It had taken roughly two weeks for Ron to start looking more like the Ron that Bill had always known. Prior to that, he'd honestly given his Spattergroit doppelganger up in the Burrow's attic a run for its money in terms of who looked worse.

But after two weeks he was putting on weight again, the grey-green sickliness of his complexion had started to vanish, the deep shadows under his eyes had evened out, and color had returned to him.

It was amazing what a shower, a few days sleep, some hot meals, and taking appropriate potions for a life-threatening injury could do for a person.

In many ways, Bill was happy to have Ron around. It meant someone else was home with Fleur during the day when he had to go to work, which was a comforting thought. It meant he knew his brother was safe and alive, something he hadn't had the luxury of experiencing when Ron had been on the run. It meant he had someone else to talk to when he'd figured out a new element to reworking the Fidelius Charm. While Fleur would never admit it, he sensed there were times she didn't particularly want to sit and listen to his newest theories. He did tend to be a bit long-winded when he was in deep. At least with Ron around, it was someone else to bore with his details.

That being said, there were still the mood swings that Ron experienced regularly. Some days Ron would be perfectly typical—cheeky jokes and comments; funny observations and obvious remarks. Other days, it was as if he was angry with the entire world. He'd skip meals and stay in his room, barking at anyone who dared try to connect. Through the door, Bill could hear him clicking on and off his Deluminator—a small, silver device that put on and off the lights when activated—that Dumbledore had made a point to leave to Ron in his will. It seemed like a very random sort of gift, and Ron didn't seem to understand what the point of it was anymore than the rest of them did.

But when he was in one of his moods, he obsessively messed with it as if it would somehow start giving him all the answers he needed.

Fleur suspected Ron's bad days were the ones where the guilt of abandoning his friends hit him harder than others, though neither of them could really be sure. Ron really didn't talk much about what had happened these last few months, no matter how much Fleur and he tried to feel him out for details. For someone who'd written himself off as the worst and most disloyal friend around, he still refused to open up about the plans and secrets he had with Harry and Hermione.

He had confirmed a few things, though. The famous story of Harry at the Ministry confronting Umbridge—the one where Yaxley had nearly caught him—was true. He and Hermione had apparently been there as well, all of them Polyjuiced as other people (though he wouldn't name who). He even claimed to have spoken to their father while in disguise, saying how hard it had been to not admit who he was.

He confirmed that when Yaxley managed to tag along on their escape, they'd led him right into Grimmauld Place, which meant the location had been compromised. It was why he and his friends had turned to camping and could no longer go back. It was also why he'd got splinched, seeing as in their haste to escape Yaxley, Hermione had Apparated them away without warning.

"But why did 'Arry confront Umbridge?" Fleur had asked. "Why were you at ze Ministry?"

Ron averted his eyes to the ground in a way that Bill was beginning to notice was commonplace these days. He always did that when he was asked a question that he wouldn't be giving a proper answer to.

"We were looking for something," he muttered.

"Yes, but what?" Fleur asked. "Per'aps we can 'elp—"

"We got what we came for," he said quickly, standing then and saying something about having to use the loo. He'd left the room straight after, leaving Fleur to look over at Bill with a rather frustrated expression.

"Why must zis all be a secret?"

Bill shrugged. "I don't know, but he's got his reasons."

She rolled her eyes. "'E complains about being confused and not 'aving answers, but instead of seeking 'elp, he chooses to do ze opposite. 'Ow does zat make sense?"

"Well, according to you, the less that people know, the better. Isn't that why we're keeping him a secret while he stays here?"

Fleur hadn't responded to that. In fact, that had earned him a bit of a cold shoulder for the remainder of the afternoon.

For all Ron's secrecy, he sure did have loads of questions as to what was happening out here in the world while he was gone. He wasn't happy to hear that the majority of the Order was being tailed and watched constantly, or just of the terrible stories of Muggles and Muggleborn turning up dead. The story of the wedding aftermath shocked him, as did the fact that the ghoul was still convincing enough to fool the Ministry.

