Winter 1991

Ronald Weasley

That week was the dampest that Ron remembered as if someone had decided that the entirety of the United Kingdom was just a bit too green for its own good. The few days between Christmas and New Year's were filled with mild snowy mornings and afternoons only to be beaten away by nights of gusting wind and fresh white powder. Where usually boots were enough to keep away the wet slush of water, the snow at times reached up past Ron's ankles and lept at the hem of his robes. He had never been as cold as that week.

Ron stood among the tents and felt the way the heat lapped at his skin, he watched the flames dance their way through canvas and belongings turning everything black and broken. He thought, perhaps, that he should have held some concern for all of those things that ceased to be. That he should have wanted to save everything, but he just simply didn't.

His eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness of the room as awoke from his dream. His nostrils failed to find any smoke in the air but still his mouth tasted like ash. He had been sleeping better at Greengrass Manor but was still occasionally haunted by dreams that very often blurred the line between nightmare and pleasantness. It made Ron shiver as he brought his blanket closer up around his it ever end?

He hoped someday that he could fall asleep and have no dreams at all and then do the same the next day and the next until it had been so long without a dream that he hardly even remembered what they were like. He laughed at himself. He didn't think that was going to happen. As much as he hated it, he knew he would hold certain things in his mind for the rest of his life and he doubted even a really strong memory curse would be enough to dislodge them. After all, how could he forget Voldemort's eyes, and the way a handsome man could kill so many? How could he forget his own brother's death? He couldn't, and he didn't think he ever would.

Sighing, Ron pushed himself up and out of his bed, stretching his arms behind him and taking a deep breath of the night air. The entire manor seemed to shake slightly in a rumbled way that came with the high-pitched whistle of wind. He looked up through the skylight above his bed to see that the darkness of the night had been mostly overcome by flurries. Ron hated that. The best thing about night was the way the stars seemed to twinkle, they almost had a way of reassuring him that everything would be alright. The snow was not the same, it was cold, wet, and covered everything that would be reassuring with a mystical frigid sort of beauty that, Ron inexplicably thought, came with an eerie sense of danger as if he would somehow accidentally step outside and be swept away to freeze to death. Which, he knew, was ridiculous, especially since his dreams were about burning.

The hearth in the corner of the room burned low, the elves had not replaced the wood in what seemed to be a few hours. It emanated a dry warmth that wrapped around Ron's skin and tried its best to beat away the cold. It didn't work.

Ron pulled one of his knit sweaters down over his head, relishing in the warmth of the orange fabric and stepped out into the hallway. To his surprise, two of the other doors were open. Tracey's room was darkened like a deep unforgiving chasam and he could hear Tracey snoring gently inside. Meanwhile, Astoria's room glowed softly from an almost inferno that seemed to rage in her hearth. Whatever sounds might have come from the bad were drowned out by the crackling flames. Wanted to know why they would sleep with their doors open, but new enough not to ask Astoria about it. At least as long as he didn't want to be accused of doing something heroic in the middle of the night.

Ron crept to the stairs and made his way down into the house proper.

He wasn't sure how he felt about the word heroic. It wasn't something that he used to describe himself, after all, what he had done on Hallowe'en was anything but. And yet, Astoria kept taunting him with the word as if it was both a very deep compliment and a slight tease. As if there was something inherently noble and princessly about heroics but also as if it was foolish. It made Ron's stomach churn slightly. A very deep selfish part of him longed to be a hero. He was going to save Charlie, and he had saved Hermione. He had wanted to be an Auror, and he wanted to save Blaise from his murderer mother. Those were certainly the sorts of things that a hero might do, but the word also frightened Ron. He could almost remember Percy saying one time that everybody was the hero in their own story. And then even very evil people mostly thought they were doing good things.

At the end of a hallway in the middle of the house was a small cove that Tracey had very adequately described as a breakfast nook. Which meant, it was little more than three tall windows with a U-shaped padded booth that included a small oak table. It wasn't anything much, but Ron found it to be the part of Greengrass Manor that reminded him the most of home. As if the section of wall could be slapped onto the upper floors of the Burrow and look completely in place.

