Title: Balm Characters: Ginny, Ron, Harry Rating: G Disclaimer: My apologies to JKR. I get nothing from using her characters except satisfaction. Summary: Ron doesn't really understand. Notes: Much thanks to my very patient and eternally-suffering Beta, Lederhosen.
Ron bit into the apple his sister had thrown at him, and tried to talk.
"Bftw whff?"
"Would you just eat it? And the reason why Harry doesn't want to go to today's Hallowe'en party is that it's also the anniversary of his parents' death."
Ron chewed hard then swallowed. "Sorry, Gin. It's just ..."
"What? You don't think your best friend's mourning should get in the way of your party?"
"It's not that. But it's been thirty years. And he was a baby when it happened. You'd think he'd be over it by now."
The glare from his sister was almost tangible. "You. Are. An. IDIOT! Think, Ron. How do you think you'll feel when Mum dies? How long do you think it'll take you to get over it?"
"But that's different! That's ... that's MUM!"
"Right. For that, you get a special job at the party."
Two hours later, Harry took the balls Ginny handed him. Behind her, Ron sat perched on a precarious stool over a large tub of icy cold water, the target above him connected to the ducking mechanism. "Are you sure he agreed to this?"