After All

by DrSternin

Summary:

A Romione fic that follows Ron as he navigates the first year of his post-war life and deals with revelations about his relationships, his past and himself along the way.

This is the promised R/Hr version of “As It Turns Out” but this will have several different plots throughout.

Notes:

So readers from As It Turns Out will recognise plenty of plot points and writing in this story but this is not a direct copy over, it’ll be a little more angsty, more romantic and smutty and we’ll have Hermione POV chapters. There’ll be a few new plots unrelated to romance to keep it interesting as well but I’m afraid the reveal at the end of As It Turns Out will, in essence, remain though I’ll try and write it differently.

Chapter 1: Endings and Beginnings

Seventh Year Boys Dormitory, the Night After the Battle of Hogwarts

 

As the image of Fred stretched out on the ground invades my dreams, I wake with a sudden jerk and a racing heart. I lay back in my old bed in the Gryffindor dorm and mop up my tears as I try to calm my mind by focusing on the familiar melody of Neville’s snoring, Harry’s ragged breathing, Dean’s shifting and tucking and Seamus’s soft hum. 

 

I roll over and look at my bedside table - where Scabbers used to while away the time. Peter. Scabbers. (Peter. Scabbers. Peter. Scabbers…) Peters bloated face on the floor of the Malfoy’s cellar suddenly fills my mind. Scabbers is dead. It feels wrong to mourn him, I feel like I already did that when I was 14 but I feel confused… and angry.

 

There were so many things I’d wanted to ask him. Before I’d headed off to Hogwarts I’d chattered away my nerves to Scabbers, predicting I’d be picked on for my fourth hand robes and second hand wand and when Goyle had turned up to do just that, he’d bitten him. Was that just a freak accident or was he looking out for me? In first year, alone in the dormitory, I’d quietly confessed to Scabbers that I felt a bit jealous that Harry got a brand new Nimbus 2000 from a teacher when I was struggling with my wand and too tight robes. Scabbers had twitched his ears and curled up beside me in what had seemed like sympathy and comfort - was that play acting? Did it mean nothing? When we found out Hermione had been petrified, Scabbers had let me hold him close as I sat wide awake and terrified well into the night. Did he know it was the work of his master then? Was he laughing at me? Now I’ll never know. 

 

Will there be a funeral for Scab…Peter? Would I go if there was one? I push the uncomfortable thought away because it makes me think of Fred and Tonks and Lupin and - Merlin - Fenrir Greyback… Do you go to the funeral of someone you killed? I turn this over in my mind, feeling faintly queasy. I think I killed that Death Eater last summer when I stupefied him off his broom but there was no talk of funerals then.

 

With that unhappy thought, exhaustion finally wins out and sleep claims me again. 

 

 

********************************************************************************************

 

 

The next morning Harry and I silently clap each other on the back before making our way down to the common room where we are immediately greeted by my entire family and Hermione. I get pulled into a hug between my Mum and Dad. Both have red rimmed eyes and look grim and worn out but still Mum and Dad and after months of worrying I’ll take that. Hermione shoots me a worried look across the room as we’re informed that Dad will stay to ‘sort Fred out’ while Mum takes the rest of us back to Muriel’s. There’s a tense low argument about whether Bill and Charlie will go and see what state the Burrow is in until Mum finally relents and let’s them do it. 

 

On arrival at Muriel’s, Mum heads off to ‘freshen up’, which I suspect means have a cry in private, while Muriel herds us all into her fancy dining room. I take a minute to look at Hermione who is glancing around - curious, knackered, nervous - I reach out and take her hand gently, giving it what I hope is a reassuring squeeze. She looks at me and smiles softly.

 

The moment is broken by Muriel suddenly tutting in disapproval at me “Ronald! Your mother is going to do her nut when she comes to her senses and gets a proper look at you.” she says as she shovels five bacon sandwiches onto a plate for me.  I hum in response and tuck in.

 

While we all eat, Muriel mutters gently about poor dear Frederick and how brave he was. I see George smirking at me and feel myself grin, we catch Ginny’s eye who’s hiding her mouth behind her hand as if she’s eating demurely but her eyes are shining with suppressed mirth. We all glance at Percy whose lips are twitching at the corners as he nods along. Harry and Hermione look confused and a bit surprised as all four of us start sniggering, hiding behind hands and bacon sandwiches. I can’t really explain it to them - Muriel, who could not stand Fred when he was alive, suddenly making him out to be her sainted nephew. It’s all the more funny for the fact we know Fred would be appalled to be Muriel’s new ‘favourite’.

 

We all sober up quickly though as Mum comes in and tells us that Kingsley will be by soon. That he wants to have a talk with Harry and to take him to St Mungo’s. Apparently there’s already been Death Eater testimony, checked with consensual veritaserum and a pensieve, to the fact that Harry survived the killing curse once more and Kingsley wants healers to check Harry over. 

 

I lean in and mutter to Hermione “You should go too, get … get what happened checked out.”

 

She shakes her head “I’m fine. And we got some cream for the burns last night remember.”

 

“That’s not what I’m talking about - Fleur isn’t a healer Hermione, she’s a bank clerk.”

 

“Well what about your arm?”

 

“What about Ron’s arm?” My mother interjects looking worried. 

 

“It’s just an old injury now Mum.”

 

But she won’t be fobbed off and she comes over demanding that I let her see. I sigh as I shrug off my jumper and roll the tee-shirt beneath it up. I startle as I hear my mother gasp and several of my siblings take a sharp intake of breathe. 

 

“What the -“ 

 

“How did -“

 

“St Mungo’s now. All of you.” Mum practically growls at us, leaving no room for argument. 

 

**********************************************************

 

Kingsley arrives and he and Mum whisk us off to Mungo’s where we are taken into separate examination rooms by healers. I don’t have the heart to protest when Mum follows me into mine. I explain about the splinching as the healer checks me over. “How was it treated?” he asks. 

 

“Dittany.”

 

He looks at me expectantly. 

 

“I think it was just dittany.”

 

My mother lets out a half sob, half angry hiss at that while the healer looks alarmed and starts giving me a ticking off. “Healed with Dittany! No pain potion! No blood replenishing potion! No antibacterial or antiseptic cream! You’re lucky to be alive boy!”

 

The healer concludes his examination and tells us that, right now, the injury poses no immediate threat and is treatable. They’ll regrow the shoulder muscle and skin but they need to let the flesh heal up a bit first, the bruises and burns from the last few days still cover my skin. I’m released home with instructions to rest, eat and to watch out for signs of infection. Kingsley promises to bring Harry and Hermione back to Muriel’s once the battery of tests being conducted on each of them are finished. 

 

Mum gives me an earful about my arm (Don’t know what you were thinking - an injury like that! No healer! You should have come home! Been worried absolutely sick for months and months!) but as she scolds she keeps reaching over and stroking my hair, patting my cheek, fussing with my collar, clutching my arm tightly as we walk. I’ve never been so willing to sit through a berating from Mum, just thankful she’s alive. 

