Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I would like to own Ron, though.
A/N: All right. This story was inspired by Brotherly Duties, by Perse. This could be read alone, or as a companion piece. I recommend reading that fic first.
It was his first day at Hogwarts, and he felt on top of the world. He could virtually do what he wanted, because he was on his own for the first time.
He gaped at the storm-cloud ceiling, and twittered at the Headmaster's draping beard. His wide-eyed glance took in the food-laden tables, and the pearly white ghosts.
He was so excited, that he forgot to miss anyone. He fell asleep, visions of Transfiguring animals and Charming furniture running through his head.
The same time next day, he had figured out that all he would be Charming was feathers, and the only things that were Transfigured by first years were matchsticks. At dinner, he drank his pumpkin juice and absently reached for a piece of his mum's pie--except it wasn't there. He looked around the table and realized that none of his mum's foods were there, because his mum wasn't there, and he had to bite down hard on his lower lip to get it to stop trembling.
And then he was in bed again, except this time he wasn't full with turkey and cake, so he had trouble falling asleep. His mum wasn't there to read him a story while he furiously told her he was too old, and there was no lump under the covers named Ginny, and how was he supposed to go to bed without his dad to tuck him in?
When his lip started trembling again, there was no need to hide it, and the trembling turned to sniffles, and the sniffles grew into full sobs. And he pushed his way out of bed, half-blinded by his tears, as he ran down to the Common Room to fall on the couch.
He could hear the fire crackling merrily, except it wasn't comforting at all, because at home, it was never quiet enough to hear the fire. He looked around desperately for some familiar Weasley sign, as tears ran unchecked down his freckled face. He put his head in his hands, knowing that his mum wasn't there to embrace him—but there were arms encircling him, and he slowly leaned into the unknown chest for comfort, until his sobs dwindled and he looked up into the gently smiling face of his brother, who looked kind instead of ridiculing as he would have expected.
George murmured something about 'it running in the family,' and even though he had no idea what he was talking about, he smiled anyway and felt himself drifting off.
He wasn't on his own after all.
A/N: Aw. I think I'll keep him. No, Sarah, you can't have him. And if you haven't figured out who the main character is, it's Ron.