CHAPTER TWO – A NOT SO TYPICAL RECEPTION
The Burrow looked like its normal self, but somewhat tidier. This most-likely had to do with Mrs. Weasley's new obsessive cleaning habits (manually, not by magic) that took her mind off the family's loss. A large white tent (very similar to if not the exact one used at Bill and Fleur's wedding reception) was set up on the lawn with tables and chairs beneath it. Unlike the wedding, however, the décor was limited, giving the setting a lack of cheer and, not so ironically, life.
Ron and Hermione finally caught sight of the party. Although it wasn't particularly exciting, the guests seemed to be making conversation with others and enjoying the food that Mrs. Weasley had spent hours preparing.
"Good turn-out, I suppose," Hermione said to break the silence.
"Yeah." Ron nodded. "Fred may have pissed off a lot of adults and gotten into loads of trouble, but you've got to hand it to him, he had a lot of friends."
Hermione agreed, squinting to make out faces in the crowd of people under the tent. "I'm sure a lot of people from the battle came to support your family." It was hard to see who was who, especially the ones who were deeply immersed in talk with others. "A lot of the others who died in the war didn't even have funerals. I bet a lot of people came to honor them too."
Ron had completely forgotten about the others who had fallen that night. Lupin surely hadn't had a ceremony, as his family contact was very limited. Tonks's mother had too much on her plate with baby Teddy to care for, so a funeral for her husband and daughter was out of the question. He wasn't quite sure about the others, but assumed that for most, planning occasions like this was not exactly on the top of their lists of things to do.
Once the two finally reached the tent's exterior, Hermione turned to Ron.
"I'll be back in a few minutes," she began. "I've smudged my makeup quite a bit back there. I'll meet you in there once it's fixed, alright?"
He couldn't really tell if her makeup was actually smudged or if she was exaggerating it like most girls would. He had never been very observant when it came to things like that. He could barely differentiate a made up Hermione from a rolled-out-of-bed Hermione, although this was probably because Hermione seldom rolled out of bed without meticulously adjusting her hair and dousing herself with perfume, as he had seen every day during the past year while living in the tent together.
Ron nodded anyway and watched her hastily enter the front door of the house. For the first time all day, he felt alone. Harry had spent the night on a cot in his room, his family stuck together before and during the funeral, and Hermione had kept him company afterwards. However, the loneliness did not last long.
"Oi, Ron!" a voice from inside the tent called out.
Ron spun his head in the direction of the sound. His eye-line met those of three boys whom he knew all too well: George, Lee, and Charlie. They stood in a line, holding their drinks and people-watching. He gave a single nod in acknowledgement of their presence and joined their circle.
"Where have you been, ickle Ron?" George chuckled. Clearly he had cheered up since the funeral. The color had returned to his face and he wore a smug grin.
"I was with Hermione," Ron replied, expecting George and Lee to make jokes as they always did. "She was helping me get rid of something." He didn't really want to give the details; it would only make things uncomfortable.
George cracked up and looked at Lee, surprised that he hadn't shared the thought of what was so funny the way Fred would have. "What were you getting rid of? Your load?"
Lee joined in the laughter now, cackling like a hyena. Charlie chuckled while rolling his eyes. Ron liked seeing his older brothers act so childish; it showed him that the war had not completely matured them.
Ron laughed along before speaking back. "At least I have someone to do that for me." He clearly hadn't gotten far with Hermione, but he didn't necessarily want his brothers to know that.
George and Lee looked at each other awkwardly.
"You have a point, you mental git," George admitted hesitantly.
All of a sudden, a dark-skinned figure appeared between George and Lee. Her black hair was pulled into a loose side-braid and her face was enhanced with a respectable amount of makeup.
"Hello boys," Angelina Johnson greeted them. She looked cheerful at the moment, but her eyes were still red from crying at the funeral. Fred had been one of her best friends, and possibly her boyfriend, but Ron was never really certain about that.
"Speaking of birds…" Lee said, greeting his friend.
Charlie, who had always been more interested in dragons than girls, dismissed himself. "I'm going to go find mum. She might need help serving the food. She's had a rough day as is."
Without another word, Charlie nodded at them and made his way into the house quickly, as if he wanted to get away for a few minutes.
"Should we go help too?" Angelina asked, suddenly feeling guilty for standing around.
"Nah," George replied. "Mum loves hosting parties. Worst situation: she could use magic."
Angelina shrugged. "Anyway," she continued. "What did I miss?"