He didn't seem at all surprised to hear about Tonks and Remus' issues, claiming that Remus had actually paid him and his friends a visit days after the wedding fiasco. That had been news to both Bill and Fleur, seeing as Remus hadn't mentioned seeing Ron and his friends since the wedding—or that he'd gone to find them. Apparently, they weren't the only ones keeping secrets.

"He was acting dodgy," Ron told them. "It didn't seem like Remus. He seemed…different."

Fleur threw Bill a look. Her eyes flashing in a way that said that wasn't a surprise.

"He and Harry got in a huge row," Ron added.

"About what?"

"He asked to come along with us, but Harry told him he needed to stay with Tonks and be there for her and the baby. He called him a coward, which Remus didn't like. He definitely didn't like being told off. He left after that."

Bill and Fleur exchanged another look; she muttered a rather disapproving, "Unbelievable…"

Bill, however, didn't find it unbelievable at all. That actually lined up rather perfectly with the way Remus had been acting lately.

Ron also seemed to somehow already be aware of much of what was happening at Hogwarts, though again went into secretive mode when asked how he knew. He'd mumbled something about, "picking it up somewhere," and that, "we do still hear things." Apparently, they'd stumbled upon Tonks' father out in the woods while on the run, though they'd been concealed by charms and didn't actually speak. He'd been accompanied by Dirk Cresswell, who Bill recognized from some of his father's Ministry stories; a classmate and fellow Gryffindor call Dean; and some goblins—

"What were they called?" Bill had asked, immediately sitting up straighter.

Ron made a face as if he couldn't exactly recall. "Uh, I don't…Grip-something?"

"Griphook?" Bill asked, making a face and glancing at Fleur. Her face was pinched. Neither of them were big fans of him. He wasn't a high-ranking goblin, but he sure liked to walk around pretending he was. He'd assigned the most ridiculous missions to Bill when he'd been out in the field, mostly for his own personal interests, and he'd ordered Fleur around quite a bit during her time at Gringotts. She'd complained about his rudeness often.

"Yeah, that sounds right," Ron said with a nod. "The other one started with an 'R'. I don't remember. It was the night I ended up leaving, so I wasn't exactly in the right state of mind."

"I wonder if it was Rangok," Bill mumbled, thinking of one of the actual high-ranking goblin he worked with daily at the bank. He was an old curmudgeon who hated wizards even during peacetime. He'd been one the first to disappear at the suggestion goblins bow down now.

"May have been," Ron said. "Seems to be loads of people on the run."

"For some of them, it's the only way to possibly survive—"

A knock on the door silenced Bill and caused Fleur and Ron to jump. They weren't expecting company, so they all pulled out their wands. The panic, however, dissipated quickly as a voice that suddenly called out, "Bill! It's your other favorite brother after Charlie! And Fleur it's your favorite Weasley brother who you aren't married to!"

"Brothers," the other voice said, emphasizing the plural form.

"They clearly like me more though," said the other voice. "It's obvious." They knocked again. "Open up! We want to talk to you."

"It's Fred and George," Ron said, looking panicked.

"Sure sounds like it," said Bill, moving to stand. "So unless you want to say hello—"

Ron started shaking his head quickly.

"—then I suggest going upstairs."

Ron didn't need to be told twice. He immediately dashed toward the stairs, vanishing up into the guest room with the click of the door shutting behind him.

Bill sighed, finding all of this rather silly, but he said nothing as he made his way to the door. He proceeded to put Fred and George through the ringer with security questions—only because they always made him answer about ten every time he turned up on them—before opening it and letting them in.

They both seemed to be rather energized as they stripped off their cloaks and winter hats, tossing them over random pieces of furniture—much to Fleur's annoyance. She'd told them repeatedly there was a hanger for these things, but they never listened. One of these days, Bill wouldn't be surprised to find the twins' things tossed into the sea.

"To what do we owe the pleasure?" Bill said with slight sarcasm. "And why aren't you at the shop?"

"Closed for the day," Fred said, plopping down in the seat that, unbeknownst to him, Ron had occupied minutes earlier. "Weird energy in Diagon Alley today."

"Yeah, something was off," George said, taking another seat. "Our security troll didn't turn up, and then Dumble and Dore were missing, which is odd. It feels like something is happening." He shrugged. "Have to trust your gut sometimes, you know?"

