Chapter Two:
I'm With You

Isn't anyone tryin' to find me?
Won't somebody come take me home?
It's a damn cold night
I'm tryin' to figure out this life
Won't you take me by the hand?
Take me somewhere new
I don't know who you are
But I'm, I'm with you
I'm with you
-Avril Lavigne

Smoothing down his shirt with the palm of his hands, Ronald Weasley was actually impressed on how good he looked, considering he didn't own an iron. The dark, button-down gray shirt was fitted on his built body, and it transformed the wizard into the handsome man he once was. He actually shaved, feeling the suaveness of his chin and neck, for once rather than sporting the messy beard. His hair was combed down neatly, also, something he hadn't seen on himself in years. With one last splash of a cologne he found in the back of his bathroom cabinet, he looked and smelled, normal again.

He was ready.

From as far as he could remember, every Friday night was dedicated to the Weasley family spending time together. Bill and Fleur would come over to the Burrow, along with any other guests, for dinner and celebrating the end of the week. Since the war ended, this was a new tradition that was started by Molly herself, as a way for everyone to get together again. As a mother, Ron could only imagine that she was feeling left out when all her children decided to move out and do their own thing. So creating this dinner night was a way for her to have a full house and be kept updated with the events of her children, her daughter-in-laws, and grandchildren.

Ron knew this because he had a stack of invites from his mother on his bedside table. No matter how many times he ignored them, every week she still sent him a letter, some of them included updates from family members; like who just had a baby and who was promoted in their job that month. After reading a couple of the letters, he knew that Fleur had two daughters a couple years ago and was pregnant again; Percy and some witch named Audrey eloped a few days after the war and she's pregnant with their first child; Charlie was still single but was promoted to the highest position at his job in Romania; George began dating Fred's former sweetheart, Angelina.

They were his family, and believe it or not, he still loved them.

Most of all, he loved his little sister, Ginny. The scene from the other day kept replaying in his mind over and over again. He couldn't sleep, he couldn't eat, he couldn't drink, he didn't feel like hanging out, and for God's sake he couldn't even enjoy smoking a bloody cigarette (something he was quite addicted to for the past few months). With her fiery red hair and teary eyes, the witch cast her spell of making him feel sorry for what he did. From the moment she slammed the door on him, he knew that he fucked up big time. She stirred something inside of him, something that made him feel human again.

He had felt a pang of guilt in his chest.

He was happy for her; happy that she was in love- with a great guy, and that they were ready to spend the rest of their lives together. But at the moment, with a huge hangover and in a pissy mood, it was impossible for him to show his happiness for her. After Ginny left his apartment in a rage, with tears streaming down her pretty freckled face, Ron realized just how big of a prick he really was. It was bad enough that he never stopped by to visit her or answer any of her letters. He could remember, years ago, that he would do anything to try to protect her. And now? He couldn't even accept her wedding invitation. His rudeness got the best of him, and he just threw it in her face.

So he decided on doing something drastic.

After finding the best clothes in his closet, combing down his very unkempt hair, brushing his teeth vigorously and showering with soap, he decided to attend the traditional end of the week dinner at the Burrow. Yes, it was a big decision for him, and he was sure his mom might suffer a heart attack, but it was time for Ron to start acting like a man again. The same man that fought numerous death eaters, went on adventures with the famous Harry Potter and witnessed Lord Voldemort himself. What had he become all these years? A coward. After the war, he attended Auror training- with Harry Potter. After the training, he became an Auror- with Harry Potter. But after a year of being an Auror, he failed a mission, then another, then a next. And soon he was no longer an Auror, but instead, he was a regular at the bar down the block from his apartment. He began making friends with the wrong crowd; the type of people who introduced him into drugs, smoking, and having sex with the curvy, blonde bartenders. But he couldn't live that kind of life anymore.

He needed to become the man he used to be.

Taking one last long look in the mirror, he decided that this was as good-looking as he was going to get for the night. His shirt wasn't getting any smoother, his hair wasn't getting any flatter and his headache wasn't getting any better. He was absolutely sure that tonight was going to be a night that he would remember for the rest of his life. He was going to be seeing his family for the first time in years, and he wasn't sure if he was ready for that.

