Title: Scarlett and Chocolate
Author: chromatic.daydream
Chapter: One of One.

Author's Note: A beautiful picture of Ron and Hermione inspired the ending. The link to it may be found on my profile page. Set the evening after Dumbledores funeral in HBP. I hope this isn't too OOC. Just a little idea that came to me on a dreary spring evening. Enjoy.

…
"Are you sure? That's awful not like-"
"Mum, I'm fine. I'm just not hungry, alright?"

The door latch dug painfully into his side, but Ron just adjusted his arms across his chest while he took in the kitchen in front of him. His mother was standing beside the stove, ladle in one hand and the other on her hip, giving him a suspicious once-over. The twins sat at the table with sombre faces; Fred finally looked up from his soup to look between their Mum and Ron, and with a shrug sighed.

"C'mon Mum. He's had a hard day. Looks buggered on his feet. Ol' Forge'll have another bowl o' that stew, won't you twin? And I'd love another piece of that bread you made, it's excellent."
"Excellent as always, Mum." George confirmed, with a nod of his head.

The latch was now beginning to hurt quite a bit and Ron lingered only a moment when Molly Weasley turned back to the stove with purpose. Both his brothers gave him a simple nod and a tight smile and the youngest nodded his head in thanks before slipping out of room. It was a strange day when Fred and George would give him a hand when he needed it; Ron was quite sure that the matriarch of the family was about to bind him to a chair and make him eat until there was no more food left in the house. But as Hermione explained earlier on the Express, people grieve differently. Molly Weasley threw herself into her cooking, the twins sat for hours on end in silence eating whatever was put in front of them because, well, Mum made it, and to the best of Ron's knowledge, his father had locked himself up in one of the highest rooms in the house to tinker with an old muggle television.

Ron wasn't quite sure how he dealt with 'grief' as his best friend had put it, but he knew he certainly wasn't hungry. He didn't actually feel like he'd be hungry ever again, taking the stairs one at a time for once while tugging on his Gryffindor tie. He'd been 'home' for going on six hours and he still couldn't bring himself to take off his tie, or his shirt, or his pants and change into something more comfortable. He did afford himself the luxury of un-doing the top button of his shirt, running a hand back through his messy red hair as he came to lean upon the wall beside his sister's room.

"Gin?" He knocked.
"Gin-Gin? You in there?"

When she still hadn't answered he decided to turn the door handle, peaking his head inside slowly to look around. Ginny was sitting on 'her' bed, knees tucked up to her chin with Arnold held tightly in her arms, the little ball of fuzz cooing gently. It was a sight that warmed Ron's heart almost instantly; the innocence of his baby sister reminded him of world he didn't feel like he knew anymore, but was shattered when her body gave a sudden lurching shudder and she hiccupped.

"Gin? Gin-Gin? Scarlett?"
"You escaped from being fed 'till you explode?"
"Twins saved me there, believe it or not. Not bad sods when they want to be."

It elicited a slight smile to spread to her rosy cheeks, and Ron couldn't help but laugh, sitting down on the edge of her bed. It was second thought, but he suddenly scooted back to the centre of the mattress and pulled Ginny into his arms; she half leant against him, Arnold moving to settle on her shoulder beside Ron's face.

"Ron!"
"What? You looked like you needed a hug. Maybe an ear to listen? After all, Scarlett O'Hara can't do it all by herself."

Sometimes Ron wished Hermione could see him at moments like this; moments when he had more than the emotional range of a teaspoon and he called Ginny by her pet name and she didn't call him rude names and just buried her face into his chest and cried.

Moments like this.

"I hate him so much, Ron! I hate him but I love him and I'm so scared, Ron. I'm so scared that he won't come back and I'll live off of what-ifs and should-have-beens, and I would rather die beside him than live like that. I'd die for him, Ronnie… do know how scary that is? Being willing to bloody die for someone who just kicked you to the curb because they have to be noble and manly, and I'm just a stupid little girl who fell in love and can't take care of myself. He's a wanker, Ron! He is the most buggering, wankering sod I have ever laid eyes on. But I love him. And it hurts! It hurts!!"

She screamed the last part at the top of her lungs, Ron cringing slightly as his eardrums rang. The woman staining his shirt with tears looked nothing like the composed fifteen year old he knew three days ago, but instead like the five year old he used to hold when she skinned her knee. Yet somehow Ron didn't feel that giving her one of his chocolate frogs would fix the problem this time, and even if he wasn't best friends with Harry Potter, he couldn't very well go and beat the Savoir of the Wizarding World into a pulp, could he?

Oh, certainly Ron knew exactly what Ginny was crying about. It would have been hard pressed for even him to miss the context of this rant without knowing about it beforehand. But his sister's obvious absence from their compartment on the train ride home, and Harry's sulking, and Hermione's disappearances every fifteen minutes where she would come back glassy-eyed and give him a tight smile spoke wonders. His best mate had chucked his baby sister for all the 'right' reasons. And that made it very, very wrong.

"I picked a right sorry time to fall in love, didn't I?" She finally sniffed, brown eyes looking up at him.
"You picked a sorry bugger to fall in love with," He paused, "But I don't think there's ever a good time to fall in love, Gin. It just happens."

