A/N: This is by far my longest chapter ever but considering the expectations that seem to await it, I figured it kind of had to be. I hope it satisfies the rabid curiosity. PLEASE read and REVIEW!

When Ron returned to Grimmauld Place that night, he sent his Patronus to Charlie, Percy, and Ginny with the news. It took him three tries to say "three to four months" without sounding like he was crying. Then he sent an owl to the Burrow to let them know he and Harry would be over for dinner the next night. He knew he hadn't asked Harry about this yet, but he also knew that with Ginny out of town, if Harry weren't eating with Ron, he would most likely be sitting in the kitchen, reading the Daily Prophet and eating whatever Kreacher put before him.

When Harry got home from the ministry, he found Ron sitting in the living room, staring into the fire. He felt a strange sense of déjà vu, but he merely took the other seat in the room. After a few minutes of silence, he realized that Ron wasn't planning on saying anything, so he cleared his throat. When Ron turned to him, he looked startled, and Harry realized that he'd gone off into his own world. He felt a pang of fear but forced himself to speak.

"So," he started, his voice low, "how'd the appointment go today?"

Ron shrugged and turned back to look into the fire. "The Healer said three – three to four months." His voice was flat and emotionless, but from the way he continued to avoid Harry's eyes, Harry knew just how upset he was. But he found he couldn't even say anything to try to help because the words were now sinking in for him as well. He felt a pain in his throat, and he swallowed hard. He had also begun to stare into the flames when Ron said, "My mum and dad asked if we would come for dinner tomorrow night. I said it was all right with me. I figured it would be ok with you too?"

Harry glanced at him quickly and nodded before turning back to look into the fire once again.

For a long time, neither of them said a word, and then Ron asked, his voice carefully casual, "Ginny get off all right the other day?"

Harry didn't answer, and when Ron finally turned to look at him, he was startled to see that he was biting his lip and looking very much like he always tried not to. Ron looked away again quickly and after a couple of minutes, Harry said, his voice hoarse, "It – it wasn't good. But I don't think – well, it wasn't good."

Ron knew he wasn't going to say anymore, and he also knew that this was probably why his parents wanted them to come to dinner together. So he nodded and lapsed back into a silence which Harry gratefully accepted.

Hours later, Harry had started to push himself out of his chair to go to bed when he was startled to suddenly hear Ron's voice.

"The healer – she also said something else." He looked at Harry and tried to scowl, but there was uncertainty in his eyes. Harry sank back into his seat and waited. Ron cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "She – she said that they have these people on staff at St. Mungo's. She said they're like what muggles call cyclists or something? For people to talk to?"

Now Harry had to try not to smile. Even after all of these years of knowing Hermione's family, Ron's knowledge of the muggle world still left much to be desired.

"Psychiatrists, you mean?" He somehow managed to keep the amusement out of his voice and was glad he had because now Ron looked miserable again.

"Yeah, psychiatrists," he mumbled. He shrugged. "You've – you've never known anyone who's talked to one of those people, have you? They're for nutters, right? Or people without families or friends?"

Harry studied his best mate for a moment. "I – I wouldn't say that," he said slowly. "I don't think they'd have them at St. Mungo's and recommend them to people like you if they were for nutters, do you?"

Ron flushed. "Well … Healer Jones might think I'm a nutter," he admitted. "I – I yelled at her the day my parents told me and Hermione about my dad. I left the Burrow and went to St. Mungo's and just kind of shouted a lot."

Now he was studying his knees intently, but his ears were scarlet. Harry stared at him for a moment before saying, "Ron, you really think that would make them think you're crazy? You've seen the floor where they keep Lockhart locked up. They – they know about crazy. I'm sure she told you about these psychiatrists because she knows how hard something like this can be, and that's why they have them on staff. Your dad's not the first person to ever get a diagnosis like this. You wouldn't be the first person to talk to one of them."

Ron nodded quickly. For a moment, they sat there in silence, and then he mumbled, "Please – please don't mention this to Hermione or anyone, ok? I – I don't want to talk about this with anybody else. If I do decide to go, no one else needs to know about it."

"Of course," Harry said immediately. Another quick glance at Ron told him it was time to change the subject. "What time are we going to the Burrow tomorrow?"

Ron shrugged. "Why don't you go straight from the ministry? I'll meet you there after George and I close up. That would probably be around 6."

Harry got out of his chair. "Ok. I'll see you there around 6. Night, Ron."

"Night, Harry," Ron said quietly as he turned back to the fire. For a moment, Harry studied him, but Ron didn't look up again.

When Ron got to the shop the next morning, George smiled at him quickly across the crowd, and Ron smiled back weakly, grateful for the reprieve. There would be hard conversations later that night. No need to start now.

