Chapter 3

What's the story, Morning glory?

Sunday, 10th of July, 1994


When Ron woke up it was early. Very early. So early, that for many people it wasn't very early, but in fact very late. Ron's eyes blinked as he slowly got out of his daze. It had been such a good dream, he thought to himself, as he rubbed his eyes. He was playing chess by the fire, Harry was with him, laughing as Ron beat him again. Hermione was rolling her eyes, a glint in them, and her fingers were interlocked with his own.

It was a very nice dream, all three of them happy, and together. He loved being home, he loved talking to Ginny without being her embarrassing older brother, and he loved being around his mum and dad, he even loved seeing Percy. But as much as he loved the burrow, and all its smells and colours, he couldn't help but feel homesick for the place that he, Harry and Hermione spent most of their time. Maybe, he pondered, finally stretching his arms and standing up on his tired and wobbly legs, he just missed his best friends.

He turned around to open his curtain, hoping that there was at least some light out. When he yanked the curtain, he was greeted by a dull landscape, barely lit up up the rising sun. Curiously though, he noticed a letter, wedged between the glass of his window, and the wooden frame. Carefully opening the window, so not as to let the letter fall to the ground (He was on to top floor after all), he reached around and snatched the letter before it could, cursing the bird who would leave a letter in such a hard-to-reach place.

"Harry," he said aloud. What would be so urgent that Harry didn't send it in the morning?, he pondered.

Once Ron was finished reading it, he understood what was so urgent.

The Dursley's, on a diet? Why the hell did they have to force that on his skinnier-than-average best friend anyway, just to make his little tosspot of a cousin feel better? They were practically starving him now!

Despite the furious look on his face, he knew what he had to do.

Ron very quietly put on his pants, trousers and a t-shirt, before tip-toeing his way down the stairs to the kitchen. A slight creak in the stairs in front of Percy's nearly gave him a heart attack. If he caught him sneaking around, he would never hear the end of it. He didn't take as much care when he got closer to Fred and George's room, knowing that they would probably help him carry the food up if he asked. A thought flashed briefly through his mind, but they couldn't rescue harry this time. They no longer had an invisible car, and flying broomsticks to Surrey and back would likely get them all (Harry Included) expelled.

When Ron got to the kitchen, he made a beeline straight to the pantry, opening the door and getting teacakes, crisps, cans of beans and anything else he could find to send to harry. He could only send small amounts (Pigwidgeon was not a strong bird), so he decided that this morning he would send him the teacakes, and tonight he would speak to mum about sending him more food, and getting him to stay at the Burrow. Ron picked up the teacakes, and made his way out the door to the garden, where Errol had a small wooden sanctuary, which his dad named the 'post-box'.

As he opened the door, he realised he was not alone. Whipping her hair back to face him, and with looking like a deer caught in headlights. Ginny stared at Ron, her expression suddenly becoming distant, her red eyes and puffy cheeks telling Ron everything needed to know about what she was doing at this time in the morning.

"Sneaking of to bed with those are ya?" she said, her voice trembling.

"They're for Harry, his family aren't feeding him properly" He sighed, sounding defeated.

The expression on his sisters face almost crushed him. She went from cold and distant to heartbroken in a matter of seconds, and it physically hurt him to see her like this.

"He'll be okay" he reassured her, "Me and Hermione will make sure he's got plenty of food this summer, and I'll talk to mum tonight about getting him to visit"

Ginny looked like she'd swallowed a golf ball.

"It's just not fair" she said, her voice trembling again.

"I know Ginny" Ron whispered, as he put his arms around her.

Ginny looked up at her brother and started crying. Not like the immature crying he would have expected of moaning myrtle character, nor the crying of an overly dramatic romance, but thick, heavy, ugly sobs. Tears and snot and inhuman noises came out of Ginny as she collapsed in Ron's arms, her head leaning against his chest.

"It wasn't your fault" he whispered, his eyes watering while he pleaded with her.

"It wasn't my fault" she managed to choke back through her sobbing.

"It wasn't my fault" She repeated, as if her very soul depended on it.

Eventually, the sobbing died down, and Ginny was breathing steadily, her face still buried on Ron's shoulder, his hand rubbing her back to keep her calm. She lifted her head and gave Ron a sad smile. Her face was red, and drops of tears were still visible.

"Thanks" she whispered, clearly embarrassed with herself.

"What for?" Ron asked incredulously, curious as to what he did for her. He honestly felt useless when stuff like this happened, and don't know why Ginny wanted to thank him for a being an oversized tissue.

