HarryxRon Oneshots!

Temperature

Harry and Ron are just friends in this one but its cute. Ron looks after Harry and helps him to bed when he's ill. 

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"Harry, you're warm mate..." Ron murmurs as he presses a hand to his friend's forehead. The teenager curls up a little tighter in the chair he has crawled into near the common room fire.

"I'm freezing..." he replies, his words sliding together into a lazy slur. Ron gets up off his knees and glances at the watch on his wrist. It reads 1 AM.

"Harry, it's late... Let's go upstairs," he urges. The fire is dying down to glowing embers and everyone else has gone to bed so they'll be rested for the Quidditch match the next morning.

"I got... homework..." Harry mumbles. Starting to scribble nonsense across the bottom of his parchment. Ron gives a patient sigh and prods the quill out of Harry's hand before pulling the ruined homework away.

"C'mon Harry... bed," he says, a bit more sternly than before. The shorter of the two forces himself out of the chair but wobbles on his feet before tumbling forward. Ron steps up and catches the other, pulling him to his chest awkwardly.

"Whoa, easy mate..." he says shakily. Harry's cheek rests on his chest and his breathing is uneasy.

"S-sorry..." he mumbles as he tries to push away, but Ron holds him more tightly.

"You're going to bed," he whispers into the other's ear. "You're sick..." Harry grunts and attempts to walk away but starts to crumple.

"Easy..." With a deep breath Ron loops an arm under Harry's legs and picks him up in one fluid motion. He may not be as stocky as Fred and George, but he is just as strong. Harry wraps his arms around his friend's neck and buries his face in his shoulder, murmuring something about Quidditch. Ron's brow creases with concern as he starts up the stairs towards the boy's dormitories, stopping once to adjust Harry in his arms.

"Someone... is gunna see..." the black haired boy whimpers. Ron glances at his face and sees only the thing lightning bold shaped scar standing out vividly against pale skin.

"Everyone is asleep," he assures the other. "Besides, who would care?"

Harry buries his face again as Ron nudges open their dormitory door with his foot. Neville's snoring echoes around the room as the pair ventures to Harry's four-poster. Ron sets his friend down carefully and pulls of f his glasses. When he turns back from the night stand Harry is fumbling with his robes. The red head bites his lip, debating internally whether to help or not. With a sigh he reaches a conclusion.

"Harry, you're just tangling yourself up," he says as he pulls the robes from his friend's shoulders.

"I can't really... think straight..." the other mumbles, eyes down and his face flushed with embarrassment at his uselessness.

"Just relax," Ron urges him as he drops to his knees beside the bed to remove both their sneakers. Harry is wrestling with his pants, trying to wriggle out of them. Ron sets aside their shoes and raises his gaze to the struggling boy.

"Uh, need help...?" he asks quietly, a flush raising on his cheeks. Harry looks off to the side, not wanting to ask for help but knowing he needs it.

Ron reads his expression and moves to help. Part way through removing the other's jeans he realizes Neville has stopped snoring. With a glare the red head turns and watches him flop down back onto his pillow. A quick glance around the room tells him that Seamus and Dean are awake as well.

"Ron..."

The whimper brings the lanky boy's attention back to his ailing friend on the bed. Harry's complexion is ashen and his black hair is sticking to his forehead in clumps. Ron touches his forehead only to draw back his hand quickly. The other is burning up and yet he is shivering.

"H-hey mate... maybe you should go to the hospital wing..." he suggests shakily. Harry shakes his head stubbornly and curls on h is side. Ron

looks around the room before crawling in beside his friend. Harry presses his skinny form against the other's warm torso, his arm wrapping around so as to move closer.

"Easy..." Ron sighs as he hugs the other to him with lanky arms. Harry had gone from hot to cold in just a few moments. "Geez, you're freezing..."

"I-I think I might actually be sick..." the boy-who-lived whispers hoarsely. Ron pulls the blanket up around his shoulders.

"Ya think?" he sighs. "Just try to sleep it off... You'll be fine for the game in the morning..."

Harry nods slowly and drifts off into an uneasy slumber. Ron listens for a long time, his mind wandering before he too closes his eyes and sleeps, all the while holding Harry to his side.