Who: Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger What: Dealing Where: The Burrow When: Backdated: Sunday afternoon Rating: Swearing.
Twelve hours had passed since Ron had demanded his wand back from Hermione, and then gone straight to the Burrow. He knew he'd slept a couple of those hours, but the rest were really a blur.
He'd gone back there to try and face down the truth. Turns out the truth really fucking hurt.
Everywhere he went in the Burrow had memories. From his mum's cooking to his dad's tinkering with Muggle devices that no one in the family actually understood. Where his dad had caught Fred and George trying to get him to make an Unbreakable Vow. The photograph of the twins that had always made his mum stop what she was doing, eyes tearing up. Molly's collection of Lockhart books. The wedding. The attack. De-gnoming the garden at his mum's insistence. Watching his dad working on that Ford Anglia. His mum staring at her clock, trying to remain calm as each of the hands read "mortal peril."
And of course, the doorway...
It had been too much for him, and he'd collapsed onto the couch, unable to move, until he'd finally fallen asleep.
Waking up two hours later, he found himself staring at the Christmas tree. Or rather, at the presents under the tree. He didn't have to open his to know what was in it, but he walked over to the tree, retrieved the box with his name on it, and then back to the couch.
He'd always hated his before. Every year, maroon. Other kids were getting broomsticks and toys and all sorts of things for Christmas. He got his maroon jumper. But now... Now he felt so ungrateful. His family had never had much money growing up, but his mum had always taken the time to knit those things. And he felt like he finally appreciated every effort his parents had made to raise their children as best at they could. Despite his mum's coddling that seemed overbearing at times, or his father's low position at the ministry, Ron knew that he'd had the best parents anyone could ask for.
And now they were gone.
Sitting on the couch, box on his lap, he couldn't handle it anymore. He felt like he was about to burst, and he no longer wanted to be alone. He'd told Hermione he needed to do this on his own, but now he needed her here. He didn't trust himself to get back to her flat.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the chess piece she'd charmed, and commanded it into a castle, the same position she'd taken in that chess game at Hogwarts years before. He'd told her that it would mean he needed her. And now, more than ever, he needed her.