The shop was more crowded than usual considering it was almost time for kids to be starting back to Hogwarts, and it was nearly 7 by the time George and Ron concluded the day's business. Ron glanced at the clock and gasped.

"What is it?" George asked. "Hot date with Hermione tonight?"

Ron somehow resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at his big brother and merely said, "No," in as dignified a voice as he could manage. Then he sighed. "No. Mum asked if Harry and I would go there for dinner tonight. I don't know why. I think something might have happened when Ginny left the other night."

Now George looked distinctly nervous, but he tried to smile. "Bet Gin threatened them with the Bat Bogey Hex if they didn't keep her informed or something."

"Yeah," Ron said, trying to sound convinced. "Probably something like that."

They glanced at each other for a moment and then just as quickly looked away. Neither of them was convinced. But Ron didn't have the time to discuss it anymore anyway.

"I need to get there," he said, glancing at the clock again, and George sighed.

"Go," he said. "I'll finish up around here. But you owe me the time tomorrow."

Ron rolled his eyes and muttered, "yeah, yeah," as he took off the shop robes. He tossed them in the back and then took the stairs up to the flat two at a time so he could apparate to the Burrow. Once he was out of range of the shop's protective charms, he turned on the spot.

He arrived just beyond the fence and made his way through the garden to the back door. One glance in the window showed him that his mother was in the kitchen preparing dinner, but neither his father nor Harry were anywhere to be found. He walked inside, confusion evident on his face.

"'Lo, Mum," he said, going over to where she was moving her wand over the pot in a complicated pattern. She looked over her shoulder and tried to smile.

"Oh, hello, dear," she said, and she made one last motion, leaving her wand hovering and swirling just as quickly. She turned to hug her youngest son, and it took every ounce of strength that Ron had not to cling to her, but he forced himself to let go quickly. But she knew. One look at him told her to wait. Before she could offer him a seat or a drink, though, he looked around, his brow wrinkling in confusion.

"Isn't Harry here yet?" he asked, and a shadow crossed her face as she nodded, but she didn't say anymore.

"Mum?" he asked again, and now the concern in his voice made her sigh and motion for him to take a seat at the table.

"Your father is speaking to him now, Ron. Sit down. There are some things I need to tell you." Her voice was very serious, and Ron looked nervous, but he took the seat she indicated without another word.

Molly sighed. "When Harry and Ginny came here for dinner the other night before she left, well – did he tell you anything about what happened?"

Ron shook his head. "Only that it wasn't good. He didn't say anything else."

Molly rubbed her eyes for a moment, remembering. "It wasn't good," she confirmed faintly, and then she took her hand away and fixed Ron with a steely gaze. "Your father and I were talking after they left the next morning, and we need you and Hermione to do something for us," she said, her voice her own again. Ron nodded, a little more relaxed now that she had returned to her usual self.

"Sure. What is it?"

"We need you or Hermione to stay in close contact with Ginny to let her know what's going on with your father. It might even be better if it were Hermione."

Ron managed to look offended. "Why Hermione? I could tell her."

Molly took his hand. "I know you can. I just think that sometimes, with Ginny, at least, it's easier for her if she doesn't have to put on a brave face, and she feels like she needs to do that with all of you boys."

Ron was forced to acknowledge the truth of this. It wasn't a secret that Ginny was the toughest of all of the Weasley kids. She always had been. But then something occurred to him. "Even Harry?" he asked, and now Molly looked pained as she nodded slowly. "Even Harry," she said quietly.

"Mum, what happened when Ginny and Harry came the other night?" he asked, and now his voice was more serious than Molly could remember hearing it in a long time. She sighed.

"We had dinner, and then we started talking about some plans your father and I have been making because, well, Ginny asked. And Harry – he's not having an easy time with this. He wanted to leave the table, but Ginny wouldn't let him. I don't know why, but I don't think she realizes how much this upsets him or even why it does. They got into an argument, and then they both left the table. They made up later, but I don't think they had enough time to talk about all of this yet for Harry to be the one to keep Ginny informed. He might do it anyway – but I do want Hermione to also be in touch with her."

Ron sighed and nodded. "Ok, Mum. I'll tell her. But – but why didn't you also invite her for tonight? Then you could have told her this yourself."

Molly glanced at the table for a moment. "You're right. I could have told her this myself. But there's something else I needed to ask you. Harry and Ginny have their wedding planned for a year from now. I know they're both thinking of changing it so – so your father can be there." Her voice shook, and she paused before continuing. When she did, her voice was a lot more hesitant. "Well, I was thinking. Are you and Hermione planning…" She trailed off as she watched the realization dawn in Ron's eyes. His ears turned bright red.