Fred was nodding. "It's shit though because Christmas is in just a few weeks, and keeping the shop closed this time of year especially hurts the bottom line. But…being ambushed and killed also isn't good for business. You choose your battles."

"Wise," Fleur muttered once she returned from moving their things—though to where, Bill didn't know.

"It was wise," Fred agreed. "Because as it turns out, something did happen recently."

"At the shop?" Bill asked, both he and Fleur looking alarmed. "What happened?"

Both Fred and George shook their heads, one saying, "No, it had nothing to do with the shop," while the other said, "Shop's fine."

Bill pulled a face. What the hell these two on about? "If it didn't have to do with the shop, then what does it have to do with—?"

"Dad's found out that Kingsley's been discovered," Fred said, looking Bill in the eye. "He thinks he's on the run now because they'd have made an announcement if he was dead, but there was a big scuffle. He had to fight off loads of Death Eaters, but he managed because he's Kingsley."

"Pardon?" Fleur asked, the French pronunciation coming out, all while Bill stared slack-jawed at them. Kingsley had been attacked? He was on the run? He had been discovered? What?

"According to the gossip around the Ministry," George said. "He said You-Know-Who's name."

"So?" Bill asked, knowing that saying Voldemort was frowned up and not something he'd ever do—he'd been raised not to—but it had never been a punishable offense before. Then again, most things that were now punishable had never been in the past, so he really shouldn't be surprised.

"Well, we learned the name has a taboo on it," Fred added. "So anyone who says it will have the Death Eaters immediately alerted and on their doorstep. It'll do away with basic protective spells and enchantments; they can get right to you."

"Shit, seriously?" Bill asked, just as Fleur covered her mouth and managed to mumble out, "No…"

The twins were nodding. "They're treating it as sacred now, and that anyone who's willing to say it doesn't respect it. So obviously they must be a traitor."

"They've been itching to get Kingsley on something for ages though," George muttered. "Dad thinks this was just the thing they jumped on."

"But what of Kingsley?" Fleur asked. "'As anyone 'eard from him?"

The twins were both shaking their heads. Fred said, "We suspect he's lying low for a tick, but he'll reach out soon. There's so much confusion and it's so hard to keep in touch now that we're all being watched. That's been a problem since your wedding. Buuuuut—"

He looked at George, who looked back at him and smirked. It was him who said, "We've had an idea—well, actually Lee had an idea."

"A brilliant idea," Fred quipped. "Don't know why we didn't think of it first, but Lee's good like that. Always thinking outside the box. Plus, he's the one with the knowledge about how—"

"We're going to help put together a radio program," George interrupted, getting to the point. "One that Lee's volunteered to host."

"Because he's got a nice voice and people like listening to him," Fred said. "Which he's definitely not at all modest about." He made a funny face. "A bit big headed about it, really; has been since McGonagall appointed him to be the Hogwarts' Quidditch commentator way back when…"

"And before you lecture us about it being a dangerous idea," George again cut-in with, as if not wanting to lose focus, "It'll be an underground program that only certain people can access. Members of the Order, or just anyone who's anti-You-Know-Who who and gets clued in. We want to give people a way to get real perspective on what's going on."

Fred was nodding. "Right. So when things like this Kingsley thing happen, we can let everyone know the truth behind it. We can warn people about things like the taboo. We can dispel all the bullshit that the Prophet and all the other Ministry controlled media are saying about Harry. We can give tips on how to protect oneself and what to be cautious about."

All of this was coming out of their mouths very quickly, and Bill had to admit it took him a beat to process exactly what these two were planning to be a part of. An underground radio program that would help spread information and debunk false information that was being propagated by Voldemort and his followers. It was a great idea in theory, but also—as the twins had pointed out—a highly dangerous one.

And it wasn't as if he didn't like the idea, but naturally a prickle or protective instinct was now itching at the back of his neck. If they were discovered, they were dead. Lee would be dead. Anyone caught listening to it would be dead.

However, he also knew better than to try and dissuade the twins from doing anything they'd already set their minds to.

"'Ow do you plan on protecting yourself?" Fleur asked.

