Catch Me If You Can: Ron's Side Revisited

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to the lovely Andrea, who transcribed bits of the books for me when I was stranded without them, and who is just generally awesome! I apologize for the wait and, well, I'm still not sure about this chapter. My muse has been lazy of late.

"Hey, mum, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?" Fred and George's voices filtered through the window of the train as Ron moved onto it nervously, feeling a bit lost. Being a Weasley, one would think he'd know some people. That at least he'd have his brothers to sit with.

Right. Fred and George had informed him that until he proved himself "worthy of being related to us," he was to pretend as though the fact that they shared a last name was "merely a coincidence." And now they were talking about this Harry Potter with awe in their voices. Awe that he'd never heard before, and certainly not for someone younger. And not just anyone younger. Someone who was Ron's age. He moved through the train as he wondered, just for a second, what it would be like to be an only child. And not just any only child, but one who was so great that he couldn't be overshadowed, even if he did have five older brothers who were exceptional in one way or another. He also wondered what it would be like to receive that sort of respect from people Fred and George's age, and possibly even from people older than Fred and George. He mused that even Percy, who had been so full of himself ever since his prefect's badge arrived in the mail, might have his head turned by the boy who lived as well.

Ron frowned as he moved his way through the train, every once in awhile looking through windows to see if there was anywhere to sit, and finding all the compartments full, or, at the very least, filled with people who he doubted would allow a first year to sit with them. Finally, he came to one that seemed to be empty. Or at least, it was empty, save for the black haired boy in the corner. He froze as he recognized the boy that had received Fred and George's awe, his eyes automatically flickering up to the hair that was slightly mussed, and possibly covering the famous scar. If Fred and George were being serious, that is.

"Er," he said, feeling like a bit of an idiot. "Anyone sitting there? Everywhere else is full."

The boy looked up and, much to Ron's surprise, looked relieved, and then shook his head. Ron breathed a small sigh of relief, having expected the other boy to say that he'd rather be seen with someone cooler or, well… someone other than Ronald Weasley.

"Hey, Ron."

The twins were back.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train - Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron, shifting awkwardly and attempting to disguise his discomfort, feeling a flash of annoyance at Fred.

"Harry," said George, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then."

"Bye," said Harry and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them. Again, Ron looked at his companion, still a bit in shock at how normal he seemed. He supposed he'd expected him to be bigheaded and stuck on himself. Or, well, anything besides… shy, was it?

"Are you really Harry Potter?" he finally blurted out, unable to contain the question any longer.

Harry nodded.

"Oh - well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," he admitted. "And have you really got - you know…"

He pointed at Harry's forehead.

Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared.

"So that's where You-Know-Who-?"

"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" Ron said eagerly.

"Well - I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

"Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at Harry for a moment, and then forced himself to look away.

*****

"Harry, you've been keeping something from us all summer. Don't you think we realize? You've refused to talk ever since you came back from the Dursley's!"

Harry refused to look at either of them. Ron frowned, speaking the words that he'd never expected to say. "I'm with Hermione, mate. If you can't tell your best friends, what's going on, who can you tell?"

"That's just it," Harry said, his voice dangerously quiet. Ron braced himself for another bout of hollering. He'd gotten used to Harry's temper by now but it was still never fun to be on the receiving end of a Harry temper tantrum.

But if they helped, he'd let Harry holler at him all day long.

"You're the last people I'd want to tell," Harry said, still very carefully avoiding their gaze.

"And that's the first reason why you should be out with it now," Ron said in a very matter-of-fact voice. "Harry," he continued, his voice softening, "whatever it is, it can't be as bad as all that, can it?"

From the look Hermione gave him, he realized that perhaps he had spoken too soon. With Harry, it could always be worse.

"Fine. I'll tell you. But you'll have to promise not to be overbearing," Harry shot a warning look at Hermione, "Or to make a big deal of it all," he met Ron's eyes.

Ron bristled at that. As if he'd overreact to something! Who did Harry think he was dealing with?

Harry focused on the wall, beginning to speak again. Ron exchanged a nervous look with Hermione, but remained quiet. "Last May, after…" Harry broke off, and Ron and Hermione exchanged another look. Both had been avoiding the subject over the summer, giving him the space to bring it up whenever he felt ready. "After we went to the Ministry," Harry continued, his eyes clouding over, "Dumbledore told me about the prophecy that Voldemort was after." Ron bit his tongue to keep from reacting to the name. "It was about me," Harry continued.

"About you? But, Harry…" Hermione began, but was cut off as Harry shook his head.

"They weren't sure at first, but it said that he would mark me as his equal, and that I would be the one with the ability to vanquish him, and that I would have power that he doesn't know about."

"I'm sorry, but mark you?" Hermione said, as Ron's eyes quickly traveled to Harry's scar. Wordlessly, he nudged her and pointed to the scar, surprised that she hadn't figured that out more quickly. She caught his eye and nodded, her eyes now fixed on Harry's scar.

"I still don't understand, Harry," Hermione said. "Mark you for what?"

Harry shrugged slightly. "Either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can survive while the other lives," he whispered.

"Neither can… is that what it said?" Hermione asked, her face screwing up with concern as the meaning dawned on her. Ron looked at her nervously, still not quite certain what was going on. "But Harry," she said, "Dumbledore can't actually expect you to face Voldemort."

