Chapter Twenty-Five

July 1997

Ron felt awkward in his body. Well, not exactly his body—Harry's body to be precise. The Polyjuice Potion had tasted as awful as it had years before when he and Harry had used it to sneak into the Slytherin common room, but Ron felt more afraid now than he had back then. He'd spent a fair amount of years secretly wishing he was Harry; to be known and adored as Harry had been. However, now that he was identical to his best mate—now that he'd volunteered to be a decoy for potential Death Eaters—Ron just wanted to be himself again.

He glanced around Privet Drive where everyone began mounting brooms and Thestrals. Hagrid sat across Sirius's old motorbike with Harry in the sidecar. The real Harry. Ron turned his attention to everyone else and without knowing how the pairings had been split up, there was no way of telling who was who as half of them looked like Harry Potter. Ron gave a smile to his brothers, the twins each with a brand new lightning bolt scar on their heads, and Bill accompanying Fleur, who also looked like Harry.

His currently green gaze fell on Kingsley Shacklebolt, who mounted a Thestral. The Harry Potter look-a-like who sat behind the Auror looked apprehensive and nervous, but their eyes met and Ron smiled. Hermione. She hated flying, even if it wasn't on a broom.

When they'd all sat around the Weasley table with the Order discussing the events that would take place that night, Ron and Hermione both volunteered. His mother had been beside herself. With the exception of Percy the Prat, and Ginny—who herself tried to volunteer only to be rejected because of her age—all of the Weasley children were now involved in the Order of the Phoenix. Tonight the goal was to protect Harry. The plan had been discussed in depth. They'd all Polyjuice themselves into Harry Potter and each pair up, sent to different known safe houses connected to members of the Order. Ron had wanted to go with Hermione to keep her safe; he was the better flyer of the two. However, it made sense that those who were younger would make the transformation and be paired with older members of the Order, most of which were Aurors or skilled duellers.

Bill could protect Fleur as he was healing well from his attack by Fenrir Greyback just a month earlier. Harry would go with Hagrid, who was pleased with the assignment. Mad-Eye would keep an eye on Mundungus, Fred with their father, George with Lupin, leaving Hermione to be protected by Kingsley. It calmed Ron a bit to know that the man who was assigned to protect the Muggle Prime Minister had taken the night off to keep Hermione safe while in flight.

Ron, however, was paired up with Tonks, who was a skilled Auror but clumsy as hell. He could only hope that she flew straighter than she walked.

"Hold tight now, Ron," said Tonks.

He threw a guilty look at Lupin as he slowly put his hands on the sides of Tonks's waist, waiting to see if his former teacher flashed any hint of anger over the fact that Ron was touching his new wife. Ron heard a low rumble from Hagrid's motorbike and took one last look at Harry, and then Hermione, offering them each a reassuring smile.

"Good luck, everyone," shouted Moody. "See you all in about an hour at the Burrow. On the count of three. One ... two ... THREE."

They weren't in the air long before they were surrounded by Death Eaters.

Tonks gave a loud shout, and Ron immediately reached for his wand. They flew downward quickly, dodging curses left and right. He could barely see straight as she moved with speed; the only sight he could make out clearly were red and green flashes of light flying over his head, aimed at the brooms that sped above them. He craned his neck around, one arm gripping Tonks's waist as he used the leverage of the other to try and aim for Death Eaters who were presently attacking the Order. Ron couldn't see Harry—he and Hagrid had flown in the opposite direction—but he caught sight of Kingsley for a split second and could feel his chest tighten in a panic as the Auror—Hermione in tow—was surrounded by five Death Eaters. There was a tremendous flash of red and green light and one Death Eater fell off his broom stunned, another clearly dead. When Ron looked back up at Kingsley and Hermione, they were gone leaving the other three Death Eaters looking around confused.

"Tonks go!" Ron shouted.

They sped along, for how long, he couldn't tell. Every few seconds, he would turn and see them being tailed by a Death Eater and it somehow felt like time stopped. Ron would turn and shoot a curse or hex back behind them, missing each time, but the attempts to avoid his attacks were causing the Death Eaters to lose speed. Quickly, they fell back into the distance.