Something tugged on a strand of hair, and Ron whipped his head around to see Arnold sitting on his shoulder cooing gently as he quivered in place. The little fur ball was really quite cute, and Ron let his fingertips briefly play over his fur before the little creature jumped nearly a foot into the air and attempted to burrow into Ron's hair, rather painfully.

"Ow! Arnold! Ginny, get this thing off me!"
"Aw, you poor little thing…" Ginny cooed a moment later as Ron raised an eyebrow.
"I believe you should be saying that to me. I was attacked without provocation."
"He was just scared!' Ginny protested, "Crookshanks came and jumped up on Hermione's bed when you were petting him."
"And since when has he had that reaction to Crookshanks?"
"Since, well, since this morning. When I might have been distracted with other stuff, and didn't notice that Crookshanks had come into my dorm and Arnold was on my bed."
"So," Ron paused, "You mean since Hermione's cat almost ate your pygmy puff?"

Ginny's head nodded several times in quick succession, and almost without warning her eyes welled up again.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't say it to be mean!" Ron threw up his hands in fear.
"No! I don't mean to be such a silly girl," She sniffled, "I just don't know what's happened with me all of a sudden!"

With a short laugh Ron stretched out on the bed, letting his legs dangle off the end and propped his head up on one of Ginny's many pillows.

"Would you believe me if I said I didn't have all the answers?"
"You never do, Ron."
"Seriously though?"
"I would be afraid. Because you've always had the answers, no matter how stupid."
"I don't have the answers, Scarlett."

There was a long silence where Ron let his eyes close in relief, listening to the sound of his mother's voice downstairs and a few sudden pops and a yelp of surprise from the attic.

"Suppose Dad got himself elektricuted again?"
"Probably," he nodded, ""t's his way of dealing with things, that 'grief' thing Hermione kept throwing around."
"Ron?" Ginny suddenly asked; her eyes stared intently at him from above.
"Gin?"
"Did you mean it? That when you fall in love it just happens?"
"Gin," He paused and sat up, looking the petite woman in front of him in the eye, "Falling in love is the scariest thing in the world. And realizing you're in love is probably the hardest. But… what you and Harry had was the best thing in the world. He'll figure it out, Gin, he will. He just needs all of us to be strong for him. None of this is getting easier for him anytime soon."

His baby sister nodded, hair falling around her face in a beautiful mess that made Ron smile and gently shove her on the shoulder.

"Chipper up, okay? I mean, sulk all you want for the next while. But I promise once we got this whole war problem fixed you can have your love back, and I can have my dreams, and we'll be okay."

He was nearly to the door when Ginny called him back, Crookshanks weaving around his ankles with eyes focused steadily on Arnold. She looked torn between opening her mouth and keeping quiet, but the latter was never really Ginny's style.

"I'm sorry, you know. I know how hard this must be for you; at least I had Harry. You… you're a good friend, Ron. And Hermione's a lucky girl. You're sacrificing your happiness for Harry's and… I wish things could be different for you guys."
"One day, Scarlett. One day."

His shirt still felt damp against his chest as Ron walked down the hallway of Grimmauld Place, heading towards his room at the end of the way. His tie was fully undone by the time he had tapped the oak door shut with his foot, hanging in two loose stands around his neck. Groggily he ran a hand back through his red hair while his mind raced through the conversations he had just had with his baby sister. Coming to rest on the edge of the bed, larger than his one back at the Burrow, he was about to pull his shirt from his trousers to change when a mess of milk chocolate brown curl obscured his view and a pair of very warm lips attacked his.

"Mmmmmmm… Merlin, Hermione. Could give a bloke a heart attack jumping on him like that."

Her chocolate eyes sparkled at him, and Ron was keenly aware of her knees on either side of his legs, his back pressed against the bed with her lips hovering above his. She too was still in her school uniform; shirt no longer tucked into her skirt, and her tie was loosened and hanging down onto his chest. He gave it a gentle tug.

"And what is this? Miss. Granger not having the top butt- top two buttons of her shirt done up?!"

His fingers gently traced the exposed patch of skin at the base of her neck, loving the way her skin rose in bumps underneath his touch. His blue eyes sought her chocolate orbs out again, hand sliding up to her upper arm, gently caressing.

"Hermione?"
"Is she okay?"
"She will be." He nodded.
"Are we okay"
"We are amazing, Hermione. You are amazing and when this is all over…"
"Ron?"

She was so serious, and Ron found himself adding that to the list of the many things he loved; the way she smelt, the feel of her skin, the taste of her lips and the way she bit them when she was worried, like now.

"'Mione?"
"Did you tell her?"
"No," He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, "We agreed to not tell anyone, didn't we? It's safer, Hermione. It's better for Harry. And… I like having you all to myself for just a little while. Harry'll be back from the Dursley's in a week, yeah? And then it's the wedding and we leave. And I just want you for a little while. Just you. No war. No Voldemort. No grieving. No saving the world. For a little while I want to just be a normal bloke with a gorgeous girlfriend and we do norma…."

Her finger had trailed up over his lip, coming to rest softly on Ron's bottom lip, and his hands once again found themselves reaching to touch her. One ran down her arm where his thumb smoothed the creases in her shirt while the other snaked down to her hip, pulling her closer. Her eyelids were barely open, and he could almost hear the beating of her heart above his.

"Show me what normal is again, Ron."