 

We arrive back at Muriel’s and my siblings crowd round with news that Bill and Charlie think they can have the Burrow safe by tonight, the blood wards seem to have done their job and prevented anyone getting close enough to do too much damage. 

 

Muriel shoves a cup of tea in Mum’s hands and barks at me to go and get cleaned up so I don’t ruin her carpet. The shower is wonderful and I feel myself slowly coming back to life as the hot water runs over me. I relax so much I let images of a naked Hermione, sudsy and pressed up against me, in the shower at Shell Cottage distract me from the grief and pain of this morning. 

 

As soon as I get out though Muriel utterly ruins my relaxed state by announcing Mum has fallen asleep and we’re not to disturb her and she’ll help me put on the burn cream.

 

I balk at the suggestion but she snaps at me “Don’t be ridiculous Ronald! I changed your nappies for Merlins sake!” 

 

And so I find myself in my boxer shorts in Muriel’s bedroom (a situation I certainly never pictured myself in). She rubs the cream harshly onto a burn on my lower leg and I hiss at the sting.

 

Muriel glances up at me “You look just like your mother when you scowl like that.” 

 

I merely grimace as she starts on a new burn. 

 

“Still it’s not surprising is it?” Muriel says seemingly to herself. “You always were Molly’s boy through and through.”

 

She must have seen the look on my face as she continues.

 

“Your sister and most of your brothers take mostly after your father. Very Weasley. You and Percy always took more after your mother. A Prewett. All the bad of course - full of self-doubt, a worrier, bad tempered, sensitive.” Muriel sniffs disdainfully before pausing. “But the good too. Caring. Protective. Fierce.” 

 

It’s the nicest thing Muriel has ever said to me and I let the words sink in as she continues to rub the cream, as harshly as humanly possible, on the burns covering my body. Then she insists that I also lie down and try to rest a bit.

 

*************************************************************************

 

I wake up a few hours later on the old bed me and Gin used to share at Muriel’s and am surprised to find Ginny curled up next to me, clutching her old scraggly doll, Cynthia. 

 

“Couldn’t sleep” she grunts at me.

 

“Where’d you get that?” I nod my head at the doll

 

“Mum packed a box for each of us and kept it at Muriel’s. She knew we’d all have to be on the run eventually so she packed a box of mementos for each of us and kept it here, you know, in case…” She trails off. 

 

It’s not hard to figure out why. In case we didn’t make it out so she’d have something to remember us by. 

 

Then Ginny and I do something we haven’t done in a long time as we both reach across the bedspread and hold hands for a minute.

 

“Ron?” She says softly

 

“Yeah?”

 

“What happened to your arm?”

 

“Got splinched.”

 

“Fuuuck.” She groans in sympathy. 

 

We both look up as the door opens and Harry and Hermione peek their heads round. 

 

“Sorry Muriel told us you’d gone for a nap and we weren’t sure if you’d be up, we just got back…”

 

Harry and Ginny look rather awkwardly at each other and Ginny looks a bit upset. 

 

“Let’s have a cup of tea.” I suggest nervously and as we head downstairs, Hermione glances back at Ginny and Harry trailing after us and makes a wincing face at me. 

 

“So how’d it go?” 

 

“The healers cleared us, they’ll wait for a few more test results to come back but they think we’re fine. Called us medical marvels.”

 

“I bet Harry loved that.”

 

“Yeah that went down like a lead balloon.” 

 

“Kingsley came and talked to Harry for a long time while I was getting some tests done.”

 

I raise an eyebrow at her. 

 

“He knew about Harry coming back from the dead and… he knew about the horcruxes. Harry mentioned them at the battle… I think Harry ended up telling him everything.”

 

“What about you?”

 

“He questioned me a bit about what we’d been doing, how we’d destroyed the horcruxes. I told him we used the sword and the basilisk fangs but that’s about it.” 

 

I nod. Kingsley had not asked me anything but, for once, I was quite happy to be left out. My own interrogation would come soon enough and I doubt Mum is going to be as diplomatic as Kingsley about the whole thing. 

 

We arrive downstairs to find everyone there. Bill and Charlie and Percy and Fleur go in and out of the floo with boxes of things while Mum and Dad are talking quietly to Muriel. 

“Come on you lot.” George says sadly “We’re going home.” 

 

*******************************************************************************

 

We arrive at the Burrow and there’s a solemn silence as we unpack and put clean sheets on beds and clean down the kitchen counters and stove. 

 

My room looks the same and the feeling of being back in it, despite the Ghoul smell that I suspect will always linger, is indescribable. I am just setting up the camp bed for Harry when Mum knocks on the door.

 

She comes in with a large cardboard box with the word “Ron’ scribbled on the side of it.

 

“Ginny said she mentioned the boxes to you” Mum says carefully putting the box on the bed and sitting down beside it.

 

I grin as I pull out Grandads chess set and my Cannons pennant. There’s my old stuffed bear and a very white outfit that looks like a dress that Mum insists was mine and what you dressed babies in in those days.  There is an envelope with my OWLs and my Prefects badge and my special award for services to the school. 

 

Another envelope is packed with pictures. They’re mainly family pictures. Me as a toddler playing at the beach with Charlie and Percy, clapping excitedly as Percy turns out the sandcastle bucket. A six year old me sat on Grandad Weasleys knee peering at a chess set while Grandad gives a thumbs up to the camera. Dad with his arm around me at a Cannons match as we merrily wave homemade flags. 

 

My breathe catches a little at the next one. It’s Mum and a newborn baby - she looks tired but she proudly holds up the little bundle, cooing and running her finger over it’s cheek. Smiling down at it, adoringly. 

 

“Is that - is that me?” I stammer out without thinking

 

Mum laughs “Of course it’s you - look” and she points to tiny maroon cardigan the baby is wearing. 

 

To my absolute horror I feel myself start to choke on a sob but before I can hide it I am wrapped in my Mums arms. She smells of baked bread and golden syrup and I bury myself in her shoulder and let the grief for Fred and all the others, the pressure and stress of the last year come pouring out. 

Chapter 2: Crookshanks and Krum

The Burrow , Five Days After the Battle of Hogwarts

 

After seeing me breakdown, Mum seems to be on a mission to make it all better by fattening me up as much as possible. The rest of the Weasley clan appear to have been roped in as well as people keep coming by with food. Fleur comes with freshly baked bread and Nana Weasley with casseroles and various Aunts and Uncles and Cousins keep dropping by with a smorgasbord of offerings. Despite the depressing context, I have to admit we’re luxuriating in it after our year on the run - sausage rolls… jam tarts…steak pies…Victoria sponge.

 

Harry, Charlie, George and I stake out the kitchen table for much of the week with the pretence of discussing the funeral but with the real aim of diverting as much pastry as possible into our mouths.

 

It’s what Fred would have truly wanted says George between mouthfuls of Bakewell Tart. George is taking Fred’s death surprisingly well. We all keep anxiously watching him like he’s going to completely lose it but, despite looking a bit pale and tired and his laughter sounding a bit forced at times, he hasn’t yet. 

