Settled With a Hug

Disclaimer: All things HP belong to JKR; no money is being made, etc.

Author’s Note: First posted at the fanfict00bs LJ community.

A 3-part fic dealing mostly with Ron’s and then Ginny’s take on H/Hr.

Settled With a Hug

Part 1: Friends

Oh God, oh God, oh God…

Hermione paced rapidly back and forth in the safe-house which they were using as their base for the next few days. 10 steps one way, 14 steps another way, swerve around the table, another 7 steps…

She glanced at her watch and felt tears threaten to spill. They’d been gone for more than 4 hours now…

She couldn’t decide if she was more angry or more worried—on second thought, as long as Harry—and Ron—came back safely, she decided she’d never blame them for leaving again.

She’d woken up from uneasy sleep and come out of the one small bedroom in the house which Harry and Ron had tacitly given to her, to find them both gone with just a brief note.

Wait here. ~H.

Oh if anything happened to either of them, she would—she would… She didn’t know what she would do… She’d never forgive Harry for haring off like this, for just leaving her like this. Knowing him, he must have just seen or thought of something and gone off directly, never stopping to think of anything else. And he’d probably known it would be dangerous and chosen not to take her. She was going to kill him for this…

How dare he just leave her like this, as if he didn’t know she would go crazy waiting and unable to follow them because she hadn’t an earthly idea where they could have gone…

The next minute she stopped short, her heart stopping as she heard a sound just outside the door—and then the door opened and Ron stepped in, followed by Harry who half-stepped, half-staggered inside.

She barely saw Ron other than to note that he was apparently fine; her attention was fixed on Harry and the bruises she could see on his face, the crack in his glasses… And she was across the room in the space of a second to throw herself at Harry, hugging him hard, burying her face in his shoulder.

All the anxiety and worry and fear she’d felt in the past hours caught up with her and she found herself half-crying as she clung to him, her words spilling out of her and getting half-muffled by his scarf. “Oh, Harry! Thank God you’re safe. You prat—I could kill you for taking off like you did; whatever made you do it—I nearly died when I found you were gone and- and- oh God, Harry, I’m so glad you’re okay.”

She was vaguely aware that his arms had gone around her, were holding her while rubbing her back in a calming motion. “Hermione! I’m fine. Calm down, ok? I’m fine, honestly I am…”

And it was the note of surprised dismay in his tone that finally woke her up to the fact that she had lost control of herself so completely in a way that, at any other time, she would have been ashamed of herself for.

She drew back to study his face, frowning as she saw the bruises and the way his glasses were broken.

The sight snapped her out of her overwhelming relief and she drew back, leading him to the chair, fixing his glasses with a wave of her wand and making the bruises on his face disappear with a Healing Charm.

Ron watched Hermione as she took care of Harry, noting the fleeting look of resignation as Harry shut his mouth and didn’t tell Hermione that he was really fine. And he realized to the full what he’d only just begun to suspect: Hermione and Harry weren’t just friends. Something had changed, shifted, somehow, in their relationship—whether they had admitted it to themselves or not.

The way Hermione had thrown herself at Harry and clung to him a moment ago had been ample proof of that—as well as the fact that Harry had hugged her back and even, unconsciously Ron rather suspected, brushed his lips against her hair.

Any uncertainty about her feelings had been settled with that hug.

Now, he watched as Harry calmed Hermione down with just a hand on her arm and nodded to himself.

Yes, he still felt some regret that he and Hermione couldn’t be together but he knew that it was better this way. Harry and Hermione simply belonged together in a way that he and Hermione never had. And they were still the Trio; that hadn’t really changed. So he smiled and said teasingly, “Hermione, he’s fine. Stop fussing over him like a mother hen. And since you obviously don’t even care that I had to face those Death Eaters too, I’ll just go nurse my injuries alone.”

Hermione frowned at him. “Your injuries? Where are you hurt?”

Ron made a show of stretching his hand out. “I think I gripped my wand so tight that I’ll never be able to fully uncurl my fingers again without pain.”

