Chapter III: Home Again
"Harry?"
Your voice, soft and far away, echoes through my nightmare-world and brings me back to reality. I open my eyes and for a moment I wonder if I dreamed of you calling me; then I remember my journey and snap awake.
You're standing in front of me; and, I have to say, you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
You've gotten taller, and more slender. It's given you a willowy look. Your limbs have straightened themselves out a bit, and altogether you look a little different and unfamiliar . . . but you still stand in just the same way, with your feet and toes pointing outward just a smidge and one hand hidden in your pocket.
Your hair is longer—it curls outward just below your ears and a few tendrils frame your face. There are more auburn tints to it, and it doesn't seem quite so bright. Not that this takes away from its charm: on the contrary. I want to touch it even more, to stroke my fingers through the soft firey tendrils that caress your cheeks. I have to remind myself not to.
And your eyes . . . your eyes are older than I have ever seen them. You're not a child anymore; no, those are the eyes of a capable adult. Those beautiful amber eyes hold a tinge of sadness and seriousness, which just makes me love you more.
My Ron . . . oh gods, how I've missed you . . .
"Ron," I murmur. My voice is soft from disuse. "I'm sorry for the short notice Ron, but . . . "
Then, I remember my nightmares, and that you could have been dead.
Tears prick my eyes, and relief that you live overpowers me. "I've just . . . I've missed you," I whisper absently, willing my tears away. You're alive . . . you're alive.I get to see you smile again . . . I get to hear you laugh again . . . I get to watch you crumple with disappointment, swell with triumph . . . I get to grin when you beat me at chess, and sigh when you say something stupid, and be with you . . .
"Harry," you say, taking a few steps forward, reaching a hand out hesitantly before laying it on my shoulder. Heat radiates through my shirt, and I can't control my tears; not now that I can truly tell you're alive, and not some phantom. "Harry," you repeat, softly, with something equally soft resting in your eyes. "I . . . I missed you, too."
You take me in your arms, and your warmth surrounds me. I want to cry, Ron . . . I want to sob, and let my tears and troubles be washed away. But I can't. I've trained myself to cry silently, because the only time a "hero" can cry is in the dark, when others are asleep.
Instead, I let myself rest in your arms for a moment, blissfully. I wish you would hold me like this all the time, Ron. I wish you loved me like I love you . . .
I collect myself, and smile, if a bit sadly. If I can't be in your arms as the one you love, I'll be content to be around you, loving you secretly.
Gently, you let me go, keeping your hand on my shoulder. It takes all my will power not to burrow back into your arms, but I remain where I am."Let's go inside," you tell me, smiling. "Mum's cooking breakfast."
I follow you, clutching my trunk, and the reassurance that you are alive fills me. I love you . . . I don't know what I'd do without you.
Your mother is flipping pancakes in the kitchen, humming along to some old tune on the radio. Her hair is coming out in frizzy wisps from its ponytail, and her apron is a quilt of patches, but her happiness makes her beautiful.
"Mum?" you venture quietly.
"Yes, Ron?" she replies, turning around with her wand in hand and her warm brown eyes sparkling. "Was there— Harry ?"
My lips curl up, and I smile involuntarily. I love your mother. She's always so kind to me, asking me if I'd like anything, am I comfortable, how was my day: you understand, I know. You love her as much as is humanly possible; it's in your eyes every time you look at her. She's always there for you . . . that's what I love most about her.
"Hello, Mrs Weasley," I say. "I'm sorry for the short notice—"
"Nonsense , Harry! You're always welcome here!" She beams at me. "I suppose Professor Dumbledore gave you his permission?"
"Yes, Mrs. Weasley."
Putting down her wand, she says, "Welcome back, Harry," and evelopes me in a hug.
I grin through my tears.
Home.