There were very few people left alive that Ron could legitimately admit to being frightened of. Ferdinand Nott was one of them.

He had once been a handsome wizard, Ron had seen the photos, but the man the guards dragged into the courtroom was a gaunt skeleton. Only his striking blue eyes reflected the grandeur the Death Eater once held.

"Ferdinand Isaac Nott." Gawain Robards announced the prisoner. "Arrested on the fifth of June, nineteen hundred and ninety six for multiple counts of casting the Cruciatus and four known deaths caused by Avada Kedavra. The individual is also accused of association and participation with the dark wizard contingency known as The Death Eaters under the leadership of one Tom Molvero Riddle, better known as Lord Voldemort."

Nott startled from the sound of someone addressing him. Ron figured it had been months since the man had heard a human voice.

"Yes." Nott rasped out his answer and coughed, his vocal chords sore from lack of use.

"Excellent. Do you know why we've brought you here today?"

The Death Eater took his time answering. His blue gaze flickered over the crowd watching him. The courtroom was dark. Only one light shone down on the captive prisoner on display before them. Even so, Ron believed the man could identify the shadowed forms around him. His eyes narrowed on Robards for a moment before settling on Harry sitting at Ron's left. Harry twitched under the icy stare until Nott moved on to examine the others in the room. On the bench in front of Ron and Harry, Lucius Malfoy fumbled with his robes as his colleague in arms glared up at him from the chains. There were twelve other men present for Nott to ponder over, most of whom were Aurors. The last person to come under Nott's watch was his son, Theodore, who sat beside Malfoy. Unlike the others, Theodore glared back at his father unmoving, no hint of fear in his stature.

"No." Ferdinand Nott replied in answer.

"Really? Very well then, as of three days prior we recently have suffered from a cast Dark Mark over King's Cross Train Station here in London. At the same time your son, Theodore, was subject to a summoning via the Mark on his arm. It was a rather violent summoning, deadly even, and more intense than any we've seen in years."

Ferdinand Nott didn't make any move to say anything after Robards' description. In fact, the man looked rather bored. Besides his emaciated appearance, Nott could have been going to trial for a routine businesses deal instead of a full blown dark magic assault on his only child.

"Do you know anything about these events?" Robards snapped after realizing that Nott was not going to speak.

"I do not."

"Are you sure?"

"If you are suggesting that this may be my doing you'll remember that I have been in Azkaban for the past twenty months with no wand." Nott said rather snarkily. "The magic for either of those offenses would have need of one."

Robards bristled at the prisoner's brashness. "I am aware. But the court wishes to hear if you have any knowledge on the events."

"I don't. If you want to know more you'll need to question the boy, not me."

Theodore didn't seem phased at being addressed as merely 'the boy' but Harry shifted uncomfortably on the bench. Ron shot his friend a warning glare. Harry probably wasn't headstrong enough to talk down to a Death Eater on trial but stranger things had happened.

"Your son has already undergone questioning. To his credit, he has no recollection of why he was chosen to be summoned."

Robards' idea of questioning Theodore Nott had included nothing short of a brutal interrogation. Ron had not been present for the ordeal but from what he had heard even Barty Crouch might have been offended. Theodore had been fed Veritaserum and handcuffed in his hospital bed thirty minutes after surviving a near heart attack.

"Theodore did mention some interesting facts about the death of your wife eight years ago."

Ron widened his eyes. Beside him, Harry leaned to whisper in his ear.

"Did you hear about that?"

Ron shook his head.

"Did he?" Nott the elder glanced elegantly at his boy. "No doubt you forced him to tell you that. Information isn't always correct when it's pulled from someone against their will."

Others in the group had started to whisper. Robards shushed them with a slam of his gavel.

"I would advise you to hold your tongue, Mr. Nott. As for your son, Theodore gracefully explained that his mother didn't die in an accident but that she was murdered, by you."

More whispers erupted around the room. Harry elbowed Ron in the ribs then gestured to Lucius Malfoy with his chin. Malfoy's nervous fumbling had switched to hard anger. He had one hand on Theo's shoulder while the other clasped his cane with white knuckles. Theodore himself remained calm from where Ron could see him.

