They
By
HeadGirlInTraning
A/N: I don't own Harry Potter or anything associated with it. Obviously.
They'd always thought it would be Ron.
They never talked about it, but they knew their odds weren't good. There were nine of them, and they were the most well-known blood-traitors in all of Britain. And they wore it like a badge of honor. They were the adoptive family of Harry Potter, who they would have counted as a loss to their number, and they could not have been more proud.
They knew that at least one of them probably wouldn't make it, and though they never talked about it, everyone thought it would be Ron. After his first year at Hogwarts, it was clear that his bravery was advanced far beyond that of a typical 11-year-old. His second year, he showcased his loyalty; he and Harry, it seemed, had not hesitated to go after Ginny. His third year, his leg had been broken, but he never told his family why. By his fifth year, after his family had learned he'd gone off to the Department of Mysteries and battled Death Eaters, the family knew – Ron would never turn back; he was with Harry, and Harry was going to take this thing to the end.
They had prepared their minds for it. Because he was the youngest brother, he was a mix of all of his elder brothers, and something just himself. They each saw a bit of themselves in him.
Fred and George, though they would never tell him, were incredibly proud to walk the halls of Hogwarts during Ron's first and second years; everyone kept coming up to them and asking if they were Ron Weasley's brothers. They beamed any time this happened. They saw their willingness to disregard rules in his character, though his violations often had a much more noble purpose than their own.
Percy saw his insecurity. He saw Ron's insecurity because it was his own; the fear that he was not best loved, or most talented, that he was not as charismatic or as creative.
Charlie saw his sense of adventure. He saw Ron's willingness to face danger in a responsible way, in a way that was needed and necessary.
Bill saw the most obvious thing – his looks. Ron was his match in body structure, and nearly his match in handsomeness.
Ginny viewed Ron differently from the rest. He was her first friend, the one left with her when all the others went to Hogwarts. When they were young, she could talk to him with only a look or a nod. This tapered off as the years passed, but it did not matter; in her heart-of-hearts, Ron was her favorite, and the most admired. She longed to show his sort of bravery, and it wasn't long until she did.
They had all thought it would be Ron.
But it wasn't. It was Fred.
They'd never thought it would be Fred or George, who were always thought of together, and never, ever resented it. The two were a pair, a unit, an indivisible, singular, wonderful thing, that was never meant to be broken. They were the life of the party, the legends who left Hogwarts in a blaze of glory, and whose daring was the greatest of them all. All of them were Gryffindors, all of them truly brave, truly daring. But Fred and George possibly had the most daring of them all; they had never, ever betrayed fear of anything.
They thought George would take it the worst, as if he lost a half of his soul. They were, again, wrong. George was the source of the greatest comfort for the rest. He missed Fred's presence deeply, truly, constantly, but he always felt that Fred's soul was always with him. Just because he wasn't there in person, to finish his sentences, never meant that Fred had left him. Fred could never, would never leave George, and George knew it. They were eternally linked, literally hatched from the same egg, and something as silly as death could never, ever break them apart.
When Percy came to tell George, George already knew. He'd felt it happen, like a rubber band snapping in his stomach. He saw Percy's face, full of anguish, and he threw his arms around him, and whispered in his sobbing brother's ear that Fred would be so glad that Percy was ok, that he and Fred both felt so happy and excited that Percy had come, that they had expected nothing less of him. That Fred would be proud and honored to have died at Percy's side.
Percy could think of nothing to say.
They watched Percy closely for weeks after. He, it turned out, was the one who took it the hardest. Percy thought constantly that it should have been him, that he was the one who deserved it, that Fred, fantastic, brilliant, hilarious, daring, brave, infuriating Fred should still be here, and he, Percy the Prat, the betrayer, the back-stabber, the stubborn git, should have been the one to die. He would have done anything to change it.
Bill tried to talk to him about it. Charlie thought that Percy would probably have to work out most of it himself. George stayed positive, and tried to make Percy see it his way. Ginny sat with Percy in silence for hours, knowing that there were not words.
It was Ron, though, who was able to pull him back. Ron, who Percy now admired the most, who was able to overcome the insecurity that plagued them both, who was himself but with better choices made. Ron, who was the one who they thought would die, now mixed in the triangle of Fred, the one who did die, and Percy, the one who thought he should have. Ron, who was a mix of all of the brothers, with the best and worst of their spirits in him. Ron, who never had a deft hand for being subtle, and whose patience for self-pity was worn away, due to his conquering of his own demons, and the conquering of those of his chosen brother, Harry.
Ron sat in front of Percy, five weeks to the day after Fred's death. He spoke simply, his voice even.
"Percy, we wouldn't trade you for Fred."
Percy's eyes grew large, and he looked hard into Ron's, blue into blue.
Ron continued.
"Percy, you were a prat. But that doesn't mean it should have been you. That doesn't mean that you deserved it. None of us deserved it. That's the point."
It was everything he'd felt. Everything he didn't want to feel. The shame, the doubt, the self-hatred, all laid out in front of his face.
Percy almost smiled. "You sound smarter than you used to." It would sound like an insult to most people, but Ron understood.
Ron did smile, and Percy finally felt that he could too. "Well, that's what happens when you spend enough time around Hermione. You can't help but sound smarter."
Seeing Ron like this, smiling, his blue eyes bright and free from worry for the first time since he was 11, Percy finally felt a sense of relief. Fred had not made it, and it was horrible. But Ron, who'd missed so much of his childhood, he had made it, practically escaping certain death more times than Percy could ever really know. He was real and solid. He walked and laughed and turned red when anyone mentioned Hermione. He smiled more easily than he had since he was small. He'd fought so hard, and so long, seen so much, had the black twin clouds of danger and death hanging over him for years. And yet, he lived. And he was happy.
And this made Percy happy. One brother had died. But another was finally getting to live. And maybe that meant he was supposed to live, too.
They'd always thought it would be Ron. But Ron lived. And that meant there was hope.