It seemed an age before night finally fell upon Privet Drive. Harry was almost shaky with relief when he heard the Dursleys going to bed. The familiar, if annoying, snores echoed down the hallway.

He had been dozing when he heard another noise outside his window. Glancing up, Harry jumped back quickly. Blinking, he wasn't sure if he should believe his eyes. Just beyond his window there was the rear end of a car floating in midair.

Something akin to understanding flooded him when he saw Percy's face just inside the back hatch of the car. Harry hurried to open the window, glancing around outside to see if anyone else was up and about to see such an odd spectacle. Surely Aunt Petunia's gossip circle would love such a sight. He tried to convince himself there was no one else awake as Percy popped open the door.

"Hey, Harry."

Harry nodded, glancing back at Ron. "You got my letter." Relief flooded through him. "Hedwig?"

"She's at the Burrow." Harry nodded again, not quite sure what to make of a place called the Burrow, but willing to go with it for the time being. "Ron?"

Harry gestured over his shoulder -- moving aside to let Percy see. "He's still out. Has been all day. Can you help me get him downstairs?"

Percy nodded. "Yeah." He gestured over his shoulder with a tilt of his chin. "Bill's driving, but Charlie can help."

Harry tried to see into the car where Percy pointed, but couldn't see through the darkness. A moment later there was a sparkle of light and a tall redheaded man -- what Harry imagined Ron would probably look like in a several years -- appeared next to him.

Charlie nodded a hello to Harry, but his attention was focused on his little brother. Even from halfway across the room it was impossible to miss the shaking that wracked the thin frame under the one thin blanket Harry had. A weary look on his face, Charlie walked over and kneeled next to Ron, brushing the damp red hair away from Ron's fevered brow. Gently, he hooked his arms under Ron's neck and knees before lifting him from the bed.

Glancing over his shoulder, Charlie said, "I can get Ron. You get your things. And bring your trunk. You can come home with us."

"Okay," Harry replied, shocked, but unwilling to turn down such a gift. Not allowing himself time to think he hurried to gather both his belongings and Ron's. Moments later he stood beside Charlie, arms loaded with bags and Hedwig's cage.

It was then he realized Charlie was waiting on him. Sheepishly, he looked at the door and then the older Weasley. "The door is locked from the outside," he explained in response to Charlie's silent question.

A flash of... something crossed the other man's face. However rather than discuss it, Charlie reached into his robe pocket and pulled out his wand. A second later the bolt was sprung and they were walking down the main stairs.

"Careful of the bottom step," Harry whispered -- one ear warily tuned to the sleeping people upstairs. Charlie nodded mutely in reply, stepping over the last step with ease.

When they reached the front door Harry unlocked it as quietly as possible. Standing to the side, he let Charlie walk through first. However he was taken aback -- there was no car hovering just beyond the porch. Just as the thought had begun to form there was a flicker of light and Harry realized he could see inside the car, but not the outside.

He shook his head, wondering for the moment if his eyes were playing tricks on him. It was Percy's voice, which broke him from the distraction. "Where are your things?"

Harry watched for a moment as Charlie eased Ron into the car, laying him across the back seat before looking at Percy. Gesturing toward the bags and cage, he said, "This is part. The rest is in there." He indicated the locked cupboard by jerking his head.

Percy took the bag and cage, and glanced at the cupboard. "Can you get in there?"

Harry frowned. "Only with magic."

"Bill?" Percy whispered, the noise carrying just far enough to get his brother's attention. Charlie was too busy checking on the practically lifeless Ron to hear.

Harry watched as a door appeared in the sky, and Bill jumped out of the car. Long ponytail bouncing with the motion, he walked over to Percy and Harry. "Percy?"

The redheaded Prefect pointed at the half-hidden door. "Harry's things are in there. Could you manage a spell to get them?"

"Okay, stand back." He muttered a curse and pointed his wand at the tiny door. A second later it swung open slowly. "There you go," he said, glancing at Harry. "But we need to hurry."

Percy and Harry nodded and soon the three of them had worked the trunk into the back of the magical car.

"All ready?" Bill asked, from behind the wheel. When they nodded, he looked at Harry. "Should you tell your family goodbye?"

Harry looked at him with empty eyes, shaking his head. "They'll just be happy I'm gone."

~<>~<>~

The trip back to the Burrow was mostly spent in silence. Those in the flying car -- even Bill who was driving -- seemed to be focused on Ron.

Nor did the oppressive silence lift when they arrived at the peculiar house. Harry entered the dwelling with wide eyes, but far less enthusiasm than he might otherwise have. At that moment, he was too worried about his best friend to be very curious.

They had barely touched the ground when the two elder Weasley's rushed through the front door. "Bill! Charlie! Percy!" The names rolled off Mrs. Weasley's tongue. "What did you think..."

She was silenced when Charlie climbed out of the car, Ron's still form in his arms. She gasped; rushing forward -- touching Ron's face and hair, as if assuring herself he was really there.

It was as if a switch had been thrown. Gone were the recriminations, replaced with orders of another kind. "Take him upstairs, Charlie. Use our room." Charlie nodded, ducking into the house without a backward glance.

When Bill and Percy moved to follow, Mrs. Weasley blocked their path. "If you're so determined to fly the car, then make yourselves useful and go get Madame Ublis."

The Weasley boys nodded silently. Harry watched as they turned and left, only to find himself standing alone on the porch. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had hurried into the house after Charlie and Ron.

Unsure what to do, Harry sat on the porch and waited for Bill and Percy to return.

~<>~<>~

Bill and Percy were back in what felt like no time at all, or maybe it was a lifetime. Harry couldn't make up his mind. There was a tall, spindly woman Harry didn't recognize in the front seat of the car.

Leaving the doors on the car open, they rushed into the house. Still uncertain as to his place, Harry followed behind Percy and Charlie. As soon as they were inside the house she was sprinting to the room where they had taken Ron.

Harry recognized the room as Ron's parents -- mostly from Mrs. Weasley's comment downstairs. He wondered briefly why they wouldn't take Ron to his own room, but was distracted from the thought by the healer's voice.

"How long has he been unconscious?"

Her question was directed toward the Weasleys, and Charlie turned to Harry. "Do you know when it happened, Harry?"

"Um..." Harry swallowed nervously, feeling six sets of anxious eyes settle on him. Until then he had been doing his best to act invisible. "Since this morning. It wasn't long after I found him."

The healer turned her piercing gaze back to the small redheaded boy. She pulled one eyelid open and then the other. "Still. It could be worse," she mumbled, mostly to herself. Tapping her hand on her leg, she gestured toward the door. "Why don't you wait outside? I'll tell you when I'm done."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but after a quick headshake from Bill, he remained silent.

Mrs. Weasley took a step forward. "I'd prefer to stay." Although there was the remains of tear tracks on her cheeks, her eyes glowed with determination.

"Alright," the healer said with a nod. Leveling a long look at the other Weasley boys and Harry, she again pointed toward the door. "But the rest of you. Out. You'll know soon enough how young Ron fares."

It was the last thing Harry wanted to do -- after what Ron had said, what had happened --letting Ron out of his sight was almost out of the question. He felt a hand on his arm and looked up, following the arm to see Percy staring at him sadly.

"Let's go, Harry," he whispered.

He tried to shake his head, but felt himself being led from the room anyway. The last glance he had of Ron was the healer leaning over him, and speaking quietly to Mrs. Weasley.

~<>~<>~

"Why are you here?"

The rough voice caught Harry off guard, causing him to jump. He looked across the room to see Fred standing in the doorway. After being run out of the other room, he, Percy and Charlie had retreated to the main room. Mr. Weasley had disappeared upstairs, Bill following in his wake.

When Harry didn't answer right away, Fred stepped into the room. "Well?"

Harry managed not to flinch at the cold tone, barely. Looking at Fred, he realized this wasn't the happy prankster he remembered from the previous year at Hogwarts. It was as if he had been replaced by someone else entirely.

