Author's Notes: HAPPY NEW YEAR!! Or, rather, Happy New Year to those of you following the Gregorian calendar, as most of the world does these days. I hope everyone's holidays were safe and happy. Mine were...well...they've been WORSE, let me just say that.
I almost forgot to post this week. In fact, I had intended to post last night, but somewhere along the line I went to be really early (like 8:00 PM) for some reason, and was so out of it when I woke up (around 2:00 AM) that I didn't know WHAT was going on. However, here I am now, posting...so no harm done.
Before I forget, I'd like to take this opportunity to address a few of you out there who may feel forgotten by me. I pride myself on replying to each and every one of my reviews. Well, it seems that SOME of the reviews never actually made it to my inbox, so there's about half-a-dozen people whose reviews I've never responded to. If you are one of them, I apologize...and in the immortal words of Han Solo in EMPIRE STRIKES BACK when he engages the hyperdrive and it doesn't work (and, also, Lando Calrissian when he does the same thing later), It's not my fault!
I've been getting quite a bit of writing done in my spare time, and I'm currently in the midst of writing Chapter 21; this means that for at least the next couple of months, there will be no disruption in posting. Every two weeks will be something new...and hopefully it'll be something enjoyable. For now, though, here's Chapter 17...read and (hopefully) enoy!
Thanks: Thanks to everyone who reviews...they really mean a lot to me...and really help to keep me motivated. And a special thanks, as always, to CutewithAcapital-Q for being my beta on this story. Having her along for the ride has been very helpful, and I look forward to continuing to have her helping out well into 2010 and beyond.
Disclaimer: JKR's...not mine.
MIRROR, MIRROR
Chapter 17
"Reflections of the Familiar"
"You, again?"
Ron turned his head and felt his stomach sink as Moaning Myrtle appeared, passing through the door to one of the toilet cubicles. He thought for sure that she was talking to him. Could ghosts see through the invisibility cloak?
"You would do well to leave, Mudblood," Harry sneered without even bothering to look at her, "Perhaps, find some new plumbing to haunt."
Ron quietly breathed a sigh of relief as he realized that the ghost girl wasn't talking to him after all. He aimed his wand at Harry's back, readying himself to invoke the spell. The next words out of Myrtle's mouth stopped Ron cold…again.
"I told someone about you," Myrtle said, giggling maliciously at Harry as she floated up to circle the ceiling, "Your secret's not a secret anymore."
Ron grimaced at Myrtle's words. He'd been the one she told, and if she shared that information with Harry, Ron knew that the target on his back would grow even larger.
"Shut up, Myrtle! Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Ron silently willed the ghost girl to keep his identity a secret.
"Who've you told?" Harry demanded, his voice cold and deadly as he turned and looked up at the circling ghost, "Tell me now, or I shall show you that there are ways to inflict pain, even upon the dead."
"It was one of the prefects," Myrtle said, grinning spitefully before speaking in a sing-song manner and laughing, "You're going to be in trouble!"
Ron didn't know what made his blood run colder, the sound of Myrtle's vindictive laughter echoing off the stone walls of the bathroom, or the murderous look in Harry's eyes as he turned back around to face the sinks.
A horrible, guttural hissing noise began issuing from Harry's mouth; it was a sound that Ron hadn't heard since Second Year and it made him freeze. The copper tap on the sink – the one with the snake design scratched into it – began to glow with a blinding white light as it spun around. The entire sink began to move, lowering into the floor to reveal a large, gaping pipe wide enough for a man to slide into.
"Take heart, Mudblood; your precious prefect will be joining you. Perhaps he'll even share your toilet," Harry said with a vicious sneer as he took a step towards the pipe.
Ron finally managed to come back to his senses as he realized that he was missing his opportunity; Harry was nearly to the pipe! Taking one final breath, and bracing himself firmly against the wall, Ron waved his wand at Harry and called out the spell incantation.
BANG!
