Chapter 9

Hermione hadn't been lying when she said they had been waiting for Ron before they had the party. They had been planning on holding it at the Burrow, but Dumbledore had decided that, with the noise they were going to make and the amount of preparation it would have forced Molly to do, that it was better off being held at a different location. And so, four days after both he and Harry had been released from St. Mungo's with two clean bills of health (in which Fred and George had promptly handed both Harry and Ron two healthy ducks as they finally stepped out of the hospital…he still didn't quite understand) Ron found himself in the very familiar courtyard of Hogwarts, drinking his sixth glass of butterbeer.

It was surreal really, and Ron almost felt confused as to why they were there. They had been fearing Mortie for so long (all his life in fact) that to be celebrating his final defeat…it just didn't seem real. High above him a red and blue Dragon spun gracefully in the sky, twirling around its massive sparking wings as they blended in colour until it finally died out. Cheer erupted all around and people were laughing and talking excitedly. Fred and George gladly accepted praise for their magnificent fireworks and McGonagall was happily recounting the uproar the twins had caused for Umbridge with a dragon very similar to that one. Her cheeks were a bit rosy, no doubt from the spiked punch she had been consuming slowly all afternoon, but her hair and robes were still as immaculate as ever. Ron figured she needed about ten more drinks before she began to get dishevelled.

Hagrid's merry laugh boomed over the entire party as he danced (rather dangerously for those nearby) with Madame Maxime. A local band was playing the jovial beat in the back with a mixture of muggle and magical instruments, and Ron laughed as one woodwind, playing by itself, kept bumping into its neighbours face. Ron and his family had arrived before lunch, coming in with the Hogwarts express, along with many other friends and wizards that they didn't know. Others had arrived throughout the afternoon, walking up from the town in all manner of dress and bringing all manner of things with them. One wizard had roped off a square area where the younger children flocked around him, and he cast spells that wrapped them up in bubble like casings, where they could roll around and crash into each other without fear of being hurt. Ron had never been allowed to try that when he had been young.

It was dark now, though the stars had yet to come out. Dinner had been a scary affair with so many people meandering around, but it had contained some of the best dishes he had ever tried. Things had been made from all sorts of cultures and Ron had only stopped eating for fear that he might throw up, and that would have been embarrassing. He hadn't seen Harry since then, as he had been swept away with one group or another as they went to thank him. And he hadn't seen Hermione since before the meal. Ron had been swamped all afternoon, talking to his friends, hearing recounts of the fight from different perspectives as everyone tried to tell of what they had done and seen. Some had broken down in tears and others were trying to act overly brave. Ron suspected some of the stories were made up, because he didn't remember seeing this many people fighting on the streets of Hogsmeade with them, but he managed to hold off his temper. It didn't matter what people said, so long as the people that he cared about knew what had happened.

"It's a bit tiring isn't it?" An unfamiliar voice interrupted his thoughts as a wizard flopped down in the seat beside him. Ron looked over and realized that he was the same wizard that had been in St. Mungo's with him.

"It's not bad. I reckon we'll be going until next week at this rate."

"Right you are! Right in deed! Granveld Sigweed is the name." He thrust a hand in Ron's direction and he shook it firmly, though Ron wasn't quite sure what to say. He had never spoken with this man before.

"Ron Weasley."

"That you are, and it is a pleasure to speak with you in person. You're family speaks very highly of you indeed!"

"That's what family's for." He shrugged, and gently extracted his hand from the grip. He noticed that Mr. Sigweed's nails were imbedded with dirt, but he didn't say anything. They looked like Neville's hands, only larger, so he figured the man must be a gardener.

"It is, but I also know that they have right reason to be proud, what with all the stories of you and young Potter and Granger floating around. It's a miracle you recovered so quickly!" Ron felt his face burn up in a flush and he looked away to try and hide it. He wasn't used to this familiarity people were taking with him. It was only the fifth time it had happened, but it was usually Harry that would get the attention and Ron was beginning to be glad he'd never had to deal with it so much before.