Licking his lips, Harry cleared his throat. "I came with Ron. I wanted to be sure he was all right."

"Ron," Fred growled. The larger boy glanced over his shoulder, toward the stairs that led to their parents' room. "I should have known he'd crawl back."

The words sounded dead, and Harry shivered. He couldn't believe he was hearing the cold tone. This wasn't Fred, he decided. This was someone who looked like Fred -- but was changed drastically.

It was the lingering scent of smoke hanging on the air that brought home to Harry why Fred was so changed. He closed his eyes for a moment. George... Harry wasn't sure what he had expected to find at the Burrow -- Fred upset, certainly; even crying, possibly; but angry to the point of hatred? Never.

Before he had time to think any further, Charlie broke him out of his daze. "He didn't crawl back." Harry winced at the sharp tone. How had it happened that the Weasleys were falling apart? "We had to drag him back, practically."

Harry looked over at Fred, who stood motionless -- his hands clenched into fists and jaw locked tight. Without a word, the middle brother turned and left the room. In his wake, Harry could only stare after him. The spell was broken by Percy, who sighed softly.

"We're falling apart," Charlie said in the silence that followed, running a hand over his face before retreating from the room.

Percy glanced over at Harry, a sad look in his eyes. "Everything's different now." Harry swallowed around a lump in his throat when Percy whispered, "Everything."

~<>~<>~

Sometime later, while the healer was still with Ron, Harry ventured out of the main room. Unsure exactly where he was going, he walked up the stairs and past the room he had so recently been inside. There were the sounds of muffled voices, but Harry couldn't make out what they were saying.

Walking blindly, he followed the twisting hallways and stairs, no real destination in mind. His hands stuffed into his pockets, he was staring more at his feet than in front of him when he suddenly walked into a wall. At least, what he thought was a wall.

Looking up, Harry found himself pressed nose first into Fred Weasley. And the look on the older boy's face was a strange apathy but if he looked closer he would swear he saw grief and anger hidden there as well. Before that moment, Harry would have doubted those three could co-exist in the same eyes.

"Looking for something?" The voice wasn't as cold as it had been earlier, but neither was it the welcoming voice of the boy he knew.

Harry shook his head. "Not really."

Fred blinked, and for one unguarded moment Harry thought he saw something besides anger. For one fleeting instant, there was a wariness and unimaginable pain. It was gone so quickly, however, that Harry was left to wonder if he had imagined it.

When Fred didn't say anything in reply, Harry looked at his feet for a minute. "I'm sorry," he whispered. Risking a glance at Fred, he blinked sheepishly. "I know..."

"What do you know?" Fred snapped, turning and disappearing through a doorway to Harry's left.

Harry stood motionless for several seconds, taken aback once again. An unfamiliar anger suddenly burned in his chest and he followed Fred. It turned out to be a small room with matching beds -- one made, the other not.

"Fred..."

The boy almost growled, voice low with warning. "No, Harry." But Harry persisted.

He stepped further into the room, not quite standing in front of the bed Fred had dropped onto. "I do have some idea," he added quietly. When Fred made to reply, Harry held up one hand. To his surprise, Fred relented, allowing Harry to speak. "I may not remember losing my parents..." He paused, taking an unsteady breath. "But I do know what it's like not to have any family that cares."

Fred blinked. "It's not..." Though there was still anger in his voice, some of the venom was missing from his words.

Harry nodded, dropping his gaze to his hands. "I know. It's not the same. I don't mean it to be." Taking a deep breath, Harry turned his attention to a small window between the two beds. "Ron's my best friend, Fred."

"Harry..." Fred interrupted.

With a shake of Harry's head, Fred fell silent. "No, Fred. I know you blame him. And I don't know exactly what happened." He thought for a moment. "I'm not sure I want to know. I do, however, know one thing for certain."

Fred coughed, clearing his throat. The physical aftereffects of the fire had yet to dissipate entirely. He asked in a softer voice, "What's that?"

Harry blinked, the backs of his eyes burning as he remembered Ron collapsing in the muddy grass. When he spoke, the words were rough with tears. "Thinking he kil... hurt George was killing him too, Fred." Harry sniffed, looking Fred in the eye. "I think maybe it still is."

Shaking his head, Fred looked away from Harry's searching gaze. From what Harry could see of his expression, there was something different there. He opened and closed his mouth several times before speaking. "I don't know..."

The younger boy sighed warily. "Do you want to live with the chance otherwise?" Fred looked at Harry then, startled. "I know I don't want to." Harry's voice dropped to just above a whisper. "I can't lose the first family I've found, Fred. Please. Not now."

Harry knew he was pleading. He didn't care.

Harry was surprised when he saw Fred's shoulders begin to shake and his eyes clench shut. "I don't know," he repeated, his voice trembling. There was a choked quality to his voice and he shook his head and took an unsteady breath. "George..."

"I know," Harry whispered.

Fred kept shaking his head, as if unaware of the motion. "I just... I don't... Ron was so stupid. Just had to be..." He gasped between the words, unable to catch his breath and all Harry could do was watch. Fred looked at Harry then, a shattered look -- one of realization -- in his wild eyes. His voice dropped to the roughest of whispers. "What if I lose my little brother, too?"

"No." Harry shook his head, unwilling to consider the possibility. "You won't. We won't." He needed to convince himself as much as Fred. "We won't."

Fred met Harry's gaze, his eyes full of uncertainty and pain. "I should see him," he whispered, sniffing.

Harry thought he should smile, but couldn't manage it. "I was hoping you would say that."

~<>~<>~

The room where Ron slept was dark even though day was breaking outside, the lights dimmed almost to the point of nothing. At some point while they had been upstairs the healer had left, and surprisingly Mrs. Weasley was nowhere in sight. In fact, it seemed odd that there was no one sitting with him.

Fred paused in the doorway, not quite walking into the room. When Harry glanced over at him he recognized the look of uncertainty in Fred's eyes. Silently, he reached out a hand and laid it on Fred's arm. After the older boy looked at him with a dazed expression, Harry nodded and tilted his head toward Ron.

"You can do it," Harry whispered.

When Fred's attention again turned to his younger brother, Harry felt torn for the moment. Stay with his friend, as everything within him was demanding he do; or leave and let Fred have this time alone with his brother?

The decision was taken out of his hands when he felt Fred's hand on his shoulder. Glancing up at the other boy, he waited silently for an explanation.

"Stay." The plea, managed around shallow breaths, was whisper soft and Harry found he couldn't refuse. Nodding, Harry took another step forward, trusting Fred to follow.

The door swung shut behind them, startling both boys. Harry closed his eyes for a moment, willing his heart to quit pounding. No sleep, coupled with the events of the past days, was making him jumpy. When he opened his eyes, he found that he and Fred were standing next to the large bed. Ron's small frame seemed to be dwarfed by the substantial bed, his face paled -- matching the stark white pillowcase where his head rested.

Harry heard Fred gasp softly and managed to pull his eyes away from his best friend. Any color that had been left in Fred's cheeks had drained. Seeing the tremors that ran through Fred's frame, Harry glanced around for a chair.

He pulled Fred's hand from his shoulder, but the redhead didn't seem to notice. Quickly Harry went and dragged the plush chair from the corner over beside the bed. It didn't take but the smallest push to convince Fred to drop into the chair.

That accomplished, Harry again looked at Ron. It seemed unnatural for him to be so still and quiet. He found himself shaking his head, as if it were but an image he could force away. That he might force to be active and alive again. When he was still, Ron remained unconscious on the bed -- a testament to the foolishness of the thought.

Harry watched as Fred reached out a shaking hand, touching Ron's arm softly before ducking backwards quickly. A second later, he again reached forward, this time allowing his hand to lie on the cool arm.

Harry watched Fred's hesitant motions and closed his eyes for a moment. You have to be alright Ron... Too many people need you here.