The sound of the spell going off reverberated off the walls as a bolt of red light sliced through the air and slammed squarely into Harry's back. Ron felt the recoil of the spell pressing him into the wall as Harry was flung across the room by the impact, crashing into the far wall with a sickening thud.
Ron slid down the wall, trying to catch his breath. Magnum's Stunner really knocked the wind out of him, though it was nothing compared to what it had done to Harry. The dark-haired boy lay crumpled on the floor across the room, seemingly lifeless.
"Shite! Shite!! Shite!!!" Ron cursed internally as he struggled to get to his feet. The invisibility cloak had managed to stay on his body, which was fortunate, since Moaning Myrtle had just flown out into the hall, screaming at the top of her voice about an attack in her bathroom. It wouldn't be long before the room was filled with concerned teachers and curious students.
Ron scrambled across the room, mindful of the gaping hole in the floor, and dropped down next to Harry. His time was limited, so he had to be as quick as he possibly could.
"I'm really sorry, Harry," Ron said to the unmoving form in front of him, "Please don't be dead, mate."
Ron gently rolled Harry over onto his back and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the other boy was still breathing. He couldn't judge any injuries Harry might possibly have, but at least he was alive. Ron could still hear Myrtle's shrill voice as she screamed her head off up-and-down the corridor, so he quickly began to rifle through Harry's robes.
"I really am sorry about all this, mate," Ron said guiltily as he searched Harry, feeling a bit like a mugger rolling a drunk, "Hopefully you'll forgive me once this is all over and you're back to normal."
Ron's search of Harry's person produced a wand and a fat money pouch loaded with galleons, but no diary. Ron frowned as he felt his stomach drop down into his shoes. He shot a glance over his shoulder at the hole in the floor. He was going to have to enter the Chamber…but not yet. He wasn't ready for that, yet.
Ron prepared to leave, once again disappointed that his efforts had come to naught. His eyes drifted to Harry's wand as he attempted to stuff it back inside the unconscious boy's robes. The wand didn't look right.
Being Harry Potter's best friend since they were eleven years old, Ron possessed a fairly extensive knowledge of what Harry's wand looked like. He couldn't tell you the wood type or the exact length…though he did know the core was a phoenix feather…but he definitely knew Harry's wand on sight; and this wasn't it. The wood looked different, and this wand was too long; it was almost as long as his own wand, in fact.
"Where did you get this wand, Harry?" Ron asked rhetorically. He didn't have time to further ponder the mysterious wand however, as he could now hear footsteps coming down the hall and Harry was beginning to stir.
Dropping the wand, Ron hurried out of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, careful to make sure the invisibility cloak kept him hidden. He threw himself behind a suit of armor and waited as a group of teachers and staff – led by Filch and Snape – made their way towards the bathroom with Moaning Myrtle floating along beside them.
"A dead boy in my bathroom," Myrtle moaned, "Someone attacked him and killed him! I don't care how cute he is…I don't want that mean boy sharing my U-bend!"
"Quiet, you!" Filch snapped as the group reached the bathroom door.
The door was pushed open, and the staff members all crowded inside the loo. Ron was about to make a break for it…to run down to the Great Hall and rejoin the student body as they ate lunch…but after being inside Myrtle's bathroom for only a few moments, the staff members exited, grumbling to each other.
"I told you we shouldn't listen to her, Professor," Filch complained as he and Snape brought up the rear, "Annoying little ghost going on and on about the dead boy in her bathroom and a large hole in the floor…when there's really nothing to be found! We should have the whole population of ghosts exorcised from within these castle walls…and Peeves with 'em!"
"That will be quite enough, Mr. Filch," Snape said disinterestedly as they walked away from Myrtle's bathroom.
The sound of Myrtle throwing a fit inside the loo could be heard out in the hall as Ron left his hiding spot. He looked perplexed as he watched the last of the Hogwarts staff turn the corner and disappear from view. They had obviously not seen Harry or the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets when they entered the lavatory. Harry had obviously regained his senses and escaped into the Chamber…sealing the entrance…before anyone could arrive.
