It's been a nightmare, but it's okay; you're here
It's been a week ever since they went to St. Mungos. They've declared Harry magically exhausted and left them to it, a fair warning of not letting Harry exhaust himself repeating in his and Hermione's mind like a particular catchphrase you can't get rid of.
Harry isn't exhausting himself; in fact, Harry isn't doing anything himself these days. Him and Hermione have overdone it a bit, he thinks.
Harry doesn't have enough space to get tired, because no matter what he does or wants to do, one of them or worse, both, are right there next to him.
He wants to sleep? Alright, mate, no problem, let me tuck you in, I am tired and joining you anyways.
He wants to eat? Yeah, sweetie, I'll cook you something warm and then you can eat.
He can't hold up his fork because his hands are shacking too much? Don't make a big deal out of it, just gimme the fork and I'll feed you, mate.
So far, they have bathed, fed and dressed him as if he is their little doll and Ron just... let's it be. He even enjoys it even, he realizes with a start on a random Thursday, eight days since St. Mungos, nine days since the end of the war.
He is awake in the morning, standing between Harry's knees. The boy in question is sitting on the counter in the bathroom, eyes dull and haunted.
He woke Ron up with a shriek of a scream, pained and ugly. They have left Hermione behind, soflty snoring like a train in bed. She has never been one to wake up quickly and even though they share a bed with Harry Potter, magnet for nightmare material, she still has the amazing ability to fall asleep as quckly as a blink again. She is ridiculously organized, but her sleep is one of her most sacred things, Ron thinks it's endearing. But it also leaves him to always wake up with Harry and calm the boy down.
They have managed to get a whole new routine in, one he loves/loathes. It works like clockwork; Harry screams himself awake, Ron is there alongside him, since they share a bed and all, for the first five minutes Harry is stuck in his nightmare so Ron can only talk nonsense and hope that his touch won't be too triggering. Those are the parts he hates.
Then follows the parts he loves, that make him feel loved.
It starts with Ron opening his arms and Harry sagging into him, sweaty and shivering. He will hold him for a minute, then for another minute he will just do slight rocking motions, the way he used to do for Ginny while she was four and he was almost six.
They kept the rocking chair in their house way longer than necessary because it used to comfort Ginny alot. Ron is glad Harry feels the same comfort in the repetitive motions Ginny did.
Once Harry has stopped shivering, he will take hold of his arm and lead him down the bathroom. Depending on how sweaty Harry is, he might shower. Sometimes, he is too wrung out to protest and he lets Ron help, other times Ron is banished from the bathroom. Those mornings are the loathsome ones, where Harry is too independent, doing almost everything himself.
But he only does the bare minimum and it is maddening. He eats just enough to not be hungry, which is almost nothing, he combs his hair but forgets the back of it, he dresses, but not enough layers to be comfortably warm in a cold place like Grimmauld. He doesn't appreciate himself the way Hermione and Ron do. And that is just not acceptable.
Not to mention all the thoughts entering his head like a bullet.
Because on those independent mornings Ron is stuck with remembering all the Horrors in the war, with no way to distract himself. The ones that leave him aching and high strung with tension.
The other mornings, the easier ones for everyone involved, the ones he loves, like today, are when Harry is too stuck in his own head and he lets Ron help. The days where Ron's anger takes a backseat because he is too focused on taking care of Harry's every need.
Once showered or wiped down with a wet washcloth, depending on what Harry needs in that moment, he sits Harry on the counter, literally picking him up like he weights nothing more than a puppy, and helps him clean his teeth.
His still wet hair cling stubbornly to his forehead, the skin dropping droplets on the floor.
Today, he feels very anxious, so Harry will not even move a muscle without Ron around. On those days, Harry gets frustrated very quickly, but it's nothing a soothing hug and some quiet time with either him or Hermione can't fix.
Normally, when he helps Harry clean his teeth, he just times it and corrects his hand so he actually cleans instead of just pretending to do so, as he normally does.
Today that just won't work, he feels jittery and anxious and he needs to hold Harry as close as possible.
So he takes over completely once he sees Harry distractedly brushing.