"Well," George began. "We were talking about Ron's knob, so you didn't miss anything too big."
Lee cracked up at this, interpreting it the way George had intended it to be. Even Angelina chuckled. Despite her maturity, even she enjoyed a good Weasley twin joke.
If Hermione had been there, Ron's ears would have grown red in embarrassment. However, like Angelina, he appreciated his brother's witty, somewhat offensive sense of humor. "We also talked about George's apparent lack of one."
George cracked a charismatic grin that reminded Ron very much of his second-year Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. "I may be ear-less, little brother, but I'm certainly not lacking in the schlong department."
Ron rolled his eyes. He often forgot about George's nub of an ear, which had remained unbandaged for weeks now. Although it was clearly going to stay that way forever, it had healed immensely.
For a moment, Ron became disconnected from the group. His mind wandered around the party, centering in on specific people. All of a sudden—
"GET OFF ME!" a familiar female voice hollered from across the crowd of mingling people.
"Was that—?" Lee began, but was cut off.
"Ginny," Ron affirmed, recognizing the voice all too well. "I'll go check up on her. She's probably still upset from earlier." He faced his brother, looking him directly in the eye as he suggested, "Go around and socialize. I bet Aunt Muriel will want to see you."
George scoffed. "The old bat could barely differentiate me from Fred."
Ron shrugged. "Then set her straight."
Although George did not look completely convinced, Ron departed from the group, making his way to where he believed the yell had come from. He kept his head down to avoid contact with relatives that would distract him from finding his sister, and successfully reached the other end of the tent without his obvious red hair and pale skin calling attention to himself.
He looked up, shaking his head from left to right as he scanned for the long red hair that was particularly useful in identifying Ginny. Finally, he caught sight of the girl, but not in the position that he believed that he would find her in.
Ginny was laying on the ground, holding a glass filled with what appeared to be alcohol of some sort above her head. Harry and Neville were standing beside her, trying to pull her to her feet. Ginny was resisting, kicking her legs in the air to deflect their arms from touching her.
"Bloody hell," he mumbled to himself as he stepped heavily over to Ginny.
As soon as Harry saw Ron approaching them, he looked panicky. "Mate, I—"
"You got my sister drunk?" Ron shot in response. Apparently he looked and sounded extremely angry because Harry and Neville seemed rather frightened to be in this situation.
"No, Ron," Harry clarified. "Listen, I left her for five minutes to use the bathroom and get us drinks, but when I came back, she had clearly gotten herself a drink."
"Or five drinks…" Neville added uncomfortably.
"Five drinks?" Ron had to keep himself from yelling. He believed Harry's story, but he didn't know at whom he should have been angry instead.
"And Neville wasn't even with us until after I found Ginny in her condition." Harry was speaking quickly.
Ron allowed himself to calm down a bit. "I don't blame you two, don't worry." He looked back down at his sister, who was giggling far too much for a funeral reception.
After Ron spoke again, Ginny's face popped up and broke into a big smile. "RON!" she bellowed. "RON! RON! RON! RON!"
Ron shushed her before she could call too much attention to herself. "Ginny, you need to speak quietly."
Ginny giggled again before whispering back, "Is this quiet enough for you?"
Ron's eyes shot to Neville, then to Harry. Both boys looked lost. Apparently they had no idea how to handle this situation, and honestly, neither did Ron.
"Here, let's get you off the ground." Ron extended his hand to Ginny, who looked hesitant.
"I… er…" Ginny looked conflicted. She didn't want to disobey her brother, but her altered state caused a recklessness that she had never had before. "Hang on." Before the boys could stop her, she threw the rest of her drink down her throat, coughing a bit on the strong liquid.
"Six drinks…" Neville gulped.
"Ginny, quit it with the firewhiskey." Harry seemed more annoyed than distressed at this time. "That stuff is really powerful."
"Don't be so boring," Ginny whispered to him, looking at Ron for approval of her soft volume once again.
Ron sighed as Ginny finally came to her feet. She wasn't exactly graceful at her state, but she stood up much more easily than Ron thought she would. Just to ensure that she would not go toppling back to the ground, Ron wrapped his arm around her shoulders to support her.
"Can I get a little help here, mate?" Ron suggested to Harry, who quickly came to his aide by wrapping his arm around her waist.
Ginny snorted. "Harry, I thought I told you to lay off the inappropriate touching!"
Harry's head shot to Ron's face, which looked very unpleased.