~<>~<>~

"Ron, I..." Fred paused, forcing himself to take a deep breath. He didn't know what to say. He wasn't even sure what he was feeling anymore.

Glancing over at Harry, he noticed that the younger boy had his eyes closed. A second later he opened them and met Fred's gaze. Fred gestured toward the far side of the bed. "Have a seat Harry. You should be here when he..." He swallowed unsteadily, whispering, "When Ron wakes up."

He watched as Harry nodded and slowly made his way around the bed. The distraction gave him a few moments to try and settle his thoughts. Although he wasn't sure what that little extra time would help. Nothing had made sense ever since... Fred ran a hand through his hair, fighting back the sudden push of emotion.

Taking a shaky breath, Fred tried to look at Ron. He was so pale, so dead. NO. The thought broke through with a surprising force. "Not dead," he whispered under his breath, so low that Harry didn't appear to have heard him. Fred shook his head, jaw clenched tight. "He's not dead, not like Ge..." Shaking, he faltered at the memory of his twin.

Harry must have heard him, for Fred found himself meeting wide green eyes. "Fred..."

Shaking his head roughly, Fred stood suddenly. He began pacing next to the bed, his heart being torn in too many directions at once. "No. He's not dead. But..." Fred looked at his littlest brother again. "Almost. But almost."

Before Harry had the chance to stand, Fred felt his knees buckle and slam in to the hardwood floor. He barely felt the spikes of pain that ripped through his legs, nor could he hardly see the sleeping form of his brother through tear-filled eyes.

He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't. Blinking quickly, he found that the tears wouldn't simply disappear. Not anymore. For so long, ever since... Fred pressed his fists against his eyes. He couldn't breathe; there wasn't enough air in the room.

All he could see was the image of George lying on the couch. Only this time -- rather than the mind numbing pain it hadd once brought, it also brought another image, another pain. Forcing his eyes open, Fred looked past Harry -- who had knelt in front of him -- to where Ron lay on the bed.

It's happening again. The words tumbled around in his mind, an unending guilt building up from his chest until all he wanted to do was scream. It wasn't fair. Things like this aren't supposed to happen. The futile thoughts sought purchase, finding none.

Anger had kept him sane during the long days since his twin had been ripped away and his younger brother had run away... He had hidden behind it, lashing out at anyone who tried to come near. A part of him, deep down, was screaming that if he wasn't angry anymore there wouldn't be any other way to hold on. All that would be left was the enormous chasm where his other half was supposed to be.

But faced with the consequence of his action -- Ron lying helpless in front of him -- the anger seemed to boil away. In its place raged a pain he couldn't contain. Year's worth of memories. Day's worth of grief. Guilt...

Gasping for a breath he couldn't find, Fred ripped his gaze from Ron and back to Harry. Suddenly he couldn't stand the pain he saw reflected in those eyes. Shaking his head roughly, Fred jerked away from the concerned hand Harry had laid on his arm.

He wanted to scream. To yell; to rage until he had no more energy. Instead he remained crumpled on the floor, hardly recognizing the pained whimper that was pulled from his throat.

"I'm so sorry..."

Fred barely heard his own whispered words before the room seemed to tilt and everything faded away.

~<>~<>~

Harry wasn't aware of crying out when Fred suddenly collapsed at his feet. He must have, however, because within moments both Charlie and Mrs. Weasley ran into the room.

"What happened?" Mrs. Weasley asked, dropping onto the floor beside her son.

Harry was silent for a long moment. Mrs. Weasley looked as if she was about to ask again when Harry finally wrapped his brain around what had happened. "We came in to see Ron," he explained, not looking away from Fred. "Fred got upset and suddenly he just sort of fell over."

"Mum?" Charlie asked, kneeling next to them.

Mrs. Weasley shook her head, taking a deep breath. Cupping Fred's cheek in her hand, she looked at him closely. "He'll be okay."

Charlie stared at Fred for several seconds. "Are you sure?"

"Carry him to his room, will you, Charlie?" Mrs. Weasley asked. Harry couldn't help but think she looked... older, tired. He hadn't met her but a time or two, but it was something that seemed out of place on the family matriarch, even to Harry.

Harry stood, watching as Charlie carefully raised Fred from the floor. "I've got him, Mum," Charlie said, easily lifting the younger boy and turning to leave the room.

"I'll be there in a moment," Mrs. Weasley said as they left. When they were alone, she turned to Harry. "Look at you, you're about to fall over yourself."

Harry blinked, caught off guard by the observation. "I... But what about..."

Mrs. Weasley smiled, and Harry realized it was the first time he had seen anyone smile since arriving at the house. "I can take care of all of you, you know." Gesturing toward the door, she ushered Harry into the hallway. "You can see Ron after you've had some sleep. His room is at the very top of the stairs, on the left. Even has his name on the door." When Harry hesitated, glancing back toward Ron, she gave him a not so gentle push. "On with you now."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, capitulating to her wishes.

The top of the stairs turned out to be two more staircases, and Ron's name was in fact on a plaque on the door. Fighting the urge to knock -- for he knew no one would be inside --Harry pushed the door open.

He gasped. "What?" he wondered aloud, staring at the tattered remains that filled the floor of the room. Stepping into the room, careful not to hit his head on the sloping ceiling, he looked around.

Did he rip the walls apart with his bare hands?

A small cough from behind him shook him from his thoughts. He had just enough time to turn around when Bill spoke, gesturing toward the chaos with a tilt of his head. "He did this." Harry nodded mutely. Even through his doubt, he somehow had known. Stepping into the room behind Harry, Bill dropped onto the small bed. "Dad found it the morning after Ron left, when he came to wake him."

Harry found he couldn't stop staring at the room. "He must have been really upset."

"Percy said he was quiet. Ran up to his room after he and Fred had... words." Bill looked around the room, a pained expression in his eyes. "Normally Mum would never have let it stay like this. She would have gone buggers."

Harry nodded, understanding. "But with George..."

"And Ron," Bill finished, nodding. "Yeah. I guess maybe having one of us clean this up would have meant it was over somehow. That they really were... gone."

Sitting beside Bill on the bed, Harry regarded him for a silent moment. There were so many things he had been wondering about since Percy's owl arrived. Things he couldn't ask Ron or his parents.

The questions must have shown on his face. "What is it, Harry?"

"I don't know what happened... Ron never said exactly. He certainly never mentioned this." He gestured around the room with the wave of his hand. Dropping the hand onto his lap, he fiddled with the edge of his robe. "But how did he find me before you found him?"

Bill was silent for a several seconds, his earring reflecting in the dull light as he shook his head. "We aren't sure. The weather maybe. Possibly he just tried to blend in. There are far more redheaded wizards in England than just us. And muggles besides."

"But..."

"We may never know, Harry." Bill stood up, looking at the remains of the room with pain-filled eyes. "I doubt Mum would have sent you up here if she'd remembered. But with everything going on..." Bill shook his head, pressing his eyes closed for a moment.

Harry nodded, staring at Bill with wide eyes. "I understand."

Bill nodded and looked directly at Harry -- who couldn't help but notice his eyes were almost identical to Ron's. "Thank you for bringing him home." The whispered thanks was rough with emotion.

"I didn't do anything." Harry almost laughed, but it wasn't a humorous sound. "I just want my best friend here. He was going to..."

Again Bill nodded. "I know. If he..."

"He'll be okay." A determination Harry wasn't sure he felt gave his voice an edge. Perhaps it was more desperation than determination, he didn't know. Lowering his voice, Harry added, "He has to be."

Sighing, the eldest Weasley son opened the door. "I hope you're right, Harry. You don't know how much I hope you're right."

Before Harry could reply, Bill left the room without another word.

~<>~<>~

When Harry woke, just for a moment he couldn't remember where he was. However after slipping his glasses on -- and seeing the shattered remains of Ron's room -- everything rushed back.

