Rating: PG for two coarse words
Word count: 152
A/N: Just a quick ficlet because my feet are cold and I've been staring at Harry/Ron art all day. Thanks to shes_gone for the quick beta.
ETA: And then foretinterdite wrote a companion ficlet! Tangled up in Ron (PG) - it's perfect!
Harry hogs the covers at night.
It’s not like Ron can say anything, because he doesn’t want to be a bastard about it, but it’s winter and it’s fucking cold and the last time Ron tried a heating spell he caught the bed on fire.
So when Harry rolls over in the middle of the night, blankets already wrapped around his skinny torso, and murmurs, “Cold,” Ron doesn’t know what to do.
“You’ve already got the covers,” Ron whispers irritably.
Harry shivers, and he’s still got his eyes closed, and Ron realizes that he’s asleep.
Ron sighs. “C’mere,” he says gently, and pulls Harry closer. Harry presses his stomach into Ron’s side and sighs into Ron’s throat, and a few minutes later his breathing has evened out.
Ron pulls the covers over both of them and tucks his chin against the top of Harry’s head and waits for his toes to thaw.