Silence froze the room as Arthur and Harry left through the door. It cracked not a moment later when Ron whipped around to look at Hermione, chair creaking with the sudden movement.

"Bloody hell, 'Mione! Can't you take a hint?" he fumed, ears and neck burning as bright as his hair. The others around the table seemed stunned at his outburst, more vehement than usual even when arguing with Hermione. Ron didn't have eyes for anyone else, however, as his gaze locked firmly on his friend next to him.

Hermione was still sitting unnaturally straight in her chair, shoulders as tense as they had been just moments earlier. "Of course, you're taking his side." She pushed a stray curl from her face. "The two of you, I swear! Not an ounce of common sense to be shared."

"Oh, and you think you're so great?" Run scolded back, leaning across the now empty seat between them. "You know how he is with other people and you sure as hell know he didn't want to talk about it. Why do you always keep pushing?"

Hermione's entire body jerked forward towards him. "You agree with me!" she yelped. "You just said..."

"I was telling him not to yell at you, that's not the same –"

"We've discussed this, Ronald! If he doesn't get it together –"

"—forcing him to bloody announce it to the whole table? Did you see his napkin?"

"Did you see his hand?! It's not –"

A sharp whistle had Hermione and Ron turning to look across the table. "What?!" they both spat.

Bill lowered his hands from his mouth to stare at the two of them, red in the face and still panting from their yelling. "What," he started slowly, "the ever-loving fuck is going on?"

That certainly got Mrs. Weasley's attention. "Bill!" she sputtered. "Language!"

Bill shot her a quick apologetic smile. "Sorry Mom, but you've seen how those two can be. Got to stop them before they get too far in." Neither of the teenagers in question looked too bothered by the jab from Bill, both still fuming in their seats.

Mrs. Weasley had reached her limit. "Enough of this, all of you." Hands on the chair backs, she drew Ron and Hermione's attention back to her. "An explanation. Now." When no explanation seemed to come from either of them her hands found her waist as her fingers tapped along to her impatience.

"Well," Ron began, "it's not really for us to tell." He glanced back at Hermione again, this time in warning until she nodded along in agreement.

"Harry is talking to your father right now, so go ahead and share with the rest of us what all this ruckus was about."

That garnered a short burst of laughter across the table, as Ginny and the twins shared looks with the remainder of the trio. "Sure," Ginny drawled. "Harry is definitely telling Dad everything."

"Right," George agreed. "You know him—"

"A right natural chatterbox, that one." Fred added.

"We really can't ever get him to stop talking about himself." George finished with an exaggerated flourish.

Ron could see that the rest of the table was following the kids' discussion closely but in clear confusion. Emmeline and Hestia kept trading glances while across the table Tonks' features had settled into something quite ordinary as she focused her attention on the twins and Ginny. But it was Sirius that Ron's eyes darted to. After all, Sirius was the one that Harry had been trying so hard to keep protected from this conversation. He'd spent actual hours arguing with Hermione about it, always ending in tense silences and moody meals. And looking at the man now, Ron was starting to understand why.

Time in Grimmuald Place had not suited Sirius well. Despite his holiday cheer he still bore the look of someone haunted, with dark circles under his eyes almost as glaringly visible as his godson's. And now those sharp eyes were trained on Lupin across the way, confusion, frustration, and some other emotion Ron couldn't quite place warring across his features. He was a far cry from the man who had sung 'God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs' while pouring fake snow down the stairs just hours ago.

Lupin's hand still gripped Sirius's forearm and he seemed to be trying to have a silent conversation with the other man. It rather reminded Ron of the way he and Harry communicated in class – silent but clear, a language only between the two of them. It was one of the few things that truly annoyed Hermione sometimes, frustrated as she missed jumps in their conversations. She was never one who liked to feel un-informed. Ron thought that would make her more understanding towards Harry this year but, apparently, the similarities were lost on his two friends.

In fact, glancing back at Hermione while Mrs. Weasley tried to reign the twins back in, recently the two of them never seemed to stop fighting. And really, that was more his and Hermione's relationship. He could tell that the arguments were weighing on both of them, but the stress just had them digging their heels in further. Ron had developed a much larger respect for Harry's pool of patience as he took on the role of mediator in their trio.

He knew that Harry and Hermione's friendship had changed, grown to exist without him in between since the fight before the First Task. And that was good, healthy even as Ginny liked to remind him. The same had happened to him and Hermione this year with Harry always in detention. Ron understood that Hermione was Harry's one constant; she had never once wavered in her support of him, even when Ron did. And while Ron could trounce Hermione in chess, follow along with her jumps of logic, and make her laugh, it was Harry who truly understood her. She always said it was something about them both growing up without siblings – kindred spirits or some phrase like that.

And, really, the two of them were much more alike than they thought. Stubborn, passionate, and

fierce in their determination to protect the other over themselves. What he wouldn't give to bash their heads together and tell them to just make-up already –

"What is he hiding from us, Ron?"

