The war was over. They had one. But the happiness and sense of relief he had expected never came. They were dead. Tonks. Lupin. Lavender. All dead. Never coming back. He was standing near where they lay. Wands gripped tight. Tonks and Lupin, holding hands.
Ron had a bottle in his hands. Firewhiskey. Butterbeer had seemed too mild a choice. The house tables had been removed. One table remained. People were celebrating. Friends and family. People, tired from the battle had collapsed there. They were over with food now. Ron ate little. Then went over to the Gryffindor common room to find the stack of booze he knew would be kept behind Dean's bed. Just as he opened the trunk, a spider jumped out at him. A rubber spider. One of Fred and George's inventions.
'Fred. My dear brother. Died fighting a death eater. I was there. I could have saved him. Did it really matter now?'
He took a swing from his bottle and stumbled forward, vision blurred by tears.
'All those times at The Burrow. His pranks. The funny ones, the stupid ones, and the scary ones. I would get angry at im and George sometimes. But they would just tweek my nose, ruffle my hair and step out of the room roaring with laughter. I wish he was here, my brother. My Fred. He and George used to be inseparable, joined at the hip, finishing each other's sentences, knowing exactly what was going on in their heads. How would George cope. Shit. George.
He got up from the floor, putting every ounce of energy he could into the action. He had to find George. Being the younger half of the Weasley clan, they were close. Luckily for him, Ron knew just where his brother would be.
'Their dormitory. The place where they shared their most intimate moments. George was there, sprawled on the bed. A bottle of firewhiskey in one hand and a picture of Fred in the other.'
"What are you doing here Ron" George asked, his speech slurred. No answer. "C'mere" he held out an arm to his younger brother. Too tired to do anything else, Ron slumped on the bed.
'I am in a guy's arms. Normally this would have bothered me, but not tonight he needed me. And as much as it hurt to admit it. I needed him there too. The alcohol was getting to my head. I couldn't think straight anymore. Small flashes of Fred, playing with me, pranking me, having deep talks, teaching me little tricks, consoling me. Who would do that now? The pain ran deep. It hurt too much. To lose him. We needed him her.'
Ron snuggled closer to his brother.
'It was going to be hard, going back home. Emptying out Fred's drawers, taking out his things. And the joke shop. Would George be able to go in there? They shared a deep connection. Not only were they twins, they were lovers. Bound by blood, and the heart. Soulmates.
"Georgie, you know I'll be here for you right?"
"No matter what?" George asked, his eyes closed.
"No matter what" Ron answered.
He had to be the stronger man here. Ron took the bottle from his brother's hands and kept it on the nightstand along with his own. Pulling the covers over the sleeping redhead, he switched off the lamp.
"Don't go Ron. Stay with me tonight"
"I wasn't planning on doing so George" with that, he jumped into bed fully clothed.
Ron had turned out to be the strong one. He would cry secretly. Not because he was ashamed to do so, but for the sake of his family. Years had passed since that fatal night. They still missed Fred, but they had learnt to cope. Every morning as they stepped out of The Burrow, his portrait waved a cheerful goodbye. And when they came home in the evening, he was always there, a warm smile on his face.