A/N: Haha! I made you freak out didn't I? Muahahaha! This Chapter is dedicated to Oh-My-Dead-Wizard-Gawd for reviewing several times AND understanding what basically happened to Ron (More so than my co-author at least… she really thought I killed Ron until I explained it a bit). Okay, you can all stop freaking out because your wait is over!

Disclaimer: *in sing-song voice* (My stomach is still flipping from the last chapter) Don't own Harry Potter!

When we last left our beloved characters: "His vision blurred and went black."

"Hermione! Hermione!" Her screams were the only thing that penetrated his yells. "Hermione!" An explosion went off in front of him and Fred's body laid beside him. He couldn't breathe. He ached all over. His nose and eyes stung.

Her voice began calling him, and echoed quietly in the back of his mind. He felt a warm hand on his, as well as one on his cheek. The Manor faded to black, before his vision returned blurry. He distantly heard his name. As his eyes focused they met the worried brown ones of Hermione's. His family was whispering around him.

"Ron, it's me I'm right here," she said shakily. He wanted to speak, move, or do something to respond to her, but found himself incapable.

He finally drew in a breath, and unsteadily exhaled. He sat up and realized he was now on the floor. Everyone stared down at him. Andromeda was bouncing Teddy on her knee at the other end of the room. Someone handed him a glass of water, and he quickly drained it.

Hermione was searching his face. And Ginny's eyes were red and her cheeks, blotchy. Harry's arm was wrapped around her shoulder in a comforting manner. His mother's face held a scared and confused look. His father's expression seemed blank, but his eyes were filled with worry. Fluer looked horrified, while her husband shared his mother's confused expression. George's usual light air now felt heavy.

Ron felt like a freak. He needed to escape their prying and questioning eyes. He felt his muscles regain feeling and strength. He quickly stood, pushed his way through the crowded living room, and walked quickly outside.

He passed the orchard, the gate clanging behind him. He passed the quidditch pitch and entered the woods behind the house. He heard the gate clang again, but ignored it. He just wanted to leave everything behind him.

He moved deeper into the woods and found their old hangout as kids. A large oak stood in the middle of a grassy meadow. A swing swayed gently from one of the branches, which spiraled up like stairs to a small tree house.

Ron looked up and remembered all the times he had played there by himself imagining he was a king, or a knight ruling over the land and slaying dragons. He thought about all the dark wizards he had put in Azkaban when he was an auror. He smiled lightly to himself.

How easy it would be to be five again. How simple life was before school started and he met Harry. Life would have been so different if he hadn't met Harry. Life would have been so different if he were a muggle and had no idea about magic. He wouldn't be feeling what he did now if he was a muggle. But he was who he was because of magic and because of Harry. He would have never met Hermione if he was a muggle. Would have never saved her from the troll, never kissed her, never loved her. Never hurt her.

His heart sank a little as he sat down in the swing. He rocked back and forth and stared at his feet. He blocked out everything around him and emptied his mind. He closed his eyes and his head spun for a moment. He left everything behind and listened only to his breathing and heartbeat. Ron sat there a moment and cleared his mind.

Two warm but firm hands touched his back, gave him a small push, and he swung forward a bit more. The act was repeated several times and Ron began to pump his legs back and forth, giving himself more momentum. He suddenly leapt off the swing as it went forward. He landed firmly on the ground and looked down. Several lines were still carved into the grass and dirt. He smiled. A small 'F' was carved next to the line just in front of him.

He suddenly felt a little dizzy, so he sat down and lay on his back. A small dark figure moved towards him and lay down next to him. He felt a warm body snuggle up next to him and a head rested on his shoulder.

"Ron? What happened?" A pang hit his heart. The quiet voice was filled with so much worry.

He hadn't wanted to talk about it or show how weak he was, but the voice wasn't judging him.

"I- I don't know. I just was thinking about Teddy losing his parents and then I started thinking about mine, and then the battle. My heart raced and I couldn't speak or move. I couldn't breath. I then thought about the manor and next thing I know is that I am back there, only Fred is lying dead beside me," he said. His eyes stung, but he held in his tears.

"What brought you back?"

He thought about it a moment, before saying, "You did."

He felt a hand rest on his collarbone. "How?"

