HARRY POTTER AND THE UNFORGIVEN
A Sixth Year Harry Potter Fanfiction
BY
Jayiin Mistaya
"Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus."
...never tickle a sleeping dragon
COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to Harry Potter. Those rights are held, exclusively, by JK Rowling, and any other entities, corporations, subsidiaries, or groups not named here possessing legal rights to the aforementioned books and/or trademark.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to everyone who has been reading, even if you haven't reviewed, and especially to those people who have me on author alert or favorites.
More information on Harry Potter and the Unforgiven can be found at my website, which is linked in my Author Profile.
Feedback of any kind is always appreciated.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:Thanks to Elusive Evan for making me continue to post this.
CHAPTER TEN
Ron Shrugged
The morning after Hermione's letters arrived, Ron Weasley was awake, showered, shaved and dressed before the sun rose.
He had a plan.
Ron rarely made plans, except when he was playing chess, and he was arguably a master of the game.
But in light of what Hermione had written, he felt the need for a plan. For something to do.
In a way, I was just waiting for her. Waiting for her to tell me what to do, how to do it. Just like she always does. Odd. I think Harry is the only person who never tried to tell me what to do.
He'd been stupid to wait. He should have done something. He should have told her.
How could I tell her? I didn't know myself until third year. Until we went to Hogsmeade together. Then we were fighting. Then there was Krum.
He knew they were just excuses. If he'd been more of a Gryffindor, he would have found a way to tell her. To find out how she felt.
Would things be any different? She wants to be with Victor-bloody-Krum. Would that have changed if I'd asked her to the dance or kissed her in Hogsmeade?
He didn't know. There was no real way for him to know. He'd sent her a letter, telling her how he felt, but he also know she would never read it. Too little, too late.
I have to accept it. Move on. Be her friend. But I can't wait for her to tell me what to do anymore.
Thus, his plan.
It was frightening, knowing he what he was about to start doing. This was no one else's idea; just his. He had thought it through – like a good chess player, he'd made a plan that worked for both the long and the short term, and had options if the first few moves didn't work out.
I'm just putting this off.
He stole silently downstairs, deftly avoiding causing the rickety stairs to creak and grown with the ease of long practice. He slipped past Tonks passed out on the couch and Ginny curled up asleep in an armchair next to the fire, and crept into the kitchen.
The opening move was always the most important; everything that happened next snowballed from it, whether they were for good or ill. Taking the first move in chess meant counting on a certain level of assumption about how things would go. Ron's opening move was no different.
Blue eyes flicked from one part of the Burrow's well-worn kitchen to another; stained cabinets, floors and counters. Drawers and doors that didn't quite close anymore. Pots and pans without proper places to go. Molding and floorboards peeling away from their walls. A dented, dinged and scratched sink that looked more like the survivor of a battlefield than a kitchen appliance.
It was just what he expected. Just what he wanted, really – the worse off the kitchen was, the better the opening move would be. It didn't take him long to gather what he needed and get started.
- 0 -
Ron was so intent on what he was doing that he didn't notice a pair of brandy-brown eyes watching him from the living room.
The owner of those eyes couldn't believe what she was seeing.
Her brother, Ronald Bilius Weasley – possibly the only person who could vie with Fred and George for 'laziest person alive' – was awake, dressed and cleaning the kitchen.
Without magic.
And doing a very good job of it, too.
"Ron?" Ginny asked.
He grunted in reply.
"What are you doing?"
"Cleaning." He was working with an efficiency and skill Ginny would never have expected out of him.
I guess all those detentions cleaning Snape's classroom have done him some good.
Ginny slid out of her chair and yawned, walking into the kitchen. "Okay. I'll bite. Why?"
Ron didn't stop working. "I'm bored. I wanted to do something productive."
"Ron?" Ginny asked in her sweetest voice.
"Yeah?"
"I don't believe you."
"Fine," Ron grunted. "Don't believe me, then."
"I don't." Ginny crossed her arms over her chest and glared at her brother. "This is about Hermione, isn't it? She told me what she wrote you, you know."
A brief flash of anger crossed his features, but vanished as quickly as it came. "Right then. You're a smart girl. You figured it out."
Ron wiped sweat off his forehead and looked at the kitchen with a satisfied nod.
He started putting cleaning supplies away.
