RON

For some time, all he knew was choking darkness. All was deathly quiet.

It happened so gradually that he didn't register a change until the scene had fully formed. Pastel purples and blues painted across the rim of the world, fading into translucence and hinting at the stars above. And now he was sprawled on a lawn under a summery twilight sky.

He was stretched out over the soft grass, tired from the sun in a satisfied sort of way. The bottom of his feet gave a pleasant throb, having gone barefoot most of the day. There was no need for shoes. In fact, they'd only slow him down as he ran in and out of the house, grabbing sustenance to fuel another game of two-a-side Quidditch. His elbow began to go numb, having to hold up his body weight as he lay on his side to face Hermione.

"Whose do you think is better? Mine or Harry's?"

"I couldn't really say."

"C'monnn, Hermione. You can be honest."

"I honestly couldn't say!"

"Mine is fuller, I think. His is just easier to see."

She was quiet for just a beat too long, throwing off the cadence. He peered up at her, hoping that she'd let it resume. "It's a silly competition."

"Silly? Hermione! This is serious!"

"Comparing like this isn't healthy!"

"It's longer on my chin. Here, feel it."

He waved her closer and stuck out his jaw for her to examine his modest beard, the product of his efforts. She grazed her hand along the side of his cheek, but quickly withdrew it, giggling softly, "It tickles."

"Mum says we'll have to shave them tomorrow night before the train. So I dug out her tape measure and we can determine the winner."

"Just as well. You know McGonagall won't allow it either, seeing as it's a violation of dress code."

"Bit hypocritical don't you think? With Dumbledore allowed to flaunt that great mane."

Hermione giggled again and several puffs of air escaped through her nose. The way she did when she couldn't help but laugh. It gave Ron a rush of satisfaction to make her cheeks glow even in the fading light.

"Just think, he's probably had it longer than we've been alive," he added.

"Perhaps it should be put to a vote… The silly competition, I mean."

"Ohh," he said, eyes widening. "You're absolutely right. Although we'll have to discount Ginny's vote."

"Why's that?"

"Obvious, isn't it? She'll choose Harry. She's biased."

"She's with Dean now," Hermione stated.

"Oh come off it. She's had a thing for Harry since before Hogwarts. You can't tell me there isn't some of that left."

"Well, if we're talking about biases, won't the rest of your family be partial towards you?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Really? You don't think your mum would be a teeniest bit swayed to vote for you?" she challenged.

"No, she loves Harry more than the rest of us."

"Because the way I see it, the only neutral third party might be … me."

Ron smiled, raising one eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"So, it would seem, that my vote is the only one that matters," said Hermione, straightening up and looking pleased with herself.

"Well… there is Fleur," he said, immediately regretting it.

The way Hermione rolled her eyes made Ron wonder why the force of it did not cause her to fall over.

"I take it back," he said quickly. "I want to hear what you think."

Hermione shook her head definitively, "I guess you'll just have to wait until tomorrow night, won't you?"

"Fair enough," he grumbled, laying down on the blanket and stroking his beard. "It's a shame really. To have put in so much work and see it wasted."

Hermione shook her head, sending her curls forward to fall over shoulders. She plucked a long blade of grass and began wrapping it around her index finger.

"So your parents didn't mind? You spending most of the summer here?"

"Truthfully, I don't know. They're usually busy with work. And when I'm gone, they spend a lot of time with their friends. So I think it's hard for them to balance both when I do come home," she said. The blade of grass snapped, so she plucked another. "I can't help but feel that they'd rather be doing either of those things."

"Oh," he said. He knew it wasn't helpful.

"And anyway, I just end up sitting inside, reading all day. Which I don't mind, really. But it's more pleasant to be here with all of you."

"Has it always been that way?" Ron asked.

"Them being busy?" She gazed across the lawn, toward the darkened section where the light of the Burrow could not reach. "Yes… But it has gotten more noticeable over the years. They don't know what to ask me anymore. And I don't know how to tell them about…all of it."

"You still don't want to tell them what's going on? That You-Know-Who is back?"

"No, they wouldn't understand. And they'd just worry."

"Well," he said, rolling to his back and lacing his hands behind his head. "It's better than having Lucius and Narcissa as parents. Then you'd be an entitled little twerp who's never seen daylight."

"Yes. But what can you do, really, when you have parents like that?"

"What d'you mean?" He said quickly.

"When you're born into a family like that and that's all you have known. What chance do you have to learn to be good before it's too late?"

"Plenty, I'd say," said Ron.

"Well, just think about it. Your parents have taught you to be good before you even got to Hogwarts."

"What? You think that I'd become a Death Eater if I wasn't a Weasley?"

"Maybe! Think about it! If you were born in Malfoy's place, you wouldn't have Molly and Arthur Weasley to teach you that these notions on blood status are dangerous."

"You're sympathizing with Malfoy now?"

"Not exactly, no -"

"Got something you want to tell us, Hermione? Have a soft spot for dear old Draco?"

"No! Of course not. I'm just saying, you can't assume someone is evil because of their parents or what Hogwarts house they're in."

"Hermione, all the evil ones come from Slytherin. Everyone knows that."