"Bollocks, Ginny. I didn't need to know that," Ron cried, frowning the way someone does when they smell something awful.
Harry stammered back, "I, er, didn't touch her inappropriately before the party—"
"Yes you did!" Ginny shouted back. "Remember, Harry? I was in my room this morning, getting dressed for the funeral, and you kept touching my arse!"
"Harry did what?"
"Oh, come on," Harry beckoned. "Are you really going to believe her? She's drunk!"
"What's that quote again? My gran used to say it when my uncle got drunk and went on angry rants." Neville scratched his head, trying to remember. "Oh, right. 'Drunk words are sober thoughts.'"
"Neville!" Harry snapped. "Way to call me out."
Neville shrugged awkwardly. "Sorry, mate."
Ron and Harry assisted Ginny from under the large tent and through the front door, much to her displeasure. Thankfully, Mrs. Weasley had left the kitchen before she could see her daughter in such a corrupted state. Harry and Ron walked her to the couch in the living room.
"Ron, no! It's too nice outside! Let me go back, please!" Ginny exclaimed, whining like a child.
Ron shook his head stubbornly. "No, Ginny. You can't even stand up straight." He gently lowered his sister onto the couch.
Ginny didn't protest the way Ron thought that she would. Instead she giggled and simply said, "Sitting is fun."
"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked Ron, turning the subject away from his own girlfriend.
Ron shrugged. "She went to use the loo, but I lost sight of her since I came across this one." He pointed at Ginny, who seemed to have averted her attention to inspecting one of the couch pillows with the utmost fascination.
"You reckon she fell in?" Harry asked.
Ron pretended to look panicked for a moment, jokingly acting as if he believed these words. He broke character, chortling to himself. "Nah, she's probably with everyone else at the party. Maybe she was cornered by Luna and was forced to listen to her ramble on about what great wigs Kelpie hair makes or some rubbish like that." He shot his head to Neville quickly. "No offense, mate."
Neville shrugged, not taking these words to heart. "Don't worry about it. It actually does sound like something that would happen, now that I think of it."
Neville's crush on Luna wasn't exactly a secret. Everyone had suspected that something would happen over the years, but Luna's feelings were much harder to read than his. Whenever he mentioned the prospect of them hanging out, Luna would simply reply "That sounds nice" but never actually act upon it. Neville was too shy to follow up on these plans, leaving her completely clueless.
All of a sudden, Ginny burst into tears, sobbing loudly.
Even though they were completely thrown off by this spontaneous, random act, Ron and Harry reacted quickly, sitting on either side of her on the couch.
"What's wrong, Ginny?" Ron asked, trying to quiet her wails.
"Do you want me to get you anything?" Harry suggested, patting her shoulder.
Ginny calmed herself down to try to speak. "I— I just—!" Then she dove right back into her noisy sobs.
Ron was starting to get a bit annoyed. His drunk sister reminded him of a high-maintenance baby, one who needed constant attention, care, and comfort.
"Please tell us, love," Harry pleaded.
Ron frowned subtlely at his best friend. Although his sister and Harry had been dating on and off for years, Ron had never heard them utter a single term of endearment to each other until now.
Ginny reached out for Ron, not Harry (whom Ron thought she would grab instead), and put her hands on his shoulders. She looked him in the eye, allowing her tears to fall without brushing them off her cheek. "I miss Fred."
With this, she began to cry even harder. Ron just stood there, lost for words. He didn't know what to say to cheer her up, as he didn't think it was possible to cheer up after thinking about this.
Harry and Neville stood by awkwardly. It would be uncomfortable for either of them to intervene into family matters.
"I— and—" Ginny began, but couldn't seem to get the words out.
"Yes?" Ron pushed.
Ginny let go of Ron and leaned back against the cushions, allowing her head to plop heavily onto one of the pillows. The only movement that came from her then was the rising and falling of her stomach as she inhaled and exhaled.
Ron rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath. "She's a keeper," he cheeked at Harry.
A voice from behind them, slightly shrill and feminine, startled the boys. "Should we bring her upstairs? She's going to hurt her neck sleeping like that, you know."
As they turned around to see who was speaking, Ron laughed with relief.
"Well, you look utterly pleased with yourselves considering the fact that there is an unconscious girl on the couch," Hermione joked, understanding why they all looked so giddy.
Hermione had changed from her plain, dark-colored funeral ensemble into something much more comfortable and – in Ron's opinion – appealing.