"Right. Well, it's good that you're out of the hospital now. What put you in there in the first place, if you don't mind me asking?" His attempt to change the subject was accepted as the happy wizard seemed to bounce in his seat in merriment.

"Ah no, I don't mind you asking at all! One of those Dirt Eaters hexed me good, took the bones right out of my legs they did! That young Seamus and Dean got him back though, took all his bones in one swoop. It was marvellous it was! Took me a fair amount of time to grow them back though. It had the healers stumped for a while, seeing as it wasn't a difficult process and it was taking so long. I got better right fast after you left though. Oi!" He suddenly yelled and Ron jumped in his seat, Sigweed was waving at someone in the crowd. "That's me girl friend Darleen over there! I best be getting back, it was good to talk with you though, and I wish you the best!"

"Yeah, thanks. You too." Ron said but his companion was already bouncing away, no doubt ecstatic at being able to walk again. He took a moment to regain his bearing, because that had perhaps been one of the most rushed conversations he'd ever had, and then looked about the group again. It certainly was lively, and all the fairy lights darting around everyone made it look that much more majestic. He supposed he should be getting back to the party, he had only been sitting to catch a breather, and then he was going to go and rescue Harry from whoever had got a hold of him now. The poor guy had been fending for himself long enough now. It had been an hour since Ron last saw him, and as childish as it might sound, he missed him.

A hand landed on his shoulder and he looked up, breaking into a full grin.

"Well, speak of the Devil."

"I thought Malfoy turned down the invitation." Harry retorted and laughed as Ron tried to kick him half heartedly. "Hey, I only just got that leg fixed." He complained and Ron stood to join him, laughing despite himself. It shouldn't have been funny, because Harry had broken that leg, but if he didn't laugh he might have cried and he couldn't do that here, not in front of all these people. Harry seemed to sense that, because the second Ron stood fully he pulled him into a hug. They had been doing that a lot these last few days, more then they ever had before. It was unspoken between them, but they knew they did it to reassure themselves that the other was okay. Hermione had been getting a lot more hugs as well, though she almost seemed more flustered than anything, trying to maintain her dignified persona.

Ron held Harry tightly for a moment, and didn't release his arm as they separated and looked over the crowd. For the moment nobody was bothering them and Fudge had left shortly after his dinner speech so there was no fear of being hassled by the ministry.

"I still don't quite feel like it's over, you know? This feels so…"

"Dreamlike?" Ron supplied and Harry nodded, his emerald eyes roaming around the group. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"I guess I figured it would take longer, be more painful, leave more of a mark." Harry was speaking of the final battle, the end of the war. It was true that there were still Death Eaters out there who had escaped in the end, and those that hadn't been at the final battle to begin with, but their leader had been wiped out. It was over.

"It left enough of a mark." Ron said and looked at Harry's faded scar a moment before once again scanning the crowd. The sound seemed to have died down as they stood there, but as Ron watched people gesticulating wildly and hanging off each other as they laughed, he knew it was just his own ears tuning them out.

"And it was rather painful." Harry agreed.

"And you were locked in magic with the bastard for no less than half an hour. Not even Dumbledore could get close enough to help. I'd say that's plenty long enough!" Ron declared and Harry laughed. Harry was older now, Ron could sense it as they stood side by side. But Ron was older as well, and so was Hermione. They had had to grow up fast, but the laugh Harry had just given him, it showed that there was still spirit inside of him, there was still the teenager that they all needed to be.

"More then long enough. I honestly didn't think I had the energy in the end, but somehow it came to me." Harry looked at Ron smiling, but there was something searching in his gaze, looking into his blue eyes as though Ron could tell him were he got the extra energy from. It was almost suspicious, but it was also filled with mirth.