"See? That's the kind of attitude that causes this sort of thing!"

"What? It's true!" he said, now laughing. He enjoyed watching Hermione's eyes illuminate with the passion of her argument, even though he did not fully understand it.

"So many witches and wizards stay in these antiquated ideologies. The same patterns. That's what is really behind all this."

"What? So now I'm the problem?"

"Some of your ideas, yes."

Ron stared at her, gobsmacked. Thinking that now, perhaps, she had gone too far.

"Well, what about Percy? He's a Weasley and he's been corrupted by the Ministry."

"Which is all really unfortunate, but you have to admit he is challenging the status quo. That's one reason everyone in your family is so angry with him."

A surge of annoyance swelled inside him, remembering the image of his mother's tear stained face. "I don't believe it. You're siding with Percy now?"

"No, not at all. He's terribly misguided and indulging a need to strictly follow rules without question. Which is highly dangerous," she said definitively. "But you have to admit it takes nerve to side with something he wasn't grown up to believe just because his family does."

"Well, Hermione. If you're so proud of Percy and want to follow in his footsteps, you're free to do so."

"Of course I don't want that, Ronald. Besides, they wouldn't take me. I'm Muggleborn. And I'm best friends with the Chosen One. Not to mention the biggest family of blood traitors."

"Upset about that, are you? Sorry to see it stain your application to join the Death Eaters?"

She ignored this and launched boldly into a lecture she seemed to have prepared beforehand.

"That's the problem with all these institutions around house elves, blood status, and even Hogwarts Houses. Everyone accepts those as the only way it is. Labeling and categorizing people. It isn't until someone comes along to challenge it that people realize that they're entrenched in it!"

She looked at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to catch the intensity of her argument. In truth, his mind hummed in irritation such that he barely registered what she was saying.

"Take the Tournament, for instance. It could have been a wonderful opportunity to unite the wizarding communities. Instead they kept it as a competition and pit the schools against one another. If it had been a more friendly event, then perhaps, I don't know, we'd have more support for fighting Voldemort!"

"Got friendly with Krum, did you?" he said bitterly.

"Ronald, that was the point of it," she said, exasperated.

"Just how friendly did you get?"

She continued on as if not hearing him. "Which is why I keep up with him. It's important for international magical cooperation. Fleur keeps in contact with him too!"

"Sounds to me like he's keeping his options open."

"I won't dignify that with a response."

"You just did!"

She opened her mouth ready to respond, then closed it. Ron smirked, proud of himself for outsmarting her.

"You're exhausting," she said, laying down on the blanket beside him.

Ron and Hermione allowed the chorus of croaking frogs to drown out their conversation. The last reaches of sunlight had fully faded now, allowing more stars to appear in the great expanse above them. He felt his annoyance with her settle and fade.

"I'm so anxious to start NEWT levels," she whispered, as if admitting a secret.

"What are you worried about?" he asked, already knowing the answer. "Not failing? Hermoine, when have you failed at anything?"

"There's always a possibility."

"What's the worst that could happen? Look at me! I've failed plenty and I'm doing just fine," he said. "Besides, some things are more important than school… Like not becoming a Death Eater."

"I didn't say I was going to be a Death Eater!" She scooted closer to him to smack him on the arm.

"Ow! Careful, or I'll tip you off to Auror Potter."

They'd taken several asides this summer to discuss Harry. But the trip to Diagon Alley, and Harry's new spun theories on Draco Malfoy, did little to assure them that everything with Harry was back to normal. Whatever that was for him.

"Do you think he's doing alright?" she asked him.

"He seems fine, just suspicious of Malfoy. What's new, really?"

"I still worry about him bottling things up. I think he's in denial."

"What should we do?" asked Ron. "Bring up the Ministry? Sirius?"

"No, I don't think so. I worry if we do he'll either start yelling again or otherwise become dysfunctional," she said. "All we can do is be there for him, I suppose."

"Yeah."

"Maybe his lessons with Dumbledore will keep him occupied. And being Quidditch Captain."

"Right," said Ron, who felt a surge of confidence at the mention of Quidditch. He'd been practicing everyday, he was in peaked performance. And surely Harry would choose him to be Keeper, seeing as they were best mates.

"I have a good feeling about this year." He instinctively shifted closer to her, she rested the side of her head on his shoulder.

"Me too. Maybe this year - now that it's all out in the open about Voldemort's return - we can just focus on classes and prepare for NEWTs."

"That's not really what I had in mind."

The air had cooled enough now that the blissful summer breeze became chilly. Without realizing it they had linked arms, presumably to keep warm.

"When I was little, my parents and I used to go camping. We'd lay like this and look up at the stars… my dad knew a few constellations back then. Of course, now we know Astronomy, it's all easier -"

"Speak for yourself," he said.

"But he'd always tell me to first find Polaris. You know, the North Star. So even when you're lost, you just locate it and you'll be able to find your way. Without it, navigation for Muggles wouldn't have been possible. Isn't that amazing? Just that little ball of light? They even used it on the Apollo missions."

"What missions?"

"Oh, you know, when they went to the moon."

"Who went to the moon?"

