I would firstly like to thank Fain, my beta. YOU ROCK, as always. All belongs to JKR. I get nothing but joy from this. And maybe a few fire whiskeys from the locals to tell them what happens... and a hangover, but nothing more. :D

Chapter One ::
The Endings of War and the Beginnings of Tragedy

Hogwarts is in ruins. The War took its toll on the wizarding world. Ronald Weasley seemed to be hit the hardest. His home destroyed, his family killed. The only ones spared from death beside himself in his family were Ginny and George.
The important thing was that Harry defeated Voldemort. The important thing was that the wizarding world could live in peace. He lay there, in his bed, unable to sleep. His eyes were blood-shot from crying. Ron had been crying! He, a man of eighteen, had been crying. He ran a shaky hand through his fiery hair. Why did the Death Eaters target his family? He could see why they attacked Percy; he worked at the Ministry. Dad, even, he could see. But his mum? Bill? Charlie? And Fred. Why Fred? He wasn't even in the Order. He just had a shop on Diagon Alley, a joke shop.
He had the best family there was, and they were gone. Forever, and no amount of crying or cursing could bring them back. He looked at the empty bed across the darkened room. Harry was still in St. Mungo's. He'd been there since the War's end, three months ago. What if Harry didn't wake up? What if Harry didn't make it? What if Harry woke up and didn't remember Ron? What would he do then? One of Ron's biggest fears was not having Harry around.

Hermione could hear Ron's strangled sobs through her pale blue wall. He'd been distant since the death of most of his family. He wouldn't talk to her, wouldn't talk to anyone. He stayed in that room all day, curtains drawn so no light would enter. It broke her heart to see him in such pain. She was thankful though, that her parents had let him stay with her. She was able to take better care of him this way. She was happy Ginny was here too, of course, but Ginny didn't need her help like Ron did.
George was welcome too, as she extended her invitation to him, feeling maybe he'd like to stay with Ron and Ginny. He turned it down, saying he would stay with his wife, Alica. She was sure that they were staying with her parents until Diagon Alley was being rebuilt.

"Ron's crying again," whispered a worried Ginny.
"I know, he does more at night, doesn't he?" replied Hermione.
"Why aren't I feeling as bad as him? He's miserable, not that I'm not, but... not like him."
"Different people react to the same things different ways, I expect. I feel horrible, that he's so upset."
"I know. I wish he'd talk to you, to anyone. If he doesn't, I'm afraid of what might happen."
"We don't want to rush him though, you know?" She never got an answer because Ginny was fast asleep.

Ron didn't know how he managed sleep. He knew Hermione would be in any minute to wake him. He saw the light of the hall shine onto the floor, and heard the door click shut.
"Ron?" He felt the mattress sink under her weight as she sat next to him.
"I'm not getting out of this bed."
"Ron." She said, worry filling her voice. He hated to do this to her, but he wasn't ready to go on just yet.
"Forget it."
"No. It won't make things any better with you laid up in bed all the time."
"It's better than facing a world with no one." As soon as the heated words fell from his lips, he regretted it. Hermione's eyes filled with tears, "Is that how you feel? What about Harry, George, Ginny? What about me?"
"Love, that's not what I meant!"
"It sure sounded that way!" She stomped closer to the door, but he was quicker. He ran in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders.
"Please, don't." Hermione shook him off.
"Ron, move. I'm no longer in the mood to talk to you."
"Please."
"No, Ron."
"Please, Love."
"Move!"
"Not until you listen!" Just then, there was a knock at the door.

"Ron, Hermione's mum needs her." Ron moved away from the door reluctantly, and Hermione went out of the room.
"Ron, you're a prat."
"What?"
"You. Are. A. Prat."
"Why am I a prat? What did I do?"
"Do you realize she's hurting too?"
"How?"
"She hates seeing you like this, hearing you cry in the middle of the night, and not being able to do anything about it! She hates you feeling like you have no one and that you can't talk to her!"
"I just can't talk to her, okay? I don't want her to feel worse by dumping all my rubbish on her!"
"Don't you get it? She loves you!"
"She what?" His crystal blue eyes widened at the statement.
"She bloody loves you!" He sank down on his bed.
"Since when?" Was all he could manage.
"She admitted it to me last year, around the time of the letters. Who knows for how long."