He paused. "I heard your voice calling me and felt your hand on my cheek, and I was back on the living room floor."

"Your family is gonna be worried, we should probably head back-."

"No," he said firmly. He sighed and said softly, "I don't want them to look at me the way they did. Like there was something wrong with me. Like I was a freak."

"Ron-."

"You didn't see their faces, 'Mione. I can't stand to see their faces like that."

"Maybe you don't have to. Stand up," she said getting to her feet. He stood and looked down into her chocolate eyes, studying her. "Take my hand and close your eyes." Once more he did as he was told.

She began leading him out of the meadow and out of the woods. He could hear the orchard gates clang behind them. He could feel the incline of the earth as she led him towards the Burrow. He felt warmth rush out and hit his face as they entered the Burrow. The talking died down as they came in. Hermione carefully led him up the stairs to the highest level and opened his bedroom door. He stood there quietly waiting for her to tell him to open his eyes, but it never came.

He suddenly felt her lips on his. They kissed for a brief second before she pulled away. As he slowly opened his eyes, a pair of his pajama pants hit him in the face.

"Get some rest," she said with a smirk.

"Bloody hell, Hermione. You're killing me." And she left.

He changed and lay down on his bed and soon was asleep.

~rAndOM sQuIRrel~

Ron woke up the next day at 11: 48, as his clock told him.

"Mum never lets me lie in this late," he thought as he pulled on a gray-blue tee. He trotted down the stairs and met Ginny on the last flight of stairs, going up.

"Hey, Gin," he said. Alarm and worry passed over her face. "Gin? You okay?" She didn't answer. She hurried up the stairs and disappeared into Harry's room. "Ginny, I'm- oh forget it," he said angrily.

Ron entered the dining room and all eyes turned to him. His mother gave him a weak smile, "Ah. Ronald, dear. Would you care for a sandwich? I reckon you're a bit peckish," she said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He snapped. He didn't like everyone staring at him the way they were, and it was getting to him.

"Don't talk to your mother like that, Ronald," his father said. "You know she means well."

"And since when did you start calling me Ronald?" he said looking between his parents. He scoffed, "I'm going out." He exited, taking his jacket from the rack and grabbing an apple off the counter.

Ron walked briskly to the property line, and disapparated.

The street that was deserted not a year ago, was jam packed with people. Diagon Alley was bustling with vendors, customers, and a wide array of magical creatures. Shops had been quickly repaired, boards removed, and windows replaced. Madame Malkin's shop was filled to the brim with customers getting new robes. The apothecary looked as though its once packed shelves and barrels had been picked clean of every lacewing fly and beetle eye. Only one shop on the whole street was barren and lifeless. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes stood quietly on the corner. It looked clean and kempt but dull.

As Ron walked closer to the bleak building he heard comments such as, "You should have seen it before, Marie. Magnificent. Those boys were so successful, before one of them was killed," and, "Poor lad, must be having a rough time since his brother died. I reckon the shop will never reopen now."

Ron tried to ignore the comments as he found the unstable metal stairs leading to George's front door, atop the vacant shop. As he climbed them a bracket holding part of the staircase to the wall broke off and fell to the ground six feet below. Once he reached the top he knocked on the door.

He stood there a moment before he heard rustling inside. The door soon opened revealing a wet George in a towel.

Ron smirked, "Is this how you welcome all of your visitors?"

"Only the really special ones," George cheeked. "Come on in," he said walking away from the door.

The flat was quite cluttered and traces of the shop's products were everywhere. There were several charred spots on the couch and what looked like gnaw marks on the coffee table. In one corner there were multiple boxes labeled Pogrebin Hair, Skele-Gro, Dragon Meat (which was a bit soggy), and Mountain Troll toenails.

George disappeared into the bathroom before saying, "So, to what do I owe the honor?"

Ron nervously rubbed his neck, "I kinda needed to get out of the house for a bit."

George returned from the bathroom shirtless, but luckily wearing trousers. He used his towel to roughly dry his hair and said, "So you come to me? Why not go and see Hermione? She always seems to make you feel better," with a smirk.

Ron grinned a bit, "Oh, shut it."

"No, I don't think I can little brother," George said walking into the kitchen, putting on a loose striped polo. "Fancy a drink?" he asked with a nod.