Ginny stalked over to her brother, mentally cursing as she realized she only came as high as his sternum. I hate being short.
"Cleaning the kitchen won't make her change her mind."
Ron shrugged, and looked down at her. "I didn't think it would."
Ginny put her hands on her hips and glared hard at her brother. "Ronald Weasley, you will tell me what's going on!"
Ron smiled at her. "Sorry. No. And Mum's the only girl I know who's intimidating in pajamas."
Ginny blushed, but she wasn't going to let Ron pull her off track. She'd seen him do it to Hermione countless times when there was something he didn't want to discuss.
"You're not getting out of this!"
"I just did."
He went back into the kitchen, leaving her standing in the middle of the dining area in her nightgown, hands on her hips.
She stood there and glared at him as he started water for tea and coffee. It took him a few minutes to figure out how to make the coffee (which he thought smelled much better than it tasted), but he eventually figured it out. He set out the mugs the members of the Order had either claimed as theirs or left at the Burrow and was about to start setting the table when he heard a thud as Tonks fell off the couch.
Cursing, she stood, untangling herself from her sheets.
"Morning, Tonks!" Ron shot over his shoulder as he set out plates.
"Wotcher." Tonks rubbed her eyes, untangling herself from her bedclothes. "Is that coffee I smell?"
"I think so." Ron shrugged. "My first time making it, so no promises."
Tonks staggered into the kitchen, somehow managing to fix herself coffee without breaking anything. "Bad coffee is better than no coffee." She took an experimental sip. "And good coffee means a good day. Not bad for your first batch."
"Thanks." Ron glanced at his watch and side-stepped past Ginny, back to the tea kettle.
Tonks peered over at Ginny. "What happened to her? Someone petrify her or something?"
Ron shook his head and handed his sister a cup of tea. "She's just trying to intimidate me into telling her something."
Tonks shrugged. "She's too small and pretty to be scary in a nightgown."
- 0 -
Molly Weasley overslept.
For the first time since being pregnant with the twins, Molly hadn't woken up when her husband did. She glanced over and saw Arthur's side of their bed hadn't been slept in.
He never came home last night. She knew he'd been working late; with Dumbledore away for the summer, he'd been needed more and more at the Ministry, but he hadn't been gone overnight since the final months of the last war.
Forcefully ignoring the cold fear for her husband and children – Arthur is just fine. I would have heard by now if he wasn't. The same with the children. They're all fine. – Molly quickly dressed and rushed off to start breakfast. Cooking for more than a dozen people would keep her occupied, at least.
She bustled into her kitchen and stopped dead in her tracks. Her kitchen was cleaner than it had been in decades; it positively glowed.
"Morning, Mum." An arm slid around her shoulders, and a large hand pressed a warm mug of tea – sweet with plenty of honey, just like she liked it – into her hand. Ron kissed her on the cheek. "Figured you might want some help with breakfast."
She hugged her youngest son back, enjoying the rare display of affection and took a sip of tea, trying to re-gather her wits. "I certainly wouldn't say no to a bit of help. I must say, it looks like someone has already made a good start, though!"
Ron blushed and looked down at his feet. "Just thought I'd do something nice..."
"You did very well, Ron. Very well indeed." She hugged him again. "Thank you."
He shrugged, and tried to hide his embarrassment. "It's time I learned to cook anyway. Gonna have to feed myself someday, so I want to learn from the best."
She took another sip of her tea and decided she would puzzle out Ron's strange behavior some other time; first thing in the morning was no time to be looking a gift horse in the mouth. "Well, all right then. We'll need to put tea and coffee on for the Order..." she trailed off as she saw coffee and teapots already set up with mugs, milk, sugar and cream set out.
Ron looked sheepish.
Molly hugged her son a third time, and set about teaching him how to cook breakfast. And Ron set about surprising his mother by being a patient and attentive pupil.
She taught him just like her mother had taught her; he did the work while she told him what to do. He stayed focused, asked questions in all the right places, and – most remarkably – stayed calm even when she lost patience with or was short with him.
Nor did her matronly eye miss Ginny sitting at the table, sipping a cup of tea Ron kept full, watching with narrowed eyes.
If Ginny doesn't know what's going on with him either...
Molly tried not to worry. It was simply Ron finally growing up.
By the time the rest of the Weasleys and members of the Order woke up, Apparated or Flooed in, Ron had breakfast cooked and politely served it.