"That's an awful steep accusation, Mr. Robards." Nott cooly snarled. He was addressing the head Auror but his expression was entirely leveled at his son. "Do you have any proof?"

"We have an eye witness testimony." Robards replied.

"Indeed, eye witness testimony from a boy who was twelve at the time."

Theodore stood after his father's denial. "You killed her! I was there! You smashed her head in with a vase! Afterwards you made me tell everyone she fell down the stairs!"

The whispering ended instantaneously. Ron shared a long glance with Harry as Malfoy urged Theodore to sit back down.

"Why kill your wife, Ferdinand?" Robards continued. "Was she unfaithful?"

The first sign of true anger flashed the older Death Eater's features. Ron felt his insides crumble a bit.

"No." The man crooned. "Elsa was a wonderful wife and a loving mother. Not a day goes by that I don't mourn her passing."

Ron wondered if Ferdinand had been forced to drink the truth potion. He would believe he had, but the way he was able to allude questions so well made Ron curious.

"Then what happened, Nott?"

"She disobeyed me." The flat answer with no hint at denial made Ron quiver.

"Disobeyed you how?"

"I am not at liberty to answer that question."

Robards was reddening in the face as the men around him began to chatter.

"How….?"

"Veritaserum is ineffective to an unbreakable vow, Mr. Robards. If I could tell you what my wife did, I would, but physically I cannot." His answer was plain and dull as white paint on drywall. A strange eeriness flooded the room and Robards ordered the guards to take Nott away after sentencing him to his second life sentence in Azkaban.

Nott didn't say a word as they pulled him out of the room. He gave a sad half smile and a nod in the direction of Theodore who watched the men drag his father away forever.

They left the room in a single file. Robards lead the group, the majority following him into the hall. Ron watched the mass of Aurors assist Theodore into a room next to the trial proceedings. Harry and Ron were ordered to return upstairs.

"I'm beginning to think that the Slytherins really suffered the most in the long run." Harry said as they entered the lift and began their ascent upstairs. "I mean, I thought my mum's death was pretty terrible but after hearing that I'm not so sure."

Ron gaped at him. It wasn't often that Harry brought up his mother let alone in the middle of a lift full of Ministry workers.

"It's apples and oranges, mate. You can't compare one to the other." Ron tried to reassure his friend.

"Right." Harry plastered a forced smile onto his face. "Apples and oranges."

He didn't mention anything else about the trial for the remainder of the evening. This concerned Ron considerably more than had Harry chewed his ears off about the subject.

When he suggested they Floo home together at the end of the day, Ron was a bit surprised when Harry refused.

"I have some errands I have to get done." He said from his seat at Tonks' old desk. Harry had dusted the cubicle and organized it but still kept the ugly purple lamp and other decorations the Metamorphmagus had left.

"What sort of errands? I could tag along."

"Uh, maybe not tonight. It's just….um….I need to do some things on my own. Sorry."

Ron had the vague idea that the things Harry wanted to do on his own involved making sure Theodore Nott got home alright. Harry had been the one to take the young Death Eater to the hospital and to return him to Malfoy Manor afterwards practically unconscious. It had been a week and Harry was still trying to sneak to Hermione's office as much as possible to check up on Nott. When Ron had teased him about obsessing over the tall Slytherin with the dreamy blue eyes, Harry had almost bit his head off.

He was barely able to speak the other day! I had to hold him up to side along Apparate him home. Hell, he didn't even know who I was! Kept calling me Harvey. Harry had yelled Ron to deafness during their ten minute lunch break.

But you don't have to follow him everywhere.

I'm not! I just…..you have to admit it isn't fair to make him go back to work two days later! What? Stop looking at me like that! Fuck you! This has nothing to do with his eyes!

Ron wasn't going to tell Harry that he was barking up the wrong tree. But Harry was definitely barking up the wrong tree.

"Alright, enjoy your 'errands'." He sighed. "But try not to fall too deep, Harry."

"Huh?"

"You heard me."

As soon as Ron left the Auror department he felt guilty. He really should have insisted Harry come home with him. A nagging itch beneath his skull made him wonder if Nott confessing to bashing his wife's brains out with a vase had troubled Harry more than anyone else. His old friend had a need to suck up all the horrible things that happened to others and commiserate over them. Also, hadn't Harry's uncle died that week? Maybe the great Muggle's death meant more to Harry than he put on.

