Author's Note: Written for Round 12 of the QLFC 6 — Character Study: Ron Weasley

Team: Pride of Portree

Position: Chaser 1

Prompt: Write about Ron's relationship with one of his siblings (Ginny)

Add'l Prompts Used:

3 (quote) If you carry joy in your heart you can heal any moment - Carlos Santana

8 (word) ferocious

9 (image) Moonrise, Hernandez, New Mexico, 1941 - Ansel Adams

Word Count (excluding Author's Note): 1696

A/N: AU. I feel like joy is the epitome of what makes Ron Weasley so essential to the Trio and to us, the readers. He and his family may not have much, but he has happiness to spare and he's liberal in sharing it. It is also what is so devastating about his change when he encounters and then wears the Horcrux-ed locket. To see and feel Ron in despair is so counter to everything he is. When I consider Santana's quote here, I feel like it is too easy to feel like it was written for Ron. He brings his joy to everything he does, be it getting into a little mischief with his friends or lightening the mood with a joke. Ron is joy.

As for Adams' Moonrise, it was listed on the link as his most sought after work — which I find questionable when you consider his National Parks images. However, it is an exploration of the foreign and the stark, something that was not necessarily what Adams was known for when you consider his lush photographs of snow-capped mountains, deep rivers, or stands of trees. And yet, it is clear that Adams' sees this nightscape, too, as filled with it's own beauty. It is plain, and it is clear — there is something very forthright in that, and I think it is very reflective of the Weasley's in general, but of Ron in particular. He may lack nuance, at times, but with Ron, you always know where you stand. I hope to portray here a relationship between siblings that is plain and unadorned, but always full of the beauty of the love they have for each other.

While relationships here are canon, timing may not be. Although marriage dates and birth dates, in some circumstances, are rather vague, we can be sure that certain things must happen within certain time frames in order for the "Epilogue" and The Cursed Child to take place when they do. And I am preserving all of that timing. That being said, I am marking this AU since I may be insinuating that James Sirius was not planned, and that Harry and Ginny may not (yet) be married, and while Rowling is also rather vague on those specifics, it is clear that she likes her couples married so I will acknowledge that this deviates, even if only slightly.

One final note on the noun, Tandoor, which is the oven itself. It makes things, meats, breads, et al., in a Tandoori style. Because this is a foreign word that is now used in modern English, I thought that appropriate application of grammar rules would be understood, but decided to add this note, just in case.

Beta Love: Story, Please and crochetaway - my stalwarts. Thank you.

A Naan in the Tandoor

It was hard to catch his sister in the middle of the Quidditch season. Ron Weasley occupied himself with a borrowed Muggle newspaper as he waited in the chilly, but bright window seat in Dishoom, just off of Slingsby. It was Ginny's favorite - and maybe even more so when she was on tour with the team. According to the youngest Weasley, one could not get a reputable curry anywhere in greater Britain - but most especially in Ireland. Having checked the Harpies schedule, Ron knew she wouldn't turn down the invite no matter how busy she was. Ginny was was nothing if not reliable.

He turned the paper upside down, staring at the photograph of the beleaguered Muggle Prime Minister. The headlines weren't much different than what he might find in The Daily Prophet. It was the static photos that he found disconcerting. How could people read this thing? He was contemplating the latest Parliamentary squabble over EU trade tariffs when Ginny arrived, breathless and windblown.

"Hey, you!" She rushed in, the scent of Autumn crispness on her — caught up by her sweater and her hair. "Sorry to be late. You know how film work can be." She squeezed into the seat next to him momentarily so she could gather him up in a genuine, if awkward, hug before retreating to her own side of the table. Her legs were already fidgeting beneath the table almost before she had opened the menu. Ron couldn't help but smile. Ginny had always had her own energy: ferocious, effervescent, determined. He imagined it served her well on the Harpies.

"Have you decided yet?" Ginny interrupted his thoughts, her eyes on the menu. He folded up the newspaper and placed it to the side, retrieving his own menu.

"You know me, Gin," he answered, shrugging. "I love a good, tangy pork vindaloo."

"Ooooh, vindaloo," she murmured to herself, flipping the pages to the aforementioned meals. Ron smiled to himself as he watched the waiter approach, steaming dish in hand.

"Double order of vegetable samosas, as you please," he announced, placing the fragrant and overly large appetizer on the table between them. Ginny's eyes brightened and she snuck a glance at her brother's sly grin.

"You know me too well," she said, diving into the hot, crunchy deep-fried dumplings of potato and pea. The waiter laid out all the accompanying condiments, including an extra helping of the plum chutney — just the way she liked it. Ron closed his menu.

"I'll order first, shall I?" he teased seeing as how his sister's cheeks were puffed out with the samosa she had just inhaled. She nodded sheepishly and reached for her water glass while Ron held back a snort of laughter.

Meals ordered, Ron broke into a samosa of his own and awaited the arrival of his Kingfisher while Ginny finished up her third dumpling. She finally sat back and seemed to come up for air.

"So, dearest brother," she said, sizing him up while she cleaned the crumbs off her lips, "this has all the trappings of you needing a favor." She smirked at him from across the table. "Or worse yet! You delivering some ultimatum or other from mum. Which is it?"

Ron could only shrug half-heartedly. "You know that mum only means well…"

"RONALD!" Ginny shouted, throwing her linen napkin at his head. "What does she want now?!" She seethed lighted-heartedly as he handed her back her linen.

