Part Three.
The next morning found Ron laying in bed already awake even before his alarm was due to go off. He had woken up around three AM, his mind turning tricks and circles over Hermione.
He knew that he cared very deeply about her. She was one of his best friends after all. There was something else though, a need to protect her from what was coming. A need to keep her safe. Oh, he knew she was quick-thinking and brave, but he also knew she would sacrifice herself for Harry, and he couldn't let that happen. She was too great. Too special.
I love her too much, that's what it comes down to, he thought gloomily. I love her too much to live without her – even if she doesn't feel the same, I'm a better person just standing next to her.
He had reached out of bed then and lit a lamp, found some parchment that was lying scrunched up on the floor and began to write.
Dear Hermione
Good start, he thought dismally. Now what?
He thought about how she had hugged him back at the train platform, and how she had been insistent that he write to her. Did this mean she did like him back? This was not the first time the thought had occurred to him. The kiss at his Quidditch game had sent him spiraling out of control into the realm of 'what ifs'. Even after all their fights their friendship remained, and had grown stronger over the years. Yet he still didn't know where he stood with her.
Hope you are well.
That's pretty standard, can't go too wrong there.
Things here are fine, but a bit boring, even though I've only been home a whole day really. The twins have already got into trouble and the three of us ended up de-gnoming the garden yesterday because Mum got in a strop. Gits.
Ginny's been keeping a low profile. I think she's locked up in her room writing to Dean. At least he's better than that Michael Corner, but I still don't like it. If Dean says one word to me about my little sister, he'll regret it!
Uh oh, he thought. I don't want to rant too much, I know it annoys her, and it's pointless if I don't get to see her be angry. He smiled at the memory of her wild hair and pink cheeks as she yelled at him in defense of SPEW.
Haven't seen much of Dad, Mum says he's been really busy with work. Haven't heard from Harry yet, have you? Hope he's doing ok.
That's it really. I've only been home one day, but you said to write, so I did.
His hand hovered over the parchment as his heart dared him to sign 'Love Ron', but his brain won out and he finished with just his name.
He reread the letter, scowled at it, and left it rolled up on his bed stand while he reached for the clock. Quarter to four, it read. He took the key out of the back of the clock to disarm the alarm – he didn't want to risk the twins hearing it again.
After getting out of bed and stretching he pulled on some old clothes and searched for his trainers. One was under the bed beside some prodigious balls of fluff, the other he had flung absent mindedly on top of a stack of his Martin Miggs the Mad Muggle comics.
Ron grabbed a jacket, his wand, and left his room. He took particular care crossing the landing where Fred and George's room was on his way through the house. When he got outside he headed once again for the back of the woodshed, though perhaps a little further away this time.
Right, he thought. Time to do this! He thought about chocolate frogs again, hoping that the wisp of silver he'd seen yesterday was a good indicator of what was to come. He envisioned eating smooth, creamy chocolate frogs until his mouth was watering, then he held his wand at arm's length and spoke clearly into the night.
"Expecto Patronum."
A slight echo of silver snaked out of the wand and disappeared almost immediately.
Well, thought Ron, it's a start. He concentrated hard on the joyous feeling of devouring chocolate, tensing his body in anticipation.
"Expecto Patronum."
A more distinct shadow of silver whisked out of his wand, hovered for a couple of seconds and vanished. It had been roughly the shape and size of a loaf of bread.
"Weird," Ron muttered to the dawn, "What the hell kind of Patronus looks like a wriggly loaf of bread?"
Still, it was progress. He turned himself to the woodshed then, as if daring a spider to have a go. He squared himself to the shed door and held out his wand.
"Expecto Patronu...arrgh!" He cried, leaping a foot backwards as Fred and George tumbled out of the door, both holding their sides with mirthless laughter.
"Well," said Fred, holding his hands up in surrender, "you sure scared us, little brother."
"Shut up," Ron replied, extremely annoyed.
"Great Patronus there, Ickle Ronnikins," George chimed in. "You're the only person I've ever met with a slug patronus."
"But then we know how much you love slugs," grinned Fred.
"Piss off," growled Ron. He felt embarrassed now as well as annoyed. "It's not a bloody slug. It's not really anything yet. Now, either naff off, or shut up."
"Or what? You'll let us scare you again?" Laughed Fred.
"You should have seen your face when you were performing that charm. Woo!" said George, wiping his brow in mock disbelief. "Serious stuff!"
