Staring down at the badly wrapped, lumpy parcel before him, Ron frowned and added a few more pieces of Spello tape.  He was never very good at wrapping gifts and Ron briefly wondered if there was some sort of spell he could use that would make the activity easier.  Promising to ask Hermione later (as he figured if anyone would know, it would be she), he gave up on trying to make the gift look somewhat presentable and added it to a pile of gifts, also badly wrapped and unappealing to the eye.  People were just going to have to deal with is bad wrapping jobs.  It wasn't like they didn't shred the paper and throw it away, anyway.  He turned to his next present.

For Christmas, Ron had gotten Harry a beautiful emerald green cloak with a silver clasp bearing his initials.  Harry had been complaining for weeks (Ron could vouch for this as Harry had been complaining to him) about how someone had shrunk his old cloak and it wouldn't fit anymore.  Of course, Harry's cloak hadn't really shrunk, but as he had grown a good four inches over the summer and failed to get any new cloak besides the school one, his cloak was indeed too small.  If Ron had to hear him whine about having to wear his school cloak one more time, he planned on using a silencing charm on him, at the very least.  Temptation, however, was suggesting cutting out Harry's tongue.  Hermione had taken to lecturing Harry, claiming that if he really didn't want to wear his school cloak, he should have thought of getting another one.  Not one to want to be lectured, Harry had stopped whining about this to Hermione and now Ron was his only source.  Getting the cloak had been imperative.  Now, Ron was sitting before it, wondering how in Merlin's name he was going to wrap it.

If he thought the job he had done on that Charms book for Hermione, it was nothing comparing to the butchered wrapping job he was doing on this cloak.  Bits of Spello tape were everywhere except the package it seemed.  Even a few pieces had managed to find their way into his messy mop of red hair that now stuck out at various angles from Ron trying to get the stuff out.  He gave a heavy sigh, ripped apart the packaging, and tried to start all over again with fresh paper.  The crumpled pieces were shoved under his bed where he also threw the balled up Spello tape he had pulled out of his hair.  Even Ron, himself, was starting to find this situation comical, but that could have been his frustration forcing its way out.  Laughter always was the best way to deal when Ron started to feel like a hopeless case.

Once he had finally managed to get the cloak wrapped ("And Harry had better appreciate the blasted thing," Ron had muttered to himself.), he grabbed all of the presents and shoved them under his bed with his wrapping scraps.  They could be taken care of later, or never, which with Ron was probably the more likely option.  Standing up, he pulled the edge of his sheets down to cover the space beneath his bed and he pulled the curtains around it shut.  He leaned against the wall, staring out the window, and giving off a low exhale.  It amazed him every year just how tired wrapping presents could make him.

The sun was already high in the sky and Ron had started wrapping at dawn.  Harry had gotten up early for Quidditch practice, forcing the rest of the team out onto the field when most people were still in bed.  Last year, their fifth year, Harry had been made Quidditch captain and there was no doubt that he lived up to his predecessor.  Like Oliver Wood, Harry had them practicing at odd hours of the day in all types of weather.  Ron thought they were crazy and it was his desire, not to mention his particular fancy for sleeping that kept him from trying out for the team.  He knew he could probably make it, especially with Harry as captain, but Ron didn't know if he really wanted to deal with all the work.  He was having enough trouble keeping up with his studies as it was.

Neville and Dean had already gotten up and went down to the Great Hall for breakfast, chuckling at Ron's failing efforts to wrap gifts almost an hour ago.  Seamus was still in bed, snoring loudly like he usually did.  From the time it seemed that Ron had been wrapping, Harry should be back soon.  He sighed, cracked his neck, and decided to make his way to breakfast.  In addition to making him sleepy, wrapping presents had a tendency to make him hungry.

Ron had just entered the common room when Harry came crawling through the portrait hole, still dressed in his dirty Quidditch robes.

"Morning, Sunshine," said Ron, grinning.  Harry glared at him.

"I'm tired, I'm hungry, and my head hurts," barked Harry.

"It was your idea to have Quidditch practice at five o'clock in the morning, oh Captain, my Captain.  Perhaps you might want to push the time back in future practices so you have a chance to eat."

Harry shook his head.  "No can do.  We've only got a week left of practice before Christmas holiday and then five weeks when we come back before we have to play Slytherin.  Malfoy cannot catch that Snitch and the team has to be ready.  We've got a title to defend."

"That's six weeks, Harry," said Ron.  "You've got plenty of time.  A few hours of extra sleep would probably be helpful rather than harmful.  You should really think about it.  I don't want to see you get burned out."

"I'll be fine," said Harry.  "Besides, Christmas holiday will give me time to rest.  You're staying, aren't you?"

Ron nodded.  Harry had gone home last year to the Burrow with him, but his parents were going to Romania again to see Charlie this Christmas.  Apparently, he had a new girlfriend, and things were starting to look serious between them.  The holiday presented a perfect time for his parents to meet her, and so Ron was staying at Hogwarts for Christmas, while Ginny had been invited back to Hermione's.  Things were going to be boring but at least he was going to have Harry to be bored with.

"You going down to breakfast?" asked Harry, breaking Ron's thought process.  He nodded a second time.  "Will you wait for me?  I just want to get changed."

"Sure."  Harry headed past him and up the stairs, leaving Ron alone in the common room.  Taking a seat on one of the plushy armchairs, Ron pulled his knees up to his chest and let his chin rest on them.  In Harry's absence, his mind drifted back to the holiday plans.

Almost everyone from Gryffindor was going to be gone for Christmas.  There had been a third year and a first year who signed up to stay besides Harry and Ron, but they would mostly be out of the way.  Ron couldn't remember a time when he and Harry had basically been on their own.  Hermione, his family, or one of the other boys in their year always seemed to be around.  The circumstances were making him nervous, if not paranoid.

There was something Ron never expected to think.  The thought of being in Harry's presence, alone, made him nervous.  If things had been like there were before, if it had been last year, Ron would have had no qualms at all about the situation, but since September, things had changed.

They had just gotten back to school from summer holiday and it was two weeks into term when Harry sat both Ron and Hermione down and told them he was bisexual.  There had been dozens of questions that they threw at him once the initial shock passed, ranging from when he found out to why he hadn't told them sooner.  They had tried to be accepting; Harry was their friend after all.  He insisted that he didn't want them to look at him any different and they swore they wouldn't.  Perhaps Ron could have kept that promise if Hermione hadn't decided just then to ask Harry, "Who made you realize you were bisexual?"

Harry had turned the deepest shade of crimson Ron had ever seen him turn.  Part of his twisted mind expected Harry to say Malfoy's name, but he had shook his head and insisted that it was the one thing he couldn't tell them.  Hermione, however, was relentless, and Harry finally caved and whispered it in her ear.  At first, Ron was hurt that Harry would trust Hermione enough to tell her, but he wouldn't tell him.  Weren't they best friends?  Did Harry think it would freak Ron out and make him uncomfortable, talking about guys?  Ron had always thought he was an accepting person.  Then, however, Hermione's jaw had dropped, her eyes had grown huge, and she spat out, "You fancy Ron?"