"No, Harry," he not so quietly interrupts whatever thoughts are spinning through the ravens head. He will never ever yell at him, Harry has been through enough abuse in his life and Ron won't ever be a person that yells at him (again, he guiltyly adds in his head.) "Here, let me." He demands and reaches for the toothbrush still stuck between Harry's teeth. The boy in question huffs in annoyance and lets his hands drop to his side, slumping forward on the counter, rolling his eyes for extra effects. Ron thinks it's adorable, this dramatic side of Harry. He laughs heartedly and cups Harry's jaw to reach easier. He invades the ravens personal space completely, but neither care.
"I know, I know, I am such a meanie." His voice tilts into a sort of condescending tone, which he doesn't even notice, focused on his task, cooing at Harry to soften the blow of taking that responsibilityoff of him.
Harry, though, does notice the weird tone.
His eyes widen a tad behind his glasses and fill with a clarity that was gone just seconds ago. He scoots back a bit on the counter, nervously shifting away but Ron holds him in position by a big hand on Harry's thighs, emphasizing their difference in... well, everything.
"Hold still, Harry, or Hermione will both have our heads." As a daughter of two dentists she takes their maintenance very seriously.
Ron, having grown in a magical family, didn't exactly need to take all of this as importantly, but he did learn that not everything is solved using magic and he should at least do the groundwork, so his 'smile stays as handsome as always', as his mother loved to tell him and his siblings.
Dentists are a muggle thing, but it was as new of a concept to Harry as it was to Ron. Even Ron was stunted in shock to know that the Dursleys never took him, they barely took him to regular check ups. His hatred for them keeps growing everyday he is faced with the result of their abuse.
He ignores Harry's feeble attempts to get him to back off and keeps his brushing hand as well as the one still cupped around that soft jawline as gentle as possible.
"Ron, I can-" He gurgles, toothpaste going down his chin and Ron recognizes the losing battle Harry is sprinting into headfirst.
"Here, mate, swirl and spill," before Harry's declaration of independence today can even leave his lips, Ron has already pushed a cup with water into his hands, turning his back to Harry but keeping himself between his legs so Harry can't roll off the counter. Nobody would be helped if he fell off it now, wouldn't they?
He hears Harry follow his instructions when he sees the love of his life walk into the bathroom, yawning loudly, her wavy hair falling loosely off her shoulders. She is wearing a shirt that can only belong to him and shorts, fulfilling their trio as he noticed that after he washed the sweat off Harry, he also dressed the boy in one of his shirts. He is obviously also dressed in, y'know, HIS shirts. But he loves the picture the three of them are creating, dressed as they are.
Like a cute little family.
"Hello, my handsome boys," she whispers as she leans across the counter to kiss Harry's cheeks, then she turns to him and drags him down to a real kiss.
They both continue to ignore Harry's widened eyes, frown firmly in place, body rigid.
Before he can be too uncomfortable and starts to fidget again, Hermione losens her arms around his neck and turns to the small male, a worried frown on her face.
"Another nightmare, huh, sweetie? Don't you worry, there is nothing hot chocolate and a hearty breakfast won't fix," winking in conspiracy, she turns and walks out of the bathroom, leaving a befundled and blushing Harry behind.
"What the fuck," he says calmly, staring after Hermione, "hot chocolate? How old does she think I am? Twelve?" He laughs, turning to Ron to seek approval, but he is faced with the unimpressed face of his best friend, tight lipped and angry.
"There is no need for such crude language, young man. She is trying to cheer you up here," scolding, he grabs Harry under the armpits and heaves him off the counter. Then, he grabs him by the shoulders and steers him towards the living room, where the two of them normally wait while Hermione cooks.
Back on the run, they have realized that Ron just shouldn't be trusted with... literally anything in the kitchen and while Harry is quite efficient in the kitchen, they don't want him there because the reason for why he is a good cook hurts too much.
He needs some quiet time with Harry, anyways. He loves Hermione but he isn't quite ready to share Harry with her yet this morning.
They also need to adress his attitude problem still.
Strangely enough, he thinks of his Dad as he does this, a picture of a young Ron in his mind being scolded by Arthur Weasley. Even though he can't figure out the parallels in these situations.
He isn't Harry's Dad nor father figure nor protector.
He can't be, he's too young for such a responsibility.
He ignores the hurt he feels at falling short to fill out those roles and focuses on Harry again.