 

Hermione initially sat and tutted at us with a smile from behind a copy of Hogwarts: A History that she’d dug out from under my bed.  Now though she’s been distracted by Crookshanks who Dad brought over from Muriel’s, along with Pig, the first day after we got back. 

 

Pig had immediately come fluttering over to my shoulder and began rubbing his head against me and preening my hair. I tried to keep my composure but I was so relieved and happy to see him as I stroked his feathers that I forgot myself and dropped a kiss on top of his head which made Harry and George smirk and Hermione grin. 

 

Crookshanks, however, is not so easily won over and has taken to sitting in the corner glaring at Hermione while she sits cross-legged on the floor across from him cooing, offering toys and treats and sometimes just sitting in a weird staring match.  Yesterday, he actually came and rubbed himself between my legs momentarily, while looking directly at her, which it seems was just about the biggest fuck you he could think of.

 

“I’m sorry I was so mean to you after you came back” she’d whispered a bit tearfully last night as we cuddled on the couch together while everyone else was in bed. “No I understood, you needed time. So does he.” I whispered back. She’d nuzzled into my chest which was good because I’d had to bite my lip to stop myself from snorting with laughter at the idea that Crookshanks had inadvertently done something to strengthen our relationship and how much I couldn’t wait to rub it in his face later, once he settled down. 

 

I tell myself it is deeply irrational to want to have a talk with a cat, to be angry with him, but I can’t help myself. Now that the war is over, Hermione is desperate to see her parents. Undoing the work of the Muggleborn Registration Committee has been number one priority in the Ministry and I convinced Hermione to tell Percy what happened with her parents. Percy was offered a job in his old department - the Department of International Cooperation - and a big part of that right now is repatriating families who fled. They’re on the case, liasing with the Australian Ministry, trying to locate her parents and all we can do is wait. So Crookshanks is the only part of her family she has at the moment and I wish he’d stop acting all arsey. 

 

I mull it over late that night. I can’t get back to sleep. Tomorrow is Fred’s funeral. I need a distraction.

Fuck it. I’m going to talk to the cat.

I get up and plod downstairs and into the kitchen to make a cup of hot chocolate, the sound of the milk is bound to bring in Crookshanks.  Sure enough I soon hear the pitter patter of his paws and that ugly squashy face peeks round the door with calculated disinterest as I set down a small saucer of warmed milk.

 

“Right.” I say, standing in front of the milk, trying my best to look menacing but not get clawed half to death. “You can have that” I point to saucer  “if you promise to stop being such a tit. Hermione loves you, she’s had a really shit time of it, way more than you can imagine so just give her a break alright?”

 

Crookshanks peers at me. I crouch down in front of him and pray he doesn’t start shredding my legs. “Alright?” I say again, raising my eyebrows at him. He reaches out and puts a paw on my bended knee and I take this as assent. 

 

“Good, now let’s be clear.” I risk picking him up. “you’ll give her a cuddle and let her kiss you and brush you and you’ll do it all with good humour. The vibe we’re going for is I love you Her-meow-nie.”

 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Harry asks standing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. 

 

“Bargaining with the cat.” I say, setting Crookshanks on the ground and he immediately runs over to the saucer. Harry stares at me for a minute before shrugging and helping himself to the hot chocolate. 

 

He looks at me carefully. “Want to play some chess?”

I nod gratefully and we head into the living room. We open the door and we’re surprised to find the lamp on and George and Percy already sat up playing cards.

 

“How long have you been up?”

 

George snorts. “Long enough to hear your little speech to the cat. You want to be careful Ron, you're one knitted shawl away from turning into Aunt Tessie.” 

 

I throw a cushion at him. 

 

“Come on, with four we can play poker.”

 

“Five” says Dad quietly from the doorway. “And what’s this about the cat?”

 

 

**********************************************************************************************************

 

The funeral felt like it went on forever and was over in no time at all. I gripped Hermione’s hand in one hand and Bill’s in the other the whole way through. Some of it feels like it will be permanently burned into my brain - a little tufty wizard announcing that “We are all here today to say goodbye to Frederick Fabian Weasley.”; George, white as a sheet and clutching Mum like when we were little; Dad crying - and some of it seems to have completely passed me by - Lee Jordan’s eulogy, the mournful singing, the platitudes of Aunts and Uncles.

 

The wake is drawing to a close now, the evening sun starting to wane. I can’t take wallowing anymore and I sidle up to Harry, drawing my chair closer to his.

 

“What’s up, you’ve been glaring at Neville all afternoon?” I ask quietly.

 

“What? No I haven’t.”

 

I raise an eyebrow at him 

 

He sighs “It’s nothing.”

 

“Come on Harry, I need a distraction and you’re being weird.”

 

“He’s been hanging around her all day - bringing her tea, talking with her, he put his arm around her earlier. Do you think he and Ginny…”

 

“Harry, it’s Neville.”

 

“Yeah but it’s not like it’s fourth year Neville is it? Look at him, he’s all - you know.”

 

“What?”

 

“Sexy.” Harry burst out furiously 

 

And I can’t help it, my whole body starts to shake with laughter. 

 

“S’not funny.” He admonishes me.

 

“I really don’t think so, Gin was crazy about you.”

 

“Yeah well it’s not like she doesn’t have options is it? Fucking Viktor Krum was sniffing around last year.” 

 

“What?! You’re telling me this now. How do you know that?” 

 

Harry launches into the story of how he told Krum Ginny was dating some big bloke who wouldn’t take kindly to his advances. 

 

“You were right, he's a total bellend. I spent a good chunk of our down time last year thinking about whether I could have finished him off in that maze.”

 

“Harry, Harry, Harry if you want ways to off Krum you’ve come to the right place.”

 

Harry grinned at me as I happily launched into several well thought through plans. 

 

“Well, the tampered broom and wronski faint has a certain je ne sais quoi quality about it but I still think my favourite is the one where you drown him in a vat of his own tears.”

 

“What are you talking about” Hermione says plopping down besides us, Crookshanks snuggled in her arms.

 

“Quidditch.” We say together, avoiding looking at each other. 

 

She rolls her eyes. 

 

Chapter 3: Funerals and Flashbacks

Notes:

Full paragraphs in italics are flashbacks - hope it's clear - let me know if not.

My eyes keep being drawn to the counter where the schedule of funerals that the Ministry issued a few days ago sits. 

 

When it had first arrived, I had obviously sadly looked for Fred’s first, which was yesterday, and then I’d frantically scanned the B’s and was profoundly relieved to see no funeral for Lavender Brown listed. I’d asked Parvati, the night of the battle, to keep me updated on Lavenders condition and while she’d grunted agreement, she hadn’t yet got in touch. Then after looking at Colin’s and Tonks and Remus’s I’d put it down, determined to put it out of my mind. 

 

But now I feel a pull and I pick it up again and flick with dread to the G’s only to find nothing listed for Fenrir Greyback. 