Ron sat at the table and moved his way around to rest his head against one of the windows. It was cold against his skin and immediately the area in which he touched turned foggy. Through that fog he could still see the gardens, masked with white but clearly still visible. The tall hedges seemed to come even more alive with the wind and they swayed back and forth like the very tops of trees. Pelted by the wind and snow they remained as green as Ron had seen them on the first day. As if they didn't care that everything else had been frozen.

"What are you doing?" A sing-songy voice cut through the night and Ron jumped lifting his head off of the window.

Ron turned to see Astoria standing in the hall dressed as if she had never slept at all, wearing robes that seemed too formal for even the day and her hair was braided back into a tight round bun.

He let out a deep breath. He had almost expected to see a house elf peering at him with some sort of disapproving glare.

"I just couldn't sleep," he answered mildly before turning his gaze back out to the garden.

"Oh…" Astoria took a careful seat at the edge of the booth. "I'm like that too. Every princess has a quirk and one of mine is that I don't sleep much."

A feeling of deja vu passed quickly over Ron's don't tell me your mother is a murderer…He could almost imagine Dianna holding a large blood-soaked knife.

"Are you scared of the dark?" He asked. It seemed reasonable that someone who kept their fire so bright might be scared of the dark.

Astoria scrunched up her face. "What! The dark!? No… well… maybe a little. But that's not why I don't sleep. It's… a medical thing."

Ron looked back at Astoria strangely. It was very rare for a wizard or witch to have any medical things at all. Usually magic could fix anything not caused by dark magic. Well, dark magic or poor vision. He couldn't help but think of Harry's large brimmed glasses. Which meant… he took a sharp breath. Astoria's 'medical' thing was probably the same as his and Blaise's, which was entirely not a medical thing at all but really just being deeply .He once again hoped that the Greengrasses weren't murderers.

"It's so cold out there," he said instead, choosing to change the conversation before anything uncomfortable was brought up. "I can't believe this winter has been like this."

"Oh I can believe it," Astoria said lightly, "if you're going to be a brave knight, Ron, you need to pay better attention. Obviously, the snow is God's way of punishing my sister for being so… responsible. I mean, haven't you heard the way she speaks to me? It's like she's made out of snow herself."

Ron imagined Ginny sitting in Astoria's place. He smiled. "She just worries about you."

"Ugh, of course she does! That's so typical of her. She's too much like Daddy. I hope you can rub off on her a little, it would be nice if she was a little more heroic."

"Well, your sister did save me once. I mean, not like my life but like making a mistake. It was kind of heroic, I guess."

"Saved you?" Astoria stared at him with wide eyes. "But you've killed a troll. I doubt Daphne even knows how to tie her shoes with a wand."

"She didn't use magic, I was just making a stupid mistake. A friend of ours, Theodore Nott, had doused someone's breakfast in a potion and I was trying to stop that person from eating anything. I couldn't think of a way to stop them besides just talking to them for as long as I could. Daphne stepped in and saved me by knocking their plate onto the floor."

"That's… painfully boring."

Ron smiled, he found that he quite liked boring stories. Although he wasn't really sure if the entire situation with Malfoy had been boring. After all, it eventually led to him punching Malfoy in the face. And, if he hadn't punched Malfoy in the face then he probably wouldn't have been able to get the potion to give to the twins and he wouldn't have gotten the vindication of landing them in so much me, my life is complicated.

"You know," Astoria continued, "I've heard that your family is supposed to be poor. But you bought something at the shops the other day."

"I guess. We don't have as much money as this."

Astoria snorted. "Nobody has as much money as we do, Ron. Princesses are far more rich than most people realise. But, I meant, like less than normal."

Ron sighed and nodded. Unfortunately, his family did have less money than most wizarding families. Ron wasn't even sure how that came to be, his father had a fairly good job anyway. Maybe it was a blood curse, he mused. After all, even his cousins all seemed to have similar problems.

"But you still bought something?" Astoria asked. "That was an expensive shop. That doesn't make a lot of sense, Ron."