Ginny's eyes softened at this, her small smile growing into a fond one.

"Tell you what though big brother, that Hermione's a lucky girl" she said, still trembling slightly as she punched him softly on the arm.

Ron tuned a unique shade of plum as Ginny picked up the teacakes from the floor, which were forgotten in her panic attack. Ron was still sputtering about Hermione only being his friend when Ginny interrupted him.

"Come on, Let's get these to Harry, he could use a bit more meat on his bones".

"I'll make sure to tell him you said that" Ron sniggered.

This time it was Ginny's turn to blush

"You will do no such thing!" she whispered, sounding a great deal like his mother.

As Ginny helped tie the teacakes to Errol's leg, Ron couldn't help but think about how she was just one year ago. There were a lot of bad days during that summer, days where she blamed herself wholeheartedly. Nowadays, there were no bad days, only bad moments; like the one she just had. She was moving on, and getting better, and Ron couldn't be more proud.

After Ginny went back to bed, Ron quickly went back upstairs and got dressed for work. Of the few muggle clothes he wore, he had only one button-up-shirt, which was a murky grey colour, and was already quite tight, and too short to tuck in. Along with a pair of jeans and trainers, he thought he looked professional enough for the work he was doing.

Leaving a note in the kitchen for his mum (telling her he would spend the day in the village), he started his walk to Ottery St Catchpole.


It was summer. It was raining. It was summer, and it was pissing down with rain. Ron tried desperately to cover himself from the water, but the jacket he brought with him could only do so much. With the Jacket held up over his head, he kept up the pace until he was on the street next to Willowgreen records. No sooner than he was at the edge of the walkway, did a car come speeding past him, creating a giant tidal wave from the water that had accumulated on the road.

There was nothing he could do, the giant burst of water soaked every inch of him. He let out an inhuman grunt.

"For fuck sake!" he shouted, putting his fingers up at the obnoxious driver.

"What a bloody prick" Ron sighed, mostly to himself. He picked up the jacket that he had dropped on the floor.

"This is just brilliant"


Martin may be a bit out of practice since deciding to raise the girls full-time, but he still could never really knock the habit of waking early. Though not nearly as early as he used to, six o'clock on a Sunday was still too far early to be making much noise. So, to avoid the wrath of both Ollie and Eddie, he tip-toed out of his room toward the kitchen. His effort may be for nought however, as the heavy rain (not an unusual sound for a south of England summer) could probably cover his footsteps. After all these years, he pondered, he still thought like a soldier.

He couldn't let his daughters sleep in forever, but maybe if he bribed them with some nicer food than usual, they're wrath may be avoided. His usual attempts at English pancakes never really go well, so rather than resort to a full English breakfast, their usual Sunday breakfast affair, he decided to start work on some traditional Cornmeal porridge, one of the few recipes his mother imparted on him before he left home.

As he remembered the plump woman insisting that he would never meet a nice girl if he couldn't even make her breakfast, he heard a knock downstairs. Through the thick plops of rain, someone was knocking on the front door of the shop. Didn't they know how bloody early it was?

His first thought was Ron, his new hire. He was a good lad, but surely he didn't think he needed to be here this early? Just as Martin supposed that he had never actually told Ron that he opened up later on Sundays, he realised that Ron may assume he had another delivery today as well. By now expecting the Weasley boy, and feeling a little guilty, he opened the door and wasn't shocked to see the young redhead waiting.

He was shocked to see him soaking wet, wearing nothing but a thin cotton shirt and no jacket, not even so much as an umbrella.

"Didn't you check the weather on the tele last night?" he queried, blind-sighted by the boy's oversight.

"Sorry" he spoke, shivering and looking incredibly guilty.

"Don't apologise son, you're the one who's soaking wet" he replied, chuckling as he opened the door for the poor lad.

"Come on in then" Martin urges, sensing Ron's hesitation. "Don't worry about the carpet, it'll dry up"

Now that he'd said it, Ron got in quickly, his long, gangly arms trying in vain to keep him warm.

"I'll get you a towel ya silly bugger" Martin sighed, hoping that the boy wouldn't get a cold. Judging from what he learned about the boy's mother from the few drunken conversations he'd had with Arthur Weasley, he decided he did not want to get on the wrong side of that woman.

As he came downstairs with a large towel for Ron to dry of with, he found the boy looking guiltier still.

"Alright, get as dry as ya can, and we can see about getting you some spare clothes"