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Author: Asthore Story: No Place Like Home Rating: Young Teens Status: WIP Reviews: 8 Words: 10,963
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'm only adding to a wonderful world created by JK. No copyright infringement intended. * "Blast it!" Ginny exclaimed as some of the boiling water fell onto her hand. Ron rushed over from his niche on the stairs. "Are you all right?" he asked concernedly, tapping her on the shoulder. Ginny gave a shout of surprise, whipped her wand out, and shoved it in his face. Once she recognised him, she lowered it. "Bloody hell, Ron," she whispered. "You scared me." He took her hand, but she yanked it away. "Don't touch it," she hissed. "Can't you see the blisters? Accio burn cream!" A tube of burn cream floated into the room and she applied a small dollop onto her burned hand. "That's better. Episkey!" The blisters vanished and her hand returned to normal. "What are you doing up so late?" Ron asked. "Couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd make some hot chocolate," she gestured toward the cup in front of her. "Would you like some, too?" He nodded. She took out a second cup and made him some, making sure not to forget the dollop of honey. They took their cups and sat down at the table. "Why are you up?" Ginny questioned. Ron sighed. "I went to check on Hermione and then I came down here." He drummed his fingers on the table. Ginny recognised the drumming as a signal. When she was nervous, she twirled her hair around her finger, Hermione rubbed her arm, Harry ran his hand unknowingly through his hair, and Ron… when Ron was nervous or worried, he drummed his fingers. "That's not the only thing… is it?" He hesitated. "I think she may be keeping something from me. I can't put my finger on it, but I feel like she's not telling me something important." Ginny looked at her older brother. When they were growing up, he had always been her protector. When Fred and George picked on her, he stood up for her. He looked after her whenever they played a game or had a mini-adventure. After her first year, he became more protective. He chased away her boyfriends, scared away any potential ones, and wrapped her up in cotton wool. Until finally one day, Hermione took him aside and explained how suffocating he was being to Ginny. He eased up a little bit, but not completely. However, she knew he couldn't help it; it was in his nature: He was a protector. It was one of the main reasons he was Sorted into Gryffindor, other than the fact that every Weasley in the past few generations had been. She knew he was genuinely worried. It was ironic how their roles were reversed now. Once upon a time, it had been Ginny who worried that Harry wasn't telling her something important. She had been right, but she was sure that Ron didn't want to hear that Hermione was now keeping something from him. "I'm sure it's nothing, Ron." Sadly, he turned to look at her. "Thanks, Gin, I know you're trying to help, but…" "…you know something is really wrong," she finished for him. He nodded. "You should ask her about it," she suggested, "tomorrow morning. Knowing Hermione, she's putting on a brave face, but something is really hurting her on the inside." "I'm afraid, Ginny. Even though the war is over and V… Voldemort is gone, I'm still afraid that I'm going to lose her." Very rarely did Ron show his true emotions and Ginny felt a pang of sorrow at her brother's admission. She got up and hugged him. It wasn't a quick, brief hug like the ones they usually gave each other; it was a long, bone-crunching, caring hug like the ones they shared when they were growing up. "Don't wait to ask her, Ron. Waiting is a horrible thing to undergo." They broke off their hug. "The past year was horrible for you." It wasn't a question; it was a fact. "I tried, I tried to keep busy: running the DA, fighting back against the Carrows. I tried to always keep busy, so that I wouldn't have to face the fact that I was waiting for something that might never come." Ginny hesitated and took a shallow breath before continuing. "Even detention was a welcome reprieve. You always have to be on your toes in the forest. The pain from the Cruciatus Curse keeps your mind off everything else. But when you're all alone and you have nothing to do, it's heart-breaking to just wait, wait for the person you love most in the world and know that he may never come home." A tear fell down her cheek. Ron reached over and started to stroke her arm. "And then… right after you were briefly reunited, the next time you see him is dead at the feet of the Darkest wizard of all time." She was crying openly now, softly but openly. The carefully designed mask of strength no longer adorned her face. It was foolish to even attempt to appear well put together after all that she had