He felt nauseous.

Who would he see? His parents for sure, possibly Bill and Fleur, and since George went to the Burrow for dinner almost every night (according to the detailed letters) he was bound to see him too. Would Ginny be there? If she was, he'd owe her an apology, a very meaningful one too. Because after everything he said to her the other night, she deserved it. She was his baby sister, and he would start acting like the awesome big brother he used to be.

He probably wouldn't admit it to himself, but he needed her. Sure, she had five brothers, but he only had one sister.

Walking out of the bedroom, he stuffed his long wooden wand safely in his pocket and dissolved instantly out of his apartment.

With her cheeks rosy and her body warm within the Weasley household, Hermione couldn't feel more at home. Her mother had always told her that home is where you are surrounded by love, and where you feel most comfortable. And since the first time she stood at the Burrow, she knew it was her home. Even in the home she grew up in, her dormitory at Hogwarts, and the new house her parents owned in Australia, she always felt at home at the Burrow. She adored the feeling of being enclosed with the love and care of the Weasleys. They were her family. And being the only child, she loved the feeling of a big family with lots of siblings.

And on this chilly, rainy April night, she was surprised to see so many different faces at the dinner table. Bill and Fleur, along with their daughters Victoire and Dominique, sat on the far right of the long kitchen table. Victoire was a petite three year old, with long blonde hair she inherited from her mother and blue eyes that resembled her fathers. Dominique on the other hand, was no more than a few months old, wrapped in a soft blanket in her mother's arms. She had a large pale face with a soft patch of red hair at the top of her head.

Near them sat Charlie, who was talking to Arthur about something important, apparently, and didn't notice the funny faces George was doing behind his back. Angelina Johnson, giggling, sat near her boyfriend. Hermione remembered her clearly from Hogwarts, and wasn't surprised at all when she and George began dating. Thinking back, she knew that the former Quidditch captain spent a lot of time with the twins. And although they weren't married, she knew that they made a great couple.

Percy sat across the table, with his wife Audrey, who had a hand on her large pregnant belly. Rumors say that they eloped just days after the war at Hogwarts, yet no one was there to actually witness it. Either way, the Weasleys accepted Audrey into their family like they did with Fleur and Angelina- with open arms. She was a pretty woman, with black hair curlier than Hermione's and bright green eyes that lit up the room instantly. Her voice was naturally raspy, but she had a great personality that made any conversation interesting.

And last but not least, Harry and Ginny sat at the end of the table, where Hermione sat in boredom. She watched and listened as they were in a deep conversation about what color napkins they should use for their wedding.

Believe it or not, she was feeling kind of left out since there was no one there for her to talk to. Well, she could have conversed with Angelina from across the table or shouted to Audrey over all of the noise, but she didn't quite feel like drawing attention to herself. The house was full of people, and as glad as she was to be surrounded by so much family and friends, she wanted nothing more than to be in her warm bed and under the covers. Hermione sighed deeply and stood up from the table, walking toward the stove where a woman was pointing her wand at a couple pots and pans.

"Mrs. Weasley," she started, "Do you need any help with dinner?"

Molly Weasley's blue eyes wrinkled and her normally copper colored hair was graying at the top. The plump woman looked toward her for a moment, smiling, with her eyes squinted and replied, "Oh no, dear, I think I have everything under control. Why don't you go enjoy yourself?" But when she noticed the younger witch's facial expression, she lowered her voice a little, "Why didn't you bring Cormac along? You know he's always welcomed here."

She and Cormac had been together for a while, yet the girl always felt awkward when talking about him to the Weasleys. Despite the growing feelings she had about Ron while growing up, they were never a couple, they never even kissed. But Ron wasn't the only reason for her connection to the large, redheaded family. She could have been considered as a family friend, like Harry, or Ginny's best friend and former roommate.

But she always didfeel like Ron was her link to the Weasley family.