With surprising subtlety and sensitivity, Ron seated Fleur and Charlie at the opposite end of the table from Tonks and Bill, though he couldn't do anything to shield Ginny from the stares.
Molly watched as most every member of the Order spent more than half their breakfast staring at her daughter; only Bill and Tonks spared Ginny.
I don't have to be Dumbledore to know something is going on here...I had best learn why they're singling my daughter out, and I'd best learn soon!
Molly's eyes were on Charlie – though he was too busy watching his younger sister to notice his mother's scrutiny.
Finally, Ginny couldn't take it anymore. She slammed her silverware down on the table and stood up. "Since it's rude for me to distract people from their meal, I suppose I should leave!"
Ron watched her rush out of the kitchen, where he was finishing frying the last of the bacon. "Mum?"
Molly took over for Ron as he followed his sister. She cooked in silence for less than a minute before she spun towards the table, seething with rage.
"I hope you're proud of yourselves! Especially you, Charlie Weasley! You have managed to make my daughter feel unwelcome at my kitchen table! I know good and well when you people are playing with your secrets and I fully expect to be informed when those secrets concern one of my children!"
Bill and Tonks stared at her blankly, but everyone else at the table winced.
"I don't expect you'd approve, Mum." Charlie answered. "You weren't there for the last part of the last Order meeting." He spoke slowly, as if each word were having for force itself out of him. "Dumbledore told us some things we needed to know. About Ginny's first year at Hogwarts." He paused, and gripped Fleur's hand under the table. "He told us, and gave us each things we needed to do."
"And just why did Professor Dumbledore feel the need to tell you about that?" Molly ignored the smell of burning bacon coming from behind her.
Kingsley Shacklebolt answered: "Because we have no way of knowing if Voldemort still has any kind of hold on her."
- 0 -
Ron was torn between following his sister and venting a good bit of his anger at the Order.
What are they on about, staring at her like that!
Whatever it was, Ron would put down more money than he'd ever had that it had something to do with Harry, or Voldemort – or both.
Ron took his time following her. He knew she'd need a minute to pull herself together; and besides, he knew where she was going. Only a Weasley would think to look there. He grabbed a box of tissues on his way out the back door.
Ron headed straight for the back of the Weasley's property (which was much larger than it looked on a map), heading past the garage where Arthur Weasley had kept his flying Ford Anglia and still kept his growing collection of both normal and ensorcelled Muggle artifacts. He trudged through waist-high weeds, wincing at the thought of Ginny running through the overgrowth barefoot.
Barely noticeable under a heavy growth of vines and other creepers, there was a small squat building of wood and stone. Its few windows were boarded up, and now served its original purpose – a storage shed, though once it had been a proper workshop.
Ron found Ginny sitting on the old front step, hugging her knees to her chest. He sat down next to her and handed her the tissues.
Ginny wiped her eyes and blew her nose. "I am such a silly little girl."
Ron shrugged. "Probably. So?"
"Prat." She punched him in the arm. "You're supposed to make me feel better."
"Mum shoulda' come out here and let me yell at the Order, then."
"So what? Did you come out here to yell at me, then?" Ginny snapped.
"Nah." Ron leaned back against the workshop door. "I came out to make sure you were okay."
Ginny sniffled and shook her head. "Well, I'm not!"
"Yeah, even I can see that." Ron sighed. "But I can't say I know what to do to help."
Ginny eyed him coolly. "Do you really want to?"
"Yeah, I do." Ron nodded. "I may not always do good showing it, but Ido care."
Ginny rested her chin on her knees. "I know why they're always staring at me."
"You do?" Ron asked, surprised.
"It should be obvious, even to you. They're scared of me. Because of what happened my first year." She'd tried to sound casual, but all she could manage was a strained whisper. "Sometimes, I'm afraid of it, too."
Ron suddenly felt chilled. "Because You-Know-Who might be able to...possess you? Or what?"
"They're afraid Tom can see into my mind. Maybe possess me again. Maybe trick me, like he did Harry."
He shook his head. "I don't understand. Wasn't the You-Know-Who that possessed you just a memory in a diary?"
"Yes. And no."
"That was about as clear as Hermione talking about Arithmancy."
"The diary was Tom's memory. Whatever happened to or with the diary, Tom remembers."