"Hey, no serious talk!" Hermione suddenly appeared beside Harry and their gaze was broken as she joined them, somehow glaring and grinning at the same time. Ron laughed loudly and grabbed her, pulling her and Harry into another hug. He was just so glad that they were okay that sometimes he never wanted to let them go. They all became caught up in the moment and held on to each other, breaking off after what must have been several minutes. Hermione and Harry's eyes were sparkling with brightness as they held back tears, and Ron felt the moisture gathering in his own. Great Merlin they were an emotional lot! He chuckled, and noticed that it sounded abnormally loud in the air. They pulled away from each other and looked to the party, which had gone silent and was watching them intently. Ron's parents were off to their right, holding each other tightly, Neville and Ginny beside them. Dumbledore stood not five feet away, and he had a twinkle in his eye that would match the stars that were beginning to dot the sky. The Headmaster of Hogwarts smiled at them, and solemnly raised his glass.

"The wizarding world owes you a debt of gratitude. You certainly are the most brave at heart." It wasn't much by way of speeches and for a moment Ron thought that Harry deserved something a bit more, but when it came down to it, he supposed that it was all that needed to be said. Anything more would have been too much at the moment. He looked at Harry and raised his glass of butterbeer, and Hermione did the same, the tears becoming more prominent in her eyes.

"Are you both daft!" Harry looked at Ron in sudden astonishment and he almost looked behind him to see if something was there. Hermione looked just as startled as their dark haired friend looked between them, his eyes wide and almost angry. Harry's strong hand gripped Ron's wrist and pushed his salute down. "He was talking to all of us." Ron looked back at Dumbledore, who bowed his head in recognition, and the crowd erupted in a wave of cheers so loud that Ron was almost knocked off his feet in surprise. He looked at Harry who was laughing and pulling them close again. "Never, I never could have done it without you." Ron had been right, the party didn't end for a week.

0000

Out of all the six previous years Harry had come to Hogwarts, none of them had been as anticipated as his seventh. There were no Dursleys to make his summer miserable, because he had moved in with the Weasley's, permanently. There was no longer a fear of Voldemort floating over all their heads. There was no longer the crushing weight of expectation resting on his shoulders, the worry of whether or not he could save the wizarding (and in effect the muggle) world. For the first time in his wizarding life he was no longer the boy-who-would-save-them, he was the boy-who-had-saved-them, and because of that he could finally just be a boy.

True he would never fully have the peace that a normal person would, seeing as everyone knew who he was, and how texts such as Hogwarts, a History had already written him into its teachings. The younger students at Hogwarts gawked at him in the halls, he still received letters every morning from wizards and witches asking him if he needed a place to live, if he would like to come to their business parties or charity events, if he could send an autograph to their daughter or son (or themselves), if he would be interested in having his picture on the front of their product and so on. But aside from these things, which he didn't allow to interfere with his life, he was finally just another student.

Ron had charmed several quills into repeating Harry's signature and they had spent their first two weekends signing memorabilia that had been sent to them. Ron had become quite efficient in plagiarizing Harry's name, even though Harry himself didn't have a specific signature style yet. After that McGonagall had arranged it so that only so many letters could get to him a week, because really, he needed to focus on his studies and quidditch. She had been rather protective of him since he had returned, and between her, Molly, and Dumbledore, the press hadn't been given much of a chance to harass him. Another thing that had had Harry laughing was the look on Hermione and Ron's faces when they got their own fan mail. It had died down by the end of the first week for them, but that hadn't stopped Ron from turning red in embarrassment every time one of their friends made fun of him.

"Ron! Hey Ron! How about a picture with my brother! We could put it in the school paper!" The Creevey brothers had called out once. "Or how about one with Harry!" Ron had been surprisingly shy about all the attention, which had thrown Harry off at first, seeing how his best mate had always craved it in their previous years. Ron hadn't spoken to Harry yet about how he felt over the attention, and he even seemed to avoid it whenever possible. Hermione had pulled Harry over one day the previous week to see if he knew why Ron was suddenly shy. Whatever the reason was, it didn't change Ron's normal attitude towards school, or his fiery temper. Especially since Draco Malfoy had begun tormenting them again, despite Ron's warning the previous year.

