Breaking up with Macey was surprisingly easy, at least in comparison to the only other time he's been the one to pull the trigger on a relationship. Ron isn't sure if it's because he doesn't have as much history with her as he did with Lavender or because he's grown in the years since his awkward attempts to end things through avoidance.

He reckons there's a good chance it's both.

As he stumbles around the house at the crack of dawn two weeks after the gala, wolfing down cereal and changing into workout gear, fear niggles in his chest. He doesn't regret his decision. They were incompatible in a way that neither of them could solve — he couldn't tolerate her dislike for his friends, and she couldn't force herself to accept them when she didn't. But he's starting to worry he may never find someone. Everyone he dates either loves the idea of meeting his friends a little too much or is paralysed with panic at the thought. Finding someone who doesn't fit in either category feels like searching for a unicorn; she's out there, but only visible to the keenest eye.

He slings his broom over one shoulder, tucks a Quaffle under the other, and Floos over to the Burrow. Leaves rustle in the early morning breeze as he trudges down to the back field without waking anyone. With each step across the dewy, orange-cast grass, the weight of adulthood and insecurity slips away. It feels like a lifetime ago that he used to make similar treks down to the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. Life was more hectic back then, facing down the constant threat of Voldemort, but there was a peace and freedom that came from never having felt death's sting.

Digging his fingers into the leathery ball, he pushes down thoughts of Ginny before they have a chance to surface. He knows where his grief will take him if he lets it, and today is about him and Harry.

To his surprise, he beats Harry there. He sits the equipment down by the closest hoop and waits, enjoying the first trill of birdsong from the distant trees.

With nothing left to do, his mind wanders. To Fred and Hermione, whose relationship no longer makes him squirm. To his friends, who he literally fought a war with. And to the proposal from work that's sitting on his desk, parchment edges worn to near-white from all the times he's toyed with it.

When the Office mentioned the idea of sending him overseas for six months to liaise with foreign sporting bodies, his first instinct was to turn it down. But his boss insisted that he didn't make any rushed decisions, and he agreed to take some time to think about it.

It's a good opportunity. He would be able to clear his head, see more of the world, and boost his career all in one fell swoop. He just isn't sure if he's ready for that big of a move. Family has always been important part of his life, even when he hasn't wanted it to be, and he's never understood how Charlie could up and leave to another country. He can't conceive doing it himself.

'Ron,' Harry says suddenly from a few feet away, and Ron flinches. He didn't even hear him coming.

'Give a mate some warning next time,' he shoots back, only half joking.

'I did; you didn't hear me.' Harry eyes him speculatively, and for the first time, Ron misses the days when the only things Harry was observant about related to Voldemort, Malfoy or Snape. Why did he have to get all perceptive? 'Sickle for your thoughts?'

The words almost come tumbling out, but Ron holds it in. He doesn't know what he wants to do yet; he isn't ready to hear other people's opinions. What if Harry begs him to stay?

Worse, what if he insists he go?

'Just planning all the ways I'm going to beat you at Quidditch,' Ron says instead. They're playing cooperatively today since it's just the two of them, but that doesn't mean he can't pull out the trash talk.

Harry snorts appreciatively. 'You wish.'

'Almost forgot,' Ron adds as they head towards the centre of the paddock. 'Mum wants you to stay for lunch today.'

To his surprise, instead of jumping at the offer like usual, Harry hesitates. 'I'm going out as friends with Luna this afternoon.'

That's awkward wording if Ron's ever heard it. 'Going out as friends? I know you date, Harry. You don't have to play coy with me.'

Harry's cheeks turn a faint pink. 'It's not a date, not yet anyway. The next one probably will be.'

Ron blinks as images spring to mind of Harry and Luna eating dinner alone, hands intertwined across the table. The oddest thing is that it doesn't strike him as odd. Unexpected, sure, but kind of natural. Eyeing Harry speculatively, he notices a liveliness about him, an alertness, that has been building for a while but is finally coming out in full force. 'You look happier,' he says simply.

'I feel happier. I think…' Harry breathes out slowly, guilt twisting his mouth before he presses his lips together, determined. 'The house is feeling lighter now with all the renovations, and I think I'm starting to accept that what happened to Ginny wasn't my fault. I always knew it on some level, but I never felt it.'

'Because of Luna?'

'Only partially.'

'I'm glad for you,' Ron says. The last hint of tension falls from Harry's expression, replaced by a smile as blinding as the sun. All at once, Ron realises that as Ginny's brother, his reaction was one of the things Harry was worried about. It must be easier to tell someone you feel responsible for their sister's death than to tell them that you don't. 'Should we fly?'

As they climb on their brooms and push off into the sky, Ron turns over what Harry said. Harry's moving… not on, perhaps, since Ginny will always be part of them all, but forward. He's breaking free from the past, refusing to be held prisoner any longer.

Maybe Ron needs that, too. He loves his friends, and he loves his life in England, but if he uses them as an excuse to hold himself back, aren't they just their own kind of chain?

It may be time to revisit that liaison offer.