She felt her face warm up as a slight blush crept from the nape of her neck to the apples of her cheeks. Her palms were sweaty as she gripped onto the hem of her peach colored blouse. Whenever she thought about him, something weird happened inside of her, something she didn't feel about anyone else. Not even Cormac. Her face was flushed.

"I think I'm just going to go out for some fresh air," Hermione announced to her, "I'll be back in soon."

Without letting her get another word in, she left Mrs. Wealsey by the stove and escaped through the kitchen door. Everyone else, engrossed in their own conversations, didn't seem to notice the door open and close, or even the cool air that rushed in between. Rubbing her bare arms up and down, she felt the goosebumps creep up on her as a strong breeze blew through.

Her hair was tied up, in a loose curly bun that hung from the center of her head. The few curls that were usually out, framing her face, blew in the wind, as well as the blouse that clung close to her slim body. She shivered, a little, knowing that if she ever caught a cold out her, Mrs. Weasley would never let it go. She knew that the older witch would constantly bombard her with numerous simple healing spells until she was right again.

Hearing a popping noise, she squinted her eyes in the dark, focusing on something in the distance. A body had appeared, upright, on a grassy hill no more than twenty to thirty yards away. It was a man, and he was tall, from what Hermione could see. And thanks to the light of the moon, and the yellowish glow from the kitchen window, she discovered the reddish color of his hair. But there was something different about the man that stood in front of her. If all the Weasley men were inside, who could he be?

"Fred?" she whispered aloud. It was the first name that popped into her mind, and it was the only red haired man she thought would possibly be there. Had the ghost of a deceased Weasley come to visit the Burrow? Did he come to see the family, for some unfinished business? Was she really standing in the presence of a spiritual apparition? What was she supposed to do? Run inside and tell everybody? But then that might scare him away... and if she scared him away, he might never come back. Hermione couldn't take that risk.

She shivered again, and this time it wasn't because of the wind.

She recalled all the muggle and wizarding books she read about ghosts, spirits and angels. In the muggle world, they usually appeared at a time of need, for their family, or to haunt a specific person, place or thing. In the wizarding world, ghosts usually stay in the Hogwarts castle, and became ghosts because they were afraid of death. From all the years she spent at Hogwarts, she was never once afraid of any of the ghosts, but now, she couldn't help but let a single tear leave her eye.

Maybe she wasn't afraid, maybe she was just sad.

She was sad because she did miss the dead Weasley twin, maybe not as much as Molly, Arthur or George, but she did miss him. And as the apparition came closer to her, slowly, she wished that one of the Weasley's was with her, to experience what she was experiencing. She didn't want to be imagining this, as scared as she was, she wanted this to be real. She didn't want to run inside the house, ten minutes later, sounding like a crazy lunatic.

Nobody would ever believe her.

"Fred?" she whispered his name again, but this time her voice was almost inaudible and her throat felt dry. When the figure didn't answer her, Hermione's feet moved closer towards it. She didn't know why, but she felt safe, and as she walked closer she noticed that the man wasn't lucid and transparent like the ghosts she saw in Hogwarts and in muggle horror movies. Instead, he looked solid, like a human being.

She stuck her hand out reaching for the man.

"'Mione?"

His face was different, he didn't have the same long chin and thin lips that George had. And as he was just a few feet away, he didn't seem so tall anymore, well at least not as tall as Fred was. Squinting her eyes harder than ever, the girl looked up at his face, noticing that it wasn't the ghostly appearance of Fred, or a ghost at all. Instead it was a familiar young man, one that she hadn't seen in years, the only one who ever called her Mione.

It was him.

More tears slid down her eyes.

"R-Ron?" Her voice was high pitched. She shook her head hastily, feeling like she really did see a ghost, "Is that really you? W-What are you doing h-here?" Her eyebrows were ruffled and her heart was beating faster than she could ever remember. Studying his face, she noticed that although he had grown considerably older, he was the same man she always knew. He had dark circles and bags, slight wrinkles on his forehead but the same pale colored skin and freckles.

But most of all, his eyes were the same shade of blue.

Thank you all for reading and giving this story a chance!