"Well, for starters," Fred said, "we'll use aliases and there will be passwords to even access the show. We're not going to advertise our contributor's identities. We're also not about to go and take out advertisements in the Prophet to announce it, so we're hoping to keep it strictly for those 'in-the-know.'"

"And how will you avoid detection? Bill asked. "If you're planning on operating out of, say, your shop or Lee's flat, they'll track you down—"

"We won't have a set location," George said obviously. "It'll be a mobile operation to avoid detection."

"Bill, we have a plan," Fred said. "This wasn't a random thought we all had this morning. Us and Lee have put some time and thought into logistics."

He looked at George. "It's like they think we were born yesterday. As if we'll be broadcasting in the Atrium of the Ministry with anti-You-Know-Who t-shirts on."

George was shaking his head. "I had thought we'd done a good job over the years proving how sneaky and covert we could be, but apparently not."

Bill and Fleur exchanged looks. Even she seemed to be thinking that—while terribly dangerous—it wasn't the worst idea. And if they were planning and preparing appropriately, it really could be a great asset to their end of this fight. Communication was proving to get harder and harder by the day. If even one life could be saved, it would be worth it.

"We even have a name for the program," Fred said with a smile. "Want to know what it's called?"


Potterwatch aired its first broadcast just two nights after the twins had popped into Shell Cottage to deliver the news. They'd been sure to let Fleur and Bill know that the first access password would be "U-Know-Poo," and that they were planning to broadcast somewhere between seven and eight o'clock at night so, "Be sure to have your radio tuned in."

"Where do they plan on doing this?" Ron had asked as he and Bill fumbled with the wireless. The latter of whom was now pointing his wand at it and continuously mumbling "U-Know-Poo" with no results.

"They would not say," Fleur said, sipping her tea and watching them. "They said the less people who know their location, the better."

"Seems to be a bit of a theme lately," Bill muttered, smacking the side of the wireless as if that would work.

She cracked a small smile. All the magic in the world was at the tip of his wand, and he was hitting a piece of metal.

They did eventually get in that night, listening as Lee Jordan—the twins' equally enthusiastic friend—called the program to order under an alias he'd created for himself. Though, as Ron pointed out, he hadn't tried to disguise his voice.

"That's Lee, alright," he muttered, looking worried. "Anyone who's been to a Hogwarts' Quidditch match these last few years may recognize him."

Lee quickly explained their intentions and hopes for the show, adding, "I know there's only so many of you out there listening this evening, but we're hoping to grow our numbers as we go along, so please tell your friends about us. Unless your friends are Death Eaters. In that case…don't. And find better friends."

It was a solid debut, and while nothing Fleur didn't already know was shared in it—or any of the early programs—the broadcast did eventually start to become very informative. Stories of Muggle deaths told in heartbreaking detail, things Fleur would have never normally heard, regularly began to fill the airwaves. Rumors that she had read in the papers were being confirmed or denied—usually denied—about Harry's whereabouts or Voldemort's plans. Escape plans were discussed; useful spell tips for fending off home invaders. Tales from Hogwarts were recalled, including the abuse and torture under Snape and the Carrows. It all turned Fleur's stomach.

"How do they find out about half this stuff?" Ron muttered after one program, the three of them sitting rather silently around the sitting room after a rather somber show. There had been too many deaths to report today. Some of them had involved very small children.

Neither she nor Bill had answered, mostly because they all knew Fred, George, and Lee had means that far exceeded most people's access to things. They'd even managed to somehow get Kingsley on their program a few nights prior, shocking everyone since no one had heard from him since his escape. He'd gone under an alias and, while obviously not admitting who he was, he spoke of knowing that Kingsley Shacklebolt was alive and well—for those who were concerned.

It was due to all of this new, free flowing information that Ron became especially keen to tune into every new Potterwatch, as he was hoping they would deliver him the information that would lead him to reuniting with Harry and Hermione. Fleur was always quick to remind him that if Fred and George had any such information, they likely weren't going to share it with the general public, but it never detered Ron from tuning in.

"I need to find them soon," he'd told Fleur one afternoon while Bill was still at work. She'd been reading the freshest set of lies from the Prophet and he'd been staring rather vacantly out the sitting room window, quietly fiddling with his Deluminator.

