A Sirius Situation

Chapter 7

Ron and His Siblings

Author: Jelsemium

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, JK Rowling does

The branches of the apple tree creaked in the wind. It was a cool July afternoon, with the sun disappearing periodically behind some fast moving clouds. The day remained dry, however.

Ron sat under one of the apple trees and tried to concentrate on writing something witty and endearing. "Dear Hermione," he sighed and tapped his quill on the parchment, splattering his salutation into oblivion. Forget witty and endearing, right now he'd sell his collection of Chocolate Frogs for the ability to string two coherent sentences together.

"Gah!" he threw his quill at a pair of eyes that were peering from under a lilac bush. "Stupid gnome," he muttered.

He did not understand what was wrong with him. He'd known the girl since they were both eleven. He'd been writing to her every summer since he was twelve. Why was it suddenly so hard to find something to say to her? Maybe he should ask Harry for advice. He sighed; he'd probably have more luck asking Pigwidgeon for help. What Harry didn't know about girls would fill the Encyclopedia Camelot.

Ron hunted around. When he couldn't find another quill, he crumpled his parchment and tossed it at a gnome hole at the foot of one of the apple trees.

The makeshift Quaffle dropped in, and a few minutes later, a gnome poked its head out and glared at him. He'd been out here for hours, ever since breakfast, and he'd made seventeen out of twenty-three goals. "Maybe I should have been a Chaser," he muttered.

Pity Hermione didn't care for Quidditch, and then he'd at least have something to write about, even if it was only the Chudley Cannon's latest defeat.

Not that he thought that talking Quidditch was very romantic. Even he knew that much about women. Unfortunately, knowing what not to write about didn't give him a clue as to what he should write about.

He hated to admit it, but the logical person to ask for advice about girls was Ginny (her being a girl and all.) She wouldn't take the Mickey out of him. Well, not the way the twins would, if he asked them for advice about anything.

He made a face. That still didn't make the prospect of being teased any more pleasant. He shook his head. This was stupid. It wasn't as if he was asking the woman to marry him, or even go to dinner with him.

So… what should he write about? What did Hermione like? Books. Lovely. He tapped his quill against his chin. On the other hand, "books" covered a lot of ground. Whatever subject he picked, there were bound to be a dozen books on the subject. He could even talk about chess; Hermione would probably be interested if he could cite a few books on the subject.

He sighed again. Like he'd ever read any books about chess. Maybe he should ask Hermione for advice… Nah. Him, ask for advice about wizard chess? She wouldn't be fooled. Nobody would be fooled. It wouldn't take Hermione very long to work out what he was up to. Pity he didn't have a clue.

"What are you doing?" Ginny's said softly in his ear.

Ron almost hit the low hanging branches when he jumped and whipped out his wand. "What are you trying to do? Give me a heart attack?" he howled when he finished swearing.

"You'd have to have a heart for that, Ron," Ginny said. She aimed a sardonic grin at his wand. "Maybe you should switch to decaf." She brushed back her coppery hair and looked at him with amusement in her eyes.

Her calico cat, Pixie wandered over to sniff at the debris of Ron's attempts at writing something coherent.

Ron squinted at her. "What's that supposed to mean?" he huffed at her.

Ginny shrugged. "I have no idea," she admitted. "It's one of the phrases that I'm supposed to write about for my Muggles Studies essay." She said. "Along with such illuminating comments such as 'Brush and floss.', 'Mind your p's and q's.', 'Do you want fries with that?' and 'It's for you.'"

"Muggles are strange," Ron muttered.

"You suppose Muggles think that we're strange?" Ginny asked. Idly, she picked up a scrap of parchment and tried to read it.

"Harry thinks the wizarding world is full of nutcases," Ron said. He snatched the parchment from her, crumpled it up and threw it at the gnome hole. It bounced off and disappeared under the lilac bush.

The lilac bush chucked it back.

"Can you blame him?" Ginny asked. "The wizarding world alternates between worshipping him and vilifying him," Ginny said. "Every time he turned around, there's somebody trying to turn him into something he's not." She picked up another scrap of parchment that was almost completely black with ink.

"It doesn't bother you?" Ron asked.

"That he thinks some wizards are nutters?" Ginny said. "Why? I think a lot of witches and wizards need some serious therapy."

"Serious what?" Ron said, frowning. He picked up a scrap of parchment, but it was covered in doodles, so he turned it into a paper dart and threw it at Ginny.

"Therapy," Ginny said, ducking. "It's another of the phrases on my list to discuss and analyze. Therapy is treatment for mental disorders, and Muggles sometimes use the phrase as an insult, meaning that the person in question isn't exactly sane."

"Oh. Why do you take that class?" Ron asked. "It sounds boring."

"Everything sounds boring to you, except Quidditch, food and chess," Ginny said. She sighed and decided to try to explain her choice of electives. "I want to learn how Muggles live. They're interesting."

She paused for a moment to marshal her thoughts. "Besides, I don't want to be like some of those wizards that we saw at the Tri-Wizard Tournament who can't cope without magic, who can't dress themselves to blend in with Muggles and who can't recognize a pound note from a newspaper clipping."

"I never knew you were such an activist," Ron said.

"I just hate being helpless," Ginny said. "That's why I study so hard."

"I guess that makes sense," Ron said absently. He picked up another scrap of parchment, saw that it was already covered in illegible scrawls, and chucked it into the gnome hole under the apple tree.

Ginny found another scrap of parchment and read from it. "Dear Hermione, blot, blot, blot," she read. She rubbed her upper lip in an effort to hide her amusement.