Almost tripping in the tangled covers, Harry ran from Ron's room, the door slamming shut in his haste to check on his friend. Following the maze of stairs and hallways, Harry finally found himself outside the Weasely's bedroom. Taking a deep breath, Harry pushed the door open and peeked inside.

Ron lay on the bed, still asleep but not nearly so pale. Beside him, Fred sat in the large plush chair. The other boy started when Harry tapped his knuckles softly on the door.

"Hi, Harry," Fred said a moment later, waving the younger boy into the room. Harry nodded, glancing between Ron and Fred as he walked over to stand beside the bed. "They think he may wake up soon," Fred offered, turning his attention back to Ron.

Harry's eyes went wide, his breath catching in his throat. "Really?" He blinked, hope warring with a lingering doubt in his mind. He stared at Ron for a long moment before smiling softly. "That's great. When? Do they know?" Fred nodded, but didn't answer the other questions.

After a few seconds, Harry looked over at him. "How are you?"

The older boy shook his head. "I'm okay." Harry wondered about that -- he could see the dark smudges that had fformed under his eyes. The last time he had seen Fred he had been unconscious. Harry wondered how long ago that had been. "Mum wanted you to go downstairs when you woke up. Something about dinner."

The thought of food made Harry's stomach turn. "Thanks, but..."

Harry was surprised when Fred almost smiled, but the action was more resigned than anything. "I know," he said quietly. It was strange, Harry couldn't help but note time and again -- he didn't know Fred could be so somber.

Again silence fell over the room, each boy lost to his own thoughts. The spell wasn't broken until Charlie stuck his head into the room. "Fred, Mum... Oh, hi Harry." Harry nodded, acknowledging the greeting. Continuing his earlier thought, Charlie went on, "Mum wants you to go downstairs."

Not looking up from Ron, Fred shook his head. "No, Charlie."

The elder Weasley son stepped into the room. "Fred, do as she asks, please."

Harry watched each of the red-headed brothers in turn. He saw Fred's clenched jaw, as well as Charlie's squared shoulders. It occurred to him that everyone in the family must be stubborn.

"She's upset enough as it is, about Geor..." Harry saw Fred flinch, and Charlie paused. Some of the fire vanished from his eyes, his shoulders dropping just a bit. "About what happened, and with Ron..." Taking the few steps across the room, Charlie dropped his hand onto Fred's shoulder. His voice dropped so low Harry almost missed his next words, "Please don't worry her even more if you can help it."

Rubbing a hand over his face, Fred sighed and relented. "Okay, Charlie, I'll go."

Fred had just stood when there was a muffled sound from the bed. Three sets of anxious eyes turned expectantly.

"Ron?" Fred gasped, again holding a vise grip on his brother's hand.

"I'll go get Mum."

Harry spared hardly a glance at Charlie's comment and hasty departure. Instead his attention was riveted to the boy in the bed. "Ron?" Harry repeated Fred's question. Ron stirred slightly in response, and Harry swallowed around a lump in his throat. He could hardly breathe, waiting to see if his friend was indeed waking.

The other boy's head shifted -- hardly at all, but it was enough to cause a smile to break on Harry's face. "Hey," Harry said, barely able to force the word from his tightening throat.

Ever so slowly, Harry watched as Ron's eyes opened -- not very wide, but enough for the building relief to wash over Harry.

"Har..." Ron's voice was raspy, and Harry cringed at the harsh sound.

Shaking his head, Harry smiled for the first time in what felt like forever. "Don't talk. Charlie went to get your Mum."

Harry easily saw the confusion in Ron's eyes at his statement. In the seconds that followed, Ron looked around as quickly as his stiff muscles would allow -- craning his neck from side to side.

Harry could place the moment that Ron realized he was indeed home again. It was followed by a look of panic when Ron noticed who was sitting beside him, silent but still clutching his hand tightly. Harry didn't doubt Ron would have flinched away from the crushing grasp if he had the energy.

Watching as the panic in Ron's eyes grew; it was obvious that Fred was struggling to talk around the lump in his throat. Harry was quiet, waiting for Fred to speak. Finally he coughed, saying, "It's okay. You're home."

Ron turned wide eyes to Harry, who could see the growing confusion and misunderstanding there. Beneath those were the questions that Harry knew Ron must be dying to ask. He could only guess what had been going through Ron's mind when he ran away and knew those same doubts would remain.

"We brought you back where you belong."

As Ron shook his head in disbelief, breath coming in uneven gasps, Harry saw Fred sigh and close his eyes. "I'm sorry..." Fred seemed more to breathe the words than speak them.

Harry looked on as Ron went utterly still and stared at Fred. Skepticism darkened his eyes when he looked from Fred back to Harry. Hating the confusion he saw there, Harry started to speak when the door suddenly burst open.

Mrs. Weasley, three children in tow -- Charlie, Percy and Ginny -- rushed into the room. Harry looked up just in time to see four excited faces, complete with cautious smiles and bright eyes.

~<>~<>~

Ron had barely begun to process the fact that Harry had brought him back home -- and that Fred was clinging to his hand aas though he might disappear -- when half of his family seemed to burst through the door. It was almost more than his half-awake brain could manage to process.

He watched in a daze as they surrounded him. They all spoke at once, the words falling over one another until he couldn't understand any of it. Mrs. Weasley held up a hand demanding silence and Ron shrank back into the bed as far as he could, wary of what it was she was waiting to say.

Rather than speak, she dropped onto the bed beside him and pulled him into a smothering embrace. Ron stared at Harry over her shoulder, eyes wide with uncertainty. When he saw Harry smile at him, shaking his head slightly, Ron let himself fall into the comforting hug.

Bits of memory rushed back. Staggering along the road in the middle of a driving rain. Hiding his face when others looked at him, lest they recognize him. The Knight Bus. Privet Drive. George.

He gasped, a stuttering sob choking within his chest. He blinked quickly, looking around at those gathered in the room. Doubt and grief filled him, the memory of what he had done -- the realization of one particular face that wasn't there and never would be again.

Pulling away from his mother, Ron shook his head and rubbed a hand over his eyes roughly. His mum watched him hopefully, and his heart twisted at the tears he saw in her large eyes. He shook his head, lowering his gaze to the sheet that covered him.

"No." The whisper was so quiet even he could hardly hear it.

He didn't look up until he noticed someone else sit on the bed beside him. A quick glance and he realized it was Ginny.

"Ron?" she asked in a small voice. Her brown eyes were open impossibly wide, and for a split second it struck Ron as funny how quiet his normally excitable sister was. But he didn't laugh. He couldn't. Ginny's hand reached out and barely touched his arm. Ron found himself wondering if she feared he might break.

Shaking his head from side to side, Ron looked at each expectant face in turn. Pausing on Harry's concerned eyes before daring to look at Fred, Ron was suddenly wide-awake. The fog that had filled his mind since waking had evaporated.

Ron dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, the fragments of everything he'd hoped to forget coalescing into a steady stream of memory. He barely noted the silence that fell over the room at a strange wailing sound.

Gasping for air, fingers clawing at his own throat, Ron turned beseeching eyes to Harry. "Why?" he managed to gasp out, before tumbling back into oblivion.

~<>~<>~

Charlie blinked, certain his eyes were deceiving him as he stared at the closed door. It was that or his family really was falling apart at the seams.

Mere seconds after Ron's agonized "Why?" their mother had ushered everyone from the room. He watched, with thinly veiled disbelief as Ginny -- the youngest of all of them -- took Fred's hand and led him away with tears in her eyes.

That left only a stunned and shaken Harry standing beside Charlie.

"Was I wrong?" Harry asked, turning away from the closed door to pin Charlie with pained green eyes.

Charlie sighed, running a hand through his short red hair. "No, Harry." Dropping his hand onto the dark haired boy's shoulder, Charlie tried to reassure him. "You did the right thing. Ron's just confused." Looking longingly at his parents' bedroom door, Charlie paused. "Maybe we all are right now."

