Friday, 12 February 1999

Ron Weasley watched the box in his sister's hands carefully, as though it might explode.

"Just slide that out of the way. Under the table's fine."

"Are you sure?" Ginny Weasly gave the box a little shake. It rattled a bit, but thank Merlin didn't start to buzz or hum. "It's labeled books, but it seems a bit light."

"All of Hermione's boxes says books," Ron answered. "Just slide it under the table, Hermione can sort it out later. I need a hand putting up these shelves."

Ron hid a sigh of relief as his sister slid the box under the table and appeared to forget about it. It was now just one more box, bag, suitcase, and box in a dusty flat full of boxes, most of which were marked books.

There was a lot of dust, which bothered Ron. He'd cleaned three times, but tracking all of Hermione's worldly goods into his little flat off Diagon Alley had dragged in more grime than he'd cleaned away. Ron Weasley had never thought of himself as a particularly careful housekeeper, but he was still Molly Weasley's son and the dust bothered him.

"This place is filthy," said Ginny. She tried to wipe her hands clean on the front of her shirt.

"I'll clean again before Hermione gets back," said Ron. "But I can't do that until we get these boxes out of the way. And we can't do that until we get these shelves up."

Ginny shook her head. "You work on the shelves, I'll start cleaning up wherever you want to put them."

Ron looked around his flat. It hadn't seemed small when it had just been his stuff scattered around. But now one bedroom, loo, and a living/dining area seemed not nearly enough. There were boxes on his table, under his table, piled up on the floor, stacked on his battered sofa, under his bed, on his bed, in the shower...

"That wall," he gestured to the wall across from the entrance. "Just pull those posters down, I've needed new ones for ages."

While Ginny pulled out her wand and started Vanishing the first layer of dust, Ron turned his attention to the bookshelves. He and Hermione had bought them at some Muggle store a few days ago - A shopping trip Ron still remembered with dread - and now the parts lay on his floor, all lined up and ready. Ron picked up the instruction pamphlet and looked through the steps. It all looked fairly straightforward.

"Right..." He tore open a little bag and started counting parts. Five Flyppen Myrgs, a Rambet Tyrk, seven Pitotts... "What'd you make of Dudley's letter?" Ron asked, a bit distracted.

"Who, Harry's fat cousin? What letter?"

Oh bugger. No, he couldn't pass it off as nothing. "Er, he sent Harry a letter last week."

There were a few seconds of quiet, while Ron counted Nyfflstyppners and prayed for peace.

"How'd the nasty git find him?"

Oh thank Merlin and all the other saints. Ron had faced the Dark Lord Voldemort, Dark artefact Slytherin's Locket, and the Dark creature Hulbolge the Ettin. None of them scared him like the Ginger witch Ginevra Molly Weasley. "He didn't," Ron said. "He mailed it regular post care of the Ministry of Magic. Pretty clever, considering."

"Well." Ginny went over to Ron's little kitchen area and started filling the sink with hot water and soap. Their mother had always been clear on the fact that magic only cleaned the superficial dirt. "Well, what did he have to say?"

"Dunno." Ron counted the Nyfflstyppners again. "Harry hasn't opened it yet."

His sister made a noise halfway between a growl and an obscenity. "That is so Harry," she muttered through clenched teeth.

"Yeah," said Ron. He watched his sister, noticing again the muscles in her back from Quidditch. She wasn't his baby sister any more, and sooner or later they'd have to talk about Harry.

Maybe it could still be later. "I'm short a Nyfflstyppner."

Ginny looked back from the sink, clenching a wet rag in her hands. "What?"

"A Nyfflstyppner. I'm supposed to have twenty-seven, and there are only twenty-six here."

"Bloody useless Muggle rubbish," Ginny snapped. She slapped the rag down on the counter and yanked her wand out of her back pocket. "Accio Nyfflstyppner!"

"Ginny no!"

The little pile of widgets flung themselves off the floor and towards Ginny. She yelped and covered her face just in time to be pelted by dozens of tiny metal bits. "Ow! Ow stop ow!"

Ron stood up as the parts rained down onto the worn linoleum floor. "Are you all ri-"

"No I'm not fucking all right! Do I seem all right to you?"

Oh bugger, Ron thought. Where's Hermione when you need her? He tried to take this as Hermione-like as possible. "You seem upset?"

"Yes I'm upset! What the Hell is wrong with Harry?!" Ginny grabbed the rag and tossed it at the wall. "Purgo!" The cloth started scrubbing itself up and down the wall.

"What, like the short list?"

"Don't you laugh at me!"