Hermione and Harry both laughed as Harry caught one of Hermione’s hands in his, squeezing it lightly.

“I’m sorry you worried,” he said simply.

She smiled, belying the severity of her words. “If you ever take off like that again, I’ll make sure you live to regret it.”

She paused and then asked, more soberly, “Where did you go?”

“An owl arrived from Remus saying he may have found one of the horcruxes,” Harry explained briefly. He had finally given in about a month back and told both Remus and Professor McGonagall about the horcruxes, because he knew he couldn’t get far without their help, although he’d made both of them promise absolute secrecy. “We apparated to meet him in Hogsmeade and had just made it to the location, a deserted house in a small village in the north of England, when four Death Eaters came out from a Muggle house where they’d killed the inhabitants. It was bad luck—but thankfully since they weren’t expecting us either, we managed to put them out of commission without suffering too much. I hit one with a Full Body Bind immediately except I was hit almost by a fluke when the Slicing Curse which another one fired at me hit a tree branch instead and the tree branch somehow knocked me down which is when my glasses broke. Remus got him and another one. The last of them managed to hit Ron with the Leg-locker Curse and was going to do more but I finally managed to grab my wand again and stunned him.”

Ron made a wry face. “And for all that, there was no horcrux in the deserted house. It was empty except for one souvenir left behind from when Voldemort used it, one of Nagini’s old skins.”

Harry sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly, and this time it was Hermione’s turn to give his hand a comforting squeeze. “You’ll find them all, don’t worry. It’s only been three months, Harry, and we’ve already found two of them.”

Harry gave her a rather wan, grateful smile.

Ron only watched, struck again with the way Harry and Hermione seemed to communicate so much without words. He had noticed it over the years and the connection between them had only grown in these past few months, just as the three of them had all grown closer. If knocking out a ten-foot mountain troll was something that three people couldn’t go through together without becoming friends, then searching intensely for horcruxes while fighting a defensive war was one that would deepen any friendship—and so it had. And for Harry and Hermione, the friendship had strengthened into something more than only friendship—almost inevitably, Ron couldn’t help but think. It was bound to have happened with the three of them spending so much time together. He and Hermione still bickered, arguments that had only hurt more as they tried to be together before they’d finally agreed that it couldn’t work—and increasingly, Harry turned to Hermione for help because he needed her strength and her cleverness. He needed her and she never let him down.

It was, Ron thought as he watched Harry and Hermione, what had simply been meant to be.

Disclaimer: See Part 1

Author’s Note: This is proof that I am no longer capable of writing Ginny seriously without snark. Featuring mature!Ron and H/Hr fluff.

Part 2 of 3.

Settled With a Hug

Part 2: The Girl He Loves

It was going to be a good Christmas after all.

Ginny smiled to herself as she finished brushing out her hair until it positively shone under the lights. She wished they could be at the Burrow or somewhere nice but the Order had decided that for safety reasons, they should spend Christmas at Grimmauld Place instead since it was unplottable and, for the purposes of this Christmas would be put under the Fidelius Charm again, with Professor McGonagall as the Secret Keeper. But at least they would all be there. Bill and Fleur, Charlie, her mum and Dad, Fred and George. Remus and Tonks would be joining them as would Professor McGonagall for at least Christmas Day itself.

But, best and most important of all in Ginny’s view, Harry would be coming too.

Harry coming was the real reason the Order had gone to such lengths to ensure the safety of Grimmauld Place, when they had decided practically at the last minute that Harry, Ron and Hermione deserved to have a real Christmas.

She put on the flowery perfume she knew Harry liked, smiled at her reflection one last time as her mirror remarked approvingly, “Very pretty, dear,” and then left to hurry downstairs.

Remus and Tonks had gone to escort Harry, Ron and Hermione and bring them safely to Grimmauld Place—they’d be Apparating separately, just in case, with Harry and Remus coming first and then Ron, Hermione and Tonks arriving a few minutes later.