When Harry nodded, eyes not quite so hurt, Charlie felt the smallest amount of relief. Even as the second oldest, he always felt responsible for his siblings -- and it seemed to have passed on to Ron's best friend as well.

By some sort of unvoiced mutual decision, they turned and walked away. In silence, they continued until they reached the now-closed doorway that led to where the unimaginable had occurred. It seemed foreboding to Charlie, even after time had passed.

Charlie was startled out of his thoughts when Harry cleared his throat. He glanced down at Harry, watching as the young boy looked at the door and back to Charlie. "Will it ever get better?"

Shaking his head, Charlie felt his heart constrict. Looking upwards for a moment, he took a shallow breath. "I should say yes. I want to say yes." Dropping into a nearby chair, he looked straight at Harry. Judging by the other's gasp, his eyes betrayed his anguish. "But I really don't know, Harry."

He shook his head once more, imagining how lost he must look and hating it. He was older -- stronger. Hell he dealt with dragons everyday. He wasn't supposed to feel... Lost. Helpless.

Moisture bit at his eyes when Harry put a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry."

"What?" Charlie looked up in confusion.

Harry glanced nervously toward the basement. "Just... I'm sorry."

Although he tried to smile, Charlie knew it didn't reach his eyes. "I know. We're just... all in this together now. We have to be, if any of us are going to get through to the other side."

"And Ron?"

Charlie nodded. "Ron most of all."

~<>~<>~

Ginny was sitting in the kitchen when an owl sudden flew up to the window. It was a clear night, but she noticed the owl looked as if she'd been through a terrible storm. Stretching, she was just able to pop the window open and let the owl inside. With a soft cry it collapsed near the water bowl for delivery owls.

Concerned, Ginny gingerly untied the parchment that was attached to the owl's leg and added more food to the bowl. Once she was certain he was going to be okay, she unrolled the paper enough to see who it was addressed to. Eyes widening, she jumped up from the table and ran toward the stairs.

"Hey, watch where you're running, Gin," Bill called from where he was talking to Charlie. Sneaking an arm out to grab her arm, he asked, "What's going on? Why are you in such a rush?"

Ginny looked at her brothers with wide eyes, taking a deep breath. "It's an owl. Looks like he's been out for ages. It had a note for daddy. From a shop owner somewhere I've never heard of. Says he has Ron's chessmen or something, whatever that means. Wants to send them back for Ron. Wants to know if we knew Ron was wandering around. If something's wrong. If he's okay. Says he was wet and sick and cold and alone..."

~<>~<>~

Smiling, even through his concern, Bill kneeled down in front of Ginny. Taking hold of her hands, which were flailing in the air, he said, "Hey, Gin, slow down. Take a breath." He waited for a moment, until her chest had stopped heaving. "Can I see the note?"

Nodding, she handed it to her older brother. Bill stood, holding the curling parchment where Charlie could also read it. They had barely enough time to finish when Ginny tugged on Charlie's hand.

"Charlie?" she asked in a small voice.

Kneeling where Bill had been moments before, Charlie managed a small smile. "What is it, kiddo?"

Ginny looked back and forth between her two brothers. Seeing her eyes -- impossibly wide and brimming with tears -- Bill asked, "Ginny?"

"First George, and now... Why'd he have to run away?" Tears slipped over her cheeks, falling steadily once they'd finally begun. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, Bill pulled his sister into a tight hug. "Why couldn't he stay here? Why'd Ron have to get sick?" she whispered into his shoulder.

Bill shook his head, meeting Charlie's eyes over the top of Ginny's head. "I don't know, baby."

"Doesn't he love any of us?" Ginny asked; her hands balled into fists of Bill's robe. She sniffed loudly, he could easily tell she was trying not to cry but that the tears refused to stop. "Why, Bill?"

~<>~<>~

Resting his hand on the top of her head, it was Charlie who answered. "It'll be okay, Gin." He half smiled, knowing that his sister hated to cry in front of her brothers almost as badly as he would. "And it's okay to cry."

When Ginny rolled her eyes, Charlie blinked in surprise. "Easy for you to say. You never cry."

Charlie watched as Bill pulled out of the embrace saying, "Why don't you take the letter to mum and dad. They probably know the man who wrote it, and what to do about it."

Reaching to the side, Charlie wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumb. "There, no proof." He winked, causing his sister to almost laugh.

She stepped back, and both Charlie and Bill stood. Just before turning, she said, "It will be okay. You promised."

Charlie managed not to wince. Barely. As she ran up the stairs toward their parents' room, he closed his eyes for a long moment. "I hope so, Gin," he said too quietly for her to hear.

Beside him, Bill dropped a hand onto his shoulder. "Come on, lets go find where Fred's hiding."

~<>~<>~

Finding Fred turned out to be easier than either imagined it would be. It was where they found him, almost by accident -- that was surprising. They were crossing the main room, headed toward the stairs when Charlie heard a small noise from behind him.

Turning, he placed a hand on Bill's arm as he sought out the source of the noise. Something in the back of his mind, a sense he normally attributed only to dealing with dragons, told him what he sought was closer than he believed.

Quietly he walked toward the darkened stairway that led to the basement. It was the one place they had all avoided for days. There, sitting on the top of the steps, was Fred. When it looked like Bill was about to speak Charlie shook his head and gestured for Bill to give them some space. With a nod, the elder Weasley turned and continued on upstairs.

Charlie took a deep breath before approaching Fred. Scarcely daring to blink, he slid in next to his little brother and sat on the step next to Fred, but he didn't look at him. Rather, the scarred door beneath their feet held his attention.

Elbows on his knees, Charlie laced his fingers together. For a moment no thoughts would come, much less the words he imagined Fred must need to hear. If there were any such words at all.

"Charlie," Fred finally said, breaking the brittle silence.

Charlie risked a glance out of the corner of his eyes. "Why are you down here, Fred?"

The boy shrugged, not looking at his older brother. "I don't know."

Nodding at the response, Charlie reached out a hand and hesitantly placed it on Fred's shoulder. "Fred?" He felt the tremor that rippled through Fred and tightened his grip for a second. "Are you..." The pointless question died on his lips. Silently he cursed that his all his sense seemed to have fled along with everything else... normal in their family.

"I don't..." Fred shook his head roughly, angrily wiping a hand over his face. It was too late, however; Charlie had seen the glistening of tears on his cheeks. "How..." When he turned his head, Charlie's chest tightened at the grief he saw on Fred's face. "Why, Charlie?"

Relieved at the lack of anger almost as much as he was pained by the misery, Charlie shook his head, mute. Before he could question the instinct he moved so that he was kneeling on the step beneath Fred. In the same motion he pulled his shaking brother into a tight embrace, clutching at his shoulders.

Charlie felt as much as heard Fred's shuddering sobs, the heat of tears that soaked through his robe as he held him. He was unsure how long they had sat there, nearly long enough for his knees to grow numb, when he heard Fred begin to mumble.

"What?" Charlie asked, leaning back far enough to see Fred's face.

Tightening his hold on his older brother, Fred balled his hands into the fabric of Charlie's robe. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Fred..." Charlie sighed, resting his chin on the top of Fred's head. "It's not your fault."

"Ron."

Shaking his head, Charlie forced Fred to look at him. "It was an accident."

"Geo..." Fred hiccupped, choking on the word.

Clenching his eyes closed against the moisture that wanted to gather, Charlie sniffed. Once under control, he looked at Fred. "An accident. A terrible, horrible accident." Charlie watched as Fred looked down, staring at where his hands clenched his brother's robe.

"What am I supposed to do?" The question was so soft, the words so small, Charlie almost didn't hear them.

Unable to bear the anguish on Fred's face, Charlie hugged him tightly. "You forgive," he managed a minute later. Fred tensed, and Charlie felt his chest tighten. "Yourself. Ron. The rest of us. You..." Words failed him for a long moment. "You survive."