"That was too close," Ron thought as he found a safe spot to remove the invisibility cloak and made his way down to the Great Hall. He'd taken yet another great risk and it had once again been in vain, "I should've known all along that I'd have to go down into the Chamber of Secrets."
The remainder of the week passed in sort of a fog for Ron; it was as if his body was going through the motions, but his mind was a million miles away. Before he knew it, it was Saturday night and he was once again on patrol with Hermione.
The first half of the patrol passed in awkward silence as Ron continued to dwell on his failed attempts to retrieve Riddle's diary and his eventual, inevitable journey down into the Chamber of Secrets. He hadn't noticed any of the significant looks that Hermione had given him, and her few attempts at small-talk to help pass the time were met with either one-word answers or grunts of acknowledgement.
It wasn't until they had an encounter with Peeves the Poltergeist that Ron finally pulled himself out of the fugue state he'd been in for the last two days. Of course, it took a water balloon to the face to bring Ron around, but bring him around, it did. He was drenched from head-to-foot and as he glanced over at Hermione, it was obvious that she was holding back a laugh. Peeves, once he'd had his fun, flew off while reciting a dirty limerick.
"You look like Crookshanks the last time I gave him a bath," Hermione said, unable to hold back her laughter anymore.
"Thanks a lot," Ron grumbled, narrowing his eyes at her.
"Are you alright?" she asked, getting her laughter under control.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, pushing his soaking wet hair up out of his face, "It's just a little water."
Hermione used her wand to siphon off the excess water and then cast a drying charm on Ron, earning her a nod and a smile of gratitude and appreciation from the redhead.
"Actually," Hermione said, starting to blush and look down at her shoes nervously, "I meant in more general terms. You've been acting strange…even for you…ever since my birthday. I thought maybe you regretted giving me the otter…"
"Oh…err…no," Ron said, shaking his head, "That's not it. I've just had a lot on my mind."
"Really?" Hermione seemed to be fighting back a smirk…though not very successfully.
"It has happened before," Ron replied, feigning a disgruntled frown.
"Problems with Quidditch?" she asked curiously.
Ron rolled his eyes. "There are other things in life besides Quidditch, you know."
"Who are you, and what have you done with Ron Weasley?" Hermione asked in mock surprise.
"Funny," Ron replied dryly.
"Well, if it's not Quidditch, then what is it…or is it something you can't tell me…again?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Hermione…" he said warningly.
"Does it maybe have something to do with why Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore won't punish you for setting off dungbombs in the Slytherin common room?" she was rubbing her chin like she was trying to figure out a difficult Arithmantic equation.
"Can we please just drop it, Hermione?" Ron pleaded, knowing this would all just lead to yet another row between them.
"I don't understand why they wouldn't punish you," Hermione continued unabated, "Unless you had some sort of dirt on them and were threatening to expose their secrets."
"Hermione, please…"
"But, I can't imagine that being the case," she rattled on, "Not only can I not see them knuckling under to blackmail, I can't see you sinking low enough to blackmail someone in the first place. I mean, you're many things…but blackmail is something a Slytherin would do…and you're no Slytherin."
"Err…thanks…I think."
"Don't get me wrong," she said, qualifying her statement, "You're lazy, deceitful, temperamental, stubborn, and even cruel sometimes…"
"Thanks a lot," Ron said acerbically, frowning at the list of negative qualities she'd attributed to him.
"But," she continued, "I reckon there's a reason you were sorted into Gryffindor…and not just because your whole family's been sorted into the same house for forever."
"Such as?" he prompted.