suffered. She was only sixteen, but had seen acts that were more horrible and suffered more in that amount of time than many did in their whole lives. They sat there like that for who knows how long, him stroking her arm and her crying. Her tears gradually diminished and she could speak again. "Yes, waiting is the most horrible thing to endure." She reached for her hot chocolate and took a long gulp, enjoying the warmth that permeated her body, warmth she had seldom felt in the past year. Ron did the same. In silence, they sat there for a while, just soaking up each other's presence. "So what's Hermione doing that's got you so worried?" she asked, going back to the origin of their conversation. The finger drumming returned. "It's nothing big, just little things," he replied. "Like sometimes her eyes will be unfocused and she won't hear what you're saying. But she always shakes herself out of it. Then, other times, she'll shiver for no reason or grip my hand so hard that it's like she's trying to crush my bones into dust. Plus, she has really dark circles under her eyes." He frowned. "And yesterday, at the funeral, when she heard about Andromeda's and Narcissa's fight, her eye went all twitchy." Ginny stared at him. "What?" Shaking her head slightly, she said, "You're a lot more attuned to people than everyone gives you credit for, Ron. How come you never show that side to anyone?" He shrugged. "I'm not really, Ginny." "Yes, you are," she shot back. "You knew Harry had broken up with me before anyone else!" "That was obvious," he retorted. "You were both miserable and wouldn't go near the other one." "How about when I almost drowned in the creek when I was five? You were nowhere near me then!" "When we were heading back to the house, I realized you weren't with us. So I made Bill come back with me to look for you." "What about the summer after the Chamber?" He took a sharp intake of breath. They were treading in dangerous territory now. He met her eyes. Full of fire, they burned. "That summer, when I started having nightmares, you knew." "So did everyone else," he answered cautiously. "But you knew about it first," she snapped. "How did you know first? Surely Percy, the twins, or even Mum and Dad, should have known first. They slept closer to me; you were all the way up in the attic. The only way you could have known was that you were more in tune with me than all of them. Admit it; you know I'm right!" He dropped his head. Of course, she was right. "Why, Ron?" she asked softly. "Why not show that side to people?" "I guess I'm afraid." "Afraid? Of what?" "That people will think that I'm some sort of freak." "Ron, you're not a freak." "Of course you would say that; you're my sister." "I'd say that even if I wasn't your sister." She took her finger and forced his chin up so that he was looking at her. "You've been given a gift, Ron: the ability to sense when things are wrong with the people you love. Who knows how many times you've helped someone because of it. Embrace it. It's a wonderful gift to possess." He sighed slightly, though on the inside he was coming around. "Now what?" she barked, fed up with his attitude. "You're so bloody stubborn that you can convince anyone of anything." She rolled her eyes at him. "Why didn't you try to convince Harry to take you with us?" "Because, as much as I hate to say this, I would have been a liability." "A liability?" "Yeah. First of all, I was underage, which meant I was still under the Trace and would not have been to perform magic without Tom and his cronies knowing about it. I knew the basics of duelling, but none of the advanced stuff and I would have been a distraction to Harry. Let's face it," she smiled, "it would've brassed a lot of people off if we lost the war because our Saviour was too busy snogging his girlfriend." "Ugh, bad mental images," he shuddered. She slapped his arm. "And imagining you and Hermione together is just a pleasant stroll in the park for me," she laughed. A comfortable silence reigned as they returned to their hot chocolate. After the last bit of hot chocolate was siphoned from their cups, they headed upstairs, side by side. Stopping outside of Ginny's room, they exchanged another bone-crushing hug. "I love you," he said, "even if you're the most bloody stubborn person alive." "Love you, too, my equally stubborn brother," she replied as she kissed his cheek before slipping into her room. Ron continued up the stairs and got into bed. As he drifted off to sleep, he promised himself, 'Tomorrow... Tomorrow, I'll talk to Hermione.' * A/N: This chapter was inspired by this quote, which I happen to agree with: "The family - that dear octopus from whose tentacles we never quite escape, nor, in our inmost hearts, ever quite wish to." As always: thank you, Drusilla J
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