And then the door opened and Remus and Harry, followed by Hermione, Ron and then Tonks, stepped inside.

“Oh Harry!”

Ginny ran to hug him and then stood on tiptoes to kiss him—but Harry turned his head so her lips, instead of touching his mouth, brushed his cheek instead.

And the action shocked her into realizing that Harry hadn’t hugged her back. His arms were still by his side and he was standing rather stiffly, awkwardly. Almost as if—almost as if he didn’t want her to be hugging him like this… but that was impossible…

He must just feel strange about hugging and kissing her in front of Ron and Hermione and her parents—never mind that last year he’d kissed her in front of the entire common room and hadn’t seemed to mind then. Besides, it wasn’t as if Ron and Hermione hadn’t seen them kissing before.

She felt a frown coming on but dismissed it and drew back to smile at him instead, keeping her arms loosely around him. “It’s so good to see you, Harry! I’ve missed you!”

“Hello, Ginny,” he finally said and smiled, also stiffly.

She stared. She was seeing him for the first time since Bill and Fleur’s wedding nearly 6 months ago and all he could say was hello?

She decided against talking to him about it now though and managed another bright smile as she let go of him and moved to hug Ron, now that her mum had released him.

Mrs. Weasley was crying while Mr. Weasley patted her back comfortingly as she gave Harry a motherly hug.

Mr. Weasley shook Harry’s hand and clapped him on the shoulder, smiling.

The rather awkward moment of Ginny’s single-minded greeting of Harry passed and all the Weasleys took turns welcoming Harry while Fleur kissed both Ron and Harry on the cheek and even smiled brightly at Hermione.

Mrs. Weasley was back to herself and was urging the new arrivals to take off their cloaks and scarves and come inside the kitchen where she would get some tea and hot chocolate.

Ginny forced herself to smile and act natural for the next few hours as they all talked—or at least, everyone except for Harry talked. Harry smiled and even laughed with the others but he didn’t say much as he sat next to Ron and Hermione—and she could almost have sworn, too, that he was avoiding looking at her. But why? That was what she couldn’t figure out.

He loved her—he must. And she cared about him and had been waiting for him and now they were finally together again even if it was only for a week or so and why wouldn’t he look at her, smile at her, give her some sign that he was glad to see her?

Harry’s yawning was the sign that marked the beginning of the end of the evening.

Mrs. Weasley leaped up from her chair. “Oh, Harry dear, I’m so sorry. You must be tired after everything you’ve gone through these past few months and here we are just talking away while you must be longing to get some sleep. Harry, you and Ron will be staying in your old bedroom. Hermione, you don’t mind sharing again with Ginny, do you?”

She hardly paused for Hermione’s quick smile and shake of her head, before she was practically pushing Harry, Ron and Hermione out of the room, fussing over them as if they were incapable of doing anything without her help.

Ginny followed them out of the room, hoping that maybe now, Harry would look at her again or say something to her—but he didn’t.

He only followed Mrs. Weasley upstairs and when she would have hugged him goodnight, he stepped back into his room with only a quiet, “Goodnight, Ginny” and she was left to stare at his closing door. “Sleep well, Harry,” she finally managed to say and he paused in closing the door, glancing at her and then, oddly she thought, at Hermione, before he said again, “Goodnight.” And she was left with the strange feeling that he hadn’t really been speaking to her at all when he said ‘Goodnight’, that he’d said it more for Hermione than her… But that was ridiculous, of course…

He was only tired.

He’d be himself again in the morning after he’d had some sleep and she would talk to him then.

She was sure of it. She would talk to him in the morning and everything would be cleared up.

~*~

Ginny looked up with her brightest smile when Harry, Ron and Hermione walked into the dining room the next morning. “Good morning,” she greeted them cheerfully—and then she saw it.

Harry and Hermione were holding hands.

Her smile abruptly faded and even as she stared at their joined hands, Hermione made to slip her hand out of Harry’s but Harry tightened his grip.