"Well," Hermione began wringing her hands, as though she was nervous or embarrassed to continue, "You're funny and have a quick wit and you're amazing at chess…which shows that you are smart as long as you're applying yourself to something you enjoy. You've been Neville's best friend since First Year, even though other people – Gryffindors included – make fun of him…so you're obviously loyal. You never back down from Malfoy and his goons, even when you're outnumbered…so you're brave; reckless…but brave. And…to be completely honest…you've also showed me that you can be nice…even sweet…when you want to be."
"Oh, really?" Ron said, grinning broadly and making Hermione blush deeply, "How so?"
"How are you sweet?" she asked incredulously, "You expect me to give you a list?"
"Why not?"
Hermione glared at him. "Mind you, none of this talk of you being sweet is based on your current behavior."
"Fair enough," he said, continuing to grin broadly.
"Well…" she hesitated, wringing her hands more fervently, clearly embarrassed by the current line of discussion, "You rescued Crookshanks after he was stuck in a toilet by the Slytherins…even though you really don't like him. You've stood up for me when the Slytherins have picked on me…even though you really don't like me. And when everyone closest to me got me books or quills or something they wanted to see me wear for my birthday, you got me something that reminds me of the time I used to spend with my grandfather…even though there's absolutely no reason you should've gotten me a present in the first place."
"And that's how I'm sweet?" he asked, continuing to beam at her. He was enjoying hearing her say nice things about him for once, and he wanted to bask in her compliments…even if it did grate on Hermione a bit. Of course, teasing her and annoying her made it that much more enjoyable…and reminded him of home a great deal.
"Don't let it go to your head," she grumbled, folding her arms across her chest and glowering at him, "You're also irresponsible, unable or unwilling to follow the rules…not exactly attributes one wants to find in a prefect…and you're a prat."
"Oh, so I'm a prat, now?" he asked, smirking. Winding up this Hermione was almost as much fun as winding up his Hermione.
"No…not just now," she said spitefully, "You're usually a prat!"
"And yet," he said, continuing to tease her, "You, yourself, admitted that you think I'm sweet."
"Well, I've been wrong before," she replied grumpily, turning to walk away.
"Not you, 'Mione; you're never wrong," he said, moving to keep pace with her.
"What did you say?!" Hermione turned to face him so quick that Ron had to step back, startled.
"Err…I said 'you're never wrong'?" Ron answered, wondering how that could have possibly been the wrong thing to say.
"What did call me?" she asked, furrowing her brows at him.
"Err…" he couldn't remember what he had called her; he hadn't been thinking about it. Did he call her 'Hermione' or…?
"Did you call me ''Mione'?"
"Err…" Ron's eyes widened as he realized what he'd done. They had slipped into lighthearted bantering so easily that it was so easy to think of this Hermione as his Hermione…it was so easy to slip and call her ''Mione'.
"That's not the first time you've done that, either," she said, giving him a strange look.
"It isn't?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly. He honestly couldn't remember using that nickname with her before, but he often spoke without thinking, so it wasn't exactly impossible to imagine. "I'm really --…"
"Why do you call me that?" Hermione asked, her expression unreadable.
"I don't know…it's just a nickname," Ron said shrugging, "I mean, you said it, yourself…I'm lazy; I reckon sometimes it's just easier to shorten your name."
"Don't you think it's a bit too familiar for a nickname?" she asked, "Considering we barely know each other. I mean…it's almost like you're saying 'mine'."
"Oh…err…" he couldn't help stammering and blushing at her words; his Hermione had never called him out on the meaning behind the nickname before…she just let him get away with it unless she was mad at him, and then she just marked it down to him being too lazy to say her full name. She'd never confronted him about the deeper meaning, and he liked it that way; thinking about the deeper meaning meant confronting feelings he wasn't sure he was allowed to have about his best friend.
"I don't think my boyfriend would like you calling me that," she said in a small voice, looking away from him.
"Your boyfriend…of course," Ron said flatly, frowning. She had to go and ruin it. They were having an enjoyable conversation – at least, he was enjoying it – and then she had to go and bring Krum into it. "So, how is darling Vicky?"
