Sep 12 2008
As Morning Shows the Day
Title: As Morning Shows the Day
Author: dorrie6
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: The characters and universe presented in this story belong to JK Rowling.
Note: Originally posted 7/12/05 for katemonkey and The Harry Potter Slash Wedding Ficathon. katemonkey requested Harry/Ron with “Giant Weasley-based wedding reception, Hermione being proud of her boys, something about Harry originally wanting to be adopted by the Weasleys” and no death or torture. I did not manage to include everything she wanted, but I did manage to leave out the death and torture, which was much harder in an HP fic than I realized it would be.
*****
As Morning Shows the Day
Hogwarts was alive and bright with candlelight when Harry arrived, robes and hair dripping from the onslaught outside. He walked quickly through the halls, ignoring a few snide comments from portraits along the way. The ceremony wasn’t due for another hour, but the Great Hall was already filled with an endless sea of red-haired Weasleys, many of whom he’d never met. Molly bustled about with ribbons and huge bundles of flowers. Fred and George were transfiguring the Hall’s long tables into large wooden animals while Arthur studiously transfigured benches into rows of increasingly ornate armchairs. Ginny had taken charge of a marble platform piled high with gifts, directing incoming owls to place them just so. At the front of the Hall, Dumbledore stood managing a complicated collection of objects, the center of which appeared to be a gigantic live toad on a platter. Harry shivered. He retreated from the doorway unsteadily.
“Oh, Harry, here you are!” He turned to the familiar voice just behind him. Hermione frowned. “Heavens, you’re soaked.”
“I’ve never been to one of these things. It’s awfully… big.” He shivered again.
“Here, let’s get you cleaned up.” Hermione took his hand and led him down the hall into a small classroom. Harry’s equilibrium was returning slowly. “Just stand here,” Hermione said, pulling her wand from her robes. “It will just take a moment.” She muttered a spell under her breath.
“Where’s Ron?”
“Bill and Charlie carried him off somewhere.”
“Trying to talk him out of it, you think?”
She smiled. “Probably.” Harry’s clothes were nearly dry. Hermione frowned at his hair.
“It’s no use, you know,” he said. “So?”
“Harry?” Hermione quirked her eyebrow. She flicked her wand at his hair one last time and sighed.
“Aren’t you supposed to talk me out of it?”
She snorted. “Not bloody likely.”
Harry laughed. “Hermione!”
“Well, it’s about time, as far as I’m concerned.” She was smiling wide, eyes warm and radiant. A soft curl had fallen onto her forehead. Harry thought she looked the prettiest he’d ever seen her. He reached for her hand again, and she took it.
“Hermione… did you ever–” Harry took a deep breath. “I always thought you and Ron–well.” He flushed, examining at his shoes.
“Everyone did.” Hermione squeezed his hand. “I was terribly jealous back then, you know.” Harry’s head shot up. “Not like that!” she laughed. “Don’t be silly, Harry. No, it was–” Her voice was quieter now. “The two of you just had something. Something nobody else could touch.” She furrowed her brow. “I wanted that.”
“I’m sorry, Hermione. I didn’t–” Harry turned to her abruptly. “Are you still?”
Her eyes widened. “Jealous? Oh, heavens, no. We’ve all grown up, haven’t we?” She smiled. “I’m so proud of you.” She squeezed his hand again. “Both of you.”
“Why?”
She looked at him as though he’d just questioned the merits of Arithmancy. “You are the best men I know, Harry. The two of you.”
A grin began to form at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll be sure to tell Bill you said that.”
“You’d better not.” She narrowed her eyes, tapping her wand on his shoulder.
Harry backed away, arms raised. “Point taken.”
She was grinning broadly. “So, feel like facing the crowd?” She nodded toward the door. “It’s like a bonfire in there with all the red hair.”
Harry smiled. “In a bit.” He moved to the corridor. “I’d like to take a walk around, I think. I haven’t been here in a long time, you know.”
“Of course,” Hermione said. “I’ll just be down here, Harry.” She gestured toward the entrance to the Great Hall, and began walking to it.
“Hermione,” Harry said. She turned back to him. “Thank you.” She nodded, smiling softly.
Harry walked slowly through the corridors, passing portraits and statues, breathing deep the scent of canvas and old wood, letting his feet lead him. He wasn’t surprised when he found himself at the foot of a familiar staircase. He placed his hand on the banister, moving his palm along the cool wood, no longer smooth after years of abuse. He grinned, bursting into a run. The staircase began to move beneath him, just as he leapt on to the landing. He continued running, around the second floor landing and to the next staircase, leaping four steps at a time, until finally he found himself, red-faced and breathing hard, facing the Fat Lady.