Furious at himself for his teasing, Ron rushed back to Tonks' cubicle only to find that Harry was already gone.

"Shite!" He swore and kicked the wall of the tiny room hard enough to make the objects inside shake.

"You just missed him." A singsong voice airily fluttered into his ear. "I think Harry was headed to a pub. You might be able to catch him if you run."

Ron turned to see a golden blond mess of curls materialize beside him.

"Oh." He tripped over his shoes in such a way that he thought Tonks herself may have been proud were she still around. "Hello, Luna."

"I like your shoes. They look like good kicking shoes. You could really do some damage with those."

Ron looked down to examine the faded leather oxfords he had gotten from Percy two years ago; used, obviously.

"Uh, thanks. What makes you think he was going to a pub?"

Luna smiled at Ron's shoes while she admired them. "He was pulling out a pouch of coins but when I asked him where he was going to get supper he said he wasn't hungry. Where else would he be going with money?"

"Maybe Gringotts? He said he had errands."

"I can't think of many places that are open this late besides pubs. Gringotts closed four hours ago."

Realizing that she was right, Ron frowned. Over the past week Harry had been drunk at least twice already.

"Fuck, I better find him. Do you think he went to the Leaky?"

Luna blinked and beamed. "He could have. May I come with you?"

Ron didn't have the heart to tell her no. If he was being completely truthful with himself, he rather appreciated her offer. But that was just because he was worried about Harry and it was good to have another person there for support. There of course was no other reason why he would want Luna to be there. Right?

"Did you ever find the vampire squirrels?" He asked her on their way to the Floo network hub. He marched as fast as he could. Luna impressively kept pace with him despite her shorter legs and smaller form.

"No. Hagrid must have been mistaken. Whatever is killing the birds in the Forbidden Forest has to be a lot bigger than a squirrel. Also, squirrels are native to North America. It would be weird to see them here."

"Logically." He tried to speak with a straight face.

The long hall of fireplaces was mostly deserted minus the few other late night workers. Ron thanked the stars that Hermione wasn't there. His ex girlfriend had been keeping the same hours as him which made running into her more common.

He chose the closest available fireplace and reached for the urn of Floo powder above it.

"I think I should get some kicking shoes too." Luna commented. He shook his head and smiled as he offered her the urn.

"Ladies first."

Two fistfuls of powder and three seconds later they both had flopped into one another on the filthy tavern floor of the Leaky Cauldron. The little establishment was packed with dozens of witches and wizards escaping the winter evening with a nip and a good chat. No one even looked over their shoulder at the sound of two people stumbling out of the hearth. Ron had landed on top of Luna's chest, his face mere centimeters away from her neck.

"SORRY!" He shoved himself to his feet while his ears smoldered with embarrassment. They were certainly betraying him in their red outstanding glory.

Luna gracefully reached for his hand to pull herself up. He didn't think twice about offering it to her until she continued to clasp onto his palm long after she had rose from the floor.

"I don't think Harry is here." She bit her lip while scanning the room.

He wasn't. Ron triple checked but there was no messy black haired kid with glasses around. Perhaps it had been a long shot to check the Leaky first.

"No." He let out a frustrated sigh.

"Since we're already here we could get a drink." Luna suggested. Ron pulled his hand out of her fingers.

"No." He said again. Her face fell from the rejection and he tried to soften his tone as he explained himself. "I'm really worried about him. He was very upset earlier with stuff that's going on at work. Maybe I should go home and wait up for him."

"Oh." She shuffled her feet sadly. "I hope he's alright."

She meant it too. Ron could see the tender look of concern grace her features. He appreciated that she didn't push him to dive into it more.

"You could come with me if you like." He offered.

What the hell, idiot!? He silently thought. Planning on getting a leg over while your best mate's out drinking himself to death?

He squelched his inner voice and found himself smiling as Luna linked her arm with his. It had been Harry's idea that he make a move on the Lovegood girl after all.

They walked out the door together into Diagon Alley. Ron noted that Luna was a touch taller than Hermione. She fit nicely against his shoulder with her eyes at height with his chin. He really needed to stop looking at her eyes.