Ron didn't have an answer to that one, so he merely scowled at the twins and shuffled his feet in the grass.
"So this is what you were doing yesterday morning, was it?" Fred asked, in a more serious voice.
Ron merely nodded. "So are you going to leave me to it, or what?"
"Now, now, little bro," said George, "no need to get your knickers in a twist. Have you ever thought maybe your brothers could help you out?"
"You can do the Patronus charm?" asked Ron, half forgetting that he was annoyed.
"Of course! There's more to us than just good looks. Let's show him, George," said Fred.
"On the count of three then, twin. One, two, three!"
"Expecto Patronum!" Fred and George cried at once.
Two silver shapes emerged from their wands and flitted across the grass. Ron was surprised to see that they were very different.
"The kookaburra's mine," clarified Fred. "The hyaena belongs to George."
The twins beamed proudly at Ron as their silver guardians faded into the dawn.
Ron turned his gaze from the spot the patronus's had disappeared to his brothers. "A kooka-what?"
"The bird," declared Fred. "They live in Australia and have a distinctive laugh."
"They also are deadly to snakes. They pick them up and whack them against trees," added George. "And you do know what a hyaena is, right?"
"Kind of," said Ron. "They're sort of like laughing dogs, and they're scavengers, aren't they?"
"They're opportunists," said George proudly, "and cunning."
"So how'd you do it?" Ron asked excitedly. If his brothers could do it, then surely he could.
"Well, it's just like Harry taught us in the DA. It's all about finding a strong happy thought. If your happy thought is weak now, there's no way it'll stand up to a real challenge," Fred said firmly.
"What happy thought are you using, Ron?" asked George.
"Well, I've tried flying and the Chudley Cannons. This morning I was thinking of chocolate frogs, and it kind of worked."
"Like I said," Fred affirmed, "kind of worked won't cut it."
"Well, what's your thought, then?" Ron barked, anger rising again.
"Our joke shop, of course," Fred said, pointing at his twin.
"Well, I don't have a bloody shop," growled Ron. "For years all I've had is rubbish. Stuff that's been handed down through all my stupid brothers! In fact I've not had bloody anything to my name except my broom and my prefect badge, and I tried them way back at the DA meeting."
"Surely you've forgotten something," Fred dismissed, obviously immune to his brother's explosive temper.
"Now, now, Forge. There is more to life than just stuff," said George.
"Right you are, Gred," Fred said, cottoning on. "Right you are..."
"What?" Ron said defensively. He couldn't help but feel that his brothers were sizing him up.
"Well, some people choose places," Fred nodded wisely.
"Or people," said George, tapping the side of his nose consiprationally with his index finger.
"We couldn't help but notice, could we, Gred, the rib crushing hug you gave Hermione at the train station."
Ron tried very hard not to flush pink, but it clearly wasn't working. He could feel his face heating up.
"I see we're onto something," smirked Fred.
"So, have you tried it?" asked George.
"WHAT?" Ron was horrified...how could his brother ask him that! Hang on, he thought quickly. That's not what he meant, is it? "Err, no, I haven't," he finished lamely.
The damage was irreparable. Both twins were in fits of laughter, Fred nearly buckled over double.
"Shut up," Ron muttered, face glowing.
George seemed to recover himself more quickly than his twin. "Go on, then," he coaxed.
"Why don't you go?" Ron said nastily.
"Now, now, Ickle Ronnikins. That's no way to talk to your elders," chuckled Fred. "Just suck it in and have a go, would you? We can't stand around all morning, you know. Some of us have work to go to."
"Fine then, if it'll get you to leave me alone," Ron grumbled. He stood firmly, facing away from the woodshed door and the twins. He closed his eyes and held out his wand.
Thoughts of Hermione came easily to him, as if they had been sitting in the wings waiting. Images of her face flooded his mind. Her smile, her sparkling, intelligent eyes - everything. He felt her arms hugging him to her soft chest, and her lips gently pressed to his cheek...
"Expecto Patronum!"
He felt a slight jolt that caused him to step backwards. He opened his eyes and saw a shape dash off into the sunrise. It was a brighter white than either of the twins charms had been, but was smaller than George's hyaena. Then, a few seconds later it was gone.
Ron stood looking at the place where his patronus had vanished with his jaw dropped. Sweat dripped down his neck and his arm shook. He lowered his wand, wiped his forehead and blinked into the sunlight.