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Hi! ^_^
Well, after all the troubles and the fights against the gang of Black Holes bullying my Grissom -my pc- I'm finally posting the last part. I liked better the one that got lost forever, but I hope this is not so terribly awful ^_^u
I hope you like it. And I also hope I can write the next scene -another fic- in no time.
Hugs and kisses to everyone for your time. You guys rock!
And as always, thanks to my wonderful beta Stephanie. You are a treasure. In fact, you are the real owner of the right half of my Author's Badge, lol. ;) Thank you SO MUCH!
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oOo
The Friend Who Looked…and Understood.
oOo
People tend to underestimate him.
Well, it's not that they do it without a good reason. Most of the time he's shamelessly oblivious to any subtle form of emotion. To any form of emotion, period, someone would say. And well, it's the truth…but only most of the time.
Sometimes, he believes being underestimated is not necessary a bad thing. Because when people assume that you are hopelessly oblivious, they feel like they can let their guard down. And with their guard down, it's pretty much easier to catch all those subtle little things that probably would go missing forever if people thought differently of him. So, as surprising as it is, he really doesn't mind.
Because he knows there are times that he watches. And he listens. And he understands.
He's been watching his parents today. They are happier than he remembers they've been in a long time. Probably since his prat of a brother decided that his family wasn't worthy enough for him to be related to.
He never tells them, but seeing them suffering hurts him badly. He doesn't like to see his mother crying with a rejected knitted jumper in her lap. He doesn't like to see his father being treated like he was shite by one of his sons, the one who happens to be the prat of the lot. Nevertheless, he knows that they wish the prat were here, at his brother's wedding, with his family.
And he won't tell anyone, of course, but he wishes it, too.
He's been watching his brother. His eldest. Mum's been nagging him for weeks. She thinks that he could show a little more interest in the whole event, considering how hard it's been for Bill. For them all. What Mum doesn't know is that, although he's not jumping all over the Burrow, he couldn't be happier for his big bro. Not only because of his now wife -and Merlin, what a wife!- but because the fact that Bill, in spite of his scarred and almost unrecognisable face, and all the pain caused by his wounds, exudes a very infectious and much needed happiness. He still remembers how Bill used to take him on his broom after the twins made him cry. He used to cheer him up: "Ron, one day you'll have your own broom, and you'll fly higher than me…even higher than Charlie!"
Today, as he watches his eldest brother laughing at something Charlie said, he knows that Bill was wrong on one thing at least; he's never going to be better than his brother on a broom. And he smiles. He doesn't really care anymore.
He's been watching his little sister, too, among the crowd that was the Weasley-Delacour wedding. Better said, he's been watching the red-headed beauty in the green dress that his little sister had somehow turned into.
She looks pretty. Very pretty indeed. At first he had a laugh because of the bridesmaid issue. When Mum told her that she was actually going to be one of the bridesmaids, she went pale. She looked so angry that for a few moments he seriously thought his sister was going to point her wand to her own chest and end her life right then and there. Well either that, or just kill their mother.
After watching her earlier dancing with that damned cousin of Fleur's, he can only think of one question. When? When did she stop being little Ginny and became this pretty girl?
Maybe, he reckons, brothers aren't supposed to notice those kinds of changes in their little sisters. Or maybe he just missed it, as he misses many other things.
But again, not every thing,
Because even as he had been fighting hard to regain his lost honour - the bloody cousin was a bloody veela, but he wasn't staring at him, but at his suit, a different thing entirely - he noticed. He had noticed how his best mate had suddenly stopped laughing. He had noticed how he wasn't listening to their jokes anymore. He had noticed how his eyes couldn't look away from someone on the dance floor.
And he felt sorry for him.
Because his look was a look of sadness, a look of longing, a look of resignation. The look of a boy watching the happiness he can't have, even if the reason he can't have it is only himself.
It's not that he is just that clever and sensitive, and now he can suddenly understand what everyone's feelings are at the moment, he tells himself. It only happens that he knows that look. He knows it very well.
He took a quick glance at him. Although his friend was too distracted to notice, he had looked away quickly anyway, because he didn't want him to feel uncomfortable. Harry is his best friend in the whole world, and she is his sister. But still they won't talk about it unless the moment -this is, Harry - seems to call for it.
It hasn't yet.
And now there he is, looking up to the night sky, breathing deeply. It's a wonderful night indeed, just as the entire day has been. While definitely not a fan of Astronomy, truth be told, somehow he feels like standing out there, a few steps away from the music and the joy that suddenly he doesn't feel like sharing, just looking up to the dark and starry sky.
Who would have thought?
But somehow he can feel that many things are slowly changing. He is slowly changing. Otherwise, it would have never occurred to him to leave a wedding party and go seek solitude, or maybe company. He's not completely sure.
He takes a few distracted steps into the garden, and then he stops in his tracks.
The bench, the stony little one by the fence, is poorly lit by the almost-invisible moon and the lights from the party, but he doesn't need more than that to recognise the two figures sitting on there. Poor kind of a best friend he would make after all these years if he didn't.
He's not surprised at all. Whom else would Harry have gone to after leaving the party all of a sudden?
He takes a step towards them, but then he changes his mind. He doesn't really need any lights to guess what's happening on that bench; he already knows.
They are talking. And when they talk, he steps back.