Ron snapped back at the question, finding Hermione looking at him with a questioning expression. The rest of the table had turned their gaze to him as he moved to face Lupin. Slowly, Ron swallowed and answered. "He really doesn't want us to talk with you lot about it."

"We did catch that piece, yes," Lupin responded, a gentle smile on his face. Ron felt he'd been transported back to his third year as Lupin began to calmly coax information out of him. "But this seems to have grown a bit too big to ignore, don't you think? Perhaps we can start small with you just telling us what was on his hand?"

That seemed to drag Hermione back in to the conversation. "Small?" she laughed bitterly. "That answer is the center which this whole discussion revolves around, sir." Even with a voice full of venom, Hermione couldn't seem to refrain from referring to their former professor by an honorific. She turned back to Ron. "I won't lie about it, Ron. That isn't protecting him and I won't let him get hurt anymore. I won't."

And that was the crux of the issue for Hermione, wasn't it? She couldn't bear to stand by while anyone was in pain, let alone her Harry. And, truth be told, it hurt Ron as well to see Harry like this. Sitting here, watching the desperation etched into Hermione's features, knowing that Harry was safe upstairs for now, but he wouldn't be when they went back to Hogwarts... Well, maybe he agreed that this time, just this time, telling the truth was the best way to support his best mate.

With a sigh he turned back to Lupin and Sirius, neither of whom had stopped staring at him. "It's Umbridge."

Hermione's relief was almost palpable as she sank down in her chair, shoulders finally loosening. The words came flowing out of her now that Ron had made the first step across their invisible cone of silence. "She's a monster, truly. She has him in detention for the littlest things and, you know Harry, he can't stand hypocrisy at the best of times and especially not now with the Prophet nonsense. And she is so cruel, goading him every lesson. And the detentions!" Here Hermione let out a groan so loud, so loaded with frustration that Mrs. Weasley laid a hand on her shoulder out of concern. "She keeps him with her for hours, until midnight at the earliest. So, he's behind on homework, so he doesn't sleep, so he's snappy, so he gets another detention. And he doesn't talk about them, not even to complain, but I am certain that woman is being just as verbally abusive as she is –" She clamped her mouth shut as she turned back to Ron, needing but unwilling to break this pact with Harry. Hermione was the one always prioritizing safety and dealing with the fallout. Ron figured it was his turn to take the heat.

"As she is what?" growled Sirius. Eyes wild and fists clenched, the look he was giving Hermione was rather terrifying and reminiscent of his many 'Wanted' posters. Ron shifted to draw his attention away from her.

"She has this quill," he started. And apparently those were the only words he needed to say for most of the table to catch up. Sirius swore and stormed away from the table in a fury, Lupin's grasp having gone limp while Tonks hair grew an alarming shade of red.

Ron felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and he turned to look up at his mother who still looked confused and extremely concerned. "Hermione says it's called a blood quill," he continued, rushing on. "They're used for contracts or something? Only she has him write the same line over and over

during every detention." Mrs. Weasley's other hand had moved to cover her mouth and her grip tightened on his shoulder.

The rest of the Order, even those who didn't normally engage with the teens, joined the room's righteous anger. "They are also very illegal," Kingsley spoke from next to Moody, whose magical eye seemed to be permanently trained on the ceiling.

"And painful," Hestia added, rubbing her own hand. "I had to use one at Gringotts and it burned like the dickens."

A bottle crashing in the kitchen alerted them to Sirius' new location. "Padfoot." Lupin got out, voice seemingly caught in his throat. "What did it say?" was all he got in reply.

It took Ron a minute to realize the question was directed at him, as he was too busy looking at Lupin, who somehow sounded more devastated than Sirius but looked as calm as he always had. Hermione gave him a gentle nudge.

"Oh, uhm, like what did Harry have to write?" At the rather vicious eye roll from Sirius, he continued. "He had to write 'I must not tell lies.'"

Another glass smashed as one of the twins let out a low whistle. "I didn't know that's what he had to write. Little too on the nose."

And his brother was right. Ron often thought that it was the indignity of the phrase permanently carved into his skin that affected Harry more than the pain or sleepless nights.

Mrs. Weasley had caught the undertone of her son's statement. "You knew about this too?!"

With a quick glance George took over, "Well, Freddie and I have had a detention or two as well. We had an idea of what Harry was dealing with, even if he didn't tell us outright."

This was a little too much for Mrs. Weasley, who finally left her station behind Harry's empty chair and began to question her sons, demanding to see their hands. Another glass hit the floor as Lupin finally made his way around the table to where Sirius was raging in the kitchen.

With the secret now out in the open, Ron was left feeling a bit unmoored. Hermione's hand tight around his wrist meant she was feeling less grounded than she would like as well. The room dissolved into unmitigated chaos as they held each other steady, snippets of conversations overlapping around them.

The chaos quickly came back to order through a rather unexpected means. Ginny's laughter, sudden, cold, and nothing like her normal carefree sound, rang across the room. It was bitter and harsh, ending abruptly as the others drew silent.