“What’s going on?” Ginny asked, her voice rising. “Harry, why are you holding Hermione’s hand? Ron, why are you letting Hermione hold Harry’s hand like that? What’s going on?!” She winced inwardly at hearing how shrill her voice had gotten and made a mental note to moderate it next time she spoke.

Ron looked uncomfortable but then spoke up, “Hermione holding Harry’s hand has nothing to do with me.”

Ginny gaped at her brother as if he’d just announced a plan to run off with Draco Malfoy. “But- but- you-” she stuttered.

Ron took pity on his sister. “Hermione and I are just friends and we’ve been just friends for months now.”

Ginny turned to Harry who looked resigned—and who had still not let go of Hermione’s hand. “But you’re going out with me!” she blurted out.

Harry sighed. “No, Ginny, I’m not. We broke up, remember?” His tone and expression were gentle. “I’m sorry, Ginny. I- it was- nice- those weeks with you; it was like a dream of another life—but it wasn’t—it wasn’t real…”

“Of course it was real!” Her voice rose again in protest. “You love me!”

Harry kept his tone gentle. “No, Ginny, I don’t. I- I liked you, still like you—but not in that way. I- Ginny, we’re still friends.”

Ginny glared through welling tears at Harry and Hermione’s still-joined hands. “And what about all that rubbish you told me about breaking up with me because it would make me a target? Or was that just an excuse to break up with me so you could go and snog her since you obviously don’t care about her becoming a target?” she lashed out at him, some part of her aware that she was being unfair but she didn’t care. She didn’t care if she hurt him; she wanted to hurt him, wanted to get back at him…

He flinched at her words, torment flickering across his expression. “No! I meant it; I still do, about not wanting you to be a target. And if you think I don’t hate the idea of Hermione in danger or think that it doesn’t haunt me every minute of every day, you’re wrong! But- but, Ginny, that’s the difference…” he said, his voice becoming soft, almost as if he were speaking more to himself than to her. “I- I didn’t like breaking up with you but I did it because I knew I had to. But this… me and Hermione- I couldn’t. I tried—I tried so hard to make myself stop caring—tried to keep this from happening because I knew it would make Hermione more of a target than she already is and if anything happened to her, I—I don’t know what I would do… But I can’t! I- I couldn’t stop this from happening and I can’t—I can’t—push her away from me. I know I should; I’ve told myself I should and I fight with myself every day—but always, it comes down to this. I can’t do what I need to do without her; I need her.” His voice had grown steadily softer, despite all the pent-up emotion and tension in his tone, until Ginny could barely hear his last words. And despite the fact that he was still ostensibly addressing her, he seemed almost to have forgotten that she was there. He was talking to himself, convincing himself—and talking to Hermione.

And she could only stare at him as each of his words seemed to pound at her consciousness with what he didn’t say in so many words. The difference was that he needed Hermione—he didn’t need her. He cared more about Hermione than he had for her—and in some odd way, that was why his reasoning about not endangering anyone else didn’t work.

He needed Hermione; he didn’t need her…

She thought numbly that she should have guessed that Harry didn’t care about her that way anymore after he hadn’t returned her hug. She should have known from the hug he hadn’t given her, the hug he’d avoided.

And now she had just made herself look like an idiot. She wasn’t Harry Potter’s girlfriend—or the girl he had nobly given up because he cared too much about her to see her in danger. She was the girl he had stopped caring about, the girl he didn’t care enough about…

This wasn’t supposed to happen! Her mind screamed at the injustice, the unfairness of it all.

Hermione! What was Hermione that Harry needed her?

And even as she thought it, she knew what it was.

“Of course you need her, Harry. She’s always been the one to help you with spells and things because she’s so smart and the book-worm.” She spoke reasonably, trying desperately to convince him—and herself—that he was mistaking his feelings. “But that doesn’t mean you love her- like that. You can’t love her like that! She’s not- she’s not the sort of girl you love like that!”

It was Hermione’s turn to flinch and for the first time, any trace of pity, of sympathy, left Harry’s expression as he stared at her.