"You look—" Ron began.
"Oh, stop drooling, Ronald. I only changed because it's far too hot to be all black." She put her hands on her hips, chuckling at her boyfriend's lack of discretion. Her sky blue knee-length dress floated perfectly over her subtle curves. The baby-doll top wasn't revealing, but the skin that showed looked smooth and flawless. "Besides," she continued. "A lot of other people changed into party clothes, so I'm not the only one."
Ron looked her up and down one more time before turning back to his friends to have them help carry Ginny upstairs. However, when he turned to face them, their eyes were still fixed on Hermione, surveying her like a piece of meat.
"Oi, you wankers. Are you going to help me bring Ginny upstairs or would you care to eye-fuck my girlfriend some more?" Ron snapped.
This brought the other two back to life, awkwardly nodding their heads and going about his order. Although Harry could easily lift his girlfriend in his arms, Neville stood beside Harry, holding her feet in the attempts to appear useful rather than get scolded by Ron again.
Hermione was blushing. "Ron," she whispered to him coyly. "You don't have to get so defensive. I'm perfectly capable of standing up to them myself."
Ron nodded. "I know." He waited for the two boys to go up the winding stairs with Ginny before continuing. "You just look so…" He couldn't find the words to give her appearance justice.
"Well, you look very…" She paused, mocking his unskillful way with words. "as well."
Ron looked down at himself. The hand-me-down suit barely fit him anymore due to his excessive growth spurt that took place after he had worn the suit last. His skin was still pale and freckled, completely unphased by the spring sun. He still looked as lanky and skinny as before, even though he had promised himself that he would start working out to make himself look at least somewhat worthy of Hermione.
"Me?" He laughed.
"Yes, Ron," she replied, seriously. "I know you don't agree with me, but I think you are beautiful."
Ron snorted. He had never considered himself handsome, let alone beautiful.
"I'm being serious, Ron!" Hermione replied, smiling. She looked him up and down once more before taking a step closer to him. "You're attractive, kind, funny—"
"So you do think I'm funny." Ron might have been using his humor defensively, but she didn't know that.
Hermione laughed. "Yes, I do, Ron. My old self might have said otherwise, but she was lying. I've always found you hilarious." She paused. "Insensitive on occasion, but humorous nonetheless."
Ron nodded. "I expected that."
Hermione looked him in the eyes deeply. "I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, just once."
Ron cut back in. "You too."
"Well, you make it very obvious how you feel about me, Ron. I almost had to wipe the drool off your chin just a minute ago." Hermione seemed flattered by the attention rather than offended, the way many girls would be.
Ron shrugged. "I just can't help myself."
The ends of Hermione's lips curved up into a little smile before she added, "Neither can I."
Before Ron could process it, he felt Hermione's lips on his. Her lips hugged his upper lip, while his closed in on her lower lip. She seemed to be applying more pressure to the kiss than she had in the past. He felt her arms go around his neck, so he gently put his hands on the small of her waist, high enough to keep her from withdrawing from him. He moved his lips with hers, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she would open her mouth wider to deepen the kiss.
Just as this thought ran through his head, Hermione jerked her head away from his and backed up feet away from him. The footsteps that descended the stairs made Ron curse to himself.
Harry and Neville didn't seem to notice the couple's flustered appearance and red cheeks (and in Ron's case, red ears). Instead, they continued to carry on their conversation.
"Don't worry, Neville. By the end of the summer, you'll be a pro on a broomstick." Harry was encouraging, although he didn't seem too sure of himself.
Neville reluctantly replied, "No, Harry, it's alright."
"If you say so. But with a little help from me and Ginny, I'm sure you'll be eating your words."
Harry and Neville returned to the sitting room, rejoining Ron and Hermione again.
"Should we go back to the party? We don't want anyone to start worrying," Hermione suggested sensibly.
"I'm sure mum won't be worried at all when she sees her daughter unconscious later tonight," Ron cheeked, half serious but still using normal joking nature. "I'm sure seeing that will be a cake walk compared to seeing her dead son only hours before…"
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Upon leaving the house, the four found themselves forced into a conversation with Horace Slughorn, whom seemed to have also consumed an excessive amount of liquor,
"He always boiled his potions over, that Fred," Slughorn explained. "Always a sweet kid, he was."
Neville nodded along politely, although it was clear that he was just playing along with his past professor's comments to please him.
"Er, professor?" Hermione cut in, furrowing her eyebrows a bit at the man.
