I don't own anything, J.K. Rowling owns it all.
Thank you to ReadingRobyn for being an amazing beta.
Please review, I really appreciate knowing what you're all thinking.
.:x:.
"I'm worried about Ginny," Hermione said as she watched the girl flee from the Dining Hall, causing a scene without meaning too and earning herself a new status as the best person to gossip about in between classes.
"We all are, but I know my sister," Ron said quietly as Harry just stared off in the direction Ginny had headed. "If she's not telling us what's going on, we should leave it alone. We shouldn't pry."
Hermione whirled around, her mouth wide open with shock. "Are you serious! What about what happened to her in her second year? Do you want history to repeat itself?"
Ron shook his head, scooting closer to Hermione to make room for the now very silent Harry. "Of course not, but ever since then Ginny's told me or mum everything if something's bothering her. If there was something serious going on, she'd tell me. Seriously Hermione don't push it, you still haven't seen those Bat-Bogey Hexes of hers…"
"I don't mean to doubt your knowledge of your sister, but I don't think she would this time," Hermione said gently, ignoring the part about Ginny's more that capable hexing abilities.
"Why?"
She pressed her lips together, forming a thin line like she always did when she was thinking. "Because your best friend," she said quietly, looking at Harry, "is the main reason that she's behaving this way."
Ron's jaw dropped while Harry just looked at the table like it was fascinating, picking at a piece of cherry pie without taking bite.
"That's ridiculous! She's not behaving this way 'cause Harry dumped her, she said she knew it was coming and he said she took it really well," he protested.
Hermione shook her head, her brown waves bounced almost indignantly on her shoulders. "She's been having panic attacks, I know that much. And sorry Harry, but they're triggered by being around you. Ginny's more sensitive then we give her credit for. She's impressionable too, which is the main reason why I'm worried. Honestly I think you two have completely forgotten about the Chamber of Secrets, someone should've written it all down to remind you of what happened to her."
"I know she's sensitive. And I know it's my fault," Harry said in a low voice.
"Oh Harry," Hermione said, instantly feeling guilty. "It's not. You know you did the right thing last year, there was…no there is no way of knowing what lengths Voldemort and the Death Eaters will go to get at you. They could even use someone close to you to hurt you, you know that. They'd hurt Ginny; they'd kill her. You did the right thing."
Harry shook his head, a sad smile fading from his face. "That's the thing though, I hurt her. I'm doing exactly the thing I was trying to prevent."
"No you're not," she protested. "You're not killing her are you? You're not torturing her for information and you're not hurting anyone in her family. If you were still with her you'd be putting her and anyone close to her in danger, and how could you live with yourself if you were doing that? I understand why you broke things off. I don't blame you, Harry."
"I'm still hurting her, I'm still making her feel like hell," Harry mumbled, stabbing a piece of bread with a butter knife.
"Don't give yourself too much credit," Ron mumbled under his breath.
Hermione furrowed her brows, unsure of what Ron said exactly. "Ron?"
"What?"
"Did you say something?" She shot him the don't-you-dare-bloody-lie look for emphasis.
Ron shook his head, grabbing The Daily Prophet from Seamus and flipping it open. Hermione leaned over his left arm, reading along with him. It was yet another story about Voldemort and the war breaking out around them, with an unusual sentence that made Hermione gasp.
"Harry?"
He glanced up from the table, catching the concerned look that seemed to be plastered on Hermione's face.
"What? Am I dead again?"
Hermione pulled the paper from Ron's hands, sliding it into Harry's.
The top story featured a picture of a house burning and smoldering while a dark shadow lingered in the distance. Several people in the picture, presumably muggles, were running away from the home completely terrified. The title itself jumped from the pages, "Muggle Home in Smoke: Death Eaters Behind the Flames". But the thing most shocking, most terrifying about it was the number on the mailbox.
4 Privet Drive.
"Ron, I think we need to get a hold of your mum and dad," he said in a low voice as he folded the paper up.
Ron nodded the fear not draining from his eyes. "I'll send them an owl."
"No," Harry thought quickly. "It'll take too long, they need to know now. Hermione, apparate to the Weasley home and tell them to get out of there, move into a safe house, somewhere isolated. Give them the paper if they haven't got one already."
She nodded, standing from the table with Ron's shaky hand on her arm. "Wait, why?"
"Where am I when I'm not at the Dursley's?"
Without another word Hermione headed off to the hall where she would disappear with a small pop. Harry and Ron walked down the hallway outside of the Dining Hall together, neither of them saying a word. Ron looked to his shoes, a dirty pair of Converse that got him in trouble with McGonagall each week, but they reminded him of Fred and George so he wore them anyway. Everything was changing so quickly Ron felt like he couldn't keep up, he wanted to be strong for Harry, but his own concerns about the future tended to outweigh his ability to be there for his friend.
"Do you know…?"
"If my aunt, uncle and cousin are all right?" Harry interrupted, still not looking at Ron. "They're fine. They're vacationing in the states right now. They probably have no idea it happened yet."
"Oh."
"Ron?"
"Yeah?"
Harry sighed. "How hard did Gin take it?"
Ron chewed on the inside of his cheek, thinking of the proper words to use. "She took it all right, better than I would've if were me and Hermione, but still she wasn't good, if you know what I mean."
Harry turned to Ron, holding the stare more intently than he had all day. "Then why can't she talk to me? Why can't she be around me?"
Ron closed his eyes and shook his head, breaking the stare that Harry continued to hold. "Well…she forgot about the hurt that hadn't healed I suppose, and you remind her of that. I don't know, ask Hermione, girls can explain it much better than I ever can."
Harry turned on his heel, walking the opposite direction, away from Ron and the reminder of how he'd failed the one person who had mattered most to him.
Hermione reappeared with the same soft pop, her cheeks flushed and her hair a bit untidy. "I found your mum, she was already packing. I won't say where they're going just yet, just in case," she reported in a low voice.
Ron nodded, wrapping her in his arms. She breathed heavily and pressed her face into his shoulder.
"What are we going to do? How are we going to know if we're safe? How can we know who we can trust? I can't handle this…" she said in a shaky voice, trying to withhold her tears.
Ron placed his cheek onto the top of her head, holding her close as he thought. "We're going to stay here and try and behave normally. We're not safe, nobody is, but we're safest if we don't present ourselves as threats…and you can trust me and I'll help you handle it."
She looked up at him, her brown eyes shining with wet tears. "This is why Ginny's like this, isn't it? She doesn't have anyone who will say this stuff to her."
Ron shrugged. "I guess that's part of it."
"You know why, don't you?"
He nodded slowly. "I think so."
She nodded in response, resting her head on his shoulder once again. She couldn't see the worried look in his eyes or know the frustration he was feeling with her face buried into his neck.
Because Ron didn't know why. He had no idea the things that were hurting his sister, and it was tearing him up inside. He wanted to help her, to shelter and protect her but he didn't know what to hide her from so he had to pretend like she could take care of herself. He knew something had a firm grasp around Ginny, and he didn't know how to help her away from it. His sister was drowning, choking, ultimately sinking in something and he couldn't get her out.
And for that, he couldn't forgive himself.