"Don't call him that!" Hermione snapped angrily, turning to glare at him, "His name is Viktor, and if you can't refer to him as such, then I have nothing further to say to you."
"Fine," Ron replied acidly.
The patrol resumed in silence and nearly half-an-hour passed before either of them spoke again; despite her earlier assurance that she had nothing further to say to him, it was Hermione who broke the silence.
"I don't understand why you don't like him," she said softly, as though she were afraid that yelling would ensue, "Neville said you used to idolize him."
"Things change," he replied flatly, keeping his eyes straight ahead.
"But what caused it to change?" she asked desperately, "I know you lost money by gambling on the Triwizard Tournament; is that why you don't like Viktor…because you lost money betting on him?"
"I don't want to talk about it," he said brusquely, continuing to avoid looking at her.
"I used to think you didn't like him because he was my boyfriend," Hermione said, "Because you hated me. But Neville assured me that's not the case."
"I don't hate you, if that's what you mean; far from it, in fact. I wish you and…err…I…had been friends all these years." Ron replied, wanting to talk about anything other than her relationship with Viktor-sodding-Krum.
"Oh, now you don't expect me to believe that, now do you?" she scoffed, "You hated me in First Year…you called me a nightmare!"
"I remember…believe me. Did I ever apologize to you for that…for calling you a nightmare and nearly getting you killed?" he asked, finally looking at her. He couldn't remember if any of the other Ron's memories featured an apology to Hermione.
"I…I don't think so," she said, clearly surprised by the remorseful tone in his voice.
"I really was a tosser back then," Ron said, clearly meaning the other Ron, "I know it's four years too late, but I really am sorry, Hermione."
"I…err…apology accepted," Hermione said, smiling shyly, "You really do like to confuse me, don't you?"
"How do you mean?" he asked, feeling a bit confused, himself.
"You…this…" she replied, waving her hands in an all-encompassing motion, "You rescue my cat, you're nice to me, you give me a very sweet gift…and yet you want to keep everything about yourself a secret – including your reasons for hating my boyfriend – and when I push you to tell me, you get angry and start yelling at me."
"Isn't there anything about yourself that you don't want other people to know about?" he asked.
"I suppose," she said, nodding, "But nothing so interesting that it somehow involves the headmaster and our Potions professor."
"So, you admit it…you are nosy," he chuckled.
"I prefer to think of myself as curious, thank you very much," she said in a very haughty voice, though her grin lessened the effect considerably, "Besides, as a duly-appointed Gryffindor prefect, I need to keep apprised of any potential rule-breaking committed by members of my house."
"So, I should tell you ahead of time when I plan on breaking the rules?" he laughed.
"That would be nice, yes," she said, nodding, "If I were forewarned, then perhaps I would be able to talk you out of it."
"Not bloody likely!"
"Language, Ronald."
Ron smiled at the familiar scolding from Hermione. This really felt like home to Ron.
"Why would I want to let you talk me out of breaking the rules?" he asked, grinning lopsidedly, "Where's the fun in that?"
"Fun? You're a prefect!" she exclaimed, "It's your job to set an example for the other students…especially the younger ones."
"You really do sound like Percy, you know that?" he said snidely, cutting his eyes at her.
"Your brother? I'll take that as a compliment," she responded, "I always admired your brother."
"That prat?!" Ron exclaimed, unable to believe his ears, "Why would anybody admire him?!"
"Maybe because he's smart and responsible and went on to become head boy," Hermione said, completely serious, "Plus…didn't he go on to a successful position in the Ministry?"
Ron snorted derisively. "Oh, sure…Percy's success means everything to him. You do realize that you idolize a bloke who went on to disown his own family, insult his father, and break his mother's heart…all in the name of his successful career."
