Title:  Days of Awe
Author:  Lorien_Eve
Pairing:  Harry/Ron
Rating:  R
Genre:  Drama/Angst
Archive:  You’re more than welcome, just let me know!
Spoilers:  Just from OotP.
Disclaimer:  They’re all J.K. Rowling’s.  Sadly, not one of them belongs to me.  I promise, the books would have a much different rating if they did!
Feedback:  Yes, please!
Summary:  Harry and Ron are separated in a battle against an army of Death Eaters. Harry thinks Ron’s dead. Ron thinks Harry’s not coming back. They find consolation in other people and places. Lives are changed and loves are destroyed when they meet again.

Author’s notes: A huge thanks to Lena, who, only through dedication and a strong stomach, was able to beta some of the later chapters.

Man has places in his heart which do not yet exist, and into them enters suffering in order that they may have existence.
-Leon Bloy



Harry had been with Sean for almost five years now, but it had taken about a week before the first argument ensued.  Harry had instigated it.  He questioned Sean again and again about his motives.  Living in the Wizarding World for over a decade, Harry had learned to watch his back.  People were always out for something, regardless of how amiable their outward appearance was.  Harry was taught this the hard way, and he couldn’t convince himself that Sean was any different from most of the people he had known.  Sean tried relentlessly to convince Harry he had no ulterior motive, but Harry remained doubtful.

The first argument was the worst and most explosive.  Harry had said hurtful things and threw unfounded accusations.  He was perfectly aware of this.  Sean had stormed out, and Harry didn’t see him for several days.  Sean came back eventually, like Harry supposed he would.  There were no apologies or explanations, just sex, and lots of it.  They fought almost weekly now, but it was part of the drama and excitement that kept the relationship active.  It was Harry’s method of pushing Sean away before he could get too close, and only pulling him back in when the barrier was strong again.  Harry knew Sean stayed mainly for the sex.  He hadn’t been with Ron all those years without perfecting his technique, and he knew Sean was thoroughly satisfied.

Sean still worked at the bar, and though he only worked nights, he didn’t work every night.  He stayed with Harry most of the time, and Harry had never actually seen where he had lived before they got together.  They would sleep in late then go to a café down the street for lunch.  Harry was afraid the other people in the pub would see him with Sean and question him, and he didn’t feel like explaining the relationship to them.  Most of them probably suspected something, but no one asked, and Harry wasn’t offering any information.  When Sean was on duty, Harry sat at the bar, talking to the other patrons.  He’d have a few drinks, and watch Sean flirt with the men and women who came in.  Harry never worried, though, because he knew Sean wasn’t stupid enough to think he could find comparable sex from anyone else, whether they were male or female.

Although Harry kept busy with Sean, there was hardly a time when he didn’t think about Ron.  Every time he looked at Sean, his subconscious told him he was seeing Ron.  He almost let himself believe it.  When things were quiet, Harry could delve inside himself and draw up those memories of Ron, and he saw the great contrast between Ron and Sean.  Other than the red hair and freckles, they were really nothing alike. 

Ron was always insecure about himself, and that led to him being shy around people he didn’t know.  Sean, on the other hand, was very outgoing, and not in the least bit inhibited.  Ron didn’t see himself as beautiful, though Harry constantly told him he was.  Sean knew he was gorgeous, and had no problem flaunting his looks in front of anyone who noticed.  Sex with Ron was completely different, too.  He and Harry both had their fetishes, and indulged in them more often that not.  But regardless of how crude and deviant it was, underneath it all, they were still out to make the other happy.  There was never a question of love.  They loved each other unconditionally, and if the sex led them a bit off course, they didn’t mind.  The mornings were ideal times for getting back on the correct route.

With Sean, there wasn’t any love.  Sure, Harry like him well enough, and no doubt Sean liked him.  There wasn’t that selflessness, though, like there had been with Ron.  It was more a matter of ‘you get off, then I’ll get off.’  Harry had yet to sleep in the same bed with Sean.  Night after night, without fail, he had picked himself up off the bed, gathered his clothes, and walked over to the couch to sleep.

Sex was one thing, sleeping was another.  Even though Harry had never fucked anyone but Ron, he knew he could separate himself from it.  Sleeping with someone, having them next to him the whole night and waking up with them in the morning, was something Harry wasn’t used to.  He had never woken up with anyone but Ron. 

Even at Hogwarts, Ron would get up early, before the rest of the guys in the dorm were awake, and sneak off back to his bed.  Their last year, though, they had surrendered, and no longer worried about who knew they were sleeping together.  After school, Harry had slept with Ron at the Burrow for a while before they moved into their flat in London.  Once they lived by themselves, it was almost impossible to get them out of bed.  They were late to work almost every day for the next two months, and even after that, they were late at least once a week.  Harry never got tired of waking up to Ron.  He almost anticipated the mornings, because he knew he’d see Ron again, and more than likely, they’d have a quickie in the shower before heading off to work. 