"Look out!" Ron shouted as a Death Eater emerged in front of them as if he'd Apparated on his broom mid-flight. A flash of green flew at them and Tonks dove out of the way. Ron could see her reaching for her wand, but the speed with which they were flying needed her to keep both hands steady on the broom. Ron turned, aimed his wand precisely and shouted, "Stupefy!" and watched the Stunning Spell hit the surprised Death Eater in the face.

"Brilliant!" he heard Tonks yell.

Before they had a real chance to celebrate the temporary victory, a broom appeared overhead and Ron heard a loud cackle. He looked up and saw a black haired woman, the smile on her jaw made her look deranged. "Tonks!" Ron shouted, pointing his wand above them to shoot a curse that quickly missed. Tonks swerved the broom and soon they were in chase again.

An outraged Bellatrix Lestrange took off after them, screaming, "Come to Auntie Bella, you little blood-traitor!" She aimed her wand. "Crucio!" The spell missed them by mere inches. "You'll pay for how you've tainted the blood of my father!" Bellatrix shouted, her voice a high-pitched shriek.

Ron aimed another curse at her, which she dodged all too easily. He stared at the Death Eater with a hatred that he hadn't felt before as he remembered the look on Neville's face the year prior, telling them all the story of how his parents had been tortured by Bellatrix and the Lestrange brothers.

Curse after curse Bellatrix sent at them, making it hard for Ron to even take proper aim. To his great relief, Tonks was a brilliant flyer, although he wished he'd had her duelling skills. "Impedimenta!" he shouted, and a red flash of light exited his wand and flew just under Bella's broom, nicking the handle slightly enough to cause her to grip it with both hands to stabilise herself. Her dark eyes turned up and glared at him and he felt a rush of cold come over his body.

"You filthy little—" she started but then her face dropped all emotion, save for immense excitement and she glanced down at her forearm before turning away from them and vanishing from sight.

"What happened?" Tonks called out to him.

"Where'd she go?!" Ron asked, looking over his shoulder. It seemed strange that suddenly they weren't being chased by anyone. Did that mean they'd found Harry? The real Harry?

Tonks growled. "We're going to miss the Portkey."

"Just go straight to the Burrow then!" Ron shouted over the roar of the wind in their ears.

"Can't! Just in case we're still being followed!"

They made their way to Ron's Auntie Muriel's house where they landed quickly. Ron jumped off of the broom and rushed inside to find his aunt sitting there in her sitting room; a glowing, blue, broken light fixture lay on the table. Ron rushed to grab it but the blue light faded. They'd officially missed their Portkey.

"Shit!" Ron shouted in frustration.

"Ronald Weasley!" Muriel scolded him. "There's no reason for such language!"

"Seriously?!" Ron looked at her, his eyes wide.

"Have you been hit with something?" His aunt stood and faced him. "Come here my boy, look in my eyes. I think you've been confunded."

"I'm not confunded," he snapped and brushed her hand away from his face. "We need to leave," he insisted to Tonks, who nodded.

"You don't want to stay for tea?" Muriel called out. "Already missed your Portkey, might as well sit down and wait to see if—"

Ron left his aunt mid-sentence, practically dragging Tonks out with him.

While the flight during the small battle had felt like it took just a few minutes, the trip home felt like hours as Ron ran through his mind every horrible, worst case scenario that might have happened to the others. Being separated from Harry and Hermione had him nervously gripping his wand as if he could help them somehow if he tried hard enough. Not knowing what had happened to his father and brothers was equally worrying. As the Burrow came into view, Ron exhaled with great relief, jumping from Tonks's broom at the sight of Hermione standing on the ground, staring up at him.

"You're okay," Ron mumbled reaching a hand up to touch her face—which was truly her face once again—as she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. Washed over with relief, he pulled her as close to him as possible, breathing her in as if he needed to be reminded that they had both survived the night.

"I thought - I thought -" Hermione began, her voice sounding like she was on the verge of tears.

"'M all right," said Ron, patting her on the back. "'M fine." His eyes looked over her shoulder and he smiled gratefully as he spotted Harry there, alive.

"Ron was great," said Tonks warmly, relinquishing her hold on Lupin. "Wonderful. Stunned one of the Death Eaters, straight to the head, and when you're aiming at a moving target from a flying broom."

Ron blushed a little.

"You did?" said Hermione, gazing up at Ron with her arms still around his neck.

"Always the tone of surprise," he said a little grumpily, breaking free. "Are we the last back?"