"The astronauts! When the Americans sent people to space!" She sat up quickly to search him, checking that he wasn't fibbing. "Surely you know?!"

"No one's been to space, Hermione."

"They have! Even ask Harry! They've walked on the moon! "

He was about to reply when the timber of her voice grew louder, until somehow it surrounded him on all sides. Saying nothing in particular. But now it sounded heavy, strained. So different from how it'd been as they laid together, gazing up into the clear night sky.

It stirred some understanding in him that this was a memory. That all of this had already happened. That in just a moment, his sister would call them in for a late dinner. That in two days he'd board a train to Hogwarts. He would, in fact, earn his place on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. But that, for many months, this would be the last gleaming memory he had of conversations lit by starlight.

The harsh yellow light of a lamp above was piercing as he blinked his eyes open.

"Mum! He's waking up," said Ginny from beside him.

"Wuh… wha' happened?" he croaked.

"You were poisoned, darling," said his mum, pressing her hand into his and stroking his hair. "But you're going to be okay."

"Romilda…?"

"He's still love potioned!" his mum cried, rounding on Fred and George. "It's all because of those silly little products!"

"We didn't poison him, Mum!" said Fred defensively.

"P-poison?" asked Ron.

"Yes, dear. Harry saved your life," his mum explained.

Ron simply groaned. He took account of his body, attempting to move his arms and legs. They barely budged, body feeling heavy with weakness. His head must be filled with water, so why was it that his throat burned so sharply? He groaned again.

"Do you think the poison messed with his brain?" asked George.

"Stuck to one word answers and grunting," Fred added.

"An improvement, I'd say."

He reached for his memory. Although disrupted, he remembered sitting in Slughorn's office as his distorted vision cleared. Harry was grinning down at him.

"The … mead?" Ron asked.

"Yes, dear. The poison was in the drink. Harry saved you with a bezoar," his mum explained. "Goodness, Arthur, what would we do without him?"

"Just a thought, maybe none of this would happen if we didn't know Harry," said Fred.

Ron cleared his throat, resulting in a stabbing, gritty pain. When he spoke again, his voice cracked. "For Harry? … You-Know-Who?"

"Behind the potion? We don't think so," Ginny replied.

"Nah, he'd want to be there to see Harry suffer."

"George!" cried his mum.

"What? Just saying, that's kind of his MO, isn't it?"

Madam Pomfrey came bustling over now that Ron was awake. She shooed his family clear of the bedside in order to perform her diagnostic charms. Ron was glad for the interruption, as he was having difficulty adjusting to the new interruption of bright lights and loud voices of his family.

"He'll need close supervision, I'll be keeping him here a week," said Madam Pomfrey. Seeing the concerned look on his mum's face, she added, "But I expect he'll make a full recovery."

"Maybe we should pull them out, Arthur?" his mum turned to his dad who stood at the foot of the hospital bed.

His dad took a sharp inhale, letting it go slowly. "I don't think so, Molly. Dumbledore assured us it was an unfortunate accident. Right now, there's no way of knowing who was behind it. But it's unlikely to happen again."

"Well, you two are coming home for Easter. Harry too," his mum insisted. "And Hermione if she'd like."

"Yeah, because You-Know-Who has just been waiting for Easter holiday to ambush Harry at Hogwarts."

"No, George. He wouldn't want to take any chances. He's probably afraid Harry would resurrect three days later," said Fred.

Ginny smiled, but clicked her tongue, "Will you two stop with that?"

"We'll have to be very careful, restore all the enchantments on the house. Ensure that all the security measures are still active," said his dad.

"And it might not be a good time to hold any large scale events, don't you think?" Ginny said.

"The wedding is still on, Ginny," said his dad.

George patted Ginny's back, as if saying: nice try.

"Where's Harry… and Hermione?" Ron asked, looking around at the faces of his family surrounding him. "I heard her earlier."

"Oh yeah, and just what was she saying?" asked George, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

"They'll come back in the morning, dear. They waited here all day for you to wake up," his mum said.

"Hermione seemed particularly concerned," Ginny added with a knowing look. A glowing hope filled him, hearing that she had been there all day. Worrying over him.

With the help of his mum, Madam Pomfrey ushered him up into a seated position to take in water and essence of rue. Over the next hour, they told him Harry's recounting of events and full spun theories on the who, what, where, why of the poisoned mead.

"It's getting late, Molly," said his dad, squeezing Ron's foot affectionately through the covers. "We should probably head home."

"Same for us. Love you, little bro. Happy birthday," said George, clapping Ron on the shoulder.

"Yeah, happy birthday. There's a gift for you when you're feeling up to it," Fred said, pushing their wrapped gift closer to him.

"Happy birthday, I'll come see you tomorrow," said Ginny, leaning over to give a quick hug.

"We'll try to make it by later this week. We love you, Ronnie. The watch looks wonderful on you, by the way."

"Thanks, mum," he said.

He wished they hadn't all gone at once, maybe his mum or Ginny could have stayed just a little longer. This had been the only hour of his birthday that he'd gotten to enjoy, and he couldn't help but feel cheated.

Once again, he reclined on his back and looked up at a bright starry sky through the window of the hospital wing.