Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine; this story is. (Sensing a new trend here?)
A/N: Angst is back... but in a more hopeful kind of way... I hope?
Molly insisted on everyone spending the night at the Burrow. Hermione looked at her carefully when she made this declaration, and she wondered about the reason. She couldn't tell if it were because she wanted to continue the celebration in the morning or if she wanted to keep an eye on Ron. Once the excitement died down and everyone moved into the house to go to bed, no one could have failed to notice that Ron had deflated and gone to his bedroom as quickly as possible.
Ginny yawned as she closed the door behind her, but her eyes were very alert as she turned to her future sister-in-law. Hermione looked back at her steadily, and as they both settled into their beds, Ginny said quietly, "So what happened? Aren't you two supposed to be happier than either of you obviously are?"
Hermione held her gaze for a long moment before finally dropping her eyes to the comforter.
"It's just… well, he asked, and we were happy and about to come back here when he decided he wanted to…"
She trailed off, but Ginny looked confused.
"He wanted to what, Hermione?"
Now Hermione looked at her, and the pain in her eyes answered Ginny's question more quickly than any words would have done.
"You went to the hallway," Ginny mumbled, and Hermione looked back down, nodding. Neither of them spoke for a moment and then Ginny said, her voice hoarse, "Fred – Fred would have been really happy about this Hermione. You know he thought of you as another sister, I'm sure."
Hermione felt her throat constrict. She nodded. She couldn't say another word. Neither could Ginny. But what she did do was sit beside her new sister on her cot and put an arm about her. Words weren't necessary.
A few rooms and a few stairs away, Ron was in his own bed, staring determinedly at the wall and waiting for Harry to fall asleep. It was weird being back in his bed at the Burrow, and he didn't like it. And he didn't know why. He kept trying to swallow the lump in his throat, but it wouldn't go away. He didn't know what was wrong with him, and he was so frustrated that he wanted to scream.
He'd done it. He'd asked Hermione to marry him, and she'd said yes. He should be turning cartwheels now or, at the very least, setting off firecrackers, but he couldn't even smile. He wouldn't turn over either. He knew Harry was worried about why he wasn't as happy as he should be, but Harry wasn't the person he wanted to talk to. So he waited until he heard his friend's breathing turn from worried to measured, and then he slipped out of bed.
Wrapping himself in his old flannel robe, he made his way out of his bedroom silently, holding his breath as he passed his parents' bedroom. He didn't want to talk to them either.
No one was in the kitchen or the living room when he got to the bottom of the stairs, and he paused for a moment by the back door. He wasn't sure why he was stuffing his feet into his boots or throwing his winter jacket over his robe or checking for his wand, but he opened the door anyway and walked into the cold night air.
He walked along, his boots crunching the thin sheet of ice that covered the grass, and he tried not to think about where he was going or why the only brother he wanted to talk to was the one who wasn't comfortably in bed right now.
He was wrong. There was another brother who wasn't comfortably in bed. When he reached the graveyard, he saw that the telltale hint of red hair and the face that looked so like the one he wished he could see, and suddenly, he couldn't see very much at all. As he edged closer to the grave, he heard his brother's voice.
"Well, Fred, it looks like our ickle Ronniekins is growing up. He's finally gotten up the guts to actually ask Hermione to marry him, and would you believe she actually said yes? Well, yeah, of course you would. We all do. It's – it's good. It's just hard not to have you here to help me take the mickey out of him. We'd have such a good time with this; you know we would. I don't know how I'm going to do this all by myself…"
George trailed off as his voice tightened. He looked down at the ground and then up sharply as he heard footsteps stumbling toward him. Somehow, he wasn't surprised to find Ron standing stiffly beside him.
There was silence in the graveyard for a long time until Ron's voice broke the stillness. But he wasn't talking to George.
He stared at the headstone that he normally avoided at all costs and said, "So I asked her. And for some reason, you were the only person I wanted to tell. I know you'd be the one to laugh the most at the way I didn't actually ask; I know you'd also be the one to laugh at how she made me do it. And right now… that laughter wouldn't sound so bad. I just – I wish you were here for this. It's a great thing. I know it is. But it isn't …"
It isn't. It isn't great; it isn't fun; it isn't fair; it isn't the way it's supposed to be. These were the thoughts that ran through his head as the tears ran down his cheeks. He turned his face away from George, not wanting him to see. But he couldn't prevent him from hearing, and George knew he couldn't turn away from Ron, as much as it might be easier than doing what he knew he had to.
Ron was still standing with his back to the grave when George's arm went around his shoulders. Without knowing how or even why he was allowing this, he turned into the hug he thought he'd want to avoid, and he buried his face in George's shoulder.
"It's – it's too hard sometimes, isn't it?" he whispered. And as George tightened his grip, he felt his own eyes start to sting.
"It is," he whispered. "But – I don't think that's going to change. I think that maybe – if we're lucky – it's something we'll get used to. But Ron … you have Hermione now to help you get used to it. You needed to come tell Fred. I get that. I obviously needed to do that too." Here he had to stop because his voice had broken when he'd said his twin's name, and he needed some time to master it. After a few deep breaths, he said, "But Hermione will understand this more than you think. I think – I think you just need to let her."
Ron let out a shuddering sigh. "I know," he said in a low voice. "I know I do. I just… I don't know. I didn't want her to think I wasn't happy about this. Because I am. I love her, George. I know I sound stupid, but I do. I just – I miss him."
He looked at George, and George looked at him, and both of their eyes were full.
"I know," George whispered, and this time he pulled Ron back into the hug for his own sake as much as his younger brother's. There would be time for Katie and Hermione to help. Right now, they needed each other.