"Yes, Miss Granger? (Oh, I've missed your questions quite a bit over the past year. I don't know why but the students last year seemed far more interested in learning spells and jinxes than brewing potions. I've missed your enthusiasm.)" Slughorn's side comments were more to himself than to the teenagers, as he did not make eye contact with any of them while he said them.
Hermione cleared her throat quietly, giving him a minute to collect himself before admitting, "You never had Fred as a student, Professor Slughorn. He was finished with Hogwarts a year before you came back."
Slughorn laughed loudly, slapping his hand on his knee. "That's right! (Now that I think about it, I don't remember seeing the boy very much. Just this one time in Diagon Alley when I had to get a new pair of dragon skin gloves, when I passed by his shop. What was it called again? Weatherby's Wizarding Wuzbits, or something along those lines.) Who was it I was thinking of then?" He looked puzzled for a moment, scratching his head to come up with the name, but became too distracted by the lack of liquid in his glass to come up with it.
"He's mental," Ron whispered to the others.
Hermione shushed him, worried that Slughorn would hear this comment. "He's not mental, Ron. He's just…"
"Mental," Harry finished for her, laughing along with Ron.
"Pardon?" Slughorn asked, unaware that they were talking about him.
"We were talking about… er…" Hermione tried to cover it up, but couldn't think of anything to say instead.
Out of nowhere, a man apparated only feet away from them, causing a stir among the nearby party-goers. His emerald green robes were very ornate, trimmed with gold and flecked with miniature stars throughout. His tall stature overwhelmed the group, particularly Hermione, whom was clearly the shortest. His dark, rough skin looked more wise than old, as if he had been through far more than his age could tell.
Kingsley Shacklebolt, looking as sharp as ever, stood before them with his hands in his pockets. Usually a wizard like him would not apparate so suddenly, so this was strange for him.
"Look who it is," Neville whispered to the other three, who watched closely. "I haven't seen Kingsley since the battle. He looks better."
Hermione ignored Neville's observations and smiled at the man before her. "Hello, Kingsley. Have you just arrived at the party?"
Kingsley grinned down at her. Although he had been known for being tough and serious at work, the man was also very warm-hearted and welcoming. "Hello, Hermione. Yes, I've just arrived directly from the Ministry. Important business going on over there, they could barely let me out for a friend's funeral."
Harry nodded. "Well, we're glad they let you come after all."
"Well, they didn't exactly allow me to come, rather they forced me to." He sounded hasty with his response, as if he had to be somewhere else.
"They forced you to come here?" Ron asked bluntly.
Kingsley put his hands up in defense. "The phrasing of that was incorrect, I apologize. Allow me to explain. I wanted to come here, but the Ministry has urgent business to deal with following the battle. A lot of changes will be made, let me tell you." He paused, allowing all those changes to really hit him. "Anyway, important matters need to be discussed."
"With us?" Ron inquired.
"Now?" Harry wondered, equally curious.
"Yes and yes," Kingsley responding, smiling at their confusion. "Just the three of you. Please keep this quiet for now." His eyes fell upon Neville suddenly and his face calmed. "I'm sorry, Neville."
Neville shrugged, somewhat downcast. "It's alright," he said. "I'm used to it by now."
"Sorry, Neville," Harry repeated again.
"It's okay, guys. I'll go find Luna. She's probably off smelling the petunias or trying to adopt a garden gnome or something."
As Kingsley led them into the house confidentially, the trio watched their friend's face slowly fade away. As they opened and closed the door behind them, they had no idea what to expect. They had no idea what they were getting themselves into.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Author's Note:
I absolutely love writing from Ron's perspective. I think he is one of the most underrated characters in all of fiction, so it's fun to actually give him some dimension.
Ron's big brother attitude with Ginny is something I've always admired about the character, so I wanted to include it early on in the story. Even though he doesn't necessarily have to be responsible for her, he does so anyway to ensure that she is safe. You'll most likely be seeing more of this quality in him now that Fred is dead, as he wants to do whatever it takes to avoid losing someone else so close to him.
Ah, yes, the cock-blocking, one of my favorite parts of Romione fanfic. Things start heating up gradually, getting better and better, and then Harry interrupts. This will happen very often, so please bear with their pain (and try not to be tempted to hit Harry for doing this).
Please keep reading and review! I'll try to post a new chapter every other Thursday (or possibly every Thursday if my schedule clears up).
Lexi