So far she was only throwing rags. Ron wanted to keep it that way. "I'm not laughing, Ginny. Believe me I'm not. I've known Harry longer than you have, and if you want to know what's wrong with him..." Ron shrugged. "Pull up a seat, this might take a while."

Ginny looked as though she wasn't sure whether to yell or cry. Ron abandoned the shelves and walked over to his sister. "Here," he said, and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

"Jerk," she muttered into her much taller brother's chest. Ron didn't worry about that. If Ginny Weasley didn't want a hug she had ways of making sure you knew it. Starting with a really nasty Bat-Bogey Hex.

"I don't want a list," she said. "I just - " Ginny pushed herself free of Ron's arms. She looked up and sniffed hard. Her eyes were turning red and Ron thought she was trying not to cry.

"Is there something wrong with me?" She sniffed again and then she did start to cry, like she'd cried on the day when her first pet had died and they'd buried it in the little patch behind the garden.

Harry you're my best mate and I'm going to kill you.

Ron hugged Ginny again, and she didn't call him names or push him away. Ron sniffed a bit himself. "There's nothing wrong with you, Ginny. There's nothing wrong with you."

"Then what happened?"

"Oh Merlin..." That was a damned good question, really. It wasn't supposed to be this way. The War was over, it was all supposed to be happy ever after now. But... "It hasn't really gone away yet," Ron said. "None of it. The Dursleys, Voldemort, the War, that stupid bloody tournament."

"But it's over."

"It should be, but - " Ron sighed. "Hermione and I have talked about this a lot." Mostly because that room in Malfoy House with Bella still wasn't over for Hermione. Neither was the locket really, muttering into Ron's ear. "It's over for us -" liar. "- but it's still what Harry knows. And honestly, it's been his entire life. He doesn't know what to do with himself now that it's over."

Ginny sniffed again. Ron had a horrible suspicion that his sister had just wiped her nose on his shirt. Granted the shirt was already filthy, but still. "He has the Aurors. He had me. Wasn't that enough?"

"Did Harry - I bet he didn't. Did Harry tell you he had a flashback in Azkaban? Right in the middle of a despair of Dementors? Nearly got me, him, and a senior Auror kissed."

Ginny pushed herself free again. "What?! But we were still together when he went into Azkaban! Why didn't he tell me?!"

Ron shrugged. "He didn't want to tell Shacklebolt. I bet he wouldn't have told me if I hadn't been there. Harry doesn't think people should worry about him."

"I know that, but we do. We all do, you and mum and dad and m-me."

"He knows. He just doesn't know what to do with it."

Ginny folded her arms and glared at Ron. "That's not fair."

"Yeah," said Ron, brightening up a bit. He'd been waiting for a chance to use this line for a few weeks now. "You know what else isn't fa-"

"Oh hell!" Ginny snapped her wand up. Ron crouched low and grabbed his own wand and scanned the room for whatever had alarmed his sister.

"Finite!" Across the room the shredded rag dropped to the floor.

"Oh." Ron straightened up. He looked at the spot on the wall where the paint and plaster had been scrubbed all the way down to the ancient lathing. "That's it for my deposit, I guess."

"Oh Ron, I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Two hundred Galleons gone, Ron silently mourned. "We had more important things to worry about. Come one, I'll grab my wallet and we'll go get something to eat."

"Shouldn't we finish cleaning? I thought Hermione wanted to be done with the move by tomorrow."

"Yes she does like her schedules, doesn't she? I'm hungry. Being a big brother builds up an appetite." Ron went into his bedroom - Soon to be his and Hermione's - and grabbed his wallet from the nightstand. He came out just in time to see Ginny open the box he'd told her to put under the table earlier.

"Bloody hell Ginny put that down."

She looked up from the box and smirked at him. "Books, eh? Do you know everything Hermione has in here?"

Ron drew himself up to his full height and tried to look as dignified as possible under the circumstances. "I bought half of those for Hermione."

The smirk slipped a bit from Ginny's face.

"As a matter of fact, the one with the strap is mine."

Ginny carefully closed the box. "We're going to the Cauldron," she announced, putting the box down. "Where you are going to buy me enough alcohol to kill this memory forever."

"Deal."

Ron and Ginny grabbed their jackets, and Ron checked that he had his keys. Just as he reached for the door Ginny touched his wrist.

"Ron. So there's nothing wrong with me?"

Ron smiled sadly, and brushed a lock of imaginary hair away from his sister's forehead. "Riddle lies, Ginny. He gets into your head and he lies. Never forget that."

The War was a long way from over.