"Part of me is missing, Charlie."

"I know." But even as he said the words Charlie knew them to be a lie. He had no idea how it must feel to lose someone so close. But as he felt some of the tension leave Fred's back he couldn't bring himself to regret the false words.

~<>~<>~

It was late, Harry was sure of that much. Odd, but since everything had spun out of control he was finding it hard to gauge the passage of time. Day and night, sleep or awake. They had all begun to blur together.

Since Ron had woken earlier that evening, things were doubly confused. Harry knew he might be uneasy about returning home, but he could never have imagined Ron's reaction to his family.

Harry pressed a hand to his eyes, willing the images of Ron -- clawing desperately at his own throat, gasping for air, before sinking back into oblivion -- out of his mind. They wouldn't listen, however, and continued on unabated.

It hadn't been long since Mrs. Weasley had finally left her youngest son's side. Ginny had been falling asleep where she sat on the bed since bringing the shopkeeper's message. Their mother had taken her to bed.

The thought of what had been written on the parchment saddened Harry. That Ron might sell the chessmen he had earned both with his wits and nerve... He knew what those supposed trinkets meant to Ron. They were significant of the first time in his life that Ron stood out from his brothers' shadows.

As the night wore on, with Ron still unconscious and nothing but silence all around, Harry eventually fell into a fitful sleep. Even though he had slept for hours in Ron's room not much earlier, the ordeal seemed to be draining him.

When he woke to the sound of birds outside the window, Harry stretched his arms up over his head. For the first time since the nightmare began he wasn't confused where he was or what was happening in the first moments of wakefulness. He yawned, hearing his back crackle softly.

It was only a few seconds later when his gaze fell onto Ron's face. Expecting the other boy to still be sleeping he was surprised to find tired green eyes staring at him.

"Ron?"

When Ron looked away, Harry leaned forward. "Ron? Are you..."

"Harry," Ron managed to say in a hoarse voice. Harry waited, and a moment later Ron looked at him once more. However all he said was, "Why?"

A deep sadness filled Harry's heart. He couldn't understand -- even with what had happened -- why Ron would run away from all the people who loved him. How often, while locked away on Privet Drive, had he wished for such a family?

"It's your home."

Ron turned so that he was staring at the far wall, and Harry had to fight the urge to go and sit on the other side of the bed.

"No. It's not."

~<>~<>~

"Have you been in to check on Ron?" Bill asked his mum as he walked into the kitchen.

The woman nodded, finishing with the breakfast that she had busied herself preparing. "Earlier. Both he and Harry were asleep."

Bill seemed to digest the information. "Harry's still with him, then?"

"Fast asleep, both of them."

Nodding his head, Bill snagged a piece of bread from the table. "Probably best. Harry looked as if he would drop at any moment, and that was after he slept."

"And you?" Mrs. Weasley asked, giving her son a long look.

Startled, Bill glanced up at his mother. "Me?"

Smiling sadly, Mrs. Weasley shook her head. "Grown or no, you're still one of mine, Bill Weasley." That 'her own' was one less in number that morning than the week before, she tried not to think about. Her tears were something best left not in front of the other children.

"I know, Mum," Bill said, dropping a kiss on to his mother's cheek. "I know."

~<>~<>~

An owl bearing a parcel flapped in through the open window and interrupted them. "What's this?" Bill asked, mostly to himself, as he freed the bundle from the owl. He barely spared a glance toward the owl -- which had dropped next to the water bowl -- as he examined the package.

There was no name on the outside, save the last name Weasley, which was of little help. Bill looked at his mother, but she shrugged and gestured for him to open it.

Inside there was no note of explanation, either. Instead, two small chess figures tumbled out onto his hand. Realization made his eyes wide and once more he glanced to his mother for some guiding course of action.

"Mum."

Clearing her throat, Mrs. Weasley nodded. "I believe Ron might be missing those."

"I'll just..."

"On with you now, Bill. If he's not awake already he will be soon. I'll be up shortly to bring Ron his meal. He'll eat if I have to force it into him."

A smile almost lifting the corner of his mouth, Bill shook his head. He had no doubt of the truth to her words. "Yes, Mum."

It was a short walk to his parents' bedroom, and Bill paused at hearing the muffled voices from inside. Voice, rather, he noted. It sounded like Harry was the only one speaking. He waited a second before tapping softly on the door and pushing it open.

Harry turned and looked at him, appearing as tired as he had the day before. He nodded toward Harry before looking at Ron. What he saw there, made him go cold. Pain and... fear.

"You're awake."

"Yeah," was Ron's sullen reply.

Bill nodded, refusing to be deterred. "That's good." Without waiting for Ron to reply, Bill turned to Harry. "Could you give us a bit, Harry? Mum has breakfast downstairs if you want. She'll probably find you and make you eat, even if you don't."

As he watched, Harry looked uncertainly toward Ron, as if convinced leaving him would be a bad idea. However if that was his thought, he did not voice it. Rather he nodded, stood, and giving Ron a last, long look, slipped from the room.

When it became obvious Ron wasn't going to speak, Bill sat on the edge of the seat Harry had vacated. "How do you feel?"

Ron looked at Bill, shock making his eyes wide. The look, Bill decided, might have been comical some other time. As it were, his surprise at Bill's concern was merely sad.

"I'm..." Ron shook his head, his voice uneven. "I'm okay."

Bill considered that for a moment. "Then why are you shaking as if you expect me to flog you momentarily?"

He watched as Ron swallowed nosily and dropped his gaze to stare at the blanket. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, and when he looked up, Bill was shocked to see tears brimming his eyes. It was as if some switch had been thrown, bitterness to despair in a single second.

"Ron?" he asked, his concern not diminishing.

His youngest brother sniffed loudly, his jaw quivering. "I didn't mean... I didn't." Ron gasped for breath and the tears splashed onto his cheeks. "Bill? Ge... George."

Bill's heart broke at the misery that thickened Ron's voice. "Oh, Ron." He moved quickly from the chair to sit on the bed next to Ron, wrapping an arm around the thin shoulders. Shoulders made far too thin from lack of food and illness.

"My fault," he whispered into Bill's robe.

"No!" Bill held on more tightly, clutching Ron to his side. "Never."

"I shouldn't be here."

Pressing his eyes closed, Bill drew in a shaky breath. "You are the only place you should be, Ron. You're home."

"No." Bill felt Ron shaking his head, his hands tangled in the sheet. "Don't deserve it."

"Why ever not, Ron?" Biting back against his frustration, Bill tried only to let his concern show. "You're home, Ron," he repeated.

"Why do you care?" Ron sat up then, his eyes bright with fever and anger. "I killed your brother!" He punctuated the words by slapping Bill's chest with his fists. His face crumpling, a sob broke. "I killed my brother."

Pulling Ron to him, Bill shook his head as he brushed a hand through Ron's hair. His own heart pounding -- nearly breaking -- Bill blinked quickly against tears. After a moment he captured Ron's cheeks in his hands so that Ron had to look at him. "You are my brother. I love you."

"It hurts," he whispered.

Holding him tight, swallowing against the lump that had filled his throat, Bill shuddered. "I know. It'll get better."

"Promise?" Ron asked in a small voice Bill hadn't heard since the boy was five.

Praying he wasn't about to lie, Bill nodded. "Promise."

~<>~<>~

Harry took his time walking downstairs. For some reason he wasn't sure he wanted to be alone with Mrs. Weasley. Doubts of how he might have acted differently, gotten Ron back to them sooner, plagued him.

To his surprise when he entered the warm kitchen it wasn't Mrs. Weasley who was sitting at the large table, but rather a tired looking Charlie.

"Hi, Harry," he said, glancing up at the boy's entrance.

Harry nodded. Taking a seat at the table across from Charlie he eyed the food ravenously. After half a summer with the Dursleys, the prospect of such meals was amazing. He picked a piece of toast with jam, and swallowed a bite before speaking.

