Disclaimer- Not mine.

Ron sat in a corner of the room, watching Harry at Harry's birthday party. He thought about what Harry meant to him, like what everyone else in the room.


His brother.

His friend.

His leader.

His comrade.

His partner in crime.

Ron used to be jealous of Harry. His fame. His money. His carefree ability to make people love him.

Ron used to pity Harry. His fame causing such a lack of privacy. His insecurity about people liking him, or the idea of him.

Ron loved Harry. As a brother, as a friend, as a leader.

Ron worried about Harry. Worried he would be captured, tortured, killed. Worried he would be heartbroken over the death of another, or would take the next blow hard enough that he shattered.

Ron hated him. Blithely unaware of how important he was, to Ron personally, or the Wizarding world as a whole. Oblivious to how much he changed the world just by being in it. Oblivious to how atrong he was to survive what he has, both magically strong and mentally.

Ron paused in his thinking.

If he kept thinking like this, he'd become a thinker. So he stopped, sipped his drink, and wished Harry a happy birthday.