 

Panic gripped me for a few minutes. I remembered him dying, I was sure of it:

 

Spells where flying everywhere, I turn and see Neville’s once chubby face contorted in anger, streaked with grime and sweat and blood as he blasts spells at Greyback. He’s laughing at us, his head tipped back and those nasty discoloured teeth of his, that have wrought so much pain, are on show. In that moment, I remember Bill lying on the ground, blood everywhere, his face senselessly marred forever. I think of Lavenders stirring, feeble body on the ground and of little Remus Lupin, curled up and terrified in the Shrieking Shack all alone. I remember Hermione’s screams piercing through me like knives, her trembling next to me in the forest, what he’d wanted to do to her, the promises I’d made. Hatred and protectiveness bubbles up inside me. He’s never getting near my family again, never getting near her again. I take aim at that fleshy exposed neck that’s tipped back in mocking laughter - Avada Kedavra. A flash of green and I just have time to notice the light leave his eyes before he hits the ground. 

 

I take a few gasping breathes to try to calm down, earning myself a panicked look from Hermione, before accosting Dad across the breakfast table. 

 

“Dad - there’s no funeral listed for Greyback.”

 

Dad looks at me in surprise “No, some of the, er, most controversial individuals are not having their funerals publicly listed at the request of family or because the Ministry think it’ll be a security risk. You’ll see no public funeral for Lestrange either…” He says, glancing warily at Mum, who put her fork down and got up to make a cup of tea. 

 

 

“Why do you care anyway?”asks George, giving me a funny look. 

 

“Oh, well - well I…”

 

“Ron killed him.” Ginny piped up. “Neville told me, he saw it.” 

 

“WHAT?!”

 

Mum’s head whips round from the kettle, Dad gapes at me - mouth open, Percy fumbles his fork and George chokes on his orange juice. Hermione just stares at me with an expression I can’t read.  

 

“Yes, he did, I saw it too” says Harry a bit grumpily and I can’t tell if he’s more annoyed about my family’s reaction or about the fact that Ginny heard it from Neville. 

 

“Yeah. Neville said it was a good move, got him in the neck when he was distracted.” Ginny says absentmindedly, cutting up her bacon. 

 

I’m a bit unnerved by Ginny’s calmness about the whole thing, it rather reminds of me Tonks singing my praises after blasting that Death Eater off his broom last July. 

 

The rest of my family are less calm.

 

“Oh wow - well…well… well done?” says Percy cautiously, looking, at a complete loss for how to react. 

 

“Well done?! Jesus Christ Ronniekins, this is like first year and that bloody chess set all over again… why didn’t you say something!” George exclaims.

 

My mother is gripping the countertop with one hand and looking at me weirdly, like she’s seeing someone else. 

 

“Ron, are - are you alright? I mean has this been bothering you?” Dad asks across the table, looking concerned.

 

I shrug “Er, sort of. I mean I don’t - I don’t regret it - the things he’s done, would have done…” Harry and Ginny nod along with me. “But I just - I felt like I should look to see if there is a funeral…”

 

“Would you like to go?” Dad asks softly

 

“I don’t think so. I just felt compelled to look… I was actually more wondering about…thinking about…” I swallow heavily “Pettigrew.”

 

Now everyone stares at me. 

 

Hermione recovers first. “Scabbers…” she says hesitantly. 

 

“Yeah, I - I know it’s weird but I feel like - like I knew him…” I look over at Percy who is determinedly avoiding my gaze and boring holes into his plate. 

 

“And I mean we did see him die, me and Ron, he was strangled right in front of us…killed for that little bit of mercy left in him…” Harry says softly. 

 

At that Mum bursts into tears and leaves the room. “Shit!” I say, making to stand up to go after her but Dad gets there first. “I’ll go” he says wearily before patting me on the shoulder “It’s alright son, you haven’t done anything wrong. It’s just a lot for your mother…”

 

There’s a tension in the air for a moment or two before George comes out with “Well, Harry I think you’re about to be usurped as Fleur’s little golden boy hero. I reckon killing her husband’s maimer will rank higher than ‘saving’ her sister from a nonexistent threat.” He waggles his eyebrows at me and I feel my ears go bright red as everyone laughs. Except Hermione. Who folds her arms and huffs and glares at George. 

 

Before we finish breakfast, Mum and Dad come and ask me repeatedly if I’m alright. I’m distinctly reminded of when they first found out about Scabbers -not long after the Triwizard Tournament ended. There’s a lot of handwringing as if they’re not sure what they’re supposed to say. Dad quietly promises that he’ll see if he can find out about Pettigrews funeral. 

 

They eventually release me and I head up to my room, only to find Hermione already perched on the bed, reading a massive tome. She puts it down immediately though and stands up looking at me with concern and something else I still can’t place. 

 

“You killed Greyback?” She asks, arching an eyebrow.

 

“Always the tone-“ I tease but am cut off as she grabs me for a deep kiss. 

 

All thoughts of teasing are gone as I feel her tongue slide against mine, her breathes coming out in little pants and I reach down and grip her bum, pulling her right against me. 

 

“I said I would didn’t I?” I whisper as I begin to plant kisses along her neck.

 

She shudders and gasps, nodding, obviously remembering Shell Cottage. 

 

It’s the middle of the night, our first night there, I’m laid on the floor between Harry and Dean but I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes I hear her screams, see her limp body being held up by Bellatrix, feel the desperation all over again. There’s a sound from the kitchen and I quietly get up to join whoever it is. I find Hermione, wrapped up in an old pair of Fleurs pyjamas and a cardigan, starting to make a cup of tea. 

 

She turns as I enter and, for the first time, I notice the way her face brightens when she sees it’s me. “Hi.” She whispers softly and it’s all the invitation I need as I cross the room in two strides and pull her into my arms. I’m relieved when she lets out a whimper and buries herself against me, shoving her face into my armpit, which cannot be pleasant but she doesn’t budge, and I wrap my arms as tight as I can around her and rock her gently for a few moments. 

 

When the kettle whistles, we pull apart and silently start making the tea.

 

“Want to sit outside? There’s a bench just out there.”

 

We slip out the back door and settle on the bench with our cups of tea, taking in the smell of the saltwater and the sound of waves in the distance. The cover of darkness seems to have lifted any remaining awkwardness between us as she leans against me and I put an arm around her without hesitation.

 

“Couldn’t sleep?” She finally asks

 

“No, you?

 

“No.”

 

We sit silently for a minute. 

 

“I have never been so terrified of anything in my entire life.” I say quietly

 

“Oh Ron…” she whispers as she starts to cry against my chest

 

I clutch her closer and tighter as her crying comes out in gasping sobs now. 

 

“I can’t - can’t stop - stop thinking about it - lying on the floor - felt helpless - every time I close my eyes… I keep thinking - keep thinking what if he wants to finish the job - Greyback - doesn’t let things go.”

 

Protective rage courses through me. “He won’t, he is never going to get near you again. Ever. I won’t let him. He is never getting past me again and neither is she.” 

 

She cries a bit harder but she puts her arms fully around me now and I hold her against my chest, stroking her hair while she quietens. 

