a quiet morning
By morning, Ron had finally fallen into an uneasy sleep, his body limp from exhaustion. The fever had broken, and the nausea had subsided, though his stomach still felt like a battlefield. He was curled up in the blankets on Harry’s bed, Harry sitting nearby with a book in hand, keeping watch.
Ron’s eyes flickered open slowly, the soft light of dawn filtering in through the curtains. He shifted slightly, feeling the aches of his body and the exhaustion that clung to him like a second skin. But the worst of it was over.
Harry was still there, as promised, a silent guardian.
“Harry…” Ron’s voice was rough, but it carried the weight of unspoken gratitude. “Thanks for… staying.”
Harry looked up, offering him a small, reassuring smile. “Always, mate. Always.”