A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. Prompts are below :)

First Aid Task 4: Write about someone who needs a pick-me-up

Word Count: 2380

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.

WARNINGS: Language, character death, grieving

Enjoy!

Hermione was watching him closely. Too closely. Ron really didn't feel like having the talk that he knew was coming, but he'd been friends with Hermione since they were eleven. There were some things you couldn't avoid with her.

She tucked a strand of wild curly hair behind her ear and laid a hand on Ron's freckled arm. "Ron… I'm sorry about Fred." There were tears in her brown eyes, and Ron felt a fresh wave of pain wash over him. "I… I can't imagine how you must be feeling."

He turned away from her. It had been a week since the battle, but his heart… it was still in ruins. Still, he should be happy, shouldn't he? The war was over—they had won. There was so much to celebrate.

And yet… there were so many people to mourn.

"I'm fine," he murmured.

She pursed her lips slightly. He wasn't going to get away with this. "You don't go through a war and come out unaffected," she reminded him gently. "It's not possible, Ron."

He grit his teeth. "Yeah? Well, it seems like I'm just fine."

Hermione bit her lip. "It's okay not to be. No one is, not really."

Ron's hands were shaking. He didn't want to think about what he'd lost—if he did, that horrible moment would come back. The fear, the blood, the lights all around him, laughter, an explosion and then silence—

Ron stood abruptly. This was his room, his house, so really Hermione should be the one leaving—but after everything they'd suffered through, he just didn't have the heart to push her away. "I said I'm fine."

Hermione got to her feet, too. "Ron, please, I—" She cut herself off, looking at a loss for words. Ron felt a stab of guilt; he wasn't making this any easier for her. She'd known Fred too, she'd cared about him… but not as deeply as he had.

"Ron, I promise… I promise that I'm here for you." She took a few steps forward. "Please don't just shut me out."

He ran a hand through his red hair. What else was he supposed to do?

Blue eyes met brown. "I'm fine."

He left his bedroom and marched down the stairs, memories flooding his head. How many times had Fred hurtled down these stairs, a grin on his face? How many times had he slid down the banister? Blown things up in the hallways?

It didn't feel like home anymore. It couldn't, without his brother.

"Ron?"

He turned. There was Harry in the doorway of the bathroom, dark bags under his green eyes and a defeated look Ron knew would be reflected in his own face if he wasn't so careful to hide it. "Yeah, mate?"

Harry closed his eyes. "I'm sorry."

Ron frowned sharply. He couldn't do this. He didn't blame Harry, not in the least, but he couldn't assuage his friend's guilt right now. This wasn't about Harry. For once, this was about him.

Ron shuddered and pushed those bitter feelings aside. After all the bloodshed they'd suffered through, the worst thing to do was push people away. "It's not your fault. I just… I need time."

Harry nodded. Ron began to walk away, but then he was called back. "Ron? I didn't… I didn't want him to die."

"Nobody wanted him to die." It came out harsher than he'd meant it, but he didn't apologize. The time to be gentle had come and gone. "He gave his life to the war, Harry, and that makes him a hero."

His friend's eyes were wide. "I never said he wasn't!"

"Then stop—stop discrediting him by claiming his death was your fault! What he did was brave, and it… it was all him. You didn't have anything to do with it. It was his sacrifice." Ron sank to the ground, shaking. Why did everyone want to talk about this? He was always fine until they mentioned Fred; then he lost control of everything and just broke down.

Harry crouched down in front of him. "That's not what I was trying to do."

Ron put his head in his hands. "I know. I know. But… bloody hell, I just need to be alone and everyone wants to keep talking to me about it! I don't blame you. I don't blame anyone but fucking Voldemort, and he's dead. Please just… I'll see you later."

Harry shrank away, clearly caught between staying and honoring Ron's wishes. In the end, he stood up. "I'll be in your room," he said quietly.

Ron watched him go. Harry was probably going to have a long discussion about him with Hermione. They were worried about him—he couldn't blame them for that. Still, he wished they would just let him grieve in his own way.

Ron exhaled slowly. He didn't know how to do this. How to cope with the loss of someone so close to him, someone who'd seemed so immortal. He'd known the war was dangerous. He'd known there was a chance he could die and that the people he cared about could die. But somehow, though he'd worried for their safety, he hadn't actually thought he'd lose someone in his family.