Hermione's eyes widened as Ron finished his rant. "I had no idea…Ginny never said --…wait. If Percy is alienated from the family, why does he correspond with Ginny? She got a letter from him just the other day…"
Now it was Ron's eyes' turn to grow wide. He'd screwed up again. He assumed that, if his Percy was a power-hungry prat who cared more about his career than his family, that this Percy must be one, too. But this was a different world…a different Percy. Ron's mouth opened and closed as he tried to think of what to say while Hermione continued to look at him expectantly.
Before Ron could come up with a believable excuse for his gaffe concerning Percy, Hermione cocked her head to the side as if listening for something. She then began waving her hands at him frantically before putting a single finger to her own lips in a hushing motion.
"Shhh!" she hissed, "I hear something!"
Their patrol had taken them to the western portion of the castle, and they were now standing at the foot of the staircase leading up into the owlery.
"What is it?" Ron asked in a whisper.
"I think someone's up in the owlery," Hermione said, looking up the winding steps towards the top of the tower, "I'm sure I heard a voice."
"Maybe they just needed to send a letter," he said, shrugging as he followed her lead and looked up the steps.
Hermione frowned. "Well then, they should have done it before curfew started," she replied in a voice that was strict and authoritative despite being spoken in a whisper, "We can't just let everyone go who breaks the rules, Ron."
Ron rolled his eyes and before he could say another word, Hermione had her wand out in front of her and she was climbing the steps of the West Tower towards the owlery. Sighing, Ron began climbing the steps alongside her, knowing an argument about his responsibilities as a prefect would ensue if he allowed her to go it alone.
The two prefects remained as quiet as they could when they reached the owlery. Yes, they assumed it was just someone sending off some owl-post after hours, but they had to be sure. It could be a couple of students looking for a secluded place to snog…or, it could be a group of mischief-makers playing tricks…or, it could be Ron's little sister sobbing heartbrokenly as she sat amidst the old straw, owl-droppings, and rodent bones in the middle of the floor.
To say that Ron had not been expecting to find Ginny in the owlery would have been a severe understatement. He froze in his tracks, unsure of what he should do. Had it not been for Hermione standing there next to him, it's very likely that Ron would have turned on his heel and left Ginny to her misery.
"You need to talk to her," Hermione whispered, nudging him with her elbow.
"What? Why me?" Ron asked, keeping his voice low.
"She's your sister," she reminded him, "Besides, she won't tell me or Neville what's wrong; she keeps telling us 'it's a family matter'. What is wrong, anyway?"
"You heard her: it's a family matter," he said brusquely. There was no way he could explain this to Hermione without telling her everything.
"Fine," she sighed resignedly, "Since you won't tell me either, you go deal with your sister and I'll finish up our patrol."
"Hermione…"
"Goodbye, Ron."
Ron sighed in frustration as Hermione turned on the spot and descended the tower steps. He was fairly sure he had hurt her feelings by keeping yet another secret from her, but this was not something he could tell her, whether he wanted to or not. The winding staircase took her quickly out of sight and soon the sound of her footsteps disappeared into the distance.
Ron took a deep breath and turned back around, watching Ginny. There was nothing he could do to fix the situation between himself and Hermione right now, but he could attempt to clear the air between himself and Ginny. He did tell the twins he would talk to her, after all.
Even though he knew he needed to talk to her, still he hesitated. Ron had been avoiding this particular confrontation ever since he arrived…ever since Dumbledore Borrowed him. He couldn't keep avoiding her, though; Hermione and Neville and Luna had already started asking questions…it was only a matter of time before others did, as well. He knew it would make things simpler if he just got it out of the way…no matter how painful it was going to be.
Standing in the doorway in silence, Ron watched Ginny call down the little grey owl – his owl – expecting to see her sending off a letter; instead, she started talking to the bird in a sad, broken voice. She was talking too quietly for Ron to hear what she was saying, but her sorrow was evident as she sat there stroking the owl lovingly.
