"You don't mean that."

It was Bill's calm voice that finally broke the silence in the small living room.

Ron sneered at his family. "I've never meant anything more in my life," he snarled. George suddenly turned away from him, as if unable to comprehend what he was hearing. Charlie reached out rather awkwardly as if to put a hand on his shoulder, but then seemed to think better of it and let his hand fall. The family never touched each other anymore, save for the brushing of fingers as objects were passed and the occasional accidental elbow nudge. It was as if they were strangers who happened to have the same red hair and freckled faces gathered into the same house.

This sent an even stronger flare of anger through Ron. "I hated Fred," he hissed quietly, clenching his fists. In a sudden burst, he yelled, "I HATED HIM!"

"Ronald Bilius Weasley!" Molly screamed in fury, a wrath in her eyes that her Howlers had never managed to replicate. She approached him, glaring directly into his eyes. Ron glared back. "You take that back this instant," she ordered, "and apologize!"

For the first time in his life, Ron didn't back down. Fueled by sheer anger, he snapped, "No."

Before Ron knew what was happening, a sharp smack! silenced the room once more, and his head was jerked sideways. A bright sting bloomed on the side of his face before he realized his mother had slapped him.

It wasn't the first time this had happened, but somehow the experience felt fresh in the worst possible way. Ron never remembered turning away from his family; the next thing he knew, he was storming through the door to the house. "You'll regret saying that," Percy called after him, sounding far too tired and old.

Ron stopped and turned, one step outside the door. "No," he hollered, "I regret…" His voice trailed off for barely a second. "My greatest regret is that I couldn't tell Fred how much I hate him, one last time!" And he slammed the door shut with all of his strength, shaking the house with a thunderous bang.

Blinded by fury, he charged across the yard. He didn't know where he was going, or where he could go – Hermione was somewhere in Australia trying to find her amnesiac parents, and Harry was much too busy with his ridiculous war-hero, "Boy Who Lived" business. It was rather pathetic that they were the only true friends he had gained in all his life, and how lost he was without them.

His destination didn't matter, he decided. Anywhere was better than here.

He was barely halfway through the vegetable garden when a voice suddenly called after him, "Ron! Ron, wait!"

Ginny was there, reaching out for his arm. Sensing it, Ron jerked away from her. Like everyone else in that godforsaken house, he didn't want to be touched.

"Oh, let me guess," Ron snarled at his younger sister, "you're here to tell me that I don't mean it. You're going to boohoo at me and beg me to come back and say I'm sorry." She gazed back at him, her face lacking the reaction he'd been expecting.

Deep down, Ron knew that Ginny didn't deserve this; honestly, she was probably the one he was least frustrated with out of the entire family. In the heat of the moment, though, that simple knowledge was lost under his wave of fury. All he knew was that, ever since the Battle of Hogwarts, he hadn't felt a shred of the relief or happiness he'd been expecting. Ever since he had walked away from the ruins of what had once been his school, he knew that he had walked away from a very large part of his life. He had lost things in that battle, in the entire war, that he would never get back. Bloody hell, some nights he could swear that he had lost himself.

Through it all, no one seemed to care. No one seemed to see how badly the ginger-haired boy was hurting, not even his own bloody family. No one saw that he was drowning.

He had lost people in the war, for Merlin's sake.

He had lost someone.

"I'd swear on my life if you'd ask me to," Ron continued vehemently, but Ginny only listened silently. "I hate Fred. I hate him." Why wouldn't she say anything? Did she not believe him? Was she not taking him seriously?

"All he ever did was torture me!" Ron cried at his younger sister, desperate to prove to her just how much he meant it. He didn't know why, but her lack of reaction was like gas to the fire; he felt like he was about to explode, like smoke was curling from his ears and his eyes were glowing brilliantly with the blazes. "He turned my teddy bear into a giant spider! All these years later, I still have a paralyzing fear of them!"

Still no emotion reached the ginger girl's face. It was as if she wasn't hearing him. "When you were just a baby, he nearly tricked me into taking part in the Unbreakable Vow!" he heatedly continued. "And do you know what it was about? That I'd give him and George my desserts for the rest of my life if they took the fall for the book I'd accidentally set on fire. If I'd broken that promise just once, I would've died! If Dad hadn't walked in at that moment, Fred would've as good as killed me!"

And suddenly he was sinking to the ground, as if this explosion had sapped all the strength from his body. Ginny leaned forward as if to catch him, but instead she fell to her knees in front of him. Ron looked at her with the most open eyes he'd had in years. There were tears there, he realized all of a sudden, tears he hadn't even known he'd been crying.

The anger melted away, leaving only the pain.

Ron collapsed forward. Ginny caught him in her arms. She sat backwards, gently bringing him with her, holding him like a child. She rubbed his back, holding his head to her shoulder.

"He loved you," Ginny said softly.