Ron shivered. "Yeah, but he was dead for awhile, wasn't he?"
Ginny stared at her brother. How could he be so daft? "No. How can you be friends with Harry Potter and not know this? He was just weakened. He was still alive. He was 'remembering' everything that happened in the Chamber as it was happening. I could feel him."
"What's a bloke supposed to think with everyone nattering on about You-Know-Who 'coming back to life'?" Ron grumbled. "Keep explaining. Eventually I'll get it, I promise."
Ginny resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him. "Okay, yeah. So Harry and Dumbledore aren't tops on 'clear speaking.' But the bottom line is that I am connected to 'You-Know-Who'. The diary was just the way the connection was created. Harry and I have a connection because he saved my life. Harry and Tom are connected because of Tom."
Ron thought for a moment, his mind racing. "So that means You-Know-Who still potentially has access to you. Whatever you learn from the Order, You-Know-Who might know."
Ginny nodded morosely. "So they all stare at me as if I'm a walking time-bomb. And for all I know, I might be."
Ron shrugged. "I don't think so, Gin. I think if You-Know-Who coulda' taken you over or whatnot, he would have done it last year when he was trying to screw with Harry. Have you tell him something or point him in the right direction. He didn't."
Ginny didn't look convinced. "Then I had to go off and flaunt that I'm writing to Harry."
"So? At least one of us should. Why would they be worried about you writing Harry?"
"Why were you?" Ginny crossed her arms and glared at Ron.
Ron sighed. "Because I'm worried about my friend, and wish he would talk to me. I know he can't, really. I can't understand what he's been through, not really. You can, I suppose. Leastwise, better than me. And if he's talking to you, then he's not cutting everyone off. It surprised me, is all."
Ginny nodded. "As soon as they found out I was, they were even worse about it all!"
Ron shrugged again. "Maybe it's the Chamber again. Dumbledore told Harry that saving a witch or wizard's life created some kind of magical debt, or connection between them. Maybe that's what they're worried about."
Ginny cursed under her breath before asking: "Why would they worry about that? Or are people pissed just because Harry is finally talking to me?"
Ron shrugged. "Damned if I know, Gin. Thought you were over Harry, anyway. That's what Hermione said last year."
Ginny bit her lower lip and hid her face behind her hair. "I gave up on him. I never stopped liking him, okay?"
"Oh." Ron looked over at her. "What was that bit about Dean Thomas, then?"
Ginny snorted indelicately. "I was winding you up, Ronald, because you were being a prat about me dating anyone."
Ron shrugged again. "I was right about Michael Corner, wasn't I?"
"Maybe," Ginny grumbled, then sighed. "Am I going to lose every boy I like to Cho Chang?"
"I doubt it. She's gone after this year." Ron said. "I'm glad she and Harry are through, though. She's a decent Seeker and all that, but she doesn't make things easy on a bloke. Took Harry for a ride, and Hermione was no help at all, at least until Harry'd already done the wrong thing."
"If she were giving advice on girls out, she might have been nice enough to point him my direction." Ginny mumbled. "I don't get you two, the way you treat him, I mean."
It was Ron's turn to glare at Ginny. "I'm daft, remember? Spell it out."
Ginny met Ron's gaze as evenly as she could, though she was fully aware she might have just stepped over an invisible line – a line she should have known was there. "You and Hermione...you're just so damn accepting of everything he goes through! Almost everyone is, but you two are the worst! Just because he suffers in silence doesn't mean someone shouldn't say something!"
"Yeah, it does." Ron's posture subtly shifted; he went from being a supportive brother to the distant and somewhat enigmatic companion of the Boy Who Lived, and Ginny was suddenly very aware there was a difference, even if Ron wasn't. "Harry is a very private person, Gin. Having his private life plastered all over the place is the hardest thing he's ever faced, You-Know-Who included. He doesn't want attention drawn to what he's been through, what he still has to go through."
Ron's eyes were like a pair of blue flames. "It's the hardest thing he asks of his friends, to just let things go. But he won't stand for any of it if we press too far. Hermione and I, we can do more just being there for him, at his side and at his back, doing what we can to make sure he lives to see another day. He doesn't want more than that and sometimes it's hard enough to get him to accept even that much."
"Right. That's so bloody mature. Just hide from it all." Ginny leaned back. "Great way to deal with things."