“My, you’ve grown,” she tittered, leering obviously.
Harry’s cheeks were warm. “I don’t have the password.”
“Well, we’re all business, aren’t we?” She pursed her lips. “I know why you’re here. Marrying the Weasley boy.” She eyed him again. “Pity.”
Harry took a deep breath. “Let me in, please? I’ll only be a moment.”
She scowled. “Fine. But only because she asked me to.”
“Who did?” Harry asked.
“The bushy-haired one, of course,” she answered. “This morning, she made me promise. She had the password.” She gestured him through, chin lifted dramatically. Harry smiled to himself.
He passed through the Common Room quickly, hardly giving it a glance, and hurried up the stairs to the door at the top. His hand paused on the doorknob. After a moment he turned it slowly, smiling at the familiar creak as the heavy door moved on its hinges.
“Lumos,” he said, so softly he was actually surprised when it worked. The lamps along the walls glowed brightly, battling against the gloom of the day. Harry’s feet shuffled him forward, and his hand reached out automatically to touch what it passed: cool iron, warm wood, heavy, red velvet and dangling, gold tassles. He stopped at the window seat near his old bed. The gold cushion was looking worn around the edges and the middle had started to fade. Harry pushed off his shoes and sat down, curling himself up as small as he could. He closed his eyes, smiling, leaning into the dark wood. He let the memories wash over him, one by one–Dean and Seamus cracking jokes–Neville talking in his sleep–the long, long nights spent avoiding his dreams–Ron’s voice, so comforting in the darkness. If he concentrated hard enough, he could see them all, just for a second. He didn’t even hear the footsteps when they came.
“Hi.”
Harry opened his eyes. “Hi.”
Ron fidgeted with the pockets of his dress robes, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “Are you coming, or do I need to have Ginny start in sending back gifts?” He looked awkwardly tall in the room.
“Of course I’m coming,” Harry said, reaching out his hand. Ron moved forward to take it. “It’s just-” He paused. “Well, it’s the last time, y’know? The last time we’ll be just…” he trailed off.
Ron tilted his head. “Mates?”
Harry smiled. “Boys. We won’t be boys.” He squeezed Ron’s hand. “You know?”
“Yeah.”
Harry pressed his forehead to the window. The rain had turned to a steady mist over the familiar landscape, colors deep and vibrant against gray sky.
“It’s so green,” he said. “How can anything be so perfectly green?”
Ron’s sturdy hand brushed his chin, turning him back to the room. He smiled softly, pushing the hair from Harry’s eyes. “Beats me.” His cheeks flushed pink. “C’mon,” he said, pulling Harry to his feet. “Mum’s having a fit by now.
Ron headed to the door as Harry worked on getting his shoes back on. He stopped. “Ron.” Ron turned to him. “We don’t have to eat that enormous toad, do we?”
Ron laughed. “What, are you daft?”
“Well, that’s a relief.” Harry chuckled, cheeks flushing. “I don’t know what I was–”
“We have to kiss it.” Ron’s face was sober.
“We have to–” Harry stared. Ron’s mouth slowly moved into a grin. Harry shook his head. “You’re awful, you know. I might as well be marrying George.”
Ron gasped in mock-horror. “Harry! Don’t you get any ideas.”
Harry smirked. “He’s not my type anyway. That hair.”
Ron smacked him in the arm. “Prat.”
Harry caught his hand and pulled him forward. “It’s your fault,” he said, eyes sparkling.
Ron brought his face closer. “Of course,” he said, kissing Harry as their bodies moved together, Harry balancing on the balls of his feet to reach Ron’s height, as he’d been doing since sixth year, Ron’s long arms guiding him upward.
“Shouldn’t we be saving this for the ceremony?” Harry whispered, teeth grazing Ron’s ear.
“What, for the toad?” Ron asked. Harry chortled loudly. Ron grimaced and rubbed his ear. “We’d better stop anyway. Mum’s going to have us killed.”
“Right, then,” Harry said, pulling Ron toward the door. Ron resisted. “Ron, your mum,” Harry reminded.
“I know, I just–” Ron chewed his lip. “Harry, you really want this, right? I mean.” He raised his eyebrows. “Right?”
Harry smiled. “Yeah. I really want this.” He started to the door again. “C’mon.”
Ron beamed. “All right, then,” he said. “Nox.”
The lights went out as the door creaked shut behind them.
As morning shows the day.
- John Milton, Paradise Regained