Chapter 4
The bathroom door didn't creak. Ron had always suspected it was so that his parents wouldn't be kept awake at all hours of the night. At this particular moment however, he was absolutely sure that it was simply because fate had a sick sense of humour.
One of his brothers stood there in green pyjamas and white socks as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
Fred Weasley stood half-asleep in the hallway.
Ron froze and stared.
Logically he had realised that Fred would still be alive. When he saw the bite but no scar from ill-timed fireworks; he had known that he would have to face him eventually. That he would have to face his whole family; none of them scarred or aged or changed in the ways he remembered them to be. But he had hoped to avoid it for a few hours at least. To have time to adjust to it, to prepare and be more in control.
Tears welled up in his eyes and Fred's image became blurry.
Fred…
Young and whole and alive…
How was he supposed to deal with this?
For Merlin's sake he had only just confirmed that he was a skinny little kid again. Now he had to face his long dead brother? Was this hell?
"What? Hmm, Ron?" Fred seemed to wake up fully all at once.
Ron couldn't think. He just walked forward and hugged Fred as close as his skinny arms could, crying quietly into his shoulder.
"Ron?" Two hands came up and held his shoulders. "What is it, Ronniekins? Did you have a bad dream?"
He ignored the slight taunt and just cried harder. He had forgotten how gentle Fred could be. For all his sharp words and jests Fred was always so delicate when it came to actually touching any of them.
There were murmurs above his head and then a second pair of hands were on his waist, tugging him softly away. Ron didn't trust himself to speak and he wouldn't know what to say anyway. He looked up and let George pull him away instead.
Ron felt lost and adrift. For so long he had been battling under the weight of his realisation. With only and endless and exhausting search to turn to, one that took everything he could give; yet yielded nothing. He had constantly felt the strain; the enormous ever growing weight that made every day and every breath harder. The deep hollow pain that went straight through his soul as he watched all the things he loved fade away. And now…
Now that weight was gone.
Lifted from him. It was exhilarating and terrifying. He was off balance and entirely lost in a familiar place. He knew exactly where he was. He could feel his brothers holding on to him. But it all seemed so strange and unfamiliar. Nothing was as he knew it, he wasn't even as he knew himself. Why was he here? What was he supposed to do here?
He knew George was right there, having a quiet nonverbal conversation with Fred. How long had it been since he had seen them do that? How many years since it had been a possibility?
The twins seemed to be having quite a debate, but Ron just stayed clinging to whichever one was nearest. He didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. He didn't know what to do or how to deal with the emotions crashing down on him; so he just cried quietly. Letting it out and knowing that his brothers were there and could take care of him for a bit.
At some point a decision must have been made, but Ron was already sagging with exhaustion and he was not paying attention anymore either. He just held on to them and stayed where he was. Even when George leaned forward and picked him up, or when Fred wrapped them all in a blanket. Ron just held in tightly and let himself drift off to sleep; he would deal with tomorrow when it came.
He felt grateful and daunted and happy and sad and pleased and upset and entirely overwhelmed. His tears felt endless and wasn't even sure when he fell asleep. George was shushing him like they did when he was small and Fred seemed to be saying something, but he couldn't make it out.
He went to sleep.