"Shove it, Gin," Ron snapped. Ginny sat up, her eyes blazing, but he cut her off. "Harry can't deal. No one leaves him alone long to let him, so he does the best thing he can do – he keeps moving forward, waiting for the day he's allowed to sit down and work through it all."
"So he doesn't let his friends help?" Ginny's eyes were twinkling with an odd glint - an expression that when seen on the twins was usually followed by an explosion. "What about someone closer than a friend?"
"Like a girlfriend?" Ron scoffed. "He barely knew what to do with Cho Chang and there were times she practically led him by the nose. For anyone to get that close...I don't know that anyone can, Gin. Not anymore."
Not after Sirius.
Ginny's lips thinned, but she nodded.
Ron hated awkward silences and he really didn't have anything else to say. As it stood, he wasn't sure he hadn't said too much.
Standing, he brushed dirt and leaves off his pants and spent a long moment looking at his grandfather's old workshop. He thought about the damaged cabinets, the stained counters, the lopsided drawers – and the thousand and one other things that needed fixing.
I wonder if anything Grandad Charlie taught me stuck?
Ginny was standing behind him. "Ron?"
Why not try? If I screw it up, will it really be all that different from anything else I do?
But there was no way he was going to pull this off alone.
"Hey, Gin?"
"Yeah?"
"Go get dressed. In your work clothes. We're gonna make ourselves useful and keep you away from the Order."
- 0 -
Ginny ran upstairs to get dressed.
Leave it to Ron to get responsible in an impossible way.
She changed into her work clothes, tied her hair back (which took a bit of time, because it was down to her waist these days), threw on her boots, and dashed back out, almost running into Charlie. He was standing in her doorway, dressed in casual robes. Fleur was standing next to him, clutching his hand. She stared at Ginny with an expression halfway between fear and awe.
They can't be that worried about me being a conduit to Tom, can they?
She frowned at Fleur's hand in Charlie's – she didn't really know what happened, but she hadn't forgiven Charlie for stealing Fleur from Bill – her eldest brother hadn't been around much since. Ginny had watched her brothers her entire life; she knew whatever it was that happened had hurt Bill deeper than she'd ever seen him hurt before.
"Hey, Gin, can we talk?" Charlie asked, using what Ginny had long ago dubbed his 'smooth' voice – when he wanted something or Mum had made him apologize.
Great. So he's going to apologize for staring at me at breakfast. What does that fix?
She fixed him with an annoyed glower. "I don't suppose I have a choice, seeing as how you're between me and where I'm going."
Charlie grinned wryly and shrugged. "It's nothing big. I just wanted to ask you about the letters you and Harry have been writing."
Ginny took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, trying very hard to ignore the anger creeping up in her gut. Time to nip this in the bud.
"That's too bad, isn't?" Ginny smiled sweetly. "Because I don't want to talk about them. Pardon me, Ron needs my help." She tried to push past Charlie, but he gently pushed her back with his free hand.
"I'm very sorry, Ginny, but what you want doesn't come into this." Charlie spoke softly, sounding resigned and serious at the same time. "You are going to discuss the letters."
Ginny blew an errant lock of hair out from in front of her eyes. "No. I won't. Now please move."
"S'il vous plaît, Jenae," Fleur whispered. "You flirt with danger! Zere is more at stake here zan your privacy. We do not do zis lightly, I promise!"
"Don't patronize me." Ginny narrowed her eyes. "The answer is no."
Charlie sighed and drew his wand. "I tried to do this the easy way. Accio letters!"
The worn leather scrip holding Harry's letters flew across the room. It had been their mother's; Ginny had appropriated it as a child to hide her first 'diary' – pieces of paper with doodles and notes and sketches.
Charlie lunged for it, trying to grab it before Ginny.
Ginny was faster. Months of training with the DA and as the Gryffindor Seeker had honed her reflexes to an edge Charlie hadn't anticipated. She grabbed it out of the air and tucked it under her arm.
Charlie took a step forward.
Ginny took a single step to the side and pointed her wand at her brother's face. Her eyes were cold.
"Damn it, Ginny!" Charlie growled. "This is more important than some schoolgirl crush or Harry's privacy. What you're doing could be endangering his life!"