“You’re wrong,” he said flatly, coldly, the beginning of anger in his tone. “If I’d only needed her for her cleverness, I could have pushed her away a long time ago. She’s more than that; she’s always been more than that. She’s exactly the sort of girl anyone could and would love—and she is the girl I love.”

Ginny stared. She’d never heard Harry speak with so much suppressed passion, never seen his face flushed with so much emotion—and it all combined to convince her that this was real. He meant it and nothing she said could do anything. It was over, for good, between her and Harry.

Ginny looked from Hermione to Harry, knowing that it was over but her mind, her heart, everything in her rebelling, unable to accept the reality before her.

Things like this weren’t supposed to happen! Not to her. She was the one who ended relationships, not the girl who wasn’t wanted. Not her—never her. She was too pretty, too popular, for this to happen to her… She wasn’t—should never be—the one to be rejected.

But she was being rejected—for Hermione. Hermione, of all girls! Hermione who wasn’t pretty or particularly popular or funny or anything! This was just wrong! What could Harry possibly see in Hermione?

“But- but what about me?” she asked, letting Harry see the tears in her eyes and injecting as much pitiful bewilderment into her voice as possible.

Harry sighed and finally let go of Hermione’s hand, coming closer to stand in front of Ginny. Ginny felt a surge of hope. Now things were going more the way they should…

“Ginny,” Harry began softly, and Ginny moved to stand close enough so she knew he could smell her perfume that she knew he liked. “This isn’t about you. It’s not. It- it’s Hermione and that I can’t, no matter how much I try, make myself stop caring or push her away. I just need Hermione too much. It’s not you.” Harry finished abruptly, stepping back.

Ginny stared at him, her head slowly shaking in denial and suddenly she couldn’t stand to be in the same room as them and ran to the door.

Hermione stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Ginny, I—” she began, her voice full of sympathy but Ginny shook her arm free, glaring through tears at Hermione—the girl who’d taken what she, Ginny, wanted and was entitled to. “Don’t! I don’t want your sympathy! He was mine—and you took him!”

She brushed roughly past Hermione and ran up the stairs.

Ron, who had been standing awkwardly as if he were always on the verge of fleeing the uncomfortable scene, hesitated, glanced between Harry and Hermione and then followed his sister.

Leaving Harry and Hermione alone.

Harry sighed heavily, running a hand roughly through his hair making it stand up even more wildly than usual.

He finally turned to meet Hermione’s gaze. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I didn’t—I didn’t think—”

“You didn’t think Ginny would still care that much?” Hermione asked gently.

“Yes—no—I guess—I don’t know,” Harry responded in some frustration. “I just- I just didn’t think about her much.”

A slight, fleeting smile crossed Hermione’s lips as she moved closer to Harry. “You mean you just didn’t really think,” she corrected, her tone gently knowing.

A ruefully self-deprecating little smile lightened Harry’s expression but he didn’t say anything and there was a moment of silence.

Hermione broke it by asking quietly, “Did you really mean all that?”

“All what?”

“About needing me so much, about wishing you could push me away—about- about loving me.” The last words were spoken so softly Harry barely heard them as Hermione’s gaze fell so she wasn’t looking at his face anymore.

Harry blinked. “Yes,” he said bluntly before continuing, disbelief coloring his tone. “How can you doubt that? Did you think I would have broken up with Ginny because I cared too much to make her a target but that I cared less about you—cared less about you being in danger?”

“I- I don’t know.” Hermione’s gaze faltered before the reproach in Harry’s tone and his eyes.

Harry moved to grip both her arms firmly but not enough to hurt her. “Hermione, I meant it, every word of it. The thought of you in danger terrifies me—haunts me—and there are times I wish I didn’t care so much, wish I was strong enough to push you away. But I know I’m not.”

She finally met his eyes. “You never said anything,” she began.

“It didn’t seem—I don’t know. It was my worry, my argument with myself that I lost every time. It didn’t seem—it was never going to happen so I- it didn’t seem important to mention.” He ended rather lamely.