She offered him a lazy, sympathetic smile as she tugged her baggy jumper around her. It was late December now and the weather was frigid. Christmas was in a few days' time, and while Molly and Arthur had invited them to come and stay, she and Bill had declined. The idea of celebrating like normal felt…out of place.

She appreciated Molly's attempts at trying to create normalcy though, which she was insistent upon seeing as Ginny would be home and she felt she deserved something normal after everything she'd dealt with at Hogwarts. Still, it didn't sit right with Fleur to properly celebrate when so many people were suffering.

It didn't even feel like Christmastime. She hadn't even tried to decorate.

"I told my mum and dad," Bill had told them a few days prior, "that Fleur and I want to do our first Christmas as a married couple in our new place on our own."

He'd then looked over at Ron. "Even if that's not what's happening."

Ron mustered a half cheeky, half sheepish look. "Three's a party?"

Bill rolled his eyes, but it was good-natured. He then looked back at Fleur. "Perhaps we can pop in on Christmas day for a bit and say our hellos. Have some pudding? It would mean a lot to my mum."

She nodded as if that was fine; she could handle that. At the same time, Ron's face had perked up at the mention of pudding, quickly asking, "Can you bring me back some? What I wouldn't give for some of mum's Christmas pies. Oh, and if she makes the roast, then maybe some of that as well?"

Bill stared at him, almost as if he was surprised by the boldness of his brother to make requests. Ron seemed to sense this and shrunk a bit under his gaze.

And ever since that day—that conversation—Ron had again become fixated on leaving and finding Harry and Hermione. While the desire had never disappeared, after the first couple of weeks, it hadn't been as obsessive. Early on, he was lamenting and complaining daily about how he had to get back out there to look for them; how he needed to find them. And every day she and Bill had to talk him out of it, reminding him that he was begging to be picked up by Snatchers while on his own. If he got caught, the Death Eaters would likely use him as bait to catch Harry.

Ron had calmed on the subject after that, finally seeming to realize he had no place to go and no leads. He instead sat around clicking his Deluminator, obsessively tuning into Potterwatch, or sneaking out-of-sight whenever visitors popped in, hoping they brought information that could help him.

But as they drew closer to Christmas, Fleur got the impression that he felt he'd overstayed his welcome. It wasn't true, of course, but he didn't seem to want to hear it.

"I need to go," Ron said again, sounding frustrated, "I just wish I knew where they were."

Fleur had been sitting on the sofa nearest to him; she set the newspaper to the side and looked over to where he was staring out the window. He'd been sitting like that for the last half an hour.

"I will give Harry credit," she said. "He is very good at hiding. There has not been a single legitimate spotting of him in ages."

Ron offered a small smile. "That'll be because of Hermione. She's the brilliant one with all of her spells to keep us hidden. She always knows what to do."

Fleur smiled as well. Ron's tone always had a certain quality to it when he talked about Hermione—brighter and lighter. It had been obvious from as far back as when she'd first moved into the Burrow that Ron was mad about the girl, but also in complete denial about his feelings. Even Bill, who usually was a bit more obtuse when it came to recognizing these sorts of things in other people, saw it.

But while the tone was still present—almost as if it were a habit that Ron didn't know how to turn off—there was also a new sort of sadness that followed any mention of Hermione. Even now, he'd been smiling while talking about her, but the moment he'd finished, the smile had slipped. It had been replaced with something that seemed to feel dumb for having mentioned her.

Fleur had assumed initially this was all due to his guilt at having abandoned her. While that may be true, there was something else she was now detecting. The sadness in his expression wasn't simply guilt; there were layers. He felt foolish about something.

"You miss her," Fleur said, trying to ask the blunt question in the hopes of startling him into blunt answers.

Ron was nonplussed. "I miss both of them."

She nodded. "Of course. I only meant…" She paused. "I know how you feel about Hermione."

He said nothing, but did click his Deluminator open and shut rather rhythmically. If there had been any lights on, that would have been a real nuisance.

"When you speak of her," she continued, "I sense a sadness. Perhaps because you feel you let her down when you left?"

He shrugged, not looking up from his Deluminator. In a very low voice—one she almost had to ask him to repeat—he mumbled, "She had a choice between me and Harry. She chose Harry."