It was different with Sean.  Harry was always awake before him and through with his second cup of coffee before Sean woke up.  They didn’t speak at first, since Sean wasn’t a morning person, and Harry allowed him the time to rouse himself.  Ron wasn’t a morning person, either, but that never bothered Harry.  He’d talk just as loudly as he normally would have, totally ignoring Ron’s scowls.  Those scowls didn’t last for very long when Harry brushed up against him or pushed him back to the bed and climbed on top of him.

Harry was adapting himself to the changes, and since he couldn’t have Ron, Sean wasn’t a bad person to have.  He could’ve done a lot worse.  Sean was gorgeous, no doubt, with hair sweeping down to his shoulders and deep green eyes that never failed to catch light. 

Overall, though, Harry was complacent with Sean.

**** 

He propped his elbow up on the arm of the sofa and leaned his head against his fist.  He sipped from the coffee cup in his other hand.  Coffee was a wonderful Muggle invention.  He watched Sean crawl sleepily out of bed with his eyes still half closed, and stumble to the bathroom.  After a minute, Harry heard the water running.  This was how his life was now.  It was different, but not bad.  Ron would’ve never gotten in the shower without him, but Harry knew Sean wasn’t that way.  It was fine with Harry, really, because he’d had enough of Sean the night before.  That was another difference between Ron and Sean—Harry never got enough of Ron.

Too soon, Sean was out of the shower.  He walked over to Harry, still sitting on the couch, and placed a quick, damp kiss on his lips.  Harry couldn’t disregard the fact that Sean was wearing only a towel, draped low around his hips, and his hair was wet and dripping around his shoulders.  Sean moved over to the closet and pulled out a clean pair of jeans and a shirt.  He tugged at the towel, which slid down his legs and fell to the floor in a white heap.  Harry noticed that he was semi-erect.  Sean slipped his jeans on, but didn’t button them.  He grabbed the shirt in his hand and walked over to where Harry was sitting.  He placed a knee on either side of Harry’s thighs.  He ran his hands from Harry’s ears up to his cheeks, directing his face upwards, before kissing him again.  Harry responded habitually, and soon felt Sean grinding his hips into his stomach.  Harry put his hands up to Sean’s chest, preventing him from getting any closer.

“Let’s go to breakfast,” he said. 

Sean seemed reluctant, but agreed, as he nodded his head and slowly removed himself from Harry’s lap.

They walked down the street to the café where they usually ate, with Sean holding Harry’s hand the whole way.  He and Ron hadn’t usually been that open with their relationship.  Granted, lots of people had known about them, but Harry hadn’t wanted to give the media any extra ammunition.  Here, though, no one knew him, and they didn’t pay any attention when he walked down the street, clasping another guy’s hand.  It had taken some time for him to get used to it, but once he did, he enjoyed it.

The café where they ate was a small place with only a few customers.  The waiters and waitresses knew them by now, and so did a few of the regulars.  They had their usual table in the corner, similar to Harry’s table at the pub.  They didn’t even have to ask for it; the waiter just led them to it.

“What do you want to do today?” asked Sean.  “I’ve got the whole day off.”

“Dunno,” muttered Harry through a mouthful of eggs.

Sean thought for a moment. “Want to go into Belfast?  We could catch a bus.  It’s not that far, and there’s tons of stuff to do there.”

Harry shrugged his shoulders.  “Alright.”

He had been to Belfast a time or two before with Sean, but both trips had been quick.  Harry had followed Sean around a few boutiques, completely bored, but not having anything better to do.

They finished eating, mostly in silence, left some money on the table, and walked up the street to the bus station.

“When’s the next bus to Belfast?” Sean asked the man at the ticket counter.

“Hmm,” said the man, checking his watch, “’Bout fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, we’ll take two tickets,” said Sean.

He held his hand out in front of Harry, indicating he needed money.  Harry dug in his pockets for the right amount and deposited it in Sean’s outstretched hand.  This was another difference between Sean and Ron.  Ron would’ve never accepted money from Harry, he always insisted on paying his own portion.  Sean, on the other hand, never complained about Harry paying for things; he almost expected it.  It didn’t bother Harry, though, really.  He had plenty of money, and nothing much to spend it on.

Sean handed one ticket to Harry and placed the other one in his pocket.  Grabbing Harry’s hand again, he led him back out of the station and to the weathered wooden bench outside.  There was a large group of people outside, and Harry wondered if they were all going to Belfast.  He hoped not, because the bus would be awfully crowded.