Ron tried to ignore her words, burying his face further into her shoulder as if to block out the world. "He never did one nice thing for me," he sobbed. Ginny's sweater nearly muffled his words to unintelligibility. "Never, not once."

"He loved you," Ginny repeated patiently, stroking Ron's hair. "He loved you as dearly as any brother would." She leaned back, taking Ron's face in her hands. Her steady eyes locked with his trembling ones, her gaze seeming to grasp his, as if to give it something strong to hold on to. "And you love him just as much, Ron," she murmured. A single tear streaked from one of her sparkling brown eyes. "I know you do."

He had told Ginny that his greatest regret was that he hadn't been able to tell Fred how much he hated him, just one last time.

Truthfully speaking, Ron wasn't sure if he'd ever told a larger lie. He'd managed to tell the redheaded devil that he hated him enough times for it to truly count, even though Fred always scoffed at the remark. He doubted once more would've made Fred believe it.

"Ginny," he sobbed softly, "I…"

"Shh," she cooed, tenderly stroking his hair. Her head leaned in to his as if to comfort him. "It's okay…it's okay."

Ron shook his head, sniffling pitifully. After a moment, he pulled away from his sister's warm embrace. His pale blue eyes, filled with tears that sparkled in the sun, sought out her gentle brown ones. The elder Weasley could only imagine how wretched he looked at that moment, with puffy eyes and a snotty nose and a face red enough to outshine his hair. He had always been an ugly crier. "I told him I hated him so much," he whimpered, clutching her sweater like a child. "But I…I…"

At that moment, his body seemed to cave in on itself. He wilted, his head falling and his shoulders drawing in closer. His long hair hid the raw agony on his face. A sudden, nearly inhuman scream burst from him. To Ron, though, it sounded nothing like a scream. To him, it was sound full of pathetic heartbreak and pain. If anguish was a sound, Ron was certain that that was what it was.

Without hesitation, Ginny drew Ron in to her, holding his head to her chest and rocking him back and forth. Her body curled into his, and she buried her face into his hair, unable to keep the quiet sobs back any longer.

All this time, Ron had been trying to convince the world that he truly hated Fred. He had held an insane hope that if he said it enough times, it would become true. He had hoped against hope itself that he could finally force himself to hate his older brother. Anything to get this bloody pain to stop!

Ron had been drowning in his grief because he had lost things in the war. He had lost people. Oh, Merlin, who was he kidding – he had lost Fred. He had lost Fred, and no matter how much he hoped and prayed and begged, Ron would never get him back.

"I never told him that I loved him," Ron wailed, unable to bottle it up any longer. "S-so many t-times I…I told him ho-how much I hated him…n-not once…once…did I ever tell him th-that I love him! Never!"

"Oh, Ron," Ginny moaned, "he knew. Fred knew, I swear he did…"

Not hearing her, Ron continued, "How awful am I? He was my brother. He was my brother…I'm a terrible-"

He never finished the sentence. Suddenly, the two youngest Weasleys felt a pair of arms tightly embrace them. Ron looked up to see Percy on his knees behind him, burying his face in his younger brother's shoulder. Ron felt as if a light had suddenly switched on in his head.

There was Percy, who had abandoned his family without a glance backwards, the family that had done so much for him. Percy, who never had kind words for his younger siblings, least of all the twins; who disdained the very thought that he had the misfortune of being related to such a devil as Fred; who openly denounced his heritage and everything it stood for. Holding Ron now in a strong, comforting embrace was Percy, who, in his entire life, had only stood by Fred's side long enough to see him die.

And through his own pain, Ron suddenly saw that of his elder brother's.

"P-Perce…," Ron stammered, unable to find the right words.

Before he could, though, there were more arms, more teary eyes, more soft sobs. The entire Weasley family was there, holding on to each other. Ron realized that they must have heard his screaming and had rushed out to see what was going on. They must have heard everything.

For the first time since the Battle of Hogwarts, they were able to truly embrace one another. They clang to one another, as if finally seeing how shattered each individual had become, as if desperately trying to hold each of them together when they were clearly falling apart. Each held a different form of agony in their hearts, a different variation of the tragedy. Ron realized that he hadn't been the only one too caught up in his own pain to acknowledge everybody else's; everyone had been blinded by sorrow.

Everyone but Ginny.

Ron took his baby sister even tighter into his arms. If she hadn't followed him out the door, who knew what would have happened?

The fragility that had been threatening them since the final battle had finally vanished. Their family had had more than its fair share of pain, but finally there seemed to be a silver lining.

After all, they couldn't carry this pain forever.

Ron closed his eyes. He loved me, he thought, feeling a weight in his heart shifting. It wasn't entirely gone, but it was no longer resting in the core of his being. He loved me. He was my tormentor, my nightmare, and one of the worst big brothers I could have asked for. But he loved me. He took a deep breath, his body feeling strangely light. Now, he knew that he would survive this. They, as a family, would get through this together. Before Ron knew what he was doing, he opened his mouth and whispered quietly:

"I love you, Fred."