"I know how you feel, Gin," Ron commiserated. And didn't he? As the youngest male of the Weasley clan, he didn't exactly stand out in any particular thing — not like his brothers had. Charlie — the dragon whisperer. Bill — the hero. Percy — the politician. George — the businessman. And Fred…

Even Ginny had it easier than Ron — the longed-for and only girl in the family, she only had to be herself and she was special. Ron shook his head and thanked his lucky stars for Hermione. It was the best thing he'd ever done — at least he and his mother agreed on that. It also kept one Molly Prewett Weasley off his back. Mostly.

"She's always all over me about going back to the Ministry, or when Hermione and I are going to start having kids. She's a nightmare." Ginny seemed to nod along in agreement, but Ron thought he saw a sudden greenish cast to her complexion "You ok, Gin?"

"Huh?" she asked, not looking at him, her hands slowly reaching for her napkin. "Oh, yeah," she snapped back, with a smile. "I just don't want to hear any more of her complaining about me, and Quidditch, and how dangerous it is." Her eyes darted around again, away from him. Ron frowned but said nothing; he knew that talking about their personal lives didn't always come easy for Ginny or Harry either, for that matter. They are well suited that way.

Abruptly, Ginny jumped up. "I'll be right back." She dashed off towards the back of the dining room, leaving Ron stunned, as he turned in his seat to stare off after her. Their main dishes arrived — not unexpectedly — a few moments hence, and Ron's attention was brought back to the now half empty table.

"The vindaloo?" a young man in crisp whites asked as Ron pointed to himself. He gracefully put the other plate down in front of the empty spot across the table and retreated. The smell made his mouth water, and Ron found himself inclined to dig in, but managed to squelch the impulse in an effort to not be rude. He wanted to wait for Ginny's to come back so they could eat together. So, he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

He glanced about nervously, trying to decide if it was his place to go looking for her. After another ten minutes of delay, he made his move. This is taking far too long. He was halfway along the length of the bar when he saw Ginny's small form re-emerge from the back hallway where the restrooms were located. She looked wan. Ron found himself picking up his pace.

"Where have you been? Are you okay?" He wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders that she didn't fight as they made their way back to the table. She slid into the booth, slowly. "Are you in pain?" Ron asked, concern written all over his face. He'd noticed the bruise on her forearm, and he thought she was wearing more makeup than he was accustomed to seeing her in. Now that he focused on her, he thought her under eyes seemed dark.

"Maybe mum's not wrong," he said, a bit out of breath as he sat down, worry creasing his face. "I mean, I know she's a nag and all, but seriously, Gin…" He broke off when he realized his sister was shaking, her body wracked with silent, uncontrollable laughter.

"Just what is so amusing?" he demanded, thoroughly annoyed. This only seemed to make Ginny laugh more.

"When did you become such an old woman?" She finally gasped out between snorts and hiccups. Secretly, Ron was just grateful for the blush on her cheeks — at least she was beginning to look like herself again.

"What was I supposed to think?" He pouted, spreading his napkin over his lap and tucking into his meal. "You were gone forever, and then you were as white as a sheet when you finally came back," he mumbled around his full mouth. He made an effort to swallow, taking a big swig of his lager. "You weren't just 'fixing your face'," he insisted, still stung by the mirth clearly showing on her face.

Ginny paused, putting her own fork down. "No, I wasn't," she said, her voice quiet and calm. "I wasn't feeling well, is all."

"Is it the food?" Ron asked, hastily grabbing up a remaining samosa. He broke it open and sniffed warily.

"No, I'm pretty certain the food is just fine," Ginny replied. She reached out and took Ron's hand, shaking loose the fried dumpling. "It's me," she said, softly, her eyes sparkling.

"What do you mean?" he asked, watching her closely. His 'big brother' instinct was hard to quell. He might have always been the youngest son and brother, but he was still older than Ginny — and that had come with an intuition to protect her. Yet he wouldn't deny that his baby sister didn't need much protecting these days — or maybe ever, if he were honest with himself. Still, as they sat in the watery sunlight of the late autumn afternoon, she looked as vulnerable as he had ever seen her. Fragile, even.

She squeezed his hand. "It's me," she emphasized one more time. Ron sensed that she'd prefer he figure out what she was getting at, but he wasn't following her thread. I knew I should've brought Hermione with me. She would know what's going on. Sheepishly, he just stared at her.

Ginny just shook her head, her shoulders going slack with the realization that she would have to spell it out. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and bowled him over. "I'm pregnant."

The clatter of silver on the tiled floor was as loud as any slammed door or exploding firework, even in the moderately busy restaurant, but Ron barely noticed. His eyes were glued to Ginny; words escaped him. Their waiter rushed over, eager to help.

"Is everything alright here, sir?" the young man asked, bending down quickly to pick up the lost fork from the floor. He surreptitiously replaced the full setting of flatware, sliding it towards Ron. No one even noticed him.

It was Ron who broke the silence, finally. "Well, this ought to shut mum up for a while." Ginny couldn't help but giggle and the spell was broken. He smiled at her; it was tentative, at first — waiting for the approval of her return — but when she smiled back, it was simple. He was happy; really and truly. Happy for his sister, happy for his mate, and happy for all the wonderful things yet to come.