"It's not," Ginny answered with unshakable certainty. She wasn't sure how she knew, but she felt all the way to the soles of her feet that the letters – and what was in them – were no danger to Harry. "And if you try that again, Charlie, I will defend his privacy to the best of my ability."
Charlie met her eyes and saw something sad there. But he also saw that she would and could do what she claimed. She would fight him for the letters.
"Ginny, please...!" He was willing to plead.
Ginny would hear nothing of it. She ducked around him and Fleur with the grace and agility of a dancer. "If you're so interested, write him yourself."
- 0 -
Ginny ran down the stairs and slipped outside through a rarely used side-door. She kept close to the side of the house and garage as long as she could, using every skill and trick she'd learned avoiding a house full of people to stay unseen.
The Order didn't want to take away her contact with Harry. They wanted to use it to spy on him.
They wanted to control him. Her. Both of them.
Why else would Charlie want the letters? Why else would this 'connection' between us be so important?
She sprinted through the field between the garage and the workshop, grateful the shop's doors faced away from the house – they couldn't see her hide the scrip if she needed to.
Or so she thought. She was dismayed to see that Ron had cleared the brush and mowed down the grass in a wide swath around the front of the shed.
"Hey Ginny." Ron waved in greeting before going back to standing at the front of the shop with the door thrown wide, frowning at the sheer amount of junk that had accumulated over the past five years. "Ugh. Can you believe I let Mum and Dad do this to the place?"
Ginny paused to catch her breath, looking at Ron. His work-gloved hands were curled into fists resting on his hips and he was staring at the cluttered workshop with a pained – and somewhat proprietary - expression.
I can't imagine what this must be like for him. Ron and Grandad Charlie had been close; Ron had never really recovered from the shock of coming home after his first year of Hogwarts to find the workshop closed up and his grandfather gone.
He let his arms drop to his side and turned around to look at her, his expression immediately changing. "Hey, what happened? You okay?"
Ginny couldn't help but smile. This was the big brother she remembered from before Hogwarts – her partner in crime, her best friend, and her staunch protector. I hate to admit it, but I've kinda missed the protector part.
"Charlie – the Order – tried to take Harry's letters."
Normally considered one of the densest and daftest blokes on the block, when Ron actually had all the information laid out to him, he was able to figure things out frighteningly quick.
"Charlie tried to take Harry's letters for the Order?" Torn between disbelief and anger, Ron shook his head. He pointed at the scrip. "That them?"
Ginny nodded nervously, clutching the leather pouch. "Yeah."
Ron blew out an explosive breath. "Bloody...I'm not gonna take 'em or read 'em, Gin. I got more respect for you and Harry than that."
Blushing, Ginny nodded. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm just..."
He put a hand on her shoulder. "It's all right. Your brother just tried to..." What had Charlie been doing, trying to take away the letters? "We'll just have to find some way to hide them. If I remember, Grandpa Charlie had a kind of chest..."
Ginny smiled wanly. "Guess that means we gotta get to work, then?"
Ron shrugged. "I do, anyway. You don't have to help if you don't want to – I guess I asked you 'cause I wanted the company. This really isn't your project."
Earlier that morning, Ginny might have snapped at him or gotten mad at him for trying to exclude her, but she realized that Ron really was trying to let her know he didn't expect or think she had to help him. That didn't mean she wouldn't.
"I want to help. Anyway," she walked into the shop and tucked the scrip up against the roof, where a pair of cross-braces made a convenient nook, "if I'm out here keeping you company, I'm going to get bored just sitting here."
Ron chuckled as he started hauling junk out into the grass.
"Besides," Ginny tugged on her work gloves, "you'll never get this all cleaned up on your own."
- 0 -
It took Ron and Ginny all morning to clean up and set up the workshop, but when they were done, Ron was sure Grandad Charlie would have been proud.
At least, I'd like to think he would have been.
They'd discovered fairly quickly that what Arthur and Molly had stored there had been crammed around their Grandfather's tools and equipment, making it easy to separate the junk from what belonged there. The junk got fed to Arthur's large garage trash bin, long since ensorcelled to dispose of anything by transfiguring it into aluminum cans, which Molly Weasley would in turn sell to a Squib who worked for a Muggle junk dealer called a 'recycler'.
They'd swept and dusted the workshop and let it air out while Ginny trimmed back the foliage and Ron mowed down the grass between the shop and the house.