"Should we Apparate there?" Luna interrupted his meandering mind.

"Huh? Oh, right. Yes. Sorry I was just flying on autobroom for a minute." He laughed. Feeling like an dolt since he had been the one to insist they head to his house so soon, Ron pulled out his wand and went through the motions of Apparating them to Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

Harry wasn't there either. Luna knew that immediately somehow but it took about twenty minutes to make sure since he felt the need to check almost every room in the building.

"Don't blame yourself, Ron." She said from her seat at the parlor couch. He paced around the room frantically, his robes billowing behind him impressively.

"It's getting really late!" He brushed a quivering sweaty hand through his hair. "Why didn't I just talk to him more at work?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you may be overreacting a little."

Ron moved to face her, stopping just in front of her feet and snarling. "Really!? Did you know they found a cast Dark Mark over Muggle London on Wednesday?!"

Luna paled and scooted back from him.

"No…"

Ron frowned. How would she have known? The papers had conveniently left that bit of information out. Nor did anyone seem to care that Fred's body had been discovered a few weeks ago in somewhere completely opposite of his resting place.

He backed away a tad and started to shiver. She watched him for a moment, reading what must have been a clammy and faint looking expression.

"Sit with me." She commanded, gently reaching for his hand which was still clutched tightly in his bangs.

Ron complied and nearly collapsed onto the couch beside her.

"I'm guessing that Auror work isn't a bed of roses." Luna ventured. "Especially for Harry and you. I'm sure everyone expected things to settle down after the War but there's still two decades worth of shit to clear up."

He sharply turned his head to her after hearing her swear. She smiled gently.

"I can't tell you that everything is going to get better and that Harry will be fine. He never will be. Not completely." She lifted a hand to brush his bangs out of his face. Ron shuddered from the touch. Her fingers were soft and warm. "But having a breakdown every time he doesn't come home from work isn't good for you."

He wanted to tell her she was wrong. He wanted to explain how Theodore Nott had almost died in Harry's arms, how the Mark had been casted six blocks away from their house, and that he was a numbskull to let The Chosen One walk the neighborhood at night by himself.

He also sort of wanted to kiss her.

He didn't get the chance to. Instead of kissing the girl Ron sat there like a git for ten minutes while she stroked his hair and hummed off tune to herself. His head had snuggled into her shoulder and his eyes had closed by the time Harry finally crashed through the Floo and onto the parlor floor.

"Good evening!" The man belted as he somersaulted into their feet. "Why hello, Luna. Fancy seeing you here." He chuckled and winked up at her as he lay down completely on the rug. A harsh scent of grain alcohol permeated from Harry's clothes as he moved.

Ron stood to his full height and awarded Harry with the most angry face he could muster; channeling a glare he had gleaned from his mother over the years.

"Do you know what time it is?! Where the hell have you been?!"

Harry sat up a bit and blinked at him. "It's not even midnight yet. Gods, what's your problem?"

"My problem is that you told me you had to run errands but you obviously went out to get plastered!" He pointed to the window. "Did it occur to you at all that there are dark wizards about casting Dark Marks and summoning each other!"

"Of course it did! Why do you think I needed to get drunk?"

"So you can get killed, obviously."

Harry bristled at his comment and swayed dangerously to his feet.

"Fuck you, Ron!"

Not thinking it through, Ron shoved his friend hard with both hands into the fireplace behind him, forgetting that he was a good stone heavier than Harry these days and quite a bit stronger.

A resounding crack echoed through the room from Harry's skull colliding with the wood of the mantle. Luna gasped and pushed past him to bend over Harry who was sitting on the ground looking dazed.

Ron felt like his lungs had stopped working. A ghastly image of Elsa Nott having her cranium beaten apart flashed through his mind's eye.

"FUCK!" He rushed to his friend's side and examined Harry's head with his fingers. There was a slight swelling where the mantle had met his skull, but Ron's hands came back with no blood on them. "Harry, I am so, so, sorry! Are you alright?" Harry didn't say anything. Terrified that his friend had gone unconscious, Ron moved so he was eye to eye with him. "Harry?"