A bus approached at last, rumbling and jerking to a stop.  There was a loud whooshing sound as the breaks sounded and the doors opened, and soon, a long line of people descended.  Sean and Harry queued up with the rest of the waiting passengers and walked aboard.  The bus seemed old, with battered and torn seats and a strong musty smell, like it had been shut up for a long time.  Sean chose two seats close to the back, and Harry sat down next to him.  The bus bumped and lurched along down narrow dirt roads for almost an hour.  The countryside stretched slowly along with them.  It was mostly rolling, green hills with tiny cottages dotting the landscape.  The closer they got to the city, there were less grasslands and more houses, slightly larger than the first, and a number of stores and shops in between them.

Finally, the bus jerked to a stop at the station.  This station was much larger and a lot more crowded than the one they had left.  Harry was a little disconcerted, not because he hadn’t expected it, but because he had become accustomed to small towns, and Belfast was anything but small.

“Where do you want to go first?” asked Sean once they had disembarked.

“I don’t care,” said Harry.  “I don’t know any places here.”

“C’mon, I’ll show you around,” Sean said, flashing Harry a bright smile.

They walked down the cobblestone streets and past towering, ornate buildings.  Harry took in as much of it as he could, looking left, then glancing right.  Despite the horrendous crowds of people, it really was a beautiful city.

“The museum’s just another block down,” said Sean a quarter of an hour later.  “It’s really nice.  I think you’ll like it.”

They passed through two massive wrought-iron gates, and into beautifully landscaped gardens.

“These are the Botanic Gardens,” Sean informed him.  “You have to pass through them to get to the museum.”

The gardens seemed to go on forever.  There was a dark gray ribbon of paved road, winding up pathways and crossing over itself.  A tiny wrought-iron fence ran the whole length of the road, dividing it from the perfectly manicured grass.  Lush, green trees jutted along the path over their heads, providing a speckled shade.  Small, neat benches were placed at intervals along the fence, and most of them were occupied.  There were more flowers than Harry had ever seen in his life.  Each species had its own section, complete with every variation imaginable.

“It’s pretty,” commented Sean, “if you like that sort of thing.  The museum’s just up here.”

The museum was a white stone building, several storeys high.  There was a tall, gnarled tree in the courtyard, and large, pointed shrubs flanking the outside.  Steep, soaring steps led to enormous white marble columns, which loomed up the façade.  Inside, the entranceway was marble also, with a lofty, arched ceiling.  The beams were gilded, and the ceiling was painted with a myriad of pastoral scenes.  Several hallways on each side led off to sizeable, handsome rooms, each housing an assortment of different exhibits.  In front of Harry and Sean was an impressive ivory staircase leading to the upper floors where the artwork was hanging.

Sean seemed to sense Harry’s awe.  “Charming, huh?” he laughed.

The architecture reminded Harry a lot of Hogwarts.  From the arched entryway, to the dramatic staircase and the marble floor, it definitely resembled the school.

“I’ll show you some paintings, c’mon,” said Sean, joining Harry’s fingers with his, and striding up the glossy stairs.

The décor in the upper level was just as impeccable as the entryway.  Paintings in a multitude of colors, sizes, textures, and subjects were hung in large, heavy frames along the walls.  They were arranged by the different periods in which the artists painted them.  None of the paintings moved, and though Harry hadn’t expected them to, he found it disappointing.

“This is one of my favorites,” Sean told Harry, dragging him over to a specific portrait.  It was of a lady, reclined in a chair, holding a rose to her neck.  She looked lazy, almost bored.  The colors were deep red, purple, and burgundy.

“John Lavery,” said Sean, pointing to the gold plate at the foot of the picture with the artist’s name and the title of the painting.  “He was brilliant.  Impressionist, mostly, though this one is oil.”

Harry nodded, but didn’t say anything.  He knew almost nothing about Muggle painters, even the more famous ones.  He had no idea Sean took such an interest in them, or knew so much about them.

“Here’s another one of Lavery’s,” said Sean, pulling Harry towards the end of the room.  “This one is watercolor.  That’s what he mostly did.  It’s called ‘The Yellow Poster.’”

Harry looked at the painting of a yellow, four-poster bed.  Though the hangings were a different color, it wasn’t unlike the one he had slept in for seven years at Hogwarts.  Slept in with Ron, he added to himself.   He remembered how they’d wait for the other boys in the dorm to go to sleep before Ron crawled quietly out of his own bed, parted the curtains on Harry's and snuggled in next to him.  They always made sure the hangings were closed completely, and then Ron would cast a Privacy Spell.  Harry got very little sleep his last few years at Hogwarts.