 

“I heard you.” she says softly

 

“What, the shouting?” I ask thinking she means my bellowing in cellar.

 

“Well yes that too but I meant - I meant you said - you said -take me instead.”

 

We sit silently for a minute. “Of course I did.” I say quietly

 

She pulls back so she’s looking right at my face “Why?” She asks

 

I look away. “I didn’t think you one to ask questions you already know the answer to.”

 

“Ron.” 

 

I meet her gaze and it all becomes clear. I suddenly realise that she’s wanted me to say it for a long time, what she wanted me to say that night I came back. 

 

I swallow heavily “Because I love you Hermione.”

 

I’m slightly alarmed when she bursts into tears but am immediately placated by the little kisses she starts peppering me with. 

 

“I love you. ” she cries into my chest.  

 

She whispers it again now between gasps as I suck greedily on her neck and run my hands under her t-shirt, up her back. 

 

“Love you so fucking much.” I murmur into her ear as I unclasp her bra.

 

Her top and bra are quick discarded along with my t-shirt. She moans as I cup her tits but then pulls back and yanks her jeans off. 

 

She sits on the edge of my bed and I groan as she reaches out and grabs me by the top of my jeans, pulling me towards her with darkened eyes. 

 

She’s just pulled my jeans down and is starting on my boxers when suddenly the door swings open. 

 

“Ron, I was - Aghhh! No! God! No!” Harry shrieks and falls out the door dramatically. 

 

“Shit!” I frantically start pulling my jeans up as Hermione scrambles with pulling the duvet around herself. 

 

“Oh God! Oh God my eyes!” Harry cries out, knelt on the ground, his hands covering his eyes. 

 

“Harry! Be quiet. You’re going to -“ 

 

But it’s too late, a frantic George and Ginny have just appeared on the landing. 

 

“What the -“

 

Ginny takes one look at Harry on the floor, his hands still over his eyes, and then at me in just my jeans and probably very mussed up hair and Hermione wrapped in the sheet behind me and bursts out laughing.

 

George looks like Christmas has come early - “Thanks Fred!” he says kissing his fingers and holding them up to the sky. 

 

“Gin - help me you’ve got to obliviate me - please! ”

 

Harry glances up and see’s Hermione is still just wrapped in the sheet, he mimes being sick and immediately closes his eyes again - “Ugh, gross!” he shouts. 

 

“Harry - Shut. Up.” She hisses from behind me “And our love is not gross.”

 

“SO GROSS!” Harry wails in response. 

 

“Come on Harry.” says George heaving him to his feet and leading him away “Let’s go get a nice stiff drink and leave these lovebirds to it.” Ginny follows behind, still shaking with giggles, as Harry continues to mutter under his breathe. 

 

George glances back over his shoulder. “Mum and Dad are out in the garden. Don’t forget Chapter Thirteen little brother.” He says pointedly with a wink.

Notes:

My first time doing a bit of smut and some proper romance (but I couldn't resist lightening it up by torturing Harry a little) so appreciate any feedback on that.

Chapter 4: Cooties and Contraceptive Charms

“Have you quite finished inspecting for cooties?” I ask that afternoon as I watch Harry scourgify the bedside table for the third time. “And we didn’t do anything over there.” 

 

“Ha ha very funny. I still cannot believe… didn’t you just kiss a week ago?”

 

I roll my eyes “First of all no, we did not just kiss a week ago, it was a month ago. And secondly, what, you think we should spend another seven years getting to know each other better?” 

 

Harry’s mouth flaps open and shut “A month.”

 

“Yeah didn’t you notice?”

 

“No!”

 

“Well I suppose you were preoccupied, we were trying to be discreet as well - not shove it in your face but I think that’s gone to hell now hasn’t it?”

 

Harry claps a hand to his face “Please tell me not in the tent…”

 

I consider tormenting him but decide he’s been through enough this week “No, Shell Cottage.”

 

“Yuck.”

 

“Well for what it’s worth I think you and Ginny are yucky.”

 

Harry sticks his tongue out at me but then sighs “I’m beginning to wonder if Ginny does too…”

 

“I know she seems pissed, but Ginny’s always pissed so why do you think it’s about you?

 

“Dunno, she hasn’t really said much to me.”

 

“Have you tried to talk to her?”

 

Harry shakes his head. “Are you actually trying to give me dating advice?”

 

“Don’t you have that book I got you for your birthday last year? Apparently silently staring at them and hoping it will all work out the way you want isn’t enough.”

 

“Worked last time…” Harry mutters as he starts looking under the cot. “Oh God! There’s something under there. I swear to Merlin Ron, if that is something from one of your sex games I’m leaving for Grimmauld Place.”

 

I lean under “Relax, it’s just a sock.”

 

“A sex game sock?”

 

“No!”

 

“Okay.” He breathes a sigh of relief. “I think we’re in the clear.” 

 

“Oh no you’re not. Hermione wants to talk to you about it.”

 

“Uuugh… why?”

 

“She wants to know all about how you feel about us being together so we can put any worries to rest and sort out boundaries.”

 

“I think I would rather have to go another round with Tom. Can’t you just - I dunno distract her?” 

 

“I don’t think that’s going to work.”

 

“Just like shimmy your hips at her.”

 

“Shimmy my hips at her.”

 

“Yeah I mean, I dunno what she likes, but she packed those tight jeans for you and, Merlin knows, she found enough excuses for you to keep bending over while she stood there with her mouth hanging open didn’t she?” 

 

I gape at him “Okay first of all I am not your piece of meat man-bait that you can just set out whenever it suits you. Second, tell me more about the jeans thing?” 

 

 

Harry and I make our way downstairs and I enter the kitchen to a sudden rendition of “You Sexy Thing” sung by George, Charlie and Bill who emphasise the beat by thrusting their hips.

 

Ginny is roaring with laughter, Fleur is smirking, Dad is shaking his head at my brothers but grinning and Percy is bright red but he points at them and says to me - “This. This is why I didn’t want anyone knowing about Penelope.”

 

“Where is -“

 

“I believe in miracles -“

 

“Shut up - where is Hermione?”

 

Ginny bites her lip to stop laughing “Mum’s having a little talk with her.”

 

I groan and sit down, putting my head on the table. 

 

“Come on son.” Says Dad clapping me on the back.

 

“Dad please, I know I know girls are like sockets and boys are like plugs. I don’t need another talk.” 

 

Harry looks absolutely horrified while Ginny bursts out laughing all over again. 

 

But Dad drags me off to the living room and I sit awkwardly opposite him on the couch. 

 

“So you and Hermione?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And it’s a serious thing?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Now son, you’re of age so I really just want to make sure you’re being responsible.”

 

“I am Dad, yes I know the charm.” 

 

“Alright let me see.”

 

I sigh as I demonstrate it. “See.”

 

“I know but just in the heat of the moment, things can get a little carried away. I mean you’re almost the same age as your mother and I when we eloped and, well, we weren’t exactly planning on having Bill right away but, you know, the war was just beginning and every night felt it could be the last and one thing would lead to another…”

 

I put my head in my hands. “Yeah Dad. I get it. We’re being careful.”