Everything was going great for them, with Hermione being Head Girl and Ron being a seventh year Prefect (Harry really hadn't wanted that position after everything that had happened. He knew he would be good at it, but he wanted a break from that kind of responsibility.), so it came as a surprise this night, when Ron had soundlessly pulled open the curtains from around his bed and crept down to the Gryffindor common room. Harry watched with half lidded eyes as Ron's tall frame had disappeared and frowned, because it wasn't like Ron to not sleep through the night, at least he didn't think it was. He looked over at the other beds in their shared dorm room. Neville's was half closed and the boy lay exactly where he had fallen the night before. Dean had his bed completely concealed and Seamus hadn't even bothered to tug on the curtains. Over the years they all changed their preferences of privacy from night to night, so this set up came as no surprise. None of the boys had heard Ron slip out.

Harry reached over and groped for his glasses, slipping them on and crystallizing his vision. It was the first week of October and the full moon was shining through their tower window, illuminating the normally dark path to the door. Harry easily stepped over Dean's robe and followed Ron down the stairs. For a brief moment he wondered how Lupin was doing this evening, and then pushed the thought to the back of his mind. There was something up with Ron, and Harry wanted to know what. If he hadn't awakened from his own nightmare only minutes before then he wouldn't have even been aware that Ron had wandered away from their room.

He stepped into the common room and looked around carefully. The fire was burning low, casting flickering shadows along the walls and furniture. Harry spotted Ron sitting in his favourite chair, gazing at his chess bored in front of him. His pieces were still and lying about in various positions, the white queen was leaning over and pinching her husband's nose to try and stop his tiny snoring. Harry couldn't see Ron's face clearly at this distance, but he wasn't one to let his friends wallow alone, so he moved forward decisively and sat in the seat across from Ron, watching him the entire time. Ron startled when he sat down, raising his hand a moment as if to ward off an attacker, and then he flushed so brilliantly that Harry could see the shade change even in the dim lighting.

"Harry, are you trying to give me a heart attack, or do you just fancy an early death?" Normally Harry might have smiled at the typical reaction, but it was half past two in the morning on a Wednesday, and he could already see Ron's eyes shift uncertainly, trying to decide how he could turn this conversation away from him.

"What's up Ron, besides yourself that is?" He asked quietly. His voice didn't travel around the room this evening as it sometimes might, and the few paintings continued to snore, oblivious to their presence. Ron looked down at his chess set and suddenly reached out, prodding a piece to move forward. The pawn wasn't happy at being awoken.

"Couldn't sleep, I figured a quick round against myself might knock me out." Harry looked at the board and then at Ron, raising his eyebrows. Ron hadn't moved anything but the pawn so far, so that excuse wasn't going to work.

"Try again." Ron looked up sharply at that and glared at Harry half-heartedly.

"Doesn't matter why I'm up, I just couldn't sleep. What about you? You should be snoring like a log up there."

"I don't snore." Harry immediately defended himself and glared back. He could either start an argument now so that they could leave the subject of Ron's insomnia alone, which is what he obviously wanted or else he wouldn't be trying to get a rise out of Harry. Or he could tell the truth of why he was awake and guilt Ron into confessing himself. It had taken two years for Harry to figure out that if he wanted an honest answer from Ron when Ron didn't want to give one, he had to start by being honest himself. It triggered Ron's sense of loyalty and the tall boy couldn't lie to Harry after Harry was brave enough to speak of his own troubles. It was a shameful way to force Ron to talk, but if Harry didn't do that then Ron would never say anything. Somewhere along the line of growing up Ron had convinced himself that his problems weren't as important as other people's. Harry had noticed, upon his first meeting with Ron, that he was often overlooked in his family, what with Molly being so busy with the twins' pranks, Percy's self-importance, Ginny being the youngest and only girl, and having two older and successful brothers.

Ron had a temper that was probably equal to his dragon fighting brother Charlie, but he barely ever let it get the better of him when at home. He had told Harry once, late at night in their second year, that he didn't press his mum to remember certain things about him, such as his aversion to the colour maroon and corned beef. He didn't want to be a bother, what with her already having so much to worry about. Harry had never forgotten that, or the way Ron had shrugged it off as though he was embarrassed by the confession, as though Harry needn't care. So, looking at Ron now Harry decided that it wasn't the time for a brush off, he wanted to make sure his best mate was okay.