"Why not?" Harry asked, turning on her, his eyes flashing with annoyance. "I've done it before, haven't I? And that's what the prophecy says. No one else can do it. I'm not so sure I can, but…"

"Then we'll be right there with you," Hermione said.

"You can't."

"Why not?"

"You just can't, Hermione! What good would it do anyway? Are you telling me you want to watch as I either become a murder or get k-"

"Don't say it!" Hermione cut him off, her eyes frantic.

Ron looked between the two, his face a mask of concern. "Both of you, stop it," he said, surprised at how calm his voice sounded when inwardly he was panicking. He turned to Harry. "Harry, you're going to win. It's not as though they make a prophecy about all the other people You-Know-Who's killed, right? And you're just… going to win. That's all."

Harry opened his mouth, looking as though he were about to inform Ron that he was a stupid prat and that his certainty was misguided, to say the least. But instead his lips curved up into a small smile. "Thanks, Ron."

"At any rate, whatever happens, you know that we're here to help, right? Like it or not, we're a part of this. And like it or not, we're going to be right there with you whenever this happens."

Harry opened his mouth, again looking as though he were about to argue, but was cut off by Hermione this time.

"Don't say we can't. You dislike people telling you what you can't do, and so don't even think about doing that to us. Besides," she said, tossing her hair haughtily, "You've got no authority over us. In fact," she said, a small smile forming on her lips, "If anything, we've got authority over you. We are prefects, after all."

Harry looked at her in surprise, staring for a moment. Ron mirrored his stare, the corners of his mouth turning upwards slightly as he again found himself surprised by the girl who had been his best friend for five years now.

After a moment, Harry cleared his throat and glanced at Ron. "Ready for that Quidditch Practice yet? Whoever the new captain is is going to kill me if I don't bring you back to school in shape and ready for the season."

"Me? Out of shape?" Ron puffed up his chest in mock-indignation. "I've been practicing all summer, Harry Potter. Are you ready for me to give you a run for your money?"

"Maybe. If you can catch me to give me that run," Harry teased, ducking out of the room, Ron whooping and running after him, the Prophecy all but forgotten as thoughts of Voldemort and the war to come seemed suddenly very far away.

*****

Unfortunately, playing Quidditch was one of the few times that the ever-growing war seemed far away. As the next two years wore on, they spent their time preparing for the battle that was sure to come, the DA meetings becoming more frequent as its numbers grew larger and the sense of safety, even at Hogwarts, grew less.

But whenever things seemed to get to be too much, Ron always seemed to be able to distract Harry, whether it was with Quidditch or a well-timed game of Exploding Snap.

As he rushed to catch up with Harry, he wondered if things were different now.

"Harry, wait," he called, his legs, still longer than his best friend's, providing an advantage. For his part, Harry looked as though he would rather tell Ron to shove off than wait, but Ron was pretty sure he noticed his old friend's pace slowing down.

"You know, Ginny's gotten better with her hexes. If you leave, there's no telling what sort of hex she'd mail to you," he said in an attempt to start the conversation.

Harry merely shrugged. "I'm surprised she didn't already send me one."

"You do know that she's not really mad, don't you, Harry?"

"Funny. She could have fooled me with all the yelling, and with the whole telling me to leave her alone thing," Harry said, throwing his arms up in frustration.

"Harry, there's one thing you need to understand about girls. They only get riled up when you mean something to them, you know?" Ron shook his head. "It sounds counterintuitive, but the angrier they get, the more they want you around."

Harry surprised him by looking up and laughing. "And I suppose you're the expert now?" he asked.

Ron returned his laughter, for a second feeling as though nothing had really changed from the old times. "Hardly. But I have learned a thing or two from Hermione." He paused, frowning. "Look, about what you saw… I'm sorry we didn't tell you sooner. But just because…" he struggled for the words and then shook his head. "Nothing's changed," he said firmly. "We still want you around, and just because we're-you know, doesn't mean that things are going to be any different."

"Ron, things have changed. Of course they're going to be different." Harry looked away. "And I just don't think I have a place here anymore."

"Then where do you have a place?" Ron asked, stopping and stubbornly attempting to meet his friend's eyes.

Harry looked at him, obviously fumbling for words, and Ron decided to change his tact.

"Look, Harry, Herm's nice and all, but… well, you know that temper of hers. Who am I supposed to talk to when she's not speaking to me? You know, on the days that end in Y? And have you seen her on a broomstick? My Quidditch game has definitely needed some work, you know. And you saw mum and dad. You know they love having you around. And Hermione, of course. And everyone else will be coming for the party soon, and they'll be happy to see you too. And, er, my sister will come around. She's stubborn, but just give her time, all right?"

Harry paused, again at a loss for words. After a moment, he began to beam, his eyes gleaming with a look that Ron remembered all too well. "About Quidditch… reckon I can still beat you?"

"Beat me?" Ron asked, also beaming. "Ha! I'd like to see you try. Besides, I'll bet you're even more out of shape than I am. I have spent the last four years getting my exercise running after bad guys, you know. I could still give you a run for your money."

Harry grinned. "Not if you can't catch me," he replied and then took off running.

Laughing, Ron quickly followed after him.