Hermione stepped closer to him, close enough to feel the heat from his body. “I wish I’d known. I didn’t know—I meant that much. You never said--”

She broke off when he lifted a hand to touch her cheek gently. “I love you.” He smiled slightly. “I never said I love you.”

She smiled. “I love you too.”

He sucked in his breath and a fleeting frown crossed her face. “Didn’t you know that I loved you? Hasn’t it been obvious that I did with everything I’ve done?”

“Not- not to me. I- I didn’t think—don’t know why you would…”

Hermione’s expression softened at this admission, one which she knew he’d never have made to anyone else and would probably not have made even to her if he hadn’t been in an uncharacteristically open and vulnerable state after Ginny’s reaction to seeing their joined hands and his automatic response that had inadvertently revealed so much.

“Well, I do. I love you, Harry—and I’ll never leave you.”

She moved to seal her promise with a kiss but he stopped her, for the first time, hesitating.

“Hermione, I- it’s dangerous,” he finally said. “I’m dangerous to be around.”

She smiled slightly. “I know but you know what, Harry? That doesn’t matter that much to me. Even if I didn’t love you the way I do, even if I was still only your friend, I’d still be here. At the risk of sounding clichéd, I’d rather be in danger with you than safe anywhere else.”

He managed the smallest of smiles. “I need you, you know,” he blurted out.

“I need you too.”

He tightened his arms around her and finally, kissed her.

They had kissed before of course but somehow, this kiss was different. Before, the kisses had been tentative, neither of them quite sure of themselves or the shift in their relationship. Now, there was no uncertainty about the other’s feelings or about their relationship. Any and all doubts had been settled thanks to Harry’s response to Ginny’s reaction on seeing their joined hands.

There was no doubt anymore.

So he kissed her—and for that moment, he allowed himself to relax, to stop worrying over the danger their relationship put her in, and allowed himself to enjoy this: having Hermione in his arms, kissing Hermione, just loving Hermione and knowing she loved him too…

Disclaimer: See Part 1.

Author’s Note: More mature!Ron and Ginny!snark.

Part 3 of 3.

Settled With a Hug

Part 3: Happy Together

Ron found Ginny in one of the empty upstairs rooms in Grimmauld Place.

She was staring out the window into the deserted square but Ron was willing to bet that she didn’t see anything.

He had thought she might be crying but as he got closer, he saw that she wasn’t.

She was dry-eyed and, for the moment at least, expressionless.

He moved quietly to stand next to her and for a moment didn’t say anything. Finally, though, he slipped an arm around her in silent sympathy.

She shrugged his arm off though and moved away.

“Don’t!”

He stopped and then sighed. “I’m sorry, Ginny.”

At first she didn’t respond and then she asked flatly, “How long has this been going on?”

“Harry and Hermione, well, it’s been a few weeks since they started holding hands, the occasional snog--” Ron broke off as Ginny stiffened at his words.

He patted her rather awkwardly on the back, wondering why he’d ever thought that it was a good idea for his best friend to get involved with his younger sister. He must have been insane; it was a terrible, stupid idea! It made for awkwardness and him having to be torn between the two of them and all sorts of other bad things. Right, never again. But at least he could know that Harry and Ginny wouldn’t go out again…

He spoke again softly, tentatively. “But it’s been longer than that. It’s been at least two months since I first realized that there was more between them than just friendship.” He paused and then continued, speaking slowly and thoughtfully. “We had gone out- Harry and I- without telling Hermione where we were going. She was worried and when we got back… She just ran to Harry, threw her arms around him in a hug— and I knew that she cared about Harry more than- more than—as just a friend. She’d never hugged me like that, with so much feeling, as if there was nothing in the world she wanted but to hold onto him and never let go… And he hugged her back.”

Ginny moved away from the window, turning her back. “Stop! I don’t want to hear any more!”

Ron sighed but went on talking anyway, hoping, trying to have her accept what he’d accepted long ago. “Ginny, you have to understand. Try to understand. You- you haven’t seen Harry and Hermione together. I have—and Ginny, what they have, it’s special. They’re—they just belong together…”

She made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. “Oh please! You cannot tell me you’re happy about this!! How could you!”