 

“Alright now I assume one of your brothers gave you the book?”

 

I snort and nod “Fred and George.” I say a bit sadly. 

 

Dad nods “Good because female pleasure is very important Ron, it takes a bit of finesse.”

 

I groan into my hands “Yes thanks Dad.” 

 

We leave the living room and run into a slightly red-faced Hermione.

 

“Hello Hermione.” Dad says jovially before quickly heading into the kitchen. 

 

“I am so sorry.” I say to her. “What did she say to you?”

 

She bites her lip “It’s alright. She was quite understanding really, once I told her that we loved each other. She told me some stories about her and your Dad.”

 

“Ugh I am so sorry.”

 

“No it’s okay, some of them were quite romantic actually. She was mainly just checking that we knew how to do the charm and told me she would help me make an appointment with a healer if I wanted to go on the potion.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes. Your mother had seven children Ron, I imagine she’s very aware that sex happens.”

 

I shudder. 

 

“To be honest I already got a talk from Fleur about it when we were at Shell Cottage so all I need now is for Ginny to give me a talking to and that’ll be the cherry on top.” She says with a sigh. 

 

“You know how you always said you wished you had a big family like mine?.”

 

“Yeah”

 

“Well you’re about to change your mind.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

I lead her into the kitchen. 

 

“I believe in miracles since you came along…” 

 

Several songs later including a rendition of “A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love” which Mum actually conducted a bit with her wand, the novelty finally wore off.

Notes:

We've got a bit of angst ahead so I hope you enjoyed a nice breather of gentle comedy and fluff in honour of Fred Weasley.

Back in 05/06 I remember 'everyone finds out about Ron and Hermione fics' being all over the place and I was feeling nostalgic and hence you get the above.

Chapter 5: Readings and Revelations

 

I stare as the undertakers prepare the coffin for being lowered into the ground, the simple headstone with the name ‘Peter Pettigrew’ and the dates '1960-1998’ behind it. No one has said a word. Me, Harry and Hermione are the only people here, apart from the undertakers. 

 

Behind us we hear rushing feet and Percy, still in his Ministry robes, suddenly arrives. He looks pale and really like he’d rather be somewhere else but he joins our silent watch. Once the earth has been moved over the coffin, the undertaker asks if anyone would like to say anything. I glance nervously at Harry but Percy clears his throat and steps forward with a piece of paper. “If I may?” He asks looking nervously at us and Hermione nods at him. He takes a deep breathe and begins to read from the parchment:

 

 

This is the time that tradition says we must stand and sing your praises,
Share tales of achievements and weep at the fond memories.
But what good are these pleasantries and platitudes
When they are written for someone we didn’t know;
When they speak of a potential that was never fully realised.
Not in this lifetime.

A life worth speaking of is not always one of inspiration and success.
There is dignity in the struggle of being human.
There is unfathomable strength in rising to endure each day
When those days are not steeped in hope and promise
But in despair, loneliness, and pain.
And there is authentic beauty in a life
That is tangled, complicated and confronting.
So no, we will not patronise you
With artificial words of joy, laughter and connection.
We will not render you invisible
So that we may be socially acceptable and painfully pleasant.

Life battered you, and bruised you, and beckoned you on,
And formed you into the man we must now farewell.
We ask you to pass peacefully to the heavens above.

 

I join the others in nodding at Percy but I feel like all the air has been sucked out of my lungs as I struggle not to cry - not quite in grief but in pain and anger. Images of Pettigrew and Greyback roll around in my mind and I feel suddenly very sick.

 

We apparate to the Burrow and I’m surprised when Percy joins us, he puts a hand on my shoulder  and steers me towards the pond.  I can sense Harry and Hermione watching us go apprehensively. 

 

We stand and look out over the water silently for a few moments, Percy’s hand still gripping my shoulder. 

 

“That was a good reading.” I say eventually.

 

“Well, I’ve been thinking a lot about death lately.” Percy responds

 

I glance up at him and he looks at me and takes a deep breathe.

 

“I killed Rookwood.” He says evenly.

 

“Do Mum and Dad-“

 

“Yes.”

 

“Does it bother you?”

 

“Yes. Everyday.”

 

“Do you regret it?”

 

“Some days but, for my sake or his, I don’t know.”

 

I nod in understanding. 

 

Percy sighs “Mum says ‘that’s war’ when I try to talk to her about it…”

 

“Her brothers… Grandma and Grandpa Prewett…”

 

“I know but still…”

 

“Do you think Pettigrew regretted it?”

 

“I don’t know, I hope so.”

 

Percy reaches down and picks up a stone, skimming it across the lake and I join him. 

 

“He was always so…pitiful… was he like that in human form?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Percy shakes his head.

 

“Do you ever wonder what the hell he was thinking all those years…”

 

“Yeah. I don’t think I’d like to spend a week as a rat, let alone twelve years.”

 

“Do you think he would, you know, transform when we were out or asleep?”

 

I wince and internally shudder “Fucking hell, I don’t know which answer is worse.” 

 

Percy nods and then looks at his watch. 

 

“I have to go back to work.”

 

“Hey Perce? Thanks…”

 

He pats me on the shoulder one final time before we make our way back to the Burrow. 

 

 

*******************************************************************************************

 

A few days later, Bill and Fleur bring Mr Ollivander over to the Burrow from Muriel’s. Luna came too, she and her father are staying with Bill and Fleur while they rebuild their home.  

 

Ollivander informs us that he wants to make me, Harry and Hermione new wands to say thank you for rescuing him from the Malfoy’s. He says in order to that he’ll need to chat to us a little first., to get a feel for who we are now, in case a change is needed.

 

Harry demurs saying he is happy with his old wand that he managed to fix and Ollivander concurs that it still seems to suit him. Hermione, on the other hand, cannot wait to be rid of Bellatrix’s wand and chatters away to him for over half an hour while he stares at her, jotting down a note or two. 

 

Then came my turn. I look down at the stubby little wand I’d taken from Peter and suddenly feel a strong urge not to be parted from it. This was the wand that I’d fought with, defended my friends and family with, the wand that seemed to read my instincts and leapt to Hermione’s defence just before Gringotts, the wand that had killed Fenrir Greyback, the wand that had disarmed Bellatrix Lestrange…

 

“Please, em, sir,” I say to Mr Ollivander “Is there anyway I could keep this wand? But perhaps clean it up or … or  something…”

 

Ollivander looks at me strangely “I was forced to make that wand, it’s not exactly my best work.” 

 

 The wand was Peters and the fact that it works so well for me unnerves me a little too.

 

“I know, but well it’s …” I glance down at the wand in my hand, turning it over and suddenly I know what I want to say. “I know it wasn’t a wand that you particularly wanted to make. It knows it was unwanted but it’s…it’s been trying to prove itself, trying to be good and worthy.” My family who have been watching the whole process with interest are staring at me now and I feel my ears redden. “And it has, I mean, it helped me fight.” I finish defensively. 