"Mum," he said despairingly, and she squeezed his hand.

"I know it isn't fair of me to even ask," she continued quietly, "but the writing has been on the wall about you two for years now. I don't want to push you into anything you aren't ready for. These things should happen on their own time. It's just –I wanted to mention it to you. That's all."

Ron sighed. "I'll think about it," he mumbled, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her. She let another minute or so pass before she said, "There's one more thing, Ron," and he looked up when he heard the serious tone again.

The sadness in her eyes made his breath catch in his throat. "What is it?" he asked, and his voice wavered. She tried to smile at him but failed miserably.

Instead, she said, "I want you and Harry to be there for each other. I know that sounds ridiculous because I know you always have, but on this – I need you to let him in, and I need you to make sure he lets you in too. It's easy for both of you to turn to Hermione, but it's your family that Harry is a part of. You know that he has a hard time realizing that we think of him as one of our own, but he needs to now. He's already lost too many fathers in his life. I'm afraid this could break him, and he needs to know that you understand and that you won't judge him for being upset about it."

Ron had stopped looking at her, but he nodded even as he quickly swiped a hand across his eyes.

"I know," he managed to say. Molly studied him for a moment, and then she got up and came around the table to put her arms around him. The moment she touched him, he lost whatever control he'd still had.

"I'm so proud of you," she whispered, "for caring so much about your friends." She rocked him back and forth like she did when he was still very small. A few minutes later, she looked beyond him to the closed door to the living room, wondering how Arthur was doing with Harry...

Harry was sitting with his head in his hands, and Arthur had a hand on his shaking shoulders. He was speaking softly but insistently. He knew his words were making it harder right now, but he also knew Harry needed to hear them. And it had taken almost an hour of Harry trying to keep the conversation normal before Arthur had said the words that had caused all of his defenses to crumble.

"Harry," he had said, "Molly and I have thought of you as a member of this family since the first time Ron brought you here when you were 12 years old. Whether you're married to Ginny or not, you're still our son. You're a Potter, of course, but you're also a Weasley." He almost smiled as he added, "you just have black hair. That's the only difference."

But Harry wasn't ready for levity. He didn't move or speak, so Arthur had lapsed into silence. When the door creaked open and Molly peered in, he glanced once more at Harry and then stood up and approached his wife, who was now looking at Harry, herself, tears in her own eyes.

"Is he…" she whispered, gesturing towards Harry, and he shook his head.

"How about Ron?" he asked, and she opened the door slightly, motioning toward the table where their son had now buried his face in his arms. For a moment, they stood looking from one to the other, and then, without a word passing between them, Molly went over to Ron and took his arm, pulling him to his feet.

He stared at her through tear-filled eyes, and she simply put an arm around him and led him to the living room. He stiffened when he saw Harry, but then he took in exactly what he was seeing, and he stumbled into the room, muttering thickly, "Oi, Harry."

Harry looked up with a start, but when he saw Ron's bloodshot eyes, he got to his feet. Suddenly, the moments after Ron had destroyed the locket Horcrux floated through his mind, and then, without either of them realizing quite how it happened, they were hugging tightly. Harry tried to control his own tears, and Ron made every desperate attempt to clamp down on his own, but it was a long time before either of them was ready to let go.

When they finally did, they realized that Arthur and Molly had left them alone, and they both sat down, a small awkwardness surfacing as they found it hard to look at one another. Finally, Ron broke the silence.

"So my mother wants me to propose to Hermione now."

Harry looked up, startled. "She wants you to do what?"

Ron sighed. "I understand why," he said. "But – honestly, Harry. I have to propose?" He was starting to get the panicky look in his eyes, and Harry was surprised to feel laughter bubbling up inside of him.

"You'll be ok," he said. He wanted to sound reassuring, but Ron heard the amusement, and he looked at him reproachfully.

"Some best mate you are," he muttered.

For a moment, they looked at one another, and then Ron said quietly, "you are, you know." His voice was suddenly serious as he added, "my best mate and part of this family."

Harry nodded quickly, glancing away from Ron. After a moment, he said, "Thanks."

Molly and Arthur glanced at each where they were standing on the other side of the door.

"They'll be there for each other, Molly," Arthur said quietly, and she nodded. But then she looked more closely at her husband, and she saw everything he was trying to hold back for her sake.

"And I'll be here for you," she whispered. "We all will be."

He looked at her for a moment and then pulled her into his arms. She held on tightly as he buried his face in her shoulder, and she knew that in the coming months, they would all take turns at being there for one another. Right now, it was her turn to be the strong one.