 1999
"You don't care," Gin said, "you don't believe in us," she told him time and time and time again. He should have listened but there's something he can't give her yet and maybe never if he's honest but he rarely is these days.
They split amicably, that's how it's called when one is still expected to be there for Christmas dinner at her home that is his home as well - or something that comes close, at least.
He wonders when it's late enough for him to go, and wonders, too, why the simple act of smiling is so unbelievably exhausting.
Christmas 2000
He sinks back into the cushions, can't remember why he's tired, but he is. It's life itself that sucks or maybe it's just Christmas.
They share a look of silent understanding, George and him. It's numbness that he sees, and it scares him, as he knows it's worse than grief. It's caused by losing something others never even had - a twin, a purpose, a desperate hope for normalcy.
He can't understand how hard the simple act of feeling sometimes is.
"It helps," George says and shares his poison that burns angry deep inside his throat. "Let's try again next year."
Christmas 2001
It's taken Harry years until he finally was used to see them snog without his chest constricting every time.
Charlie calls them cute, George is gagging, Arthur's proud and Molly is just waiting for the ring, announcement, grandchild number three.
Hermione and Ron, they never said if they have plans, but then again, he doesn't ask. He's not prepared to face the day when there’s a legal bond that separates him from his friends. He doubts it’s worth to get up in the morning when there’s no one to make coffee for.
Ron will leave to have a family. Eventually.
Christmas 2002
She's growing up, the girl who looks so much just like her mum and dad. Blonde and red and freckles dusted on her lovely features like an angel kissed her face before he let her go. Her limbs move gracefully and still, the way she's running, shouting, not afraid of bigger boys is so untainted Weasley that it almost warms his heart.
It was worth it, she's the proof and there's no reason to give up when something that remarkable was possible because of what they did back then.
He'll never make his dad as proud as Bill just did.
Christmas 2003
It hurts to watch the two of them, together in one room but separate. There's distance now where there was tenderness, measured words where there was bickering.
They let it slip away and Harry's sad that it was running through their fingers as they struggled, fought and lived. It breaks his heart to see them broken, and he hates himself for maybe doing not enough to save it - save them. Everyone.
He wants to go. There's Molly's cake, though, and he can't just go and sleep and close his eyes. After all, she's the only mother that he ever knew.
Christmas 2004
He doesn't know if he will ever be a dad. But if he will, he vows to be like Arthur, warm and caring; or like Bill, cool and protective; or like Percy, smart and never running out of stories.
He doesn't want to be a dad who dies before his son will know him, or who calmly walks his child to death.
The thought is smashing down his walls – the first thing doing this in years. He breaks down outside, the dark surrounding him, alone and cold – until it smells like home; someone is warm and strong and holding him.
Christmas 2005
It's strange, he thinks, how different Ron looks now compared to years ago. Or maybe he's just looking at him differently, who knows, who cares, who'd notice such a thing?
They are sitting side by side, and watch the chaos of an always growing family. There's food and eggnog, presents, children, boyfriends, wives.
He wonders why it's Christmas every year that's hardest, when he feels like drowning, suffocating, letting go.
"Breathe," Ron says and shifts. His shoulder, hip and knee are warm and real against his side.
Harry breathes, in and out, just like the last year and the next.
Christmas 2006
Ginny's pregnant, which makes Christmas even worse. Not because she is, of course; he's happy for her and for him as well. He likes him and they shared a dorm for years. It's because the rest of them expects him to be hurt. If he could muster energy between the reassuring - yes, he's fine, and no, no need to worry – he'd find it funny that they think he's still not over her.
Harry's not a man for fairy tales, and not the one who ends up happy in the end.
It's okay, as long as Ron keeps squeezing his hand.
Christmas 2007
"I won't let you slip away," Ron promises and holds him hard and tight.
Harry makes the noise he only ever makes like this; his legs spread wide, Ron's cock inside him deep. He's vulnerable and open, holding on to freckled shoulders, straddling Ron who never once gave up. Ron pushes, penetrates his body and his soul, nudging places that he never knew existed.
He struggles, wants to move, at last, can't stand it to keep still. Ron won't let him, holds him there until he's highly-strung, feels every nerve and every bone, ready now to finally wake up.
Pairing: Harry/Ron, mentioning of Ron/Hermione and Harry/Ginny
Rating: NC17
Wordcount: 1000
Challenge: #44. (see below)
Summary: Ten Christmases at the Burrow through Harry's eyes.
Warnings: Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny, angst
Notes: 10 drabbles, written for
hprwfqf. The prompt (I used the complete poem as an inspiration, not just the last stanza):
Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening
Robert Frost, 1922
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Christmas 1998
The warmth inside the house does almost reach his skin, as Harry stands outside and watches through the glass.