But he had. And he had to learn to live with that.

His parents were doing their best to help everyone with this loss. They tried to be strong, to set an example, but Ron knew how broken up they were inside. He knew because he felt much the same.

"Hey."

Ron looked up slowly. The voice that had spoken was hoarse and heavy with grief.

"George," Ron murmured. "Hi."

George swallowed. Seeing his older brother like this was almost as strange as not having Fred around—gone was the light in his eyes, the mischievous smile. Ron couldn't imagine how he must be feeling… George had known Fred best, after all.

George crouched down. "You shouldn't have yelled at Harry," he scolded softly. "He's not taking anything away from… from Fred."

Ron looked away. "I know. But I don't want to talk about it."

George's face was pale, but there was a raw anger in his eyes Ron had never seen before. "So what? You're going to pretend it never happened?"

Ron's ears began going red. "That is not what I said."

"He deserves to be remembered. Not swept under the rug!"

"Do you think I don't know that?" Ron exploded. "You're not the only one that lost him! He was my brother, too!"

He was shaking now; all the emotions he'd tried to suppress were bubbling up to the surface, trying to drown him. He'd never lost someone so important to him before—why didn't anyone understand that he wanted to stop reliving that moment? Was it really so selfish to want to think about anything other than the moment he lost his brother?

Maybe he wasn't Fred's twin, but that didn't mean that a part of him hadn't been ripped out—

"Boys. I think that's enough."

Both turned to see their father looking at them tiredly. His blue eyes looked pointedly at George. "Go to your room, please. I want to speak with Ron."

Arthur watched his older son stalk away and then led his youngest son into another room. He shut the door firmly behind them and turned to Ron.

"He doesn't mean it. He's hurting and he just… doesn't know how to express it."

Ron looked at his father closely. His hair had been thinning and lightening for a while, and the lines on his face weren't new, but this was the first time he'd seemed old. Ron looked down and shrugged. "I know."

Arthur walked forward and put a hand on his son's shoulder. "Your mother and I want you to know how… how proud we are of you. I know we haven't said that enough."

Ron looked up, startled. "What?"

Arthur smiled a bit sadly. "You were… so brave during the war. You shouldn't have had to be, but you were. Your mother and I couldn't be more proud."

Ron felt sick. How long had he wanted this—recognition above his brothers? How long had he yearned to be seen as an individual, not just another part of the Weasley clan? He'd gotten his wish, but the price had been Fred's head…

"Dad, I… I…"

Arthur adjusted his glasses. "The war was a nightmare, son," he whispered. "And Merlin knows that I… that I miss your brother." His father's eyes were misty, and Ron winced.

Arthur took in a shuddering breath before he continued. "I'm just so glad that the rest of you are safe. And I know that Fred is, too."

Ron glanced away. "Dad. I'm sorry for running off."

It was something he'd been thinking about lately. He'd disappeared without a trace and had even been frustrated with his parents for urging him not to go. He wouldn't change things, but he felt the need to apologize for all the worry he caused them.

Arthur's expression softened. "Don't ever apologize for doing what you think is right, Ron."

His hands were shaking. Overcome with emotion he wasn't sure how to express, he lurched forwards and wrapped his arms around his father. "Dad. Dad, I just want—I want him to be here." Ron felt so stupidly helpless. It just wasn't fair. Fred had only ever put good in the world—why had he been so cruelly taken from it?

His father's breath hitched as he smoothed Ron's hair away from his face. "He is—was proud and impulsive. It runs in the family." Arthur swallowed. "Nothing we could have done would have changed anything. And I'm proud of what he did."

Ron squeezed his eyes shut tight and rested his head on his father's shoulder. "Even though you wish you could change it," he muttered.

Arthur's grip on him tightened. His voice was hoarse when he spoke. "Right."

Just then, the door opened and Molly came rushing in. "Arthur? Oh, there you are. I've been looking everywhere for my necklace, have you seen it?"

Arthur slowly released his hold on Ron and walked towards his wife. She looked frazzled, not that Ron could blame her, and seemed to suddenly realize that something was wrong.

"What's wrong?" She pushed her curly red hair from her face. "Ron, dear?"

Ron shook his head and tried to smile. "It's nothing, Mum."

She opened her mouth to push the matter but her husband interrupted. "You're wearing the necklace, Molly."