"Bill mentioned your mum would be down here."

Charlie nodded, cutting off a yawn before taking a drink of tea. "She's trying to convince Fred to eat, at the moment."

Finishing his piece of toast, Harry found a cup for his own tea. "How is he?"

"Fred?" Charlie asked, forcing his eyes open wide as if to will himself alert. "He's..." Charlie shook his head. "He's hurting, but the anger seems to have faded."

Reaching for another piece of toast, Harry considered that for a moment. "That's good."

"Yeah," Charlie said with a brief nod.

"You look tired," Harry dared to say, not wanting to overstep his boundaries. Whatever they were at the moment. "Have you slept at all?"

Leaning back in his chair, Charlie stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles. "What day is it?" Shaking his head with a soft chuckle, his head lolled to rest on the back of the chair. "Honestly I don't remember the last time I slept. Before..." Staring at the ceiling, he shrugged. "Before the news came about George, I think."

Harry blinked slowly. That would have been days before. "Charlie..." Playing with his teacup, Harry realized there wasn't anything he could say to that.

"We do what we have to do, Harry," Charlie said a long moment later, causing Harry to start and slosh tea onto his fingers. "Sorry," he said with a sideways glance when Harry winced.

"What's going to happen about..." Harry paused, clearing his throat. The question he wanted to ask had been tickling in the back of his mind since Percy's letter but he'd never dared ask.

Charlie sat up straight in his chair, leaning his elbows on the table. "About what?"

His stomach fluttering nervously, Harry forced the words past his lips. "About George? I mean... It's been days, now." When Charlie winced, Harry cursed his curiosity. "I'm sorry. I..."

Charlie held up a hand, forestalling Harry's apologies. "Don't, please. It's." Charlie sighed, rubbing his forehead. "It's a valid question. From what Ron told me, you don't know much about wizard custom."

Harry shook his head, unable to stop staring at Charlie. "No."

Picking apart a roll, Charlie tilted his head from side to side, the joints popping loudly. "It's not something that's been discussed really. The healer placed George in..." He coughed softly. "In a type of stasis until."

"Charlie, you don't..."

"Until the family is ready," Charlie finished, apparently ignoring Harry's interruption. Shaking his head he met Harry's gaze with a dazed one of his own. "Mum and Dad want to wait for Ron."

"And then?" Harry snapped his mouth shut. He hadn't meant to ask that.

Charlie let out a long breath. "There's a ceremony. Mostly for the family and friends."

When Charlie's voice faltered, staring off into space, Harry reached across the table and put a hand on his arm. "Don't. It's okay."

"I'm sorry," Charlie replied, blinking quickly at the moisture Harry could see gathering in his eyes.

Harry shook his head, repeating, "It's okay."

"No," Charlie said in a rough voice. "It's not, but maybe it will be. Eventually."

~<>~<>~

Once Ron had calmed down, Bill pulled the chess pieces from his pocket. They were small enough that both fit easily into his hand.

"Ron?"

The younger boy stirred, pushing away from his brother. "Yeah?"

Bill held his hand open in front of Ron, so that the boy could see the pieces. He didn't speak as he watched Ron react to seeing the treasures he believed lost.

Ron tore his gaze from the chessmen and looked up at Bill. "How?"

"The man you sold them to. He wrote to Father about it." When Ron didn't move, Bill held his hand closer. "They're yours. Take them."

"But he paid me for them."

Bill nodded. "He said they were a gift. That you might find strength in them for whatever troubles you."

As Bill watched, Ron reached an unsteady hand out to claim them. Ron didn't look at Bill as he said, "Thank you."

"Don't thank me," Bill replied, ruffling Ron's hair.

Ron rolled his eyes and Bill couldn't help but notice some of the spark seemed to be back in Ron's gaze for a brief moment. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do."

Slowly stretching out his numbed legs, Bill climbed off the bed. "I better go, though. Otherwise Mum will be after me, she said something about feeding you soon." As if hearing the mention of food Ron's stomach growled loudly. "And apparently right on time, too."

There was a knock on the door, before it was opened to reveal Mrs. Weasley and Ginny, the elder carrying a tray laden with food.

"Told you," he said to Ron with a wink.

He noted that Ron still didn't look entirely certain with the situation. Bill could only hope that changed soon. For all their sakes, as much as Ron's.

~<>~<>~

The day seemed to pass slowly. After Bill left, and his mum had left with the empty breakfast tray, only Ginny stayed with him. Ron wondered half-heartedly where Harry was, or Fred for that matter, but tried not to focus on it.

"What are the dorms like?" Ginny asked, pulling Ron away from his dark thoughts.

Shaking his head, Ron let out a long breath. Ginny meant well, but she was persisting in asking questions she had known the answers to for years. "They're nice. You share them with the others in your year."

"And having a real wand?"

Ron grimaced as he recalled the state of his own handed-down wand. "Yes, Ginny."

As if sensing his thoughts, Ginny leaned back against the headboard and sighed. "It's weird, Ron."

"What?" he asked, certain he didn't want to know the answer.

When she shrugged, his stomach rolled. "Everything. I don't know." Ron opened his mouth to reply, fighting against the gaping emptiness that crushed his chest from the inside out. "Will it be normal again at Hogwarts?"

Ron shook his head, fiddling with a frayed hem on the blanket. "I don't think so, Gin."

"Oh," she replied in a small voice. She sounded so young, Ron wanted nothing more than to tell her it would all be okay. To lie and say that Hogwarts would make it okay. Only he couldn't do that. Even for his little sister, the deceit wouldn't come.

He was spared any further attempts by a knock on the door. Silently hoping it was Harry come to visit, he called out, "Come in."

Ron's hopes were dashed when it was Fred who entered the room instead. Staring at his brother, who he could so easily remember snarling at him in rage, he spoke to Ginny. Whatever happened, anger or tears, he didn't want Ginny to see it. "Run along, Gin. Would ya?"

Ginny looked about to argue when Fred added, "Please, Ginny?"

With a huff of indignation, she climbed from the bed and ran through the doorway, pausing only to slam it behind her. "She'll be okay," Ron said, watching the door for a second.

"Yeah." Fred shoved his hands into the pockets of his robe and took a tentative step forward. Ron could only watch as he seemed to debate taking a seat or fleeing the room. It was so different than how he remembered his brother from the day George had...

Ron waited a minute -- until he was unable to bear the stress of not knowing any longer -- before asking, "Fred?" He winced at how pitiful his voice sounded. He could no longer blame it on the smoke or the rain. Rather it was fear and guilt that made his voice weak.

It seemed to break Fred out of his indecision and he took the final steps to reach the chair. He collapsed into it, but his gaze was fixed on the blanket rather than Ron.

"How are you?"

Ron started at the question. Such concern caught Ron off guard; it was the last thing he had expected to hear. Ever since that morning he had been unsure if he truly remembered waking to find Fred holding his hand. It seemed so unlikely given what had happened; surely he had dreamt it.

"How...?" Ron coughed, staring at Fred as though he'd sprouted a third eye. "I'm okay."

Fred did look up then, the look in his eyes telling Ron he didn't believe him. "Honestly?"

"The healer says I should be up soon." Ron nodded along with the words. "Honestly."

~<>~<>~

Fred sagged back against the chair. When Ron had first been brought back he feared -- even amidst his anger -- that he might not get better. And although he was pleased that he would be well, that was not entirely what he had meant by the question.

"Ron?"

Fred almost flinched at the skittish look on Ron's face, and cursed himself for helping to put it there. A brief flare of anger warmed his stomach but he pushed it down. An accident. It was an accident just like Charlie had said.

Fred knew the words he should say. The only words that would help absolve the guilt Ron was so obviously feeling. The guilt and pain that had led him to run away and become so sick in the first place. However those words were stuck in his throat, refusing to budge.