"I couldn't sleep, nightmares and such." It didn't come out quite as bold as he wanted it to, but he'd said it. He hated people knowing he had bad dreams, but Ron was the only person he'd ever really talked to about it, the only person who ever woke him up from them, so he supposed by now he shouldn't worry about what his best friend would think. Ron looked at him and frowned, worried.

"I know. I heard you tossing about. I didn't think you'd woken up though, I figured they had left you alone after you went quite again."

"They only leave me alone after I wake up, but they're not so bad lately." Harry moved a dark pawn forward and Ron suddenly frowned, looking at the board. "Since Voldemort's been gone they've lessened. I only get them about three or four nights a week now."

"Yeah, I was glad to see you sleeping through the night again." He moved another pawn forward. Harry watched him. Another way to get the truth was to split his concentration; chess was the best method, quidditch the second best. He quickly slipped another pawn ahead two spots and looked up again, frowning.

"You're awake enough to know when I sleep through the night?" Ron's hand stopped mid movement to the board and he pulled it back, staring worriedly at the king. For a moment he didn't move, as if stuck in some strange limbo that Harry wasn't allowed to join, before he hastily moved his knight. The horse whinnied unhappily and its agitated rider struggled to keep it on its new square.

"You wake me up when you don't sleep through the night. You're beds not far from mine, and I've been trained to notice your unease." He smiled, but despite the effort Harry felt it was too thin to be real. He looked at the board silently, contemplating his next move. Ron wasn't budging yet, and Harry didn't like that. He let silence fill the room for five minutes before he reached forward and slid his bishop through the gap he'd made in his pawns. He opened his mouth and then shut it slowly, only to open it again, not quite sure what to say. As Ron moved forward, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. Hey, he wasn't Shakespeare.

"You must think I'm an awful friend." Ron looked as though his eyes would bug out in surprise, and the tightness that had been around his lips smoothed out as he all but jumped in to defend Harry against himself.

"Why the bloody hell would you say that? After everything we've been through?"

"I just…you don't…you don't talk to me Ron. You never tell me when something's bothering you, you never ask for help. After everything we've been through, you still don't trust me enough to ask for help."

"That's not true!" He spluttered, his face going a shade darker in the dim light. "If I was to write a list of how many times I've asked you for help it would stretch from here to the quidditch pitch!"

"Like what?"

"Like…like…like last weekend I asked you to help me pick out a new robe, or yesterday when I needed a breather from practice and you ran interference for a minute. Or this summer when we built that bloody shed for Dad's muggle things, or when you had to hold onto my ankle for an hour so I didn't float away after accidentally eating one of Fred and George's soaring sour suckers. Then there was that time you leviosa'd me out of that hole Hagrid dug, how you made sure I was awake for breakfast yesterday morning, how you lend me you're invisibility cloak so I can sneak to the kitchen, how you help me with my homework because Hermione gets too frustrated, how you saved my life from Voldemort…do I need to go on?"

"So how come you never told me how worried you were about passing your OWLS? Or how terrified you were of being a prefect the first time around? Or the fact that you haven't been able to use your sixth sense properly since you almost died?"

"What? How did you know?"

"Come off it Ron! I've known since a week after you got out of the hospital and I'm still not used to seeing you jump every time someone surprises you. Why don't you trust me?"

"Harry," Ron sounded so upset. "I do trust you, but you've always got so much on your mind that I don't want to add any more burden."

"You just finished telling me that you wake up every single time I have a nightmare and you think you're a burden? What is this, a friendship where I do all the taking and you get nothing?"

"Don't be stupid, it's not like that at all!"

