A/N

This is set in beginning of the Order of the Pheonix, when Harry and the gang are making Grimmauld Place habitable.

Not mentioned in the film- skated over in the books- something I noticed on my most recent read: when they discover spiders the size of dinner plates in the dining room, Ron leaves to "make a cup of tea" and doesn't return for an hour and a half. AN HOUR AND A HALF. Why didn't anyone go check on him? What was he doing?

Ron's arachnophobia is used so frivolously by JKR and it really annoys me. It gives his character more depth and makes him seem real, but it's used as a comedy point and isn't mentioned or made a big thing of often.

This particular occasion made me think he was probably having a panic attack. It bothered me that it was left unexplored and unresolved, so I whipped this up. Hope you enjoy.

-

Harry's POV

They entered the dining room. It was just as dank and depressing as the rest of the house, and they all wrinkled their noses at the faint but very unpleasant smell of rotting food.

"Right," said Mrs Weasley, pulling on rubber gloves. "Let's start with the big cabinet by the door- it's full of crockery that needs washing."

They herded around the dresser in question; it was huge and made of a dark oak. Harry realised the moment he touched it that the wood wasn't actually that dark after all, but the cabinet was covered in a thick layer of grime. He pulled a face and wiped his finger on his jeans, then pulled on the rubber gloves Mrs Weasley offered him, smiling at her gratefully.

"Okay everyone," Mrs Weasley said, rolling up her sleeves. "Let's get cleaning."

It was only after a few minutes of ferocious scrubbing and hacking at the years-old dirt, mould and rust on the cabinet that it began to shake.

"Erm... what's that?" George asked, uncertainly.

They all took a step back as the cupboard rattled ominously.

"Wands out," Mrs Weasley said sharply. "Get ready."

Harry and the others took out their wands and held them at the ready. Slowly, a drawer in the cabinet creaked open, and out of it poked a long, spindly, hairy leg.

"Eugh!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed in disgust, as a spider the size of a dinner plate raised itself out of the drawer. "Stupefy!"

The spider fell back into the drawer with a small plonk. Fred reached in and removed it, throwing it into a large bin bag.

"Gross," Ginny muttered.

"We'll put it outside afterwards," Mrs Weasley said briskly. "Now come on."

But that was only the beginning.

The second they started cleaning again, more spiders emerged. They poured out, coming from behind the plates, the smaller drawers, and about ten came from underneath the cabinet. Most scuttled away across the floor and out the door, a little stream of the thin black legs and glimmering eyes, but others tried to creep into the corners of the room, and one or two even tried to run up their legs. Hermione screamed and kicked it off, it sailed through the air and hit the opposite wall. Harry recoiled, his skin crawling.

"I... I'm g-going-to makeacupoftea-" he heard Ron mutter before ducking out of the room. Harry glanced at Ron, but his face was hidden and the door closed with a snap before he could say anything.

They battled on with the huge creatures until finally they were all stupefied and safely enclosed in a large bin bag. It took them about half an hour to complete this task alone, before even starting on the cleaning of the cabinet again. Harry looked around and realised that Ron hadn't returned.

"Hey, has anyone seen Ron?" He asked the room at large.

The twins shrugged, Hermione shook her head and Mrs Weasley said,

"Didn't he say he was going to make a brew?"

"Yeah, but that was ages ago," Ginny pointed out.

"Well then, Harry dear, why don't you go and find him?" Mrs Weasley said briskly, turning back to the cabinet.

"Yeah, why should he get out of the dirty work?" Fred said crossly. "Go get the little slacker, Harry."

Harry nodded and left the room.

"Ron?" He called up the stairs. No reply. He checked the living room and kitchen, but all he found was Kreatcher skulking by the enormous stone oven, muttering under his breath.

"Ron?" Harry knocked on Sirius's room, but when he entered all he found was Buckbeak asleep on some hay.

Finally he entered the dank bedroom at the top of the house that he and Ron were sharing. He carefully pushed the door open and stepped inside, looking around the room.

There was no one in clear view, but at another glance he could see a head poking out from down the side of Ron's bed.

"Ron?" Harry said again, uncertain.

The person sitting on the floor beside Ron's bed didn't respond.