The little grey puffball of feathers hooted excitedly, as she talked to it, nipping at her fingers in an affectionate way. She laughed despite her tears and planted a gentle kiss on the crown of the bird's head.
She continued talking softly too the owl, only stopping when her tears overcame her. Ron could see her whole body shaking from the mournful sobs that were wracking her body. He wasn't much for emotional displays – angry outbursts, notwithstanding – but right then, all he wanted to do was reach out and give her a cuddle…to comfort her. But he knew that he couldn't…he couldn't just walk in and grab her; she'd have a fit and would very likely hex him for his efforts.
It took several minutes for Ginny to compose herself, but once she did she went right on talking to the little owl. She sniffed again and Ron watched her wipe away her tears with her free hand. The girl broke down again, and his instinct to rush in and comfort her nearly got the better of him; he took a step into the room before stopping himself.
The grief-stricken girl broke down once again, collapsing into a heap as the great, heaving sobs overtook her body. The tiny owl flew up and landed on her shoulder, chewing on her long, coppery strands of hair. It was too much for him; he could remain silent no longer.
"Gin…" Ron said softly, moving slowly into the owlery, trying not to startle her.
"GET OUT!!" Ginny shrieked when she realized who it was that had invaded her private moment, "Get away from me!"
"Gin-Gin, please…"
"Don't you call me that, you imposter!" she shouted, pulling herself to her feet and backing away from him, "Don't you ever call me that!"
"Fine…Ginny…there; better?
"No, it's not better, you idiot!" she screamed, "Nothing will ever be better again! You may've tricked the twins into accepting you, but I never will!!"
No doubt confused and frightened by all the shouting and the appearance of the beloved master he thought was dead, Pigwidgeon took to the air and began flying excited circles around the heads of the two redheads.
"Ginny, I know that nothing will ever be the same for you, and I'm sorry," Ron said, taking slow, measured steps towards her, "Believe me…I wish things were different. I wish your brother hadn't died and I hadn't been brought here…and I really wish I wasn't a source of constant pain for you and your family. I mean, think about it…we're all Weasleys…any pain I cause any of you, it's like I'm hurting my own family."
"Then why don't you just leave?" she said bitterly, "Go back where you belong and leave us to our misery in peace!"
"I can't do that, Gin; you know I can't," he said, stepping closer, "I can't leave until I complete this mission that Dumbledore laid out in front of me. And every time someone gets suspicious about why my 'family' is treating me like a bloody outcast, it makes my mission that much harder."
"So what do you expect us to do, 'Ron'?!" Ginny snapped, glaring at him, "You want us to throw our arms around you and weep for joy? 'Who cares about our dead brother? We've got this passable replacement who will be buggering off just as soon as his mission's finished.'"
"Gin…"
"I WANT MY BROTHER BACK!!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, tears pouring down her cheeks. Ginny started to wobble and looked to be about to collapse again. Ron was across the floor and had her gathered up in a cuddle before she could protest.
"I know you do, Gin," Ron said in his most comforting voice, "I'm so sorry, Gin-Gin."
"I want my brother, Ronnie," Ginny sobbed, burying her face in Ron's chest, her tears soaking his robes, "I loved him so much and I never told him!"
"I know…he knew…" he said, holding her tight. Ron was rubbish with crying girls – especially crying Hermiones – but Ginny wasn't a girl; she was his sister, and he had years of practice with crying Ginnys. "I'll tell you a secret about us Ron Weasleys, Gin: we may not act like it all the time, and we may never actually say it, but we love our little sisters like nobody else on the planet."
The two Weasleys held each other tightly while Ginny released her grief into the surprisingly absorbent folds of Ron's robes. It was several minutes before either one of them spoke again.
"Do…do you miss her?" Ginny asked, looking up at Ron with red, puffy eyes and a runny nose, "Your Ginny, I mean."
"Yeah, I do," Ron nodded, leaning down to plant a gentle kiss on the top of her head, "I miss everybody…well…maybe not Percy."