“Ginny, listen to me. I am happy about Harry and Hermione. And you should be too. They- they have something special. It- I can’t really explain it; you need to see them together. But it’s something…” He paused, thinking of some of the things he’d seen in the past few weeks, what he’d realized. “They- they’ve always been close, you know. Always been best friends and they always seemed to just—understand each other. And now—they’re still best friends but they’re more than that. You should see them together… Ginny, they’re happy. Harry- he’s different now, more intense—and sometimes I think he’d probably go absolutely mental if it weren’t for her. She understands him; she keeps him sane, keeps him going… I don’t even know but somehow she does.” He stopped again and then finished quietly, “They really love each other.”

Ginny stared at him as if he had suddenly sprouted another head, her eyes wide with dismay and anger. “I can’t believe you’re telling me this!”

“I’m telling you so you’ll feel better!” Ron’s voice rose slightly. “I’m telling you so you know that this thing with Harry and Hermione, the reason they’re together now and he’s not with you—it’s not just snogging. You know? It- it’s more than that. And you should- you should accept that—and- and be, well, happy for them. I- I think they would have happened anyway; it’s like they’re inevitable. Ginny, they really—well, they belong together—and you just need to accept that.”

He sighed, looking down and then up at her again, sympathy on his expression. “I just- I wanted you to know it’s not just snogging.”

She stared at him mutinously, her expression unmoved and not looking at all convinced or accepting of what Ron had just said.

“I don’t care!” she burst out. “He was mine! I wanted him for so long and then I finally got him and- and he was mine!”

Ron stared at her, wondering when Ginny had suddenly become so—so self-involved, really. “No, Ginny,” he finally said. “He’s not yours. I- I don’t know if he ever really was. He was your boyfriend for—what? a few weeks? Ginny, I- I’m sorry and I don’t want to tell you this but I remember what it was like when you were with him. Remember what he was like with you.” He allowed himself to twitch uncomfortably at the memories. He had not particularly enjoyed having to watch his best friend and his younger sister snog. “Harry- he’s different when he’s with Hermione. He- there’s something about him—he’s calmer, at peace, I guess is the word for it.”

“He was happy with me, I know he was!”

“Maybe he was—but he’s happier with Hermione. I- I can’t describe it but he just is. They both are—happier. In spite of everything that’s going on.”

Ginny’s posture was rigid, her face turned from him, every line in her body indicative of her rejection of what he’d just said.

He sighed again and after squeezing her shoulder in a quick gesture of sympathy, turned and left. He’d done what he could; he just hoped that Ginny would listen, later when she wasn’t so upset, and understand.

Ginny stared after her brother in shock. He- he had meant it; he really was happy about this. She couldn’t believe he’d do this to her! How could he—just take Harry and Hermione’s side over her, his own sister?!

It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t right!

Harry belonged to her—why didn’t anyone understand that?

Ron paused at the dining room door that was still open from Ginny’s tempestuous exit and saw that Harry and Hermione were sitting together at the table, talking quietly, holding hands.

He rolled his eyes to himself; yes, he was happy for them but sometimes, the sheer sweetness of them got rather wearing.

He stepped back and then deliberately made his footsteps exaggeratedly loud as he re-entered the room.

“Is there any food in here?” Ron asked, pretending not to see their joined hands.

“Yes. Your mum left a note and a whole stack of pancakes here,” Hermione answered.

Ron grinned and sat down.

“How is Ginny?” Hermione asked quietly.

Ron looked up, saw the flicker of guilt in Harry’s eyes. “She’ll be okay,” he said and mentally added, I hope… eventually…

“I’m glad,” Harry said softly and Hermione glanced at Harry with a smile.

And Ron could only think that this was what Ginny really needed to see, the way Harry and Hermione were together, for her to understand. Harry and Hermione really did belong together—and maybe they always had…

The End