All the while, Molly Weasley watched Ron like a hawk through windows from behind curtains, doing her best to make sure he didn't see how worried she was. She had gone so far as to pull a chair up to the window with the best vantage point and put a pot of tea on a stool beside her.
She watched her son, hoping something he did would give her some clue to what was going through his mind – and his heart.
Molly might have been able to hide from Ron, but she couldn't hide from Remus Lupin. He pulled a chair up beside her and watched with her in silence for almost half an hour, sipping his coffee.
Molly had noticed it was he'd only recently started drinking coffee, though she knew Sirius had been exceptionally fond of it.
"I don't think I've ever paid much attention to that shed before."
Molly didn't look away from the window. "Their grandfather's old workshop."
Remus raised an eyebrow at her, but like Molly, kept looking outside.
Molly laughed. "I forget, you're not a Weasley. Sometimes it feels you've become a part of the family."
Lupin smiled. "Thank you, Molly. But I'm nothing more than a guest passing through."
"Oh, nonsense, Remus Lupin! If you and Harry aren't family, then no one is!" She waved aside his protest, her tone of voice leaving no room for argument. "The workshop – it was Arthur's father's. Charles was still a fairly successful woodworker when he came to stay with us after the first war - his wife had been killed and he had nowhere else to go, and none of Arthur's siblings could take him in. Arthur helped renovate that old shed into a workshop so he'd have someplace to work."
Remus nodded, fiddling with the hem of his tattered jacket. "Where is he now?"
Molly sighed. "He retired to a small wizarding community in Wales after Ron started Hogwarts. I never should have let him and Arthur talk me around into letting him go..." She shook her head. "He and Ron were very close."
"I've never heard Ron mention him." Remus muttered.
"Ron never forgave him for moving away. Charles was really the only one Ron connected with, except Ginny. I was so busy with the older ones and Ginny, and Arthur was so busy with work...and Ron wanted his Grandfather's attention so very much."
Remus set his coffee cup on the windowsill and smiled. "I take it Charles was more than willing to take Ron under his wing?"
"Oh yes," Molly said. "Charles wanted to pass along his knowledge and skills, but none of his children had the knack of it, and most of the grandchildren weren't interested. But Ron loved playing 'Grandad's Apprentice'. He only really learned rudimentary skills, but what he did learn he was rather good at." Molly sighed. "He hasn't done a thing with it since Charles left. He felt so betrayed to come home from school and find Charles packed and months gone. He's never really recovered from the shock...he hasn't done a thing with what his grandfather taught him or left him."
"He seems to have changed his mind." Remus spoke quietly as he picked back up his coffee mug.
Molly sighed. "Remus, I would give almost anything to know what Hermione wrote to Ron."
Pausing mid-sip, Remus tilted his head. "Why?"
"I know my children, Remus Lupin. I know them better than they know themselves. Whatever Hermione said in that letter last night, it has hurt my son deeply enough for him to seek some kind of validation. Something to do to make him feel useful and needed. Whatever she said has done more to damage my son than all the 'adventures' he's had at Hogwarts."
The former professor nodded, thinking of his own conversation with Ron the night before. Heroes indeed.
Molly stood up, collecting her cup and teapot. "Well, at the very least, I can make sure they get a good lunch." She looked back over her shoulder. "And you too, Remus! I won't have you skipping meals while you're living under my roof!"
Lupin stood, cradling Sirius' old coffee mug, and followed Molly into the kitchen.
- 0 -
After lunch, the hard work began. Ron and Ginny set about sorting out Grandad Charlie's miscellaneous 'stuff'.
"I wonder why he left all his tools and plans and such behind when he took everything else with him." Ron picked up an old money pouch and dug around inside. "Huh. A knut."
"Good find," Ginny said, only slightly sarcastic. "He left them for you, oh bright one. So you could putter around out here."
"Nice of him," Ron growled, throwing the pouch and bronze coin back into the box. "That would have been more useful if I'd known. Or if he'd told me he was leaving!"
Ginny didn't know what to say, but Ron didn't give her a chance to say anything. He just turned away and dug around in the box, and pulled out a small metal chest. It looked like – and was about the size - of a small tool box, but was made of a gray-black metal Ginny had never seen before; there was a small golden key dangling from a string tied to the handle on top.