“There’s lots more,” said Sean, breaking Harry from his musings.  “Let’s go.”

Harry followed Sean through the rest of the museum, and listened as Sean informed him about each artist and their paintings.  By the time they left, Harry’s head was swimming with names and eras that he knew he’d never remember.

“I’ll take you to Cave Hill.  It’s got one of the best views in the world,” said Sean.

On the way to Cave Hill, they passed a dramatic towering edifice on the other side of the street.  Harry halted to look at it.  It looked like a castle, erected right in the middle of the city.  Hogwarts was about four times that size, but the structure and design were a lot alike.  It was stone, and had spiraling turrets and large arched doorways.

“St. Anne’s Cathedral,” Sean told him.  “We can stop by on the way back if you’d like.  Cave Hill is just a bit farther.  We’ll pass Belfast Castle on the way to the top.”

Belfast Castle was just slightly smaller than Hogwarts.  It loomed up before them, impressive and intimidating, much like Hogwarts had first appeared to Harry when he arrived there by boat his first year.  Sharp spires jutted skywards, with countless windows and levels.  A stone staircase grew up from the ground, and swerved around to the double doors of the entranceway.  It was absolutely breathtaking, and Harry stopped in front of it and stared with his mouth open.

“I’d take you on the tour, but it’s closed now.  We’ll come back some other time, though, if you want to go in,” said Sean.

“Yeah, I’d like to,” said Harry.

They walked on a bit, up the slowly rising ground.  The trees began to thin out, and at last Harry found himself standing at the summit.

Sean had been right - the view was one of prettiest things Harry had ever seen.  Far down below, the entire city of Belfast stretched out, partially covered in a thin fog.  He could see for miles, all the way to the horizon.  The sun was almost entirely down, and it sent deep golden patches through the clouds.

“What did I tell you?” asked Sean with a smile, seeming very pleased with himself.

“It’s beautiful,” whispered Harry.

The huge buildings they had passed earlier down on the street looked tiny, and hardly any of them were recognizable from this high altitude.  Masses of thick, bushy green trees framed the foot of the slope, but there were no trees on the sharply falling incline.  Instead, huge gray chunks of rocks jutted out of the mossy ground, joined by dry yellow grasses.

Harry sat down on the springy ground and drew his legs up to his chest, resting his chin on his knees.  The air was crisp, and it helped clear his head.  For the first time since he left the Burrow, nearly five years ago, he contemplated going back.  He shouldn’t have left the way he did - just disappearing one night.  He owed the Weasleys some kind of explanation, even though he was afraid it was too late.  He knew his absence made Ron’s death even harder on them.  Harry had been like another son to them.  They had also shared in his grief, which now that he looked back on it, would’ve meant he didn’t have to mourn by himself.  The first few months after losing Ron had been the worst in his life.  Even after he met Sean, he still felt empty.  He hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone about it, but it would’ve been nice to know that someone was there.  It would be nice to see the Weasleys again, and visit the Burrow.

Only a sliver of the sun remained visible above the bay now.  Harry stood up and brushed his jeans off.

“Ready?” asked Sean.  “It’ll be dark soon.”

Harry nodded.  They walked in silence back down the slope and by Belfast Castle.  Harry looked at it again, fondly.  Hogwarts, to him, was the very symbol of the Wizarding World that he had been apart from for so long. 

He decided that he was going back.

****

“I’m thinking of taking a trip,” Harry told Sean, once they were back in his room at the inn.

“Yeah? Where to?”

“To England.”

“What do you want to go back there for?”

Harry shrugged.  “It’s been awhile, and I’d just like to go back.”

“You’re not staying, are you?”  Sean asked, slightly perturbed.

“No, no, just a quick visit.”

“Well…ok,” said Sean slowly.  “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow, I think,” answered Harry.  Actually, he planned on Apparating that night, but he couldn’t tell Sean that.

Sean joined Harry in bed soon after, but Harry was able to stay his roaming hands and lips.  Harry had too much on his mind just now, and remarkably, sex wasn’t among them.  He was going to see the Weasleys again.  He was going to be a part of the Wizarding World again, and even though it wouldn’t be for long, he was excited about it.  He only planned on staying a few days.  He had a new life now, and although it wasn’t nearly as satisfying as his former one, he had grown used to it.

He lay still for half an hour, until he heard Sean’s heavy breathing and knew he was asleep.  Harry moved the covers back quietly and swung his legs over the side.  He dressed secretively in the bathroom.  He thought of leaving a note, but decided he didn’t have to explain anything to Sean.  He’d be back in a few days, anyway.  Then he put his glasses on and Apparated soundlessly to the Burrow.