The look he got out of Harry's face was pure hatred. The two of them had had rows before but never had it come to violence. Sheer sour malice reeked from the smaller man's narrowed green gaze and Ron swallowed. He was so distracted with how awful he felt that he didn't see Harry's fist pull back until it smashed into the side of his jaw.

He had to admit that he deserved that.

"Get out!" Harry bellowed before Ron had a chance to regain his bearings. "Both of you! Get out of my house!"

Luna had attempted to get between them but Harry was elbowing her out of the way to sneer Ron down. It must have looked pitiful with them all hunched on their knees on the floor.

"Get your stuff and go, Ron, and don't come back!"

Well, the evening at least couldn't get any worse. Harry disappeared upstairs in a staggering rage. His head seemed to be okay but Ron still worried. He was good at worrying.

He wished Luna goodnight and insisted she Floo herself home. She tried to get him to come with her.

"But, where are you going to go?" The blond girl asked as she trailed him up to his room. It was a relevant question.

"I have brothers, don't I?" He responded without looking at her. "I'm sure one of them could put me up for a bit. Go home, Luna. I'll be fine."

He wasn't in the mood to be polite enough to walk her to the fireplace. Instead he gave her a halfhearted wave and watched her retreat down the stairs

Ron emptied his dresser, threw his clothing in a knapsack and stripped his quilt from the lopsided bed.

Just go talk to him. He thought. It's Harry. He'll forgive you. He always does! Don't cry!

He did cry though. Only a little. Enough to get his cheeks wet and his eyes all puffy. His little bedroom with its iron stove and dark wood floors suddenly didn't feel like his anymore. He stuffed the quilt into the knapsack and left.

Down the hall he stood stationary in front of Harry's door for maybe five minutes or more, one palm on the worn wooden frame while the other clutched his bag.

"Goodbye." He managed to croak out without shedding more tears. "I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to hurt you."

There was no answer. He didn't stay much longer to wait for one.

Ron Flooed to George's flat. Bill was in France visiting Fleur's family, Ginny was in Scotland, Charlie in Romania, and there was no way he wanted to see Percy any more than he already had to at work. He had no interest in dropping in on his parents in the middle of the night either. It was always George in the end.

"Hello?" He slowly detangled himself from the hearth and stepped into the dark living room. The flat his brother owned above the joke shop was a small space with two bedrooms, no dining room, and a tiny kitchen. Ron dumped his things on the couch he had slept on a few nights ago back when he and Harry had visited George earlier that week. Back when he and Harry were still friends.

Don't cry!

"Ron?" George padded into the room in his nightclothes and turned on the lamp. The golden orange glow added a soothing warmth to the room and Ron eased himself to the couch.

"Hi. Sorry to bother you. Could I stay here tonight?" He gasped a bit from half a sob. He must have sounded pretty wretched because George didn't tease him for once.

"What's wrong?" His brother yawned and moved to sit on the couch. As soon as he did his relaxed squinty eyed appearance snapped to terror; a reflex left over from the War. "Shite, what happened to your face!?"

Ron let out a sigh. "Harry hit me."

"What!?"

"I...I think he hates me now. I pushed him first. I got mad at him and shoved his head really hard into a wooden beam."

"Why? Are you nine again?" He snorted and let himself loosen his posture, probably relieved that Ron hadn't been attacked by dark wizards. "Remember when you pushed me into a table and broke my collarbone."

Ron's cheeks prickled with a slight smile. "Yeah, you and Fred locked Scabbers in a sock drawer for hours! I thought he ran away!"

"Fucking Scabbers. Do you ever think about how that man shared a bed with you all those years and…."

"George stop!"

"and all those times you wanked off with him there?"

"Aughhh gross!" Ron shoved the knapsack into George's stomach.

"Ouch!" He unzipped the bag and upended all of Ron's belongings onto the floor.

"Hey!"

"Wow, you packed everything. He must be furious with you. Kicked you out for good, didn't he?"

No crying! Keep it together.

It was too late. Ron let out a silent wail and the drops fell down his face before he could stop himself.

"Woah." An arm draped over Ron's shoulders as George pulled him into a side embrace. "That bad, huh? That's so weird. Harry was just here and he seemed perfectly fine."

"What?" Ron wiped his face. "Why was he here?"