"Then what is it like Ron? You just don't have any problems? You don't think I'm capable of helping you the way you help me? Is it a sign of weakness to need to share you're problems with the one person you trust more than anyone else in this world?" Harry looked away from Ron's dismayed eyes, upset with himself as much as Ron. He came here to try and help his friend, and he ended up unloading on him instead. Maybe he really wasn't a worthy friend, despite what Ron said. He sat their in silence a moment, embarrassed, upset, and suddenly to shy to look up at Ron; until he heard a weary sigh.

"I have nightmares almost every time I close my eyes." Ron's shaking hand moved his knight again and leaned back. "I feel the evil from Voldemort in my dreams, I see you dying instead of winning, and then my family is killed off one by one and everyone blames me because I couldn't help you." Harry pulled in a deep breathe, he had known Ron sometimes had problems sleeping, but he hadn't known it bothered his friend this much.

"Why didn't you tell me? Or anyone for that matter?"

"Harry, you've been dealing with nightmares since you came to Hogwarts! That's seven bleedin years, and I've only just started having them. Mine can't be nearly as bad as yours! They're not worth mentioning."

"But Ron, they are worth mentioning! Don't you see? You're allowed to feel afraid, and to express your worries! It doesn't matter that I've had nightmares longer then you, a nightmare is a nightmare and they always hurt, no matter who you are." Ron nodded slowly, thinking, and Harry felt an affectionate smile sneak up on his face. "Really Ron, you face giants, murdering chess pieces, dragons, death eaters, Voldemort, and Snape's advanced N.E.W.T potions class and you think you're not entitled to nightmares? You're cracked." That got a chuckle out of him at least.

"I'm getting better though. I don't know if I'll ever get my sense back again, it's been haywire for so long now." Harry made a random move on the board and watched Ron carefully.

"Why?"

"I figure it has something to do with the amount of energy I lost during the battle. I feel back to full health, but there are still things that don't feel whole again yet."

"I know what you mean." Harry agreed. "I feel like there is something missing, like I haven't quite figured out who I am anymore."

"I suppose it's that adolescent transitional phase Mum's always going on about. Funny though, the twins never seemed to have that issue."

"The twins aren't the issue here. Have you told Dumbledore about your sense problem?"

"Nah, don't want to bother him. He's got enough going on with the school and the aftermath of the war. If he has any down time he should spend it relaxing, not worrying about whether or not I can tell attendance with my eyes closed."

"I suppose." Harry didn't agree with that assessment for a moment, but he wasn't going to say so. Seeing the faint smirk on Ron's lips he figured his friend picked up on his reluctant agreement. He got up impulsively and moved around the table, squishing onto the big chair with Ron. Ron looked at him with a raised eyebrow but didn't comment as he moved to make more room. It was an hour later that Harry was being wakened by a not so gentle shove.

"Get up already, I'm not going to be caught sharing this chair with you at five in the morning, who knows what people would think." Ron was grumbling, but there was an affectionate note to his voice that Harry noticed, despite his sleep addled brain. He twisted and knocked Ron off the chair in one swift motion.

"Problem solved."

"You, pushy little…bugger." Ron laughed and stood, dragging Harry bodily from the chair and shoving him to the stairs. Harry just tried to get his bearings, as he couldn't see properly.

"My glasses…" he mumbled, turning back.

"I've got 'em, don't worry. Now move it." Harry complied, but stopped just before they reached their door and turned on Ron who, despite being a step lower than him, was still at eye level.

"You sure you're okay Ron? Because I really do worry about you."

"I know. I'm not one hundred percent, neither of us are, but we will be. I'll…try not to hide so much in the future though all right?" It was too dark and blurry to see Ron's eyes, but his voice sounded sincere. Harry felt relieved.

"Good. I'll hold you to it."

TBC

I hope you enjoyed that! Now, to answer the question of how many chapters there will be…umm, I'd say around forty, give or take a few (probably take a few). I

have finally finished this story so there are no worries about it being one of those really annoying forever incomplete pieces of work. I will be posting the chapters

more frequently from now on (as I finish editing them in the time I find ;) and I will be posting the date for the next update at the bottom of each chapter.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!

Next Update: August 5, 2005