This house was never meant to be silent. Remus steps inside, his footsteps echoing down hallways and up stairwells. The kitchen seems unnaturally somber, solely lit by slivers of fading daylight that cast crooked shadows across the room. When the door is closed behind him, he watches the figure at the table stir. His head rises from a nest of thin arms, red, overgrown hair brushing against the back of his neck. Observing the younger man, Remus wonders how often he sleeps, how much he eats.
"Ginny?" His voice is desperate, low and shuddering. A burdensome sigh crawls from his lungs when he looks upon Remus and he turns, resting his elbows on the table. "She's left." He mumbles into open palms.
"She's at Grimmauld ." Remus shifts his weight to rest against the edge of the counter top, thinking now he should have planned something to say, something to make things easier. "You have everyone very worried, Ron." He studies him sitting there, fidgeting in his seat, rubbing his palms across his eyes until small stars silently erupt there. Remus stands observing, catching new creases that have carved themselves into the man's forehead, shadows that fade along high cheekbones and beneath tired eyes. This place has become familiar and morbid, cold and unhappy. "Staying here..it won't bring them back. It won't bring her back." Remus ends lamely, shoulders sagging and eyes returning to the darkening window. Ron's thumb spins a thin, gold band absentmindedly around his finger, blinking away the fading spots of light.
His sister sent Remus, he had known she would. But he won't leave, he won't leave his family's home empty. Remus knows it too. When Remus is gone Ron stares into his palms, relaxing his eyes until everything blurs together. He thinks of Ginny years and years ago, when she would tangle her fingers into his own. He thinks of her scraped knees and sandcastles, bits of grass nested in auburn hair. He wonders if he made her cry.