"No," said Ginny, "we're still waiting for Bill and Fleur and Mad-Eye and Mundungus. I'm going to tell Mum and Dad you're okay, Ron."

They recounted the stories of their own journeys, but all the while the continued absence of Bill, Fleur, Mad-Eye, and Mundungus seemed to lie upon them like a frost, its icy bite harder and harder to ignore.

When his parents came out and wrapped their arms tightly around him, Ron felt a mixture of pride and relief. They held him close and he was grateful to see that his father had returned home safely. His mother wasn't scolding him either, which was a perk if he ever saw one. Despite missing their Portkey, Ron and Tonks had made it there safely. He'd done something good, something to be really proud of, but as his mother pulled away, there was less colour in her face and he felt something tug at his heart.

"How's George?" asked Lupin.

"What's wrong with him?" piped up Ron.

"He's lost ... "

But the end of his mother's sentence was drowned in a general outcry. A thestral had just soared into sight and landed a few feet from them. Bill and Fleur slid from its back, windswept but unhurt.

"Bill! Thank God, thank God!"

Mrs Weasley ran forward, but the hug Bill bestowed upon her was perfunctory. Looking directly at his father, he said, "Mad-Eye's dead."

Hermione let out a gasp and reached for Ron and he pulled her back against his chest as she sobbed aloud. Mad-Eye had never been as close to them as the other members of the Order, partly because of the way he just was: a hardened soldier. Ron had respected the old nutter, and now he was dead. If Mad-Eye could die . . . that meant that anyone . . . He consciously held Hermione tighter and reached out to put a hand nearby on Harry's shoulder, a gesture of comfort but to also make sure that his friend was really still there, alive.

Once inside, everyone began to argue over who could have given them away; who could have possibly betrayed the Order. Ron, however, was busy moving to George's side, the colour drained from his face. "What the bloody hell happened to you?" Ron asked quietly, horrified by the blood that surrounded the scarred flesh of George's head where an ear should have been.

"Jealous," George muttered with a slight grin, clearly trying to be quiet as the rest of the room was filled with grief over Mad-Eye and worry over everything else.

"Jealous? Of a hole in your head?" Ron almost laughed, but he felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. This was too real. Ron had been injured in this war already. He'd been confunded and attacked and scarred and bruised and poisoned. He'd had a wall fall on top of him. But seeing another one of his brothers with permanent damage like this . . . Ron quickly realised that his family wouldn't walk away whole from this war. He knew chess better than most, and statistically . . . they'd lose some pieces before the end came, even if they won.

"All the good-looking Weasley's have scars now," George said with a grin. "Me and Bill. Soon I'll have a gorgeous veela girl. You'll see."

"What does that make me?" Fred asked, looking down at his nearly identical twin.

George patted Fred's shoulder consolingly. "A pity shag. You'll be the twin of a great war hero."

Firewhisky was quickly handed around the room in a toast to Mad-Eye. Ron looked down at the glass of substance he'd spent a few times the year prior trying to get his hands on during visits to Hogsmeade. Now, however, it felt wrong to want a taste.

"To Mad-Eye," everyone mumbled and drank.

The firewhisky burned his throat going down, setting every nerve inside him ablaze for the smallest of moments, but it left behind a warmth that could only be matched by the sweet relief that came knowing somehow, his family had survived the night.

The days that followed were spent working hard to get the Burrow in decent shape for Bill and Fleur's wedding. Ron's mother, determined to keep the trio from disappearing off on their mission, kept them from planning it by separating them every chance she got. Ron only saw Harry at night when the two shared a room, and even then they were so exhausted from the work all day that they fell asleep before being able to talk about anything. Ron had seen even less of Hermione though he'd catch glimpses of her through windows and door frames before his mother would usher one or the other of them away with something new to do.

Early one morning, he'd had it out with his mother over the chores, insisting that his room didn't need to be cleaned because Bill and Fleur weren't getting married in it. His father had intervened and sent him upstairs to do as he was told—like a child. Harry was sent off to see to the chickens while Hermione was to get started changing bed sheets.

"Ron?"

The door to his bedroom opened and Hermione stood in the frame looking down at him, lying on his bed. Without either of them noticing, Crookshanks slipped in between Hermione's legs and curled himself onto a pile of Ron's dirty clothes in the corner.

The witch eyed him. "Aren't you supposed to be cleaning this room?"