"I have some of my own money, it's… borrowed from a friend. Anyway, I used some of it to buy some really really late Christmas presents."

"Borrowed?" Astoria frowned. "I hate borrowing things. I'd much rather keep them." She shifted slightly in her seat and grinned wickedly. "So, what did you buy? Anything interesting? You need to get Daphne a really good gift if you want to get her to fall in love with you, I mean, Blaise got her a whole emerald necklace."

"What… I don't want your sister to fall in love with me!"

"Oh. That's a shame, I would have liked it if you became my brother. I'd get to watch you kill more trolls."

"There's so many things wrong with that…" Ron said slowly. "I don't want to kill any more trolls. I don't want to marry your sister, I mean, I don't want to marry anyone. Girls are crazy."

"But not Princesses," Astoria said simply. "Fine, you don't have to convince my sister to fall in love with you. You're the most boring troll slayer I've ever met. At least tell me what you bought."

Ron had incidentally worn the same sweater which he had chosen to stash the box of pins. He reached into his pocket and placed the small box on the table.

Astoria's eyes glinted with fascination. "Little snakes?"

Ron nodded. "A whole box of rattlesnake pins. I'm going to give one to each of my friends. Kind of like a token, I guess."

Astoria reached out and ran her fingers over the edges of the box. "They are quite nice… but do you really wear pins at school?"

"Some students do, right here." He tapped the area where his chest and neck met. "On the top of the tie. I thought we could all wear them, to kind of show that we're friends. It's sort of cheesy, I guess. But I just felt bad about not getting anyone a Christmas gift."

Astoria rolled her eyes. "There's only one person who needs a Christmas gift, Ron. It's me obviously. You're supposed to give Princesses all sorts of presents for every occasion. I think it might be a law."

Ron grinned back at her. "Bloody hell, you'll have my last Galleon."

"Oh, my gifts cost more than a Galleon."

"Well, what about one of these?" Ron motioned to the pins in front of him. "We can be friends, can't we? Even if you're a princess? You could have one of the pins. You can even choose first."

Astoria's eyes widened and then suddenly narrowed. "Umm… but what if… what if Tracey's right? What if I get put into Hufflepuff?"

Ron just shrugged. "It doesn't matter, it's not like Slytherin has a monopoly on snakes."

"Yeah… I guess not." Astoria's eyes remained hardened with worry.

"How about this," Ron added carefully. "Blimey, I shouldn't tell you this but… what if I told you a secret? What if I told you about the sorting?"

Astoria looked up at him. "But it's a secret. You really shouldn't."

"Didn't you say the gardens were for being sneaky? Well, we can see them, can't we? Through the window."

A smile reformed on Astoria's face. "I suppose. A princess should probably do her research."

Ron bit his lip and let out a short breath. "The sorting is done with a hat. Professor McGonagall, she's the head of Gryffindor, places it on your head and then the hat talks to you. It reads your mind, I think. Lots of bloody stuff I didn't want the thing to see." Astoria giggled lightly, her eyes wide with wonderment. "And well, then it decides where you belong. But I know something else. Something that's even more secret. You can just ask the hat to sort you into whatever house you want."

Astoria stared at him silently. Ron could feel the cogs turning in her head.

"Did you…" Astoria's voice caught and trailed off.

"No, I didn't ask for Slytherin. I just didn't disagree."

A very wide smile broke across Astoria's lips. She reached across the space between them and hugged Ron tightly.

"Thank you for telling me," she said softly. "No one else would, and… to tell you a secret in return… I was scared."

Ron one again couldn't help but imagine Ginny. He missed his sister fiercely; it had been far too long since he had seen her.

"Of course," he hugged Astoria back for just a moment before prying her hands free. "So you want to choose a pin?"

"Of course!"

Ron lifted the top of the box and held his breath as the individual green gems reflected the artificial light of the manor. They almost seemed to glow.

"This one," Astoria placed her finger on one immediately. The pin was one of the smallest ones with a looping rattlesnake wrapped around the stem of a rose with green gem petals.

Ron took it out of the box and handed it to her.