"Sure," Ron answered.

George removed two bottles of butterbeer from a cupboard and pulled his wand out from his back pocket. He tapped the bottles and muttered, "Tepesco," and the room temperature bottles cooled instantly.

Ron sat down at the kitchen table, not before moving a pile of order forms from his seat. Before handing Ron a butterbeer, George pointed to the cap and with a flicking motion said, "Eximo." The lid immediately popped off and flew up in the air before landing on the tabletop. George slid the drink to Ron, and then did the same to his bottle.

"So why are you really here?" George asked, taking a sip.

"I just thought I'd pop in…" Ron trailed off. George gave him a sort of knowing look. "Okay, okay," Ron scratched his head. "I needed to be around someone who wouldn't treat me different."

George took another sip, "Why would anybody treat you different?"

"Oh, come off it George! You're not that thick!" Ron raised his voice slightly in irritation.

"Thanks for the compliment," George said calmly, taking yet another sip of butterbeer.

Ron stood to leave, "Maybe I should just go."

"Oh, sit down you prat."

"You saw me last night! And you're acting like it never happened!" Ron yelled.

"Isn't that what you wanted?" he asked coolly.

Ron sighed and sat back down guzzling half the bottle of his butterbeer, "Yeah." He paused a moment. "How do you do it, George?"

"Do what?"

"I don't know. Not let it get to you, I guess."

"It does. You have no idea what goes on up here," he said tapping his temple. "Most days I don't leave the house, or if I do it's to go see you lot. There's not a day that goes by that it doesn't hurt like hell. I just parade around in a mask, hoping it will help you guys to move on. I try to do things to keep my mind busy, like creating more wheezes, but then I get stuck and it reminds me that Fred can't help fix it. I had to ban Firewhiskey from entering my flat."

Ron was silent for a moment. He had not expected George to spill everything; he had been anticipating another joke.

George didn't seem to notice the silence. He took another swig and never lifted his gaze from the table. After what seemed an age he spoke. "Before last night there was many a time I felt like just disappearing. I couldn't handle it any longer: the comments, the stares, the whispers. But after seeing Ginny and Mum like that I knew I couldn't. They were so scared of losing you," Ron's heart sunk at his words, "Everyone was so worried, and that was only after you had a two minute fit. If I left and cut myself off from everything forever, right after they lost Fred, Mum would be in pieces and Ginny would be in tears. I couldn't do that to them, and I can't," George finally looked up from the table and his eyes met Ron's. "I want you to make a pact that you won't cut yourself off from the family because of whatever happened last night, and I in turn won't cut myself off either. Deal?"

Ron sighed, then nodded and said, "Deal." Both George and Ron drank the last contents of their bottles after clanking them together in a sort of 'official' way.

"Think you got out of the house long enough?" George asked with a smirk.

"I reckon," Ron said returning it and standing. He held out his hand and his brother took it in his shaking it firmly. "Thanks mate," Ron said.

George released his hand and said, "Anytime." Ron smiled and headed for the door, grabbing his jacket off the couch.

"Oh, Ron," George called after him.

Ron turned around, "Yeah?"

"I was wonderin' if you'd like to help me with the shop."

"What shop?"

"Our- my shop of course."

"What do you mean help you? You mean you're re-opening it?"

"Well, yeah. I've been workin' on stuff haven't I?"

"Well yeah, but we just thought… I don't know. You're really opening?"

"I figured Fred would have wanted me to. So, what d' ya say?" he rubbed he neck nervously. "I'd understand if you wouldn't want-."

"Yeah! I'd love to," Ron said with a grin.

"Good. I'll owl you later," George said his smile returning. "See ya, Ron."

"See ya, George."

~rAndOM sQuIRrel~

A/N: Oh my gosh! I don't know why, but I love this chapter! Tell me what you think by reviewing! Click ze Review button… Click it… Anyway, for those that are confused about what happened to Ron, 't will be explained later on… *sings and dances* "I'm so excited! And I just can't hide it!"

Oh and to InkWeaverabc: I'm sorry I like the name. Hermione is a bit of a mouthful, and it shortens it perfectly. I don't know, I want it to be Ron's nick name kinda. It also kinda sounds a bit possessive, don't you think? Like "Mine." I don't know just a thought.