"Oh, shut it," Ron tried to pull the scrap away from her but Ginny twisted away from him.

"What?" Ginny said, still snickering. "You were doing fine, until your quill threw up on your letter."

"So, what did you say to Harry last time you owled him?" he asked with a trace of malice. He knew that Ginny hadn't borrowed Pigwidgeon or Errol for a couple of days, so he knew that she hadn't had any more luck in deciding what to write.

Ginny winced. "Okay, point taken," she said. "I've run out of things to say. He's heard all about denoming the garden, five or six times. I've told him about the twins' latest pranks. I'm sure he doesn't want to hear any more about O.W.L.s. And I don't want to whine to him about being bored when he's stuck in the Hospital Wing. Like he isn't worse off than we are," she sighed.

"At least he isn't with those horrible Muggles," Ron said.

"Guess that means no Great Harry Rescue this year," Ginny sighed. "Pity, I was so looking forward to sweeping him off his feet."

Ron laughed. "Well, maybe that could be the topic of your next letter," he said. "You can create ways to rescue Harry from durance vile."

Ginny gave a bark of laughter. "Rescue him from Hogwarts? How am I supposed to rescue him? Besides, Sirius is there. I doubt Harry will want to be rescued from his real family."

Ron grabbed the top of her head and shook it. "Oh, please, don't you think he'd want to get out of that stuffy Hospital Wing and get some fresh air and sunshine."

Ginny gave him a sideways look. "You're mocking me," she said, jerking away.

"If you can't take it, don't serve it," Ron said. "Although, the idea of plotting an escape with Harry might at least keep him entertained."

"Hmmm," Ginny mused. "You know you're really not…"

Ron clamped his hand over her mouth. "Don't say it, whatever it was, I'd hate to ruin such a precious moment by throwing you into the pond."

Ginny's eyes filled with laughter and Ron knew he was in trouble. "What are you up to?" he asked.

Ginny pulled away from him. "Me?" she did have a very convincing innocent face.

Ron knew his sister too well to be fooled. "You're the only other one out here, Ginny-girl," he said. "And if you're not up to something, then I'd better search you for Poly-juice Potion."

Ginny grinned. "All I came out here to do was to find out how your letter writing was going," she said. "If Harry doesn't get something, soon, he'll sic Hedwig on us."

"Good point," Ron said.

"And I thought these might come in handy," she pulled a handful of wooden sticks from her pocket.

"Pencils," Ron identified.

"You've seen these before?" Ginny asked, rather surprised.

"I have two friends from the Muggle world," Ron reminded her. "Besides, Dean Thomas showed me the ones he uses for drawing." He plucked one out of Ginny's hand. "His were all different colors, though. Not this boring grey stuff."

"That's pencil lead," Ginny said. "Which isn't really lead, but actually…"

"Graphite, a form of carbon, like charcoal," Ron said loftily. "It leaves a mark, but you can erase it without magic by using a bit of rubber."

"Did Dean tell you all about them?" Ginny asked. "Or is this coming from Hermione?"

"Actually, Justin Finch-Fletchley was telling me about them, back in the Prowlery," Ron said. He squinted at the pencil in his hand. "So, what will this thing do when I try to use it?" he demanded.

Ginny blinked a few times. "What do you mean? It'll leave marks on paper, so you can write to Hermione. If you don't like what you're writing, you will be able to erase your mistakes without using magic. Which means that you won't keep wasting reams of expensive parchment."

Ron looked at her askant. Then he shook his head sadly. "Ginny, Ginny, Ginny," he intoned. "You must think that I am a complete idiot. You didn't get these pencils from Hermione, Harry or even Dad. You haven't been any place where you could have bought, found or even, Merlin forbid, stolen."

He tapped the rubber end of the pencil on a freckle that was between her eyes. "Therefore, these things came from the Twins."

He gazed at her somberly. "You sold me out, you little rat…" he decided he couldn't call her a rat, considering what Peter Pettigrew, AKA Scabbers AKA Wormtail had done. "You little wretch."

He shook his fist at her. "After all the years we defended each other against the Twinly Pranks, you've defected to their side! I hope what they paid you was worth my friendship!" he declared in ringing, really over dramatized tones.

"So, what do these things do?" he said in normal tones.

"I have no idea what you mean," Ginny said stiffly.

"Then, why don't you demonstrate how they work for poor, stupid Ron?" Ron challenged.

Ginny grabbed the pencil out of his hand. "Not if you're going to be like that about it!" she huffed in equally overacted anger. "I'll leave you out here to whine to Hermione as best you can." She stalked off, radiating outrage.

Ron knew that if she'd really been angry, she wouldn't have let him off that easily. He wondered what Fred and George had bribed her with this time.

Ginny stalked into the kitchen and let the door slam for dramatic effect. Then she walked over to the fireplace and tossed in a pinch of Floo powder. "Weasleys Wizarding Weazes," she said.

"Well?" George demanded when her head appeared in their fireplace.

"He's on to me," Ginny reported grimly. "He refused to try the pencils unless I told them what they would do."

"Damn!" said Fred. "I was so sure his preoccupation with the fair Hermione would put him off guard."

"What are we going to do?" George said. "I'd like to know if these things will really force a person to write out his or her life story."

"Didn't they work on you?" Ginny demanded.

"Hard to say," Fred said. "We couldn't tell if it forced us to write down all our deep dark secrets or if we did it on our own."

"We need your help with this," George urged her. "We'll make it worth your while."

Ginny sighed. "I'll think of something," she promised.