"I…I hope you get back there soon," she sniffed, "She's probably out of her mind with worry…they all are, I bet."
"If I get back," he said, trying not to dwell on the fact that there was no guarantee he'd complete his mission – especially with the danger of going down into the Chamber of Secrets, "I expect to be on the receiving end of one Hell of a Bat Bogey Hex."
Ginny laughed in spite of herself and hugged him tighter, "You deserve it for making her worry."
"Well then," Ron said with a sardonic smirk, "Someone should be sure to lay one on Dumbledore, since he got me into this."
"I'll get right on it," she said before burying her face in his chest again.
They grew quiet once more as they stood there, holding each other. A soft chuckle escaped Ron's lips as Pigwidgeon landed atop his head and began tugging lovingly at his red locks.
"I missed you, too, you barmy bird."
Pig hooted happily as Ron once more settled into silence. It was Ginny who broke the silence this time.
"Ronnie?"
"Yeah, Gin?"
"I'll do whatever I can to help you…you know…with your mission," she said softly.
"You don't need to do that," he replied, "But thank you."
"Ronnie?"
"Yeah, Gin?"
"I love you."
"I love you, too, Gin-Gin."
Things started to look up for Ron after his confrontation with Ginny in the owlery. At breakfast the next day, he took up his usual lonely position at the end of the Gryffindor table and had just taken his first bite of a bacon sarnie when, for the fourth time that week, he was joined unexpectedly.
He looked up as Ginny plopped down across from him and began piling food on her plate, tossing him a knowing wink. Neville sat down next to her and beamed brightly at him as he, too, began gathering food on his plate. The capper was when Hermione took the seat directly to Ron's left and carefully began assembling a healthy balanced breakfast of fruit and toast onto her plate.
His mouth gaped open in surprise at the new arrivals and Ginny clucked her tongue at him as she started digging into her eggs.
"Eww! Merlin's boots, Ron…close your mouth when you eat," she scolded him with a smile on her face, "Nobody needs to see that."
Bemused by the sudden company, Ron closed his mouth and resumed eating. He looked further up the Gryffindor table to find Fred and George smiling encouragingly at him. He nodded in their direction before moving his gaze up to the staff table. He was surprised to see that, for the first time in a long time, Dumbledore was seated at his spot at the high table.
Before Ron could ponder the implications of the headmaster finally returning to the Great Hall at mealtime, students started looking up excitedly as the air was filled with owls delivering the daily post.
A brown owl landed next to him with Hermione's copy of the Daily Prophet, which she hurriedly paid for and spread out before her. She hadn't spoken to him since sitting down, or smiled at him, or acknowledged him in any way…obviously still sore at him from last night. Even though it annoyed him that Hermione wasn't talking to him, it gave him a sense of satisfaction that she was, at least, sitting with him.
Ron hadn't gotten one piece of post since arriving in this dimension, and he didn't expect today to be any different. However, as he continued to devour his bacon sandwich, he suddenly found himself being perched upon by an excitedly hooting little grey puffball of an owl. Before Ron could reach up and grab Pig off the top of his head, the little owl hopped down and landed on his plate, extending his leg towards Ron expectantly.
Sharing a confused look with Ginny, Ron reached over and removed the rolled up piece of parchment that was tied to the owl's tiny leg.
"Who would --…?" Ginny began, looking at Ron.
"No idea," Ron said, cutting her off.
He quickly unrolled the parchment and read the short note. His stomach dropped at the same time an excited tingle of anticipation raced up his spine. The note was unsigned, but as he looked quickly up at the staff table, Ron didn't need a signature to know who it was from.
Meet me tonight at 7:00. The password is "Cockroach Cluster". Be careful what you wish for.
Author's End Notes: And there you have it. Hopefully some of you enjoyed that. In two weeks, Ron gets his chance to see what's been happening back home. See you then!