His brother shrugged. "We went out for drinks after he got done with work. I was wondering why he didn't invite you. I guess being mad at you would do it."

Ron slowly started putting the pieces together. Luna had said Harry was going to a pub. For some reason, The Boy Who Lived had decided to meet up with his brother to get plastered but not Ron. And hadn't both the other times he had been shitfaced been under George's watch as well?

"You got him drunk!" Ron removed his brother's arm from his shoulders and scowled at the man.

George laughed. "Yeah, Harry's a huge lightweight. He barely finished his second drink before he was slurring his speech and spilling all over himself."

"You got him drunk!" Ron repeated.

"Is that a crime?"

The possibility of breaking George's collarbone again was starting to sound appealing.

"Did he tell you about the Dark Mark?"

The twin had been about to go on a rant about how letting Harry destroy his stomach lining with alcohol was beneficial, only to stop mid word and return to his terrified expression.

"Guess he didn't tell you." Ron's voice hurt from the crying but he described the events that unfolded at the Ministry that day with every detail.

"He didn't mention anything to you?" He was starting to question Harry's odd behavior of late.

George shook his head. He also looked confused on Harry's actions. "Seems like he keeps things to himself a lot. Didn't tell me about the Dark Mark or about Nott. Didn't tell you about Malfoy."

"What about Malfoy?"

His brother started giggling like a small child that had just learned its first knock knock joke. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. And Malfoy made us swear to secrecy. Still, I would have thought Harry would have at least shared it with you."

Ron was mortified at George's words. Malfoy had been missing for weeks. If he and Harry had spoken with him they needed to tell the Ministry.

"You know where Malfoy is?"

"Yeah. Man I wish I could tell you! The look on your face would make my month."

Ron crossed his arms and sat up straight so he could use his height to look down at George. The only thing Ron had over any of his brothers was that he was the tallest. Percy came close but even if he was the youngest, Ron had the advantage on the height department. Especially over George who was just a tad taller than Ginny.

"You have to tell me! Malfoy's a declared missing person."

"No can do! Sorry, little brother."

This didn't make any sense. Why was he protecting Draco Malfoy of all people?

"George!"

"You're going to have to ask Harry. Or better yet, talk to Hermione about it. What I would give to be a fly on the wall during that conversation."

It was beginning to sound like George was making up the Malfoy story. It was likely this was just a ploy to get Ron to talk to Harry and Hermione again.

"Whatever." Ron reached for his pajamas and other clothes that had been tossed on the floor. "I should try to get some sleep. Need to get to work early tomorrow."

"Right." George let loose a mighty yawn that stretched his face to the maximum. "Me too. I'll get you a pillow. You can sleep in Fred's room."

Ron didn't want to sleep in Fred's old bed. He changed his clothes after being given a clean pillow and set of sheets for the couch. George wished him sweet dreams and punched him affectionately on shoulder.

"Don't worry too much, yeah. Harry will come back around. He needs you."

"He doesn't need me."

"Well, the poor bloke doesn't really have anyone else. Besides Hermione you're the only family he's got. He isn't going to make it in that giant house all by himself. He'll go mental."

Ron didn't want to imagine Harry sleeping all alone in his godfather's dark empty house with only Kreacher for company. He wrapped his quilt tightly around himself and curled into the couch cushions. Ron's mum had made him the quilt when he turned ten. The little cloth stitched squares were embroidered with dozens of tiny letter 'R's to match the jumpers his mum always made him. Even the couch reminded him of his mum. Before she had given it to the twins for their new flat, the squishy orange sofa had graced his mother's den for nearly thirty years. It had been a wedding gift to his parents long before Ron was born.

These should have been comforting memories. Instead, Ron could only contrast them to Harry's misfortune. The one thing he knew of that Harry had received from his parents had been his father's invisibility cloak. The cloak had been useful but surely wasn't a cozy quilt that still held a lingering scent of his mother's perfume.

He listened to George's footsteps retreat into one of the nearby bedrooms and shut off the lamp. A few years ago Ron may have been furious with Harry in this situation, but now he didn't know how to feel except miserable. He would have to face the man tomorrow at work.

He threw the quilt over his head and buried his face in the pillow. Sleep didn't come easy that night.