Her hands flew to her chest and her shoulders drooped in relief when her fingers found the coral cord with the seashell strung on—something Fred made for her for Mother's Day many years ago. She'd taken to wearing it as of late; it made her feel closer to him.

"Oh." She breathed out slowly. "Thank you."

She turned back to her youngest son, a stern look in her brown eyes. "Now, what's the matter?"

Arthur put a hand on her arm, a mysterious, unidentifiable expression on his face the Molly understood in an instant. Slowly, she nodded. "Let me talk to him," she murmured.

Arthur bent down and kissed her cheek before he left.

Molly pulled Ron over to a chair and sat down with him. She took his face in her hands, and though he felt much too old for such things, he relished the comfort her touch brought him.

"Ron. Talk to me, please."

Ron wet his lips with his tongue, mouth suddenly dry. "Dad and I were talking about… about Fred."

Anguish broke through the careful mask she wore. "Do you… do you want to know what your father told me?"

Ron furrowed his brow. "Uh, sure."

She smoothed his hair out of his face over and over. He let her not only because he secretly liked it, but because he knew she needed it, too. "He told me that there are already so many people who love him where he is now. My brothers, Remus, Tonks, Sirius… even Harry's parents, I'm sure, will be there for him. He's not alone."

Hearing those names freshened the pain in Ron's chest. He balled his hands into fists. "They still shouldn't have died!"

"Ron Weasley, don't lose your head! Of course they shouldn't have died, but… dear, we can't change what happened." Her voice was wobbling and her eyes filled with tears. "N-no matter how much we wish we could, no matter how much we want to… we just can't."

She was crying silently, all her pain finally on display. It hit Ron all of a sudden that she would understand. She'd lost both her brothers in the war—she would understand what that was like, and she could tell him how to get through it.

"Mum," he gasped out, "Mum, everything's wrong without him. He should be here!"

Molly pulled him close, clutching him like he was the last thing in the world that was precious to her. "That's… that's going to take some time to get used to," she murmured. "But eventually—" She broke off as a fresh wave of sobs hit her. "Eventually you'll get used to only having memories."

She pulled back and gripped his shoulders with a sudden urgency. "And I know that hurts, Ron. But you will be able to get through it because that's what Fred wants. You don't have to forget him—you shouldn't forget him—but you can't dwell on this loss." She kissed his forehead. "It's okay to mourn him, love."

Then the dam within Ron broke, and all his defenses came tumbling down.

When he finally returned to his bedroom, Harry and Hermione were still speaking in low voices. Both looked up at him when he walked in, and, aware that evidence of his breakdown was still present on his face, he looked at the ground.

"I'm sorry," he croaked after a minute.

Harry stood. He walked towards Ron and offered him a small smile. "I get it. It's hard."

It was. And he wasn't okay. But there would be no more yelling at his friends.

He took a deep breath. "Yeah."

Hermione came over and wrapped her arms around him, pale in the face. "We're here for you, Ron."

"I know. Thank you."

It was all he could say, and he hoped it was enough.

A/N:

Writing Club:

Disney Challenge: Characters 3. Andy — alt. Write about being worried about a lost thing

Book Club: Poseidon — (relationship) father, (word) mysterious, (dialogue) "He is proud and impulsive. It runs in the family."

Showtime: 20. The Play — (color) red

Sophie's Shelf: 3. House Martell — "Unbowed, unbent, unbroken."

Liza's Lyrics: 6. I'll write this letter and hope it saves me. - S.O.S.

Angel's Arcade: Killik — (action) defending someone, (word) gentle, (character) Harry Potter

Bex's Basement: 11. Amos Diggory — Write about a proud parent

Film Festival: 30. (dialogue) "[Name], don't lose your head!"

Seasonal Challenges:

Days of the Year: 2nd May — Write about siblings

Amanda's Challenge: Pairings 8. Diego/Grace — alt. Write about a conversation between a mother and son

Fortnightly:

Jazzy June: RonHermione — (object) seashell, (color) coral

Paint by Numbers: Green: 18. "You don't go through a war and come out unaffected." / "Yeah? Well, it seems like I'm just fine."

Constellation Club: Columba: Gamma Columbae — (word) promise

Gym: Madam Pomfrey: "The saddest word in the whole wide world is almost." - Nikita Gill

365 Words: 3. Bloodshed

Insane House Challenge: 283. (pairing) HermioneRon