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"I dont like him." He didn't care that he was pouting. He took off his jacket and hung it over the back of his chair. Harry was expecting this. He left the stove and sat down at the island in his kitchen and rested his arms on the counter top. He winced at the cold of it as his fresh from bed skin made contact. He was hardly awake and able, let alone ready for a conversation of this magnitude so early in the morning. He had no choice though. This was the first time Ron had spoken to him in two weeks. If he turned him away now, there was no telling when this conversation would happen. Hermione was at her wits end with the two of them, he was sure.
"I'm not asking you to." His hand ran down the profile of his face. He didn't have on his glasses, so he had to squint across the way to Ron, sitting down wide awake as if he'd woken up ages ago. Or hadn't gone to sleep at all, he thought to himself as he eyed his best friend's attire with as critical an eye as he could. "I'm asking you to trust me. That I know what I'm doing." The early morning grey of the sky glinted off the Christmas decoration above his kitchen window. It caught his eye as the leaves on the vine of Ivy twitched slowly. It was tacky and held a great deal more red and green tinsel than it should. His boyfriend had stuck it up there with his brand new discovery of cellotape in the drawer. Harry smiled just remembering it. "That I really do love him and I think he loves me too." He swallowed hard. "If you can't do that..." He let the sentence go, not even knowing how to finish it. It was hard even thinking about his life without his two best friends in it. They were a package deal now, after all.
Ron sighed and looked away, a grimace on his face. There was silence in the kitchen for a moment. Harry could hear the sound of the gas cooker flaring behind him, boiling water to make them a well needed cup of tea. Harry's eyes drifted again to the entwined mass of tinsel and plastic. He knew there was a gap there somewhere, the kitchen was always draughty, even with the heating on. Ron was watching him carefully. "If it goes pear-shaped, can I say I told you so?" There was hope in his voice and, honestly, Harry couldn't tell if he was joking or not. He couldn't tell if Ron was giving his blessing and trying to make light of it, like he was trying to downplay just how earth shattering accepting Draco Malfoy into their perfect triumvirate would be.
Harry smiled anyway and rested his head in his propped up hand. "Can you at least wait a week for me to scrape my soul up from the pavement first?" Ron was staring at him, his eyes narrowing in thought. They'd been eleven when they met. They'd been through school, crazy teachers, crazy students, large snakes, spiders, werewolves, war, death, loss, girls, women, men now, in Harry's case. Never had he heard Harry talk or look the way he did now. He was different. He was calm, happy. Content.
A small piece of Ron hefted a heavy sigh as a profound fact made his stomach drop. There was no getting away from this. Fucking Merlin. "Your soul, huh?" he said seriously. He bent his head, his fingers running tracks through his hair. When he looked up, he saw Harry nodding in kind to his tone. It was alright, he didn't need to say anything, Ron saw it all in his expression. Take it or leave it, it said.
The kettle began to whistle.