Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all, as I'm sure we're all aware.

It was getting easier to deal with the loss of his brother.

It wasn't easy; not by any means...but he was able to smile at some memories instead of grow furious (or start crying).

He was able to think about Hermione.

The day when he blew her off was still fresh in his mind, and he regretted it more than anything. There were nights when he wished to just forget about all the grief, and get lost in happiness.

Fred was all about happiness.

And no one made him happy like Hermione.

Harry helped him through the first few days. It was good, having a best friend who'd dealt with pain and loss and hopelessness. And then Hermione had come. She was staying at the Burrow until she found time to retrieve her parents. (She never said it, but Ron was almost positive she was frightened Voldemort would somehow return.) She had walked in on him crying and instantly tried to give him a hug. He wigged out and pushed her away, shouting about how he didn't need her. She knew he didn't mean it.

She had to know.

There were so many things that he did that had no meaning behind them what-so-ever.

He had hurt her though. That much was plain from the look in her eyes when she left his room. Ever since that night, she had given him a wide berth, not forced him into anything, she hadn't even mentioned the kiss although he knew it was weighing on her mind.

(Ginny has a large mouth.)

She was letting him cope by leaving him alone.

And now he was more lonely than ever. There were nights when he went to sleep hugging a pillow and pretending it was Hermione. He wanted to wrap his arms around her; to feel protective over one thing when everything else seemed so much bigger than he.

But he couldn't even do just that.

Fred's voice filled his head, and Ron's face crumpled in anguish.

You git. You're going to lose her because you're too busy moping. Go get her. Go nick some love potion from my--er, George's room if you have to.

"It's your fault," Ron said, speaking aloud. "If you hadn't gone and bloody died..."

Once again he imagined Fred's voice. My fault? My fault? If anyone's to blame, it's Percy's he's the one that made me laugh... and imaginary Fred's voice trailed off in a deep chuckle that made the tears overflow from Ron's eyes.

"You did pass smiling, didn't you?" he asked thickly, wiping away the tears hurriedly.

You bet I did! What other way is there to go?

"You shouldn't have had to go though," Ron said, his voice raw with emotions.

He was quite aware of the absurdness of the whole situation. Sitting here on his bed talking aloud and having his own mind answer him back. But his mind was answering in the form of Fred, and there was no way he was giving up these few precious moments.

Yeah, but I did. What can you do, mate? ...Don't cry, Ickle Ronnie-kins! What would Hermione say?

"I dunno," Ron sighed. "She'd try to give me a hug, but other than that I'm lost."

Well then get un-lost, Fred prodded.

"And how do you suppose I do that?" Ron asked, annoyed.

Go talk to her, dunghead! I heard you finally kissed her...

"Technically, she kissed me," Ron admitted, flushing slightly and grinning in spite of himself.

Bugger, that means I owe George a sickle.

"You bet on me?" Ron asked loudly, feeling the familiar stirrings of what he used to know as outrage somewhere deep inside him.

Of course, don't you know me at all?

Ron sighed and placed his head in his hands, letting go of his anger and trying not to pay too much mind to his burning nose. "I should have known."

Fred laughed again, sending more tears rolling down Ron's cheeks and his brother murmured, Just go talk to her, Ron. I'm sure she'll be more understanding than Harry could ever be. I'm sure she's a better snogger too. Oh, and make sure that you kiss her next time...whenever that may be. Otherwise, George is going to be rich and my poor Piggy Bank will be empty.

"George isn't going to take your money."

Why not? Fred asked, confused

"Well, I dunno, he hasn't touched anything since you...left."

Fred groaned. Tell him to explode that stupid pig. I never let him touch it, and now that I'm no longer there to protect it, he should jump on the chance to spend it. Think of the joke shop!

"Tell him yourself," Ron said sharply.

Well I would, but I think he's a little bit hard of hearing, Fred snickered.

Ron found himself laughing.

And then he couldn't stop.

That's the spirit!

He was laughing at everything Fred had ever done and everything George had ever planned and everything they had been in together and all the times Fred had gotten in trouble and all the times he'd tried to send a bludger to Malfoy's head just because Ron and he were enemies and all the times Ron had gotten pointlessly mad. He was laughing harder than he could ever remember laughing in his life, and the best part about it was that Fred was laughing right along with him.

And for a moment, if he closed his eyes, it was possible to imagine that Fred was right next to him and had just told an un-funny joke that everyone laughed at anyway.

For a moment, he felt Fred's hand clap him on the back and say, Go on.

For a moment, it was nice to pretend.

a/n: This was originally going to be a two-shot, but if you guys think that it should simply be a brother-grieving-story type thing, then I have no problem leaving off the second half. So? *hint, hint* Review! *nudge, nudge*

If you were wondering...(Second part involves Romione!) *wink, wink*