"Aren't you meant to be changing sheets?" he asked and countered with a grin.

Hermione shook her head with a small laugh and walked into the room, carrying a large stack of books with her. She'd already been in there during the day, as more stacks were visible near the foot of Harry's unmade camp bed. She sighed setting them down. "I need to start going through these, but it's exhausting. There's so much to do."

"You need to rest." Ron reached for her hand before she sat down on the floor next to the pile of books, dragging her toward him where she landed at his side on his bed.

"Rest? Are you joking?" She stared at him. "Considering everything we have to prepare for?"

"Considering everything we're leaving behind . . ." Ron looked down a bit. "After George and . . . and Mad-Eye . . . I'm just trying to soak up as much of this life before everything changes I guess."

Hermione frowned. "I . . . I understand."

Ron winced. "I didn't mean . . . I'm sorry, your parents and—"

"No, no," Hermione said, holding up a hand. "It's okay. You're right."

Ron grinned but looked surprised. "I am?"

She chuckled. "Don't get too excited. We need to prepare for the trip, but we do need to remember what we're doing this for. The wedding . . . I think it's smart that we're staying for it."

"Yeah, it'll be good fun once Mum eases up and lets herself enjoy it. Food, drinks . . . dancing." He winced at the last one. "Not that I'll do much of it."

"You don't dance at all?" she asked him, raising a brow.

"If you don't recall, I don't have a high reputation with dances," he offered and then gave her an apologetic smile that widened only slightly when he saw her blush in reply.

"Dances aren't your problem, Ron," she muttered. "You're timing could be improved upon."

"Has someone asked you to the wedding already then?" he asked her, joking of course, but he still worried that she'd answer in the affirmative. His ego was still well bruised after what were deemed the Viktor Krum and Cormac McLaggen Incidents.

"No," she said with a laugh, "but considering I'm staying in the home where it'll be held, and helping to prepare for it myself, it's not exactly the extravagant affair I would consider taking a date to."

"Fine, no date," Ron agreed. "Save me a dance, though?" he asked her quickly, his ears turning pink.

Hermione smiled up at him. "I thought you didn't dance?"

"I'd dance with you," he specified and the grin on his face fell into something much more severe. "How often are we going to be dancing over the next . . . however long this takes?"

"We won't have much time to do a lot of things . . ." Hermione exhaled, "that we could do . . . "

"Yeah?" Ron could see her breathing heavily and he moved closer to her, wanting to feel for himself as her body moved with each breath she took. As he sat up straight, his height gave him the advantage of looking straight down at her. She appeared so small that it made him feel a bit more courageous like he could pick her up if he wanted to—if she'd let him, that is. He felt his hand—which was now moving on its own accord—press itself against her waist, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a momentary grin as he saw her gasp at the touch. Her neck was flushing delicious pink colour. "Like what?"

"I . . . I . . ." Hermione stammered a bit, her eyes glued to his. "I don't think that we should . . " she began but didn't know how to finish the sentence. She knew exactly what she wanted to do, and from the warmth of his hand on her waist and the look of hunger in his eyes, she felt as though he could read her thoughts. Suddenly, she became all too well aware that they were sitting on his bed and her heart began to race.

"I think you think too much, 'Mione," Ron's words were laced with a nervous tone and he licked his lips and brought a hand up to touch her cheek, but it was shaking. When he touched her skin, she made a soft whimpering noise and he inhaled sharply at the sound which egged him on. Be brave, make the first move. He'd been studying Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches, a book that Fred and George had given him when he'd returned home from Hogwarts, and now he needed to make sure it was worth the read.

Before Ron could move in closer, capturing her lips like he'd wanted to do for years—as he'd been so close to doing several times, he heard footsteps ascending the stairs and quickly pulled both hands away from Hermione, a panicked look in his eyes. Reading his body language and hearing the noise too, Hermione quickly moved from the bed to the floor, surrounding herself with the piles of books that were in dire need of organisation.

"I'm doing it, I'm doing! Oh, it's you," said Ron in relief, as Harry entered the room.

"Hi, Harry," Hermione said from her place on the floor.

"And how did you manage to get away?"

"Oh, Ron's mum forgot that she asked Ginny and me to change the sheets yesterday," said Hermione.

"We were just talking about Mad-Eye," Ron lied.