"Here. This should do for your letters." Ron held it out to her. "Gramps used this to store some of his specialty stuff – magical finishes, precious metals and stones. It's magic-proof, drop-proof, water-proof and even Fred and George couldn't get in it, not without the key."
Ginny took the handle and hefted it – it was heavier than it looked. The metal felt slick and cool. She slid the key into the lock, and it popped open, revealing that it was much larger on the outside than the inside.
"Perfect." Ginny quickly locked the leather scrip inside the chest. "Thank you, Ron."
He shrugged. "Glad I can help. Too many people in your and Harry's business anyway."
"And not in yours?" Ginny asked, pocketing the knut Ron had found earlier. She examined the money bag, and set it aside – the first item in their 'keep' pile.
"Why would anyone be interested in me?" Ron chucked a handful of crumpled handkerchiefs on top of the money bag.
"I am," Ginny said softly. She took a deep breath and decided to charge in where she should know not to go. "Ron, I'm sorry about Hermione."
He shook his head. "Don't be. I wish she hadn't told you, but I'm glad I know where I stand now."
"Do you?" Ginny pulled a short spear of cut and polished amethyst crystal from the box and held it up to the light.
"I'm her friend," Ron said. "But not one she can trust with anything 'deep'. I've got the emotional range of a teaspoon, remember?" He tried to sound light, but Ginny heard the bitterness in his voice.
"Ron..."
He shrugged and waved his hand at her. "Just leave it, Gin. Nothing I can do 'til I can talk to her. She won't read anything I write to her."
Ginny nodded glumly. "It doesn't make it fair, though."
"Nothing's fair, Gin. Nothing. All we can do is do what we can do. If that makes any sense."
"Now who's being deep?" Ginny shot back.
"Deep and nonsense are two different things. I'm good at the second. Now let's get this done."
- 0 -
Just like at breakfast, Ron helped fix dinner and then clean up after it. And to his immense satisfaction, most of the Order avoided looking at Ginny while his own family watched him closely, each trying to figure out what he was up to.
After dinner, Ron and Ginny could be found next to the fire, pouring over a notebook full of plans and instructions Grandad Charlie had given Ron when he'd first started learning. The Weasley household was rife with speculation about what they planned – but after Ron and Molly stepped outside to talk for a few minutes, the rest of the Weasleys gave it up as impossible. Any secret Mum was in on stayed secret.
Ron got a perverse enjoyment out of listening to Order members whispering in corners, or conversations stopping when he passed by on his way to bed. And he was sure the Order noticed it was the first time he'd gone to bed before their nightly meeting.
I wonder if they'll waste their time trying to figure out what Gin and I are up to?
The thought amused him far more than it should have.
The next morning, Ron was up before the sun again and Ginny had joined him by the time he had the tea and coffee set out. Unlike Ron, Ginny wasn't dressed or ready for the day. She blearily accepted a mug of tea from her brother and slumped down in her customary chair at the table.
Ron was just getting ready to start breakfast when an owl flew through the open window, practically landing in Ginny's tea. She half-heartedly shooed it. "Ugh, go away. It's too early for mail."
"Or even to be awake?" Ron teased, trading the owl a bit of bacon for the letter. "Huh. Doesn't say who it's to..."
"Leave it for Mum. It's probably Order business, anyway," Ginny muttered.
Ron shook his head. "Order stuff's always addressed to someone and charmed. Besides, this looks Ministry parchment. Bet it's from Dad." He unfolded the letter. "Bloody hell, it's from Percy!"
Ginny
blinked and stood up, reading over her brother's shoulder. "From
Percy? Is the prat finally gonna apologize?"
"No," Ron whispered hoarsely as he read. "No, I don't think so."
Ginny swallowed hard. "It's no wonder Charlie wanted to read the letters."
"Yeah...but was that because of the Order, or because of this?" Ron muttered. "Or both?"
Ginny hugged herself. "How could they do this to him?"
Ron shrugged again. "Same way everyone else does, Gin. They don't give a damn about Harry, just about the Boy Who Lived." He put the parchment on the table. "I have an idea of how to find out what's going on. You up for it?"
His sister nodded, setting her shoulders. "What did you have in mind?""
Ron walked into the kitchen and started fixing breakfast. "You still have Hedwig? I think its time we had a chat with our brothers."
End Chapter
Revised 12-25-07
