A/N:

Thanks to the usual suspects ;) Elaine, Holly, Gen and Cass. What would I do without you?

Homecoming

He hadn't known what he'd expected to see when the Portkey took them back, but he'd still managed to get a proper shock when he landed hard on his feet on the hill overlooking the house. As he helped Hermione up, her hands scrabbling at his arm for support, he glanced back at his home - the one he'd dreamt of every night before his head hit the pillow, the one he hadn't seen in nearly a year, and the one he'd wished over and over to return to when the worst of the war had passed.

It still looked the same as it always had, with its jaunty eaves and squat, crooked structure. It was as if the Burrow, nestled safely in the countryside, had been wrapped in some sort of impermeable raincoat, while the thunderstorm that was the Second Wizarding War raged on, casting sheets of suffering across Britain like a torrential downpour.

With a wistful shake of his head, he thought of all his petulant complaints when he was young, of how the house was too cramped, or how unlucky they were to be less well-off than most. Maybe he had deserved it when Malfoy called him a Dungbrain all those times before, he mused, chuckling darkly to himself. He really had been denser than a brick back then.

Memories of happier, more carefree times swam to him through his daze: Ginny barefoot in her thin cotton nightgown, putting a pleading finger to her lips as she stealthily picked the lock on the broom shed; his mum flinging a rag at him, yelling at him to clean out the oven before Madame Delacour's arrival; Fred's warm hand gripping his as George raised his stolen wand, unabashed glee growing across his freckled face.

The thought of his brother sent a thin, piercing lance of grief through his chest, forcing tears to his eyes, and he blinked hard a few times to hold them in.

Beside him, Hermione leaned into his shoulder, squeezing his hand once. He rested his head on top of hers and squeezed back in appreciation, letting himself smile for a second.

"You okay, mate?" Harry's green eyes peered at him, his gaze betraying a concern that only those who knew him could see. Ron nodded, his smile growing a little wider.

All around him, his family stood on the hill, looking down as one towards their home. Next to Harry, Ginny's hair lifted in the wind, looking for all the world like a tongue of fire; off to the side, Bill and Fleur had their arms loosely draped around each other, comforting and protecting. Charlie and Dad exchanged a tired but relieved glance. Percy had finally abandoned those atrocious horn-rimmed glasses of his (good for him, Ron had always hated them) and stood with a hand on their mother's arm. Tear tracks were still shining, half-dried on her cheeks.

Sure, the whole world had torn itself apart and clumsily stitched itself back together again, and they were still struggling to fix the parts that were already beginning to fray.

And then there were the parts that no amount of stitches could repair. He knew there was no way that they would ever be able to let Fred go - the identical looks that his brother and mother wore told him that much.

But at least he still had them. Harry, Hermione, Ginny, George, his parents, his friends.

"Come on," Ron sighed, threading his hand into Hermione's, exchanging a glance with the people he still had, the people he knew he would fight tooth and nail to keep by his side, the people who he had no doubt would do the same for him.

Looking into everyone's eyes, he could see his own reflected back at him. He nodded at them, a fierce burst of pride swelling in his chest.

They'd made it through the war, and together they'd make it through whatever came next.

"Let's go home."

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House: Ravenclaw

Year: 3

Category: Drabble

Prompt: [Event] Somebody coming home after an extended time away.

Word Count: 660