 

Ollivander is looking at me pensively, he holds out his hand for the wand and I give it to him. He holds it gently and closes his eyes. When he opens them, he turns to Fleur: “Tell me Fleur, dear, is young Mr Weasley here particularly easily enchanted by your veela powers?”

 

Now everyone is staring at Ollivander instead of me. Fleur looks startled but blushes slightly and gives me an apologetic look: “Ah, Oui, yes.”

 

I flush bright red and Ollivander studies me, his eyes raking over me: “Mr Weasley, do you often feel magic?” 

 

“Sorry, what?” I say to him.

 

“Do you, in your senses, in your intuition, seem to know things, seem to be strongly in tune with magic - like you are with this wand?” He looks around the room, clearly opening the question to everyone. 

 

“Well, I…” I rub the back of my neck, unsure what to say. Fortunately, Harry pipes up:

 

“He warned us about the taboo.” Harry says slowly “We didn’t know about the taboo early last year but Ron stopped me saying Voldemort.” Everyone but Harry and Hermione flinch and choke. “Told me off about it even though I’ve been doing it for years so I stopped…” 

 

A look of realisation crosses Harry’s face “And Ron knew the Mirror of Erised was bad news back in first year,  he told me to leave it alone, not to hang around it.” 

 

Mr Ollivander is nodding and Harry is getting excited now “Ron - Ron knew that Riddle’s diary was bad news too! He was so wary of it when we found it in the bathroom. And - and the locket!” Harry’s face is practically shining in excitement now. “Ron, you said it yourself, it affected you worse than me or Hermione. You saw what happened…” 

 

Hermiones eyebrows knit together at that.

 

Harry carries on “And.. and you felt the locket first. It’s heartbeat, remember!” 

 

“What locket?” Bill asks looking extremely worried “And what’s this about a Mirror?” but Harry waves him off, his eyes getting that glazed over, far away look they get when he’s busy piecing a puzzle together. 

 

“The imperious in fourth year.” Hermione adds suddenly. “After Moody, er, Barty Crouch, lifted the imperious curse on Ron it took ages to wear off, remember. He kept skipping for ages…”

 

Ginny suddenly jumps in “… and when we were little, Luna do you remember? We were all playing hide and seek in the village when suddenly Ron went all weird and dragged us back to the house, said something was wrong and we got back and Uncle Billius had died!”

 

My whole family are staring at me again. “I guess, yeah, erm sometimes I feel stuff, feel it really strongly and its like it’s almost out of control. My magic. Like in my charms OWL exam, I was so nervous and  I … I don’t know how it happened but I turned a dinner plate into a mushroom.”

 

“What?” Said Hermione sharply “No you can’t have”

 

“Yeah,  yes he did!” Harry practically whoops. 

 

“But that would break Gamps Law of Elemental Transfiguration” Hermione said huffing, her arms crossed. 

 

“He did! I saw it in the hall!”

 

“The examiner didn’t seem very impressed.” I admit

“Are you telling me that you can turn inanimate objects into food?” Hermione asks, cross for some reason.

 

“I don’t know if it was an edible mushroom.” I shoot back, bewildered. 

 

But we’re interrupted. Ollivanders old face had split into an enormous, unnerving grin: “And what about people? Do you tend to have strong instincts about people?

 

Harry grins and, gives a sideways look at Hermione, raising his eyebrows: “Ron pegged Lockhart as a fraud pretty quick.”

 

Hermione rolls her eyes but nods in agreement.

 

 “Now, Mr Weasley have you ever studied Divination?” Ollivander asks.

 

“Yes.”  

 

“Under Professor Trelawney, I trust?”

 

Hermione practically chokes trying to hold back a snort.

 

Ollivander pays her no mind and I reply: “Yes, well her and Firenze, the centaur, for a little bit. I didn't er, do great on my OWL in it though”

 

“No matter, no matter. School exams are meaningless anyway.” Ollivander pauses thoughtfully as Hermione gapes at him. 

 

“Mr Weasley, I can take this wand away and clean it up, perhaps extend the handle and the wand, make it all a little thinner so the size is better suited to you but leave the core of the wand, it’s essence, in tact. Would that be acceptable?”

 

I nod.

 

Ollivander continues “While I do that I want you to consider something. I am an old man, still quite frail at the moment and none of my nieces or nephews have shown any indication of the gifts of a wandmaker. Goodness knows what state my shop will be in when I return. I would be keen to take on an apprentice.”

 

“An apprentice? A wandmaker?”

 

“Yes. Now bear in mind, I would expect you to carry on some of your studies - Divination and Charms would be a must and I’d encourage Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures too. A good understanding of the materials and temperaments of plants and creatures is handy knowledge for a wandmaker. But really, it’s all in the feel. One cannot learn the skills of a wandmaker out of a dusty book and as I said school exams are a poor measure of talent.”

 

I glance around.  Hermione looks torn between being proud and slightly outraged, Harry is beaming at me and Mum and Dad are nodding encouragingly. 

 

“Well sure, yes of course - I’ll think about it.” I stammer out. "Thank you."

 

“Good. I’m afraid I must take my leave now, all the excitement has worn me out a bit.”

 

Fleur nods, carefully helping him stand and taking him outside so she can apparate him back to Muriel’s. 

 

Once they’re gone, Bill rounds on me

 

“SO, what’s this about a locket?”

 

“And a Mirror” Percy adds

 

“And the imperious curse.” Mum says looking furious. 

 

Ah, here comes that interrogation. 

Notes:

The reading by Percy is part of the poem Unnamed by Kim Forrester, I’ve chopped out bits to make it suitable for Pettigrew.

Chapter 6: Legacies and Lies

Sixth Year, Gryffindor Common Room 

 

Neville returns from the Slug Club meeting and throws himself in the chair next to me with a deep sigh. I glance at my watch “You’re back early.” I grunt at him, feeling a little bitter. 

 

“Yeah there wasn’t much point in staying. I was just invited because of who my parents are but Slughorn obviously wasn’t very impressed. Gran’s bound to give me an earful.” Neville sighs deeply again. 

 

I continue fiddling around with the chess set in front of me. I’m not sure what to say so I settle for “I never thought I would hate a potions teacher more than Snape.”

 

Neville looks at me curiously and quirks an eyebrow. 

 

I sigh. “Snape’s an absolute bastard but at least, you know, he’s an equal opportunities bastard - you know where you stand with him - if you’re not in Slytherin he fucking hates you and if you are in Slytherin, well he’s still a bit of a dick.”

 

Neville laughs. “Where you invited?”

 

“No”

 

“Oh … I just thought - with the chess death match and the chamber of secrets and the Ministry and you’re a prefect and well …”

 

“Harry’s friend?”

 

Neville winces at me but nods. I shrug in response. “It’s not my type of thing anyway Neville…” I remember Lockhart and his ridiculous peacock quills, the lady at the pet shop trying to get me to give up on Scabbers with the promise of those show-off, shiny new rats… 

 

“Ginny was there.” Neville says carefully “Slughorn said he invited her because she did a good hex…”

 

We exchange a look. “What do you reckon?” I ask him. 

