**Sorry for the long delay. I've been busy. Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, and continues to read this fic. I am a little off about this chapter, but I will wait for your opinion on it. Enjoy**
Roger woke up the next morning with a fierce pounding in his head which was only getting worse due to the fact that he could hear Hermione in the next room slamming things around. He tried to shut the noise out by covering his head with a pillow, but it wasn't working. Slowly, he sat up, leaning against the headboard to keep himself from falling backwards. He clamped his eyes shut for several minutes to keep the room from spinning. Once he could open his eyes without getting dizzy, he swung his legs over the side and gingerly stood on his own two feet. When he was sure that he wouldn't fall down, he made his way out of his room and into the living room which was looking more like a war zone at the moment.
There were cushions strewn about the room, books were piled all around, and a broken picture frame lay at his feet. He picked up the frame and saw that it contained the picture of Hermione, Ron, and Harry in their first year at Hogwarts. A crash from the kitchen made him jump and he spun so fast that he was once again dizzy. Hermione's shrill voice reached his ears and had him wishing that he had remained in bed, "DAMN BLOODY GIT!" Another crash had him moving toward his friend in time to see her throw a slightly burnt batch of sausage across the room.
"Hermione? Is everything alright?" he timidly asked, earning him a glare from the fiery woman.
"Does it bloody look like everything is alright?" She slammed the pan back onto the stove and tossed a couple more sausages into it.
"Why don't you let me cook? You could sit down and relax for a few minutes."
Her eyes narrowed, "I am perfectly capable of cooking breakfast!"
Roger threw his hands up in defense, "I know that, but I figured you could use a few minutes to yourself. I just wanted to help."
She opened her mouth to answer him, but the smell of burning food caught her attention first, "Bloody hell!"
Roger gently scooted her out of the way and took over the breakfast preparations. He was able to save the sausages this time, but barely. Hermione sat down at the table with a huff. Roger wasn't sure what happened to get her so riled up, but he had a feeling it had something to do with Ron. He didn't remember most of what happened last night, but he did remember Ron making him drink something awful.
They were silent throughout breakfast. Roger kept chancing glances at his friend, but she seemed to be focused on her food. When they finished, Hermione took their dishes and set them in the sink. Roger followed her out to the living room, waiting for her to let her guard down enough that she would open up to him. He had only known Hermione for a couple of years, but he knew her well enough to not try and talk to her when she was angry.
He finally got his opening when she spied the mess that she had created. The broken picture frame caught her eye and she rushed over to pick it up from where he had set it down. A single tear slid down her cheek, causing Roger to rush to her and scoop her up in his arms. "Care to tell me what happened?"
"He doesn't want to talk to me. He said that he didn't think he would ever be ready to talk to me about what happened. I told him that he didn't have to, that I just wanted to be his friend again, but he walked away."
Roger pulled her to the couch and sat her down, kneeling in front of her, "Hermione, I love you, and I'm going to say something that you might not want to hear." He took a deep breath and gently squeezed her hands, "You have a tendency to be judgmental." Her face scrunched up and she opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her by gently placing a finger over her lips, "You know it's true, and I can see why Ron would be a little hesitant to talk to you. I told you before and I'll tell you again, you need to find a way to be there for him without judging him, and if you can't, then you need to let it go until he is ready to come to you."
She sighed and more tears slipped from her eyes, "I don't want to be judgmental. I just want my Ron back."
She leaned over so that her forehead was resting gently on his, "I know you do, honey. Maybe someday you'll get him back." He didn't want to tell her that it might not happen. That Ron would never be the same, but right now she needed hope and encouragement.
Ron had spent the morning cleaning up decorations, helping his father tear down the tent, and eating the leftover food that they couldn't store. His current job included cleaning out George and Fred's old room. George and Angelina were going to be staying with them for a few weeks until the babies come. He was happy that he could be here for the birth of George's children. Finding out about Victoire when he returned was hard. He didn't know how to act around her and he didn't want to be the same way with the newest additions to the Weasley family.
Lifting one of the dusty boxes from the floor, he started the trying task of going through his dead brother's things. He knew that George hadn't really been in here since the death of Fred. Every once in a while Ron would hear his mom stop outside of the door and let out a soft sigh. Fred's death was still fresh in everyone's minds. It would be hard on George to be back in here again. There were so many memories, and the contents of the first box brought them flooding back.
Inside of the box were their first few products that they created while at Hogwarts. There were a few nosebleed nougats, the punching telescope that gave Hermione a black eye once, and some ton-tongue toffees. He remembered Harry describing the way his cousin Dudley's tongue swelled after Fred and George 'accidentally' dropped some for him to eat, he remembered the tongue lashing his mother gave them both after their punching telescope gave Hermione a black eye, and he remembered the way that Hermione would get on their cases every time they tried to test their products out on one of the younger students.
He found himself laughing at the memories. It was nice to remember Fred in a good way. For so long, his thoughts had been consumed with his brother's death, and now he was able to look back at the good times that they shared. His brother's hijinks were the stuff of legend, and more than once they caused Ron a whole lot of trouble.
He was just finishing up going through all of the old boxes when George came through the door with a questioning look. Ron had spent the last hour alternating between crying and laughing. Currently, he was laughing so hard that he was crying. His cheeks were wet, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was gripping his sides that were cramping up from his laughter.
"Mum? I think Ron's gone mental," he tried to sound serious, but couldn't hold in the laughter that was breaking out. It had been a while since George had really laughed.
Their mother came through the door to find both of her boys laughing uncontrollably. Tears came to her eyes and she smiled so big that her face felt like it would split in two. It was nice to see her boys happy. They had both been so melancholy that their laughter caused her heart to swell. She was joined by a very pregnant Angelina and her husband who both smiled at the scene before them. For the first time in a long time, things felt right.