Nervously, Harry crossed the room and stepped  round the side of the bed to see who it was. His heart jolted unpleasantly at what he saw.

It was Ron. He was sitting hunched over, his knees up to his chest. He was shaking terribly all over, rocking backwards and forwards. He was as white as a sheet and his face was wet with tears.

"Ron, oh god mate, are you okay?" Harry rushed to his side and sat down beside Ron, putting his arm around his best friend's quaking shoulders and hugging him tight to his side. "What happened?"

Ron's breathing was irregular and he kept gasping for air, as though he was struggling to take breaths properly.

"Okay- Okay Ron," Harry said quickly, trying not to stay calm and think logically. It seemed as though Ron was having a panic attack. He had never had one himself and had never even seen someone having one before. He wasn't sure what to do, but he knew he had to try and help his best friend. Dimly, he wondered what had caused it, but that hardly mattered right now.

"Take deep breaths, everything will be okay." He rubbed Ron's shoulders firmly but gently and looked into his face. "Come on now, you're okay. You're safe."
Ron's eyes were the size of galleons, his pupils pinpricks, dilated in terror, tears poured down his face and still he didn't say a word; just gasped and sobbed. His hands were trembling, grabbing at his knees which were drawn up to his chest. Harry took one of his hands in his and grasped it tightly. "That's it Ron, keep breathing mate," he said quietly. "You're okay. You're going to be fine. That's right, keep a hold of me. I've got you."

Ron squeezed his hand back so hard it hurt, but Harry didn't let go. He could hear Ron's breathing starting to ease up.

"That's good... keep breathing, nice big breaths," he said, putting his head close to Ron's. Ron took a deep, shuddering breath and pressed his forehead against Harry's. "Good. Come on now, deep breaths," Harry said. "In, and out... in, and out. You got it. You're okay, Ron. I've got you. You're safe. Keep breathing. That's it."

Harry could feel Ron relaxing slowly against him. He squeezed his hand tighter and pulled the taller boy in with his other arm so they were sitting in a one armed hug with their backs to the bed. Harry pressed his head against Ron's as he finally felt Ron's breathing get steady. Ron sniffed loudly and rubbed his face with the hand not holding Harry's. It was still trembling, but he seemed much more in control.

Harry pushed back and sat up straight, looking at Ron. Ron raised his head too and met Harry's gaze.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, quietly.

Ron closed his eyes and shook his head very slightly.

"What was that all about?" Harry pressed.

Ron took another deep breath and whispered with a shudder,

"Spiders."

Oh.

Harry felt so stupid. He should have realised. He should have gone to check on Ron the moment he left the room. How could he have forgotten Ron's arachnophobia? He was a terrible friend.

"Has... have you had... has that happened before?" Harry asked.

"Not often," Ron mumbled. "I had one... the first time, when Fred turned my bear into... you know... and it happened in the Forbidden Forest with you... actually after Aragog I had a few, during the night..." Ron caught his breath and opened his eyes. "There were just so many of them..." there was an odd look in his eyes: it was almost pleading.

"Hey- I get it," Harry said swiftly. "You don't have to explain yourself. You don't owe anyone an explanation. They were horrible. No one thinks any less of you."

Ron looked down at his hand in Harry's and mumbled something that sounded like "Fred and George". Harry sighed.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," he said quietly. "I should have realised."

"No- thank you for coming," Ron said quickly. "Thanks for helping me out... I don't usually have someone I can rely on like that... my brothers aren't great at dealing with panic attacks..."

"I get it," Harry said, thinking about what the Dursley's would say is he brought up his mental health. "It's okay. But... Maybe you should talk to them about it, then if you need help... you've got a better support system. But Ron-" he looked hard into his best friend's face. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks were still damp. "You can always rely on me. Always. Come and get me whenever you want, tell me the moment you're feeling unsafe or panicked and we'll just get the hell out of there, no worries, no questions asked. I'm Harry freaking Potter, they can't stop me."

Rom snorted and grinned sheepishly at Harry.

"Thanks mate," he said, and Harry knew Ron knew he meant every word he said.

"C'mere," Harry said as he pulled Ron into a proper, two armed hug. Ron buried his face into Harry's neck.

"I've got you, mate," Harry told him. "I'm here."

"I know," Ron said, and held Harry close.