She decorates the tree, her cheeks are rosy and her hair's a burning flame. Her brother’s on the couch, giving her advice she seemingly ignores.
He loves them both, equally and differently, so easy and yet intricate.
It's nice outside, the cold, the dark, just watching what is there behind the glass. There are no expectations here, on this side of the world, no loss, no grief, no empty chairs or missing smiles, just darkness and the window, for another minute.
Christmas 1999
"You don't care," Gin said, "you don't believe in us," she told him time and time and time again. He should have listened but there's something he can't give her yet and maybe never if he's honest but he rarely is these days.
They split amicably, that's how it's called when one is still expected to be there for Christmas dinner at her home that is his home as well - or something that comes close, at least.
He wonders when it's late enough for him to go, and wonders, too, why the simple act of smiling is so unbelievably exhausting.
Christmas 2000
He sinks back into the cushions, can't remember why he's tired, but he is. It's life itself that sucks or maybe it's just Christmas.
They share a look of silent understanding, George and him. It's numbness that he sees, and it scares him, as he knows it's worse than grief. It's caused by losing something others never even had - a twin, a purpose, a desperate hope for normalcy.
He can't understand how hard the simple act of feeling sometimes is.
"It helps," George says and shares his poison that burns angry deep inside his throat. "Let's try again next year."
Christmas 2001
It's taken Harry years until he finally was used to see them snog without his chest constricting every time.
Charlie calls them cute, George is gagging, Arthur's proud and Molly is just waiting for the ring, announcement, grandchild number three.
Hermione and Ron, they never said if they have plans, but then again, he doesn't ask. He's not prepared to face the day when there’s a legal bond that separates him from his friends. He doubts it’s worth to get up in the morning when there’s no one to make coffee for.
Ron will leave to have a family. Eventually.
Christmas 2002
She's growing up, the girl who looks so much just like her mum and dad. Blonde and red and freckles dusted on her lovely features like an angel kissed her face before he let her go. Her limbs move gracefully and still, the way she's running, shouting, not afraid of bigger boys is so untainted Weasley that it almost warms his heart.
It was worth it, she's the proof and there's no reason to give up when something that remarkable was possible because of what they did back then.
He'll never make his dad as proud as Bill just did.
Christmas 2003
It hurts to watch the two of them, together in one room but separate. There's distance now where there was tenderness, measured words where there was bickering.
They let it slip away and Harry's sad that it was running through their fingers as they struggled, fought and lived. It breaks his heart to see them broken, and he hates himself for maybe doing not enough to save it - save them. Everyone.
He wants to go. There's Molly's cake, though, and he can't just go and sleep and close his eyes. After all, she's the only mother that he ever knew.
Christmas 2004
He doesn't know if he will ever be a dad. But if he will, he vows to be like Arthur, warm and caring; or like Bill, cool and protective; or like Percy, smart and never running out of stories.
He doesn't want to be a dad who dies before his son will know him, or who calmly walks his child to death.
The thought is smashing down his walls – the first thing doing this in years. He breaks down outside, the dark surrounding him, alone and cold – until it smells like home; someone is warm and strong and holding him.
Christmas 2005
It's strange, he thinks, how different Ron looks now compared to years ago. Or maybe he's just looking at him differently, who knows, who cares, who'd notice such a thing?
They are sitting side by side, and watch the chaos of an always growing family. There's food and eggnog, presents, children, boyfriends, wives.
He wonders why it's Christmas every year that's hardest, when he feels like drowning, suffocating, letting go.
"Breathe," Ron says and shifts. His shoulder, hip and knee are warm and real against his side.
Harry breathes, in and out, just like the last year and the next.
Christmas 2006
Ginny's pregnant, which makes Christmas even worse. Not because she is, of course; he's happy for her and for him as well. He likes him and they shared a dorm for years. It's because the rest of them expects him to be hurt. If he could muster energy between the reassuring - yes, he's fine, and no, no need to worry – he'd find it funny that they think he's still not over her.
Harry's not a man for fairy tales, and not the one who ends up happy in the end.
It's okay, as long as Ron keeps squeezing his hand.
Christmas 2007
"I won't let you slip away," Ron promises and holds him hard and tight.
Harry makes the noise he only ever makes like this; his legs spread wide, Ron's cock inside him deep. He's vulnerable and open, holding on to freckled shoulders, straddling Ron who never once gave up. Ron pushes, penetrates his body and his soul, nudging places that he never knew existed.
He struggles, wants to move, at last, can't stand it to keep still. Ron won't let him, holds him there until he's highly-strung, feels every nerve and every bone, ready now to finally wake up.