 

“Ginny’s the first Weasley girl born in, what, five generations?”

 

“Six.” 

 

“And she is very, er, pretty.”

 

I nod. 

 

“And the Slughorns are in the Sacred 28 too.”

 

 “Yeah.”

 

Neville and I exchange another look. “She’ll go berserk when she realises…”

 

“Once Ginny clocks it, that Slughorn thinks she’ll ‘marry well’,  she’ll rain total hellfire but there’s no point in talking to her at the moment, anything I say isn’t going to make a difference.”

 

Neville sighs again “Do you ever get sick of it Ron?”

 

“What? The name, the pressure, the comparisons? That it doesn’t matter what you do -“

 

“Because someone else in the family has already done it.” Neville finishes for me sadly. “But when you’re a disappointment, well, that’s all on you, but you’ll still be compared to someone else.”

 

“We never had these problems with Charlie wandering round the school at night… Bill would never use that kind of language…” I mimic my mother.

 

Neville laughs and adopts his grandmothers haughty air “Honestly Neville, your father was a total whiz at transfiguration….Your Uncle Harfang doesn’t have to constantly replace his son’s quills, he’s not a total scatterbrain…” 

 

I laugh and then straighten up. “Come on Neville, let’s go and dishonour the family name some more - we’ll go see if Seamus has any of that smuggled firewhisky left…” 

 

****************************************************

Present Day, the Burrow.

“Oh, so like Ginny and the diary?” My Dad asks brow furrowed.

 

“Sort of…I - I was still me when I wore it but..” I start out cautiously 

 

“Not quite you.” Ginny offers. 

 

I can feel Hermione’s eyes boring into me but I daren’t look at her.

 

“Everyone was … agitated with it on but…it made me think all this stuff - stuff I’d thought anyway but it was … It was like it wanted to show me… make me see how true it all was. Made me … feel like I couldn’t trust anyone …feel like I could - like I should hurt myself… feel like it wouldn’t matter if I did because I was…I was…”  

 

“Worthless.” Ginny finishes for me quietly. I chance a glance at her.

 

I hear Hermione take a sharp intake of breathe.

 

“No, but I mean, it was still my fault. I still left, I… I wasn’t possessed or anything.”

 

Ginny is shaking her head. “Ron, do you think Tom spent all that time chatting with me because he found the innermost thoughts of an eleven year old girl fascinating? That’s what he does - makes you believe you’re alone…that no one cares…”

 

I nod at her. Don’t get me wrong, I’m absolutely horrified at the understanding in Ginny’s eyes and am profoundly relieved that my family seems to be being quite sympathetic about the locket but apparently, even in my darkest hour, my experience is still old-hat to one of my siblings. 

 

“Ron, the diary possessed Ginny and made her strangle cockerels and try to kill muggleborns. These are clearly really dark objects…” Dad says

 

“Right but…”

 

“We’ve just talked about how sensitive you are to magic, Ron.” Bill interjects. “It’s like Uncle Billius - one look at the Grimm and poof - that was it.”  

 

“You know - he gets that from Cedrella, your grandmother, always feeling things so deeply - so easily led. We once had to tear her away from a cursed piano that played beautifully but only horribly depressing melodies until it lulled you into despair.” Mum adds. 

 

“We Weasleys must be allergic to horcruxes.” George offers, the hint of a laugh on his face. 

 

I sigh. 

 

For the last hour, we have been telling the story of the past year.

 

I say ‘we’.

 

After the first time Mum erupted in fury (“Dumbledore sent you off to do WHAT?! It’s a good thing he’s dead because if I could get my hands on him right now… I can’t believe you would all do this. What the hell where you thinking? Arthur, I told you - told you- Dumbledore would have some crackpot idea and these children - our son - would suffer for it! ”) Harry and Hermione had rather hung back, looking mildly terrified and completely abashed, and let me do the talking. I wasn’t getting very far as every two minutes someone would interrupt.  

 

“So then what happened?” Ginny asks.

 

“Well I -“

 

“Ron came to me.” Bill jumps in, nervously looking at my mother, who glares at him.

 

“Right but before that I -“

 

“Bill - why didn’t you tell me?” My mother scolds.

 

“He didn’t want you to know and I didn’t know anything about this locket business otherwise I sure as shit wouldn’t have let him go back. I was trying to be a good brother - keep his confidence.” 

 

“I can’t believe you kept this from me - I was worrying myself sick every night.” 

 

“I know Mum I’m sorry - we’re sorry.” Bill says glancing at me and I nod. 

 

She sighs deeply. “Alright, alright it’s done now and no one is worse off for it I suppose.”

 

Harry’s eyes keep flicking to me. He clears his throat “With Ron gone it was really horrible, I was - we were really depressed - we carried on but made - I made - stupid mistakes…”

 

My family listens silently as Harry tells the story of going to Godric’s Hollow and of the silver doe.

 

“And then,” Harry says beaming at me “Ron saved me. Jumped into the pool and dragged me out and then went back again for the Sword.” 

 

“And then they destroyed the locket.” Hermione says.

 

“How?”

 

Harry clears his throat. “I opened it with parseltongue and Ron stabbed it with the Sword.”  

 

Dads brow furrowed “And it just - died?”

 

“No it can’t have…” said Bill looking curiously at us. “Dark objects like that - that have been clinging on to people -don’t just go quietly. From what you said it was growing in power, it had some sentience - you just said it tried to strangle you twice Harry?”

 

Harry and I glance at each other. “Well I don’t know what to tell you - it just screamed.” Harry said, not quite looking at Bill.

 

“Yeah.” I clear my throat again. “later on, we’ll tell you about destroying the cup and the diadem and they both just sort of withered away…” I add

 

“But was it the same sort of situation - had you been around those objects, been close to them for long periods of time?” Bill persists

 

“No.” Says Hermione flatly, her eyes darting between me and Harry suspiciously. 

 

“And didn’t the diary version of You-Know-Who basically take on corporal form?” Dad asks

 

“Yeah, Harry had a whole conversation with Tom. In fact he didn’t realise he wasn’t a real person at first. Right Harry?” Ginny adds. 

 

“Well - yeah - but, er, not this time - I didn’t have any conversations this time.”

 

“But -“

 

“Then -“ I jump in “We went to go see Xenophilus Lovegood and he tried to sell us out to You-Know-Who.” Harry grins at me. 

 

“What!?” My mother predictably shrieks and I’m relieved as everyone is distracted by her alternating between cursing Xenophilius and scolding me for being so close to home but not coming by to let her know we were safe.

 

Everyone, that is, except Hermione whose face has turned stony. Together Harry and I shrink away a bit at her narrowed eyes - she’s absolutely fucking furious. 

Notes:

I’ve always found it deeply strange that Ginny was invited for a single hex, it seems wildly unlikely that that would be the type of thing to impress Slughorn given the types of people he invites and things he values and seems impressed by…