It was the way he'd said, "She chose Harry," that suddenly caused a few new questions to arise. Was there suddenly a deeper reason as to why Ron ultimately chose to leave his friends in the woods that day? What exactly did he mean? Did she choose to stay with Harry because she was a loyal friend who understood the larger picture?

Or had she chosen Harry in…other ways? Ways that would have been surprising given all Fleur knew about them. But perhaps weeks in the woods and stressful situations changed things from platonic into something more?

Though…if they looked and smelled half as badly as Ron did when he'd turned up that first night, she couldn't see how anyone would allow themselves to be led into anything "more."

Still, would they have done something like that while Ron had still been there to witness it? Would it have played out in front of him? That didn't make sense. Hermione only ever seemed interested in Ron; Harry and Ginny had their complicated relationship. None of this made sense.

"What do you mean, 'she chose Harry?'" she finally asked.

"I mean exactly what I said," Ron said. "She was just as frustrated as I was. We talked about it all the time, but when it came down to coming with me or staying with him that night, she stayed with him."

"Yes, but did she stay with him to provide help or—?"

"And why wouldn't she?" he continued, sounding as if he hadn't heard her. "Who wouldn't choose him over me? What do I have to offer?"

"I do not think this is about what one is 'offering'," she said slowly. "It is about knowing what is important right now—defeating You-Know-Who. Of course she would stay with Harry because Harry is the key to—"

"I get that," Ron said. "It's why I regret leaving and want to get back to them." He looked away. "But I can't help feeling..." He paused. "While I was out there with them, it just seemed as if…"

He sighed. "That I'm wasting my time."

Fleur made a face. Before she could say anything in response—and she'd been about to tell him off for thinking that all of this was a waste of time just because he'd got his feelings hurt and been miserable in the woods—he immediately cut her off again.

"With Hermione," he emphasized, almost as if he'd sensed what was coming from her. "I meant I'm wasting my time thinking anything will come of that."

He reached up and started rubbing his eyes in a way that was very similar to Bill when he was frustrated. "It's stupid to even be thinking this about when there a hundreds of more important things going on. But here I am thinking about it like I can't help it."

She knew he couldn't. Love was funny like that, wedging itself into your life when you did not have the time for it to consume your thoughts and feelings. Bill had told her months into their relationship that he'd initially fought their attraction; that he had no time for it, but it had other plans. Love didn't care, it wedged regardless.

"I do not think you are stupid," Fleur offered. "And despite what you may think, I feel she cares about you in the same way."

"Not anymore she doesn't," he mumbled. "If she ever did."

"She did," Fleur reiterated. "It was very obvious, Ron. From the both of you. Painfully obviously." She tried not to laugh. "I do not think I have ever known two people to be so obvious, yet so oblivious at the same time."

"You say that, but we never…" He stopped. "Well, I won't say 'we never'. There were moments…" His face screwed up rather frustrated then. "But it's ruined now. She'll hate me for leaving. She may never forgive me. She may never speak to me again."

He frowned. "Especially if something happens to Harry…"

Fleur inhaled slowly at that, not wishing for that thought to be put out in the universe. Though her reasons had nothing to do with Ron's love life.

"For everyone's sake," she said, "let us hope nothing happens to Harry."

He nodded slowly, his gaze back out the window and absently scanning the sea. He didn't seem to have anything more to say, though Fleur felt it important to at least offer him one piece of advice.

"Ron, all of this can be mended with an apology."

He looked back at her. "What if it's too late?"

"To apologize? It is never too late to apologize."

"Yeah, but what if…" He trailed off, suddenly looking embarrassed. "I can barely even bring myself to say it. It all sounds so daft when I really think about it, but I can't help the thoughts."

"What thoughts?"

"About Harry and Hermione…" he trailed off again, his expression insinuating the words his mouth didn't want to say. "You know..."

She did know, but she was having a hard time reconciling all of this with what she had witnessed in the past. She wasn't entirely sure where Ron was getting this from, but she obviously wasn't privy to the finer details of their friendship.

"But I also know," he continued, "that deep down Harry wouldn't do that to me. I know that he doesn't see Hermione like that, but something keeps telling me I'm wrong."