Hearing a strangled sound he looked up in time to see Ron's eyes clench shut. It was of little help, though, for a tear broke free to slip down Ron's cheek. "I'm sorry," he whispered around gasped breaths. His eyes snapped open, meeting Fred's with an imploring gaze. "I know..."

"Stop it." Fred regretted the harsh tone immediately when Ron's mouth snapped shut. Sighing, Fred ran a hand through his hair. "Please don't say you're sorry."

"Fred?" Ron's voice squeaked, betraying his youth.

"Please, Ron. Don't be sorry."

Eyes wide with disbelief, Ron didn't even blink. "But I... I fell. George fell. If I hadn't..." As he spoke Ron shook his head from side to side, more tears slipping free.

Tears warming his own eyes Fred shook his head. "No, Ron."

"But you said..."

Fred winced. He knew well what he had said. The pain had been so great he could never have imagined. It was still more painful to think on what had happened than he would ever admit, but he couldn't bear watching Ron blame himself any longer. It was part of being a big brother and it was time he started acting like one and not leaving all the work to Bill and Charlie.

"I was wrong," Fred said long moments later. He took Ron's trembling hand within his own and squeezed it. "Hard to imagine, I know." The words were pieced together amid stuttered breaths. "I'm sorry, Ron."

He was ever so tired of crying and it still felt as if he might never stop. It went against his nature to be so morose. If George were there... Fred gasped at the thought, slamming the doors shut inside his mind. If Ron noticed his wandering, however, he didn't comment.

"Fred, I..."

Fred shook his head, forcing himself to look at Ron, who in turn was staring at Fred in wide-eyed wonder. "It was an accident." All the air seemed to rush out of him at the words, as though he might finally believe them. But it didn't make it hurt any less, only different. "It was an accident."

"Why?" Ron asked in a pained voice, squinting against the tears and squeezing Fred's hand. His voice became shrill. "Why?"

Fred winced, staring off into space. "I wish I knew."

~<>~<>~

It was the next day before Ron was ready to leave his parents' room. Needing the chance to connect with his little brother, and hoping to spare him being smothered by an entire clan of Weasley's at once, Percy asked his mum if he might walk Ron upstairs. And although Ginny wanted to tag alone, Percy went alone.

"Are you ready to move back into your room?" Percy asked, helping Ron to stand. He smiled faintly when Ron batted his hand away. He saw a strange flicker of emotion in Ron's eyes at the question. "Ron? What is it?"

Ron sagged back against the bed before looking at Percy. "My room. Is it?"

"In one piece?" Percy offered, watching Ron closely. When he nodded, Percy clasped Ron's shoulder. "It's fine."

"Fine," Ron repeated, obvious disbelief in his voice.

"Yes," Percy said, nodding. "It's fine. Harry fixed it up."

"Why'd he do that?" Ron asked, wonder in his eyes.

Shrugging, Percy motioned for Ron to stand and helped him to the door. "Why don't you ask him?"

"Okay."

Percy followed Ron, who was silent, through the wandering stairs and passages of the Burrow. And when it looked like Ron was tiring, he was ready to put out an arm to steady him. He knew Ron was determined to make it to his room under his own power. Even if he might not admit it, Percy could respect that.

When they reached the door to Ron's room, it opened inward seemingly on its own. A second later Harry appeared in the doorway, a hesitant smile on his lips.

"Weasley delivery service," Percy said, with a crooked salute. "Ron, as ordered."

"Hey," Harry said, standing to the side so Ron could see inside his room.

Realizing he was probably not wanted right at that moment, Percy took a step back. "I'll leave you to Harry's care," he said to Ron. He waited until Ron turned to look at him, searching out his little brother's gaze. "Okay?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, Percy."

With a nod, Percy turned and walked back down the stairs.

~<>~<>~

Ron looked around his bedroom -- the one he'd nearly destroyed -- with wide eyes. He couldn't believe how different it looked. It was neither the brilliant orange of the Cannons nor the rubble of earlier that week. The walls were covered with a solid, off-white paper and the floor was clean.

"Wow," he said after turning in a complete circle.

Harry stood beside him, shifting from one foot to the other. "You like it? I wasn't sure exactly what you had up before." Ron would have laughed at the glaring difference, but didn't want to risk hurting Harry's feelings.

"It's great. Thank you. I had worried..." He finally turned to look at Harry and was surprised to see uncertainty on his face. "Harry?"

He must have swayed slightly for Harry was at his side in an instant. "Sit down before you fall down."

"You'd make a great mother hen," Ron muttered, even though he did breathe a sigh of relief when he sat on his bed. He looked up in time to see a hurt look cross Harry's face. "Aw, Harry. I didn't mean it like that."

Sitting beside him, Harry nodded. "I know. It's okay." Harry appeared lost in thought for a moment before speaking again. "Are you okay?"

Ron winced. He had already grown tired of that particular question. It seemed as if everyone who saw him, from the healer to his siblings, could think of only one thing to ask. Late the night before, staring into the darkness as he recalled his conversations with Bill and Fred, Ron had finally asked himself that question. It had taken some time before he found a truthful answer.

"No," he said softly. "But I am better, and growing better yet." Ron almost laughed at the surprise in Harry's eyes his frank response caused. "What?"

Harry shook his head. "Just not the answer I expected."

Any humor he might have felt faded at his next thought. Looking away from Harry, Ron said, "Mum and Dad want to have the ceremony for George tomorrow."

"Bill mentioned something about that," Harry replied, and Ron could feel his gaze on the side of his neck.

Taking a shaky breath, Ron turned to Harry. "Would you go with me? I mean, you don't have to, but I'd like it if you would." The words tumbled out, one on top of the other and Ron winced at the pain that blossomed in Harry's eyes and he looked away. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"Ron."

"What?" he asked, refusing to look at his friend.

"Ron, look at me." There was silence while Ron debated ignoring Harry. However in the end, he found he couldn't deny Harry the request. "You don't have to ask, Ron."

Realization dawned and Ron's mouth fell open. "Oh. Of course. Bill probably asked you already. Silly of me to think otherwise."

Harry shook his head, not quite smiling. "No. Bill didn't ask me."

Confused, Ron asked, "He didn't?"

"No."

"Charlie?"

"No, Ron."

"Then why..."

At that Harry did smile and Ron relaxed slightly. "If you need me, I'm here. Same as you were there for me on the Express and the chess board." Ron blinked slowly, hardly daring to believe the words. When he remained silent, Harry pressed on. "You don't have to ask me to be there for you. You need me. I'm here." Harry tilted his head to the side, a lock of hair parting to reveal the scar on his forehead. "Quite simple, really."

"Simple," Ron breathed, not quite believing. It was strange, really, not to be in his brother's shadow, to have such a friend of his own accord.

"And you'd do best not to forget it." Ron raised an eyebrow at that, imploring Harry to finish his statement. "I'll always be here for you. Your family will always be here for you. Just don't run away from us again."

Ron closed his eyes, hating the familiar burn of tears in his eyes. He would swear that he had cried more in this week than in his entire life prior. Taking a trembling breath, Ron stared at Harry for a minute. "I miss him, Harry."

"I know," Harry mouthed silently.

Ron looked upward, trying to banish the tears. "I keep expecting to see him in the kitchen stealing a snack or in their room working on some trick." The tears fell anyway, but Ron lacked the heart to curse them. "I don't know what to think anymore."

"You will, soon enough."

Ron was surprised by the certainty he heard in Harry's voice. He couldn't help but question it. "You think so?"

Harry nodded. "I know so."

Ron was never the most self-secure person on his best days, and he knew the feeling of that old insecurity well. "I'm glad one of us does, then."

"As long as one of us does, we'll both be okay."

"Thanks, Harry."

Harry shook his head. "Don't thank me. Just trust me."

Ron smiled, something inside of him believing there might be hope yet. Hope for him, for Fred, for their parents. It wasn't better yet, not by a long shot but maybe it would be.

Eventually.

"I trust you."

Smiling, Harry nodded. "I'm glad."