Her dark eyes peered into the kitchen. "You're kidding, right?" she asked. Feeling like he missed something crucial, Ron kept examining his sister as her glare strengthened.

"Sirius just asked why Harry didn't say anything to them," Ginny directed at Ron, as if she knew he was lost. "And I repeat, you must be kidding. There is no way you think he would have actually, willingly, told any of you this information. Least of all the two of you."

Ron couldn't bring himself to turn around and see how that statement had landed. He forgot

sometimes that, out of all his siblings, Ginny knew how to land the hardest punch.

"Ginevra –"

"Do not 'Ginevra' me, Mum." she spoke, focus never leaving the two men in the kitchen. "I am genuinely asking if everyone here is so clueless as to not have any idea as to why Harry wouldn't even tell them if he was dying of dragon pox." Ginny clearly wasn't happy with the lack of response that statement received and she pulled herself up straighter in her chair. "Shall I enlighten you all?" she snarked.

Lupin stepped forward, a hand still on Sirius' shoulder. "Ginny, this is different. This is about Harry's safety..."

"Oh, is it? I hadn't noticed. I thought the open wound was just for funsies." Remus jumped in, "Don't make light..."

Ginny gave a cold laugh again, "I'm not. Quite the opposite really." She spared a glance at Ron and Hermione before continuing. "Those two have already broken Harry's confidence enough. We won't get anything else out of them tonight."

Ron shrugged in agreement, closing his hand over Hermione's as he followed Ginny's lead with interest. He wasn't sure where this was headed, but he had the feeling that the adults around him were going to get a tongue-lashing that even Harry could appreciate.

Tossing her hair out of her face impatiently, Ginny glanced around the whole table. "Harry is a stubborn arse –"

"Ginevra."

"—well, he is. And he has no idea how to communicate with other humans. And Merlin knows he doesn't have a lick of self-preservation. But he didn't just happen into these traits. Why on earth would he trust you all with this when every adult that has ever been entrusted with his safety has failed spectacularly?"

"That's a bit unfair," Tonks finally spoke up, staring worryingly at her cousin.

"Is it? Let me provide some examples then," Ginny countered. "Most obviously, read the Prophet. Or perhaps consider the literal death tournament he was forced to compete in last year."

"Or fake Mad-Eye," George chimed while Moody let out a snort of agreement. "Or the whole 'Heir of Slytherin' bit,"

"Or Professor Quirrell who was trying to help You-Know-Who,"

"Should we even mention Snape, or is that obvious?"

"The Dursleys." Ron added, surprising even himself.

Ginny's gaze softened as she looked at her brother. "I don't think any of us have the emotional bandwidth to get into the clusterfuck that is the Dursleys and their disastrous effect on Harry today, but, nonetheless, a perfect example of my point." Her stance grew firm again as she looked back towards Sirius and Lupin. "So, no, Harry has never been given any proof that adults will prioritize his safety, not even when he asks them too. Don't you dare place the blame on him for not

reaching out – you all are just as much at fault."

Ron finally gained the courage to turn and take in Sirius and Lupin. Lupin was expressionless as he stared at Ginny. And Sirius...well, he looked as if Ginny had told him the world was ending that evening. "I," Sirius started, and it was almost painful for Ron to hear his voice, so hoarse and full of emotion, "I would have done something."

Ginny's mouth quirked pityingly. "Yes, you probably would have. And, if I had to guess, that is exactly why he kept it from you." At this she turned to Ron again, seeking confirmation. He was impressed by Ginny's insight – since when had she developed such a clear understanding of the convolution that was Harry's thought process?

"She's right," Hermione spoke softly. "It's the opposite with you. With you he's so terrified that you will do something, without thinking, and end up getting hurt. And Harry...oh Harry just cannot lose you too, Sirius. You mean too much to him. So, he doesn't...he doesn't tell you."

Silence rang around the room again as Ginny and Hermione's statements sunk in. But Ron couldn't leave it there. They'd gone this far and he had to make sure they understood.

"All of you keep telling us how much you care about Harry. But you never, geez," he brushed a hand roughly through his hair. "You never tell him that. He has no idea, and you all, you have no idea the absolute shit he has had to go through because you don't listen when he does speak, and... and" Ron trailed off, turning to Hermione. "He just... he just deserves so much better and he doesn't even know it."

It was a testament to how shocked they were that Mrs. Weasley didn't reprimand Ron for his language. They sat like this for a minute until the grandfather clock chimed in the other hall, rousing the room.

Mrs. Weasley wiped her eyes with her apron and then turned her attention on the teens. "Thank you for telling us, but I think it's time for you all to head upstairs so we can talk. This goes for the two of you as well, Fred, George." For once, the group went rather silently, as Ron let Hermione lead them out of the room. They knew they'd all be re-gathering in Harry and Ron's room to debrief anyway. And as they headed up the stairs, he could only hope that the secrets they had shared would be worth it. Ron wasn't sure he could ever look Harry in the eye again if, after all of this, he still had to sit through another detention with Umbridge.