He thumped back in his chair. "It was bad right before I left—the thoughts. It felt as if this voice in the back of my head kept telling me that Hermione hated me; she'd never love me and I was daft to think otherwise. That she really loves Harry and just tolerates me; that the only thing standing between them happening was Harry waking up one day and deciding he fancied her too. When that happened, she'd kick me to the pavement."

"Ron, I don't know the situation well," Fleur offered, "but she and Harry have always only seemed to be very good friends and nothing more. But the way she looks at you sometimes….there is more. Even Bill has talked about the pair of you—how it is just a matter of time."

Ron's expression seemed to want to believe that. A part of him even seemed to acknowledge that he may have already known it. But if he did, he wasn't going to say it. That or he couldn't. He almost seemed to be having a battle in his head right now with these apparent voices—what he knew versus what he believed. He'd been struggling with that a lot since coming here. A constant, insecurity laden battle in his mind.

"Also, do you think Hermione would do that to you?"

"Do what?"

"You said that you know Harry would never do that to you, but do you think Hermione would?"

He shrugged. "I guess I just don't see why she wouldn't. I mean, Harry is…Harry. You know? And then there's me, and I'm unremarkable. It doesn't make a load of sense."

"It makes sense if she is in love with you," she said, sitting up straighter "Let me tell you something. The Veela, they have a saying. One my mémère used to tell me. In French it is, 'les pierres peuvent être tournées, mais pas la montagne,' which in English is, 'the stones can be turned, but the mountain cannot.'"

Ron's stared at her. "Sorry?"

"If you understand Veela culture, you will know that they have a way with charm. Charming men, specifically. They could convince a man to jump off a tower just to get a glimpse. It is a very powerful draw."

He suddenly seemed a little awkward in his seat as he shifted his weight around. "Yeah, I've…heard that."

She nodded. "They are known for their abilities to control men on a whim, but there is a caveat. Men whose hearts truly belong to another; ones who are truly in love, they will remain unaffected by the magic."

Ron continued to stare at her, seemingly unsure where she was going with this.

"Now, to a Veela who is seeking a favor, or looking to seduce a man in love, you can see how that would be frustrating. No matter how much effort she uses, nothing can be done. She cannot charm him into loving her or helping her against his will." She looked at him obviously. 'Stones can be turned, but the mountain cannot.'"

"Okay?" he said slowly. "I don't…Am I a stone or…?"

She shook her head, stopping herself from telling him he wasn't, but he was acting as thick as one right now. "It may be a Veela saying, but the message applies to all. If someone is truly in love, they will not be wooed away by some new opportunity."

"Yeah, alright," he mumbled. "Maybe, but…what if that person gets really angry with the stone because they did something stupid like abandoning them—"

"You are not the stone, Ron."

"The mountain?"

She sighed. "You would not be either. Hermione would be the mountain who cannot be turned since she is in love with you. Just as you are with her."

"Alright," Ron said, nodding along as if it was making more sense now. "Fine. What if the mountain is really angry with…me, because of what I did?"

Fleur shrugged. "That is a different issue. That would require apologies and you mending what you broke. I cannot claim to know how Hermione feels about you after that. I was addressing your irrational fears about Harry and Hermione. How if she really loves you, it doesn't matter what Harry—or anyone—does. Her heart is yours."

He seemed to think about that for a long moment. "Unless she's really angry about me leaving and now hates me."

"Again, that is a different issue," she reminded him, just as a sudden knock at the door stole both of their attentions away from this conversation.

Ron looked over at her with a quickness. "Expecting someone?"

She shook her head, not entirely sure what was happening right now. Bill would always send a Patronus if he was getting out of work early; his family should have all been either at their own jobs or monitoring the Burrow given the time. The only other person who ever popped in was Remus, and he—like Bill—usually messaged ahead. None of these things had occurred. They didn't have other visitors. Most people didn't know they were here.

She stood slowly, picking up her wand and carefully walking toward the window as Ron backed himself away to remain hidden. She'd barely moved the curtain back to get a look out the front when she'd spotted who was standing there.

It was hard not to. They were now waving at her rather obviously from outside.