A/N: After 37 chapters? Nope, it's still not mine.

Disclaimer: Here's my first split chapter, I think. And I'm excited to get back to the rest of the family after this. I feel like they really have been waiting patiently, don't you?

Ginny was in bed, relaxing, when she heard a knock on the door. Confused, she called for Hermione to come in. Why on earth would she be knocking now? Ginny wondered. She didn't know why she didn't expect it to be Harry.

He stood framed in the doorway, the light from the landing behind him lighting his hair and making him a shadow that Ginny had to squint to see. But she knew it was him. She'd always known it was him.

"Come in," she said softly as she watched him hesitate, and without a second thought, he stepped into her bedroom, closing the door behind him. As both of their eyes adjusted to the dark, he found his way to the cot that was set up for Hermione and sat on it, afraid to get too close to Ginny, afraid of how he would feel if she didn't want him there.

For a few minutes they sat there, and Harry stared at his knees, wondering how to start. He didn't have to think for long. Ginny spoke first.

"Hermione told you, didn't she." It wasn't a question. She knew the truth, and he knew there was no use denying it, so he nodded, but he still avoided her eyes.

"She said –, " he paused. He didn't know how to say this and not make Ginny angry. And he didn't think he could handle it if Ginny got angry. He took a deep breath. She'd know if he were lying. He didn't have much of a choice. "She said that too many people are relying on you, and not enough of us are looking out for you."

There was silence, and Harry was still afraid to make eye contact. But then he heard the last noise he'd ever expected, and he looked up sharply. Ginny was sniffling.

"Ginny, I …," he started helplessly, but then she looked into his eyes, and he lost any other words he might have been able to say.

"Just – just come here," she said, her voice wavering, and he somehow managed to stand up, to walk over to her bed, and to wrap his arms around her. He held her tightly, his lips pressed to her hair, as she shook with the tears she didn't even understand.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, and he felt her move restlessly against him. "I wish there were something I could do. Is there? Is there anything I can do?"

She shook her head and managed to say, "I wish you could. Just stay here with me, ok? I need – I need you to stay here with me."

Harry's heart ached as he listened to her shaky breathing, but he held her even more closely. He didn't speak, but he didn't need to. They both knew he would never let go.

Ron sat on his bed, staring at his book of 12 Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches. He wished it could distract him like it used to, but it couldn't. He didn't know why he was looking at it tonight. Tonight it wasn't making him laugh. Tonight … it hurt.

There was a knock on the door, and he rubbed at his eyes quickly, clearing his throat.

"Yeah," he called, trying to deepen his voice, quickly holding up the book so Harry wouldn't look at him too closely.

He heard the door open, and then there was silence. Then, "You still think you need to read that book?"

He froze. Hermione was the last person who should see this book (even though she had claimed on other occasions to know of its existence). But he was still afraid to put it down, so he continued to hold it up as a shield. He didn't answer.

Hermione sighed. This was way too reminiscent of the conversation she'd already had with Ginny, and she couldn't help but remember what she'd just told Harry. They really were dating the same person.

This time, though, she had a slightly better idea of how to handle it. For one thing… she wasn't afraid of Ron. He might get angry, but she'd had plenty of practice with his anger. She couldn't think of anyone she'd fought with more in the past eight years.

She made her way over to the bed and sat down so she was facing the cover of the book. She didn't speak. She knew he'd need the time.

Finally, he tried to joke it off. "It's Harry's book, you know," he tried to say off-handedly, but the strain in his voice was still there.

"Uh huh," Hermione said. She knew she didn't sound convinced, and she didn't know why Ron was even talking about the book, but she went along with it. "Sure it is. I know he has one, too, but I know you got it for him. I just want to know who got you this one."

It was the wrong question. It was the absolute wrong question, but there was no way she could have known that. Slowly, he lowered the book inch by inch, and it was suddenly very clear to Hermione that they weren't joking anymore.

She took one look at his trembling lip and the tears he was desperately trying to blink away, and she knew.

"The twins?" she asked, her own voice suddenly trembling, and he nodded. Without another word, the book fell to the bed beside them, and her arms went around him, holding on as tightly as she could.

"I want it to get easier," he rasped, "but I don't ever want to forget Fred. I don't know – I don't know how to do that, 'Mione."

"Neither do I," she said honestly, still not loosening her grip. "But we'll figure it out together."

Her shoulder was damp, but she felt him nod against it, and she knew they had their work cut out for them.