So he watches them in silence, almost reverently. And once again, as it's been for a while now, he is surprised at his own feelings. Under other circumstances, he surely would have felt a pang of jealousy, of being left over, betrayed…but somehow he can't feel any of that now. Perhaps, he thinks, Ron Weasley, the Ron Weasley that never got to see Albus Dumbledore's dead body being carried by Hagrid, could. But not him.
She's comforting him, he knows almost immediately. Or maybe this time he is the one offering the comfort. He can't be sure. It works both ways.
While he still vaguely registers the sounds from the party behind him, he tries to pinpoint an exact day, an exact moment, and exact something, when things became like this. But he just can't think of a time when things were too different from how they are now. Hermione I-Give-Planners-To-My-Best-Friends-On-Christmas Granger, as Harry and he had secretly called her with a smile, has always cared for Harry in a way he never thought much different before, but that now he can clearly see. To her, nothing's more important than their safety. Than his safety.
He now understands that this was one of the things he noticed during the last year, even when he didn't fully know it back then. The fact that Hermione Granger's world wasn't revolving around Harry Potter's. That was it. And so, for a few months, he had felt that Hermione had actually seen him at last.
He smiles at the thought as he watches them hugging each other.
Because now he thinks -no, he knows- that he was right. Hermione did see him last term. It's just that what turned out to be the really important matter is what she didn't. What maybe she still doesn't.
But he knows better. Because sometimes he does watch. He does listen. And he does understand.
As Harry and Hermione let their embrace go and continue talking, he wonders why he doesn't feel worse than he already does. It's been like this for a while now, after all. But, surprisingly as it is, he understands. He knows it's not deliberate. They don't leave him out. They don't share secrets he doesn't know about. They don't even spend much time alone. He had caught Harry staring almost open mouthed that very morning at the ceremony, when he first saw her in that elegant dress. But he can't blame him. Hermione did look pretty, after all. Even more than she usually does to him. And he has also seen how his mate has been looking and acting around his sister. But he knows that it is there, and he can feel it. He doesn't understand it, or maybe he doesn't want to, but that doesn't mean that he can't feel it. That he can only follow them to a certain point, but then the path is only wide enough for two.
Again, old Ron Weasley would have gone mad at the sight of the girl he loves more than anything in the world and his bloody famous best mate sharing a bond he knows he can barely grasp. But, again, not him. He can say now he finally understands, really understands, what being Harry Potter means. What on Earth possessed him to believe that his best friend could ever be seeking eternal glory? Hermione didn't believe it for a second.
And for a moment he feels the need to lower his gaze, incapable of looking at them without feeling like an idiot. But things are very different now. Because the two figures sitting on that bench are the most important things he has in the world. The two that, without second thought, come first no matter what. He would never tell that to them, of course. Not because he doesn't mean it. He does. He truly does. And not because he doesn't want them to know- he's sure they already know. It's just how things are. How the trio is. How Ron Weasley is.
And just because of that, Ron Weasley will never say he loves Hermione Granger, either. Nor that he finally understands that the first huge mistake in his short life was to let her go, because he knows it's not their time anymore. Maybe last year, or even before…But not now. The same way that he will never say that he loves -yes, loves, in his mind he can say it without the threat of the twins making fun of him- Harry Potter. It's not true he doesn't like to be the sidekick. Being Harry's second it's an honour. And it is even a greater one since Harry's never seen him as his second, but as his brother. And he knows he will do anything for Harry, as Harry has been doing for them all his life. He knows he will die for him if the moment comes, and he won't hesitate for a second, as scared as he surely will be.
He can't tell these things to anyone.
But it's nothing but the truth. Blood bonds are very important, and he knows it and values them a great deal. He loves his family to death -with an exception…or maybe not. But soul bonds are something entirely different. Something of another kind. And he's so proud of the one they have that he doesn't care it's Harry who is making Hermione eat, making Hermione rest, or making Hermione sleep. He, Ron Weasley, is making the both of them smile.
Not an easy task, by the way.
He has almost decided to come back to the party and leave them alone when the sound of soft footsteps startles him.
"What are you doing here all alone? The party's the other way around."
"I needed to breathe a little," he tells to his sister, who looks flushed. "I don't think Mum would like to celebrate the wedding of a son and the murder of two other sons all in the same day."
Ginny grins at his comment. "So I've heard…but we're brother and sister, Ron; you only had to tell me and I would've let you have a couple of songs with him…"
He wants to joke back, or pull a funny face, or something he would normally do to let her think that everything's ok, but he knows he's failed when she stops teasing and looks at him closely.
"Everything ok, Ron?"
He nods.
"Listen, Ron, you have to learn to ignore Fred and George once and for all. You know how they-"
"It's not because of those gits," he cuts off his sister, who is now looking at him with a frown that reminds him of one of Hermione's. But he doesn't really know what to say after that. Without thinking, his eyes turn to the bench by the fence instead. And so do hers.
"I was going to ask you about Harry and Hermione just now," she says more brightly, the frown forgotten. "Are they the ones over there?"
"Yeah…" he answers. "I was looking for them."
His sister looks at him, then at the bench, and then at him again. And he knows exactly what's coming.
"So why are you here all alone then? Come on, let's go and join them. We're at a wedding after all. They shouldn't be playing solitaire heroes today," she says, and starts walking towards them.
He's quicker, though, and is grabbing Ginny's left wrist before she can take one step more.
"No."
"What?" She spits the word, almost. But he's adamant on this.
"I said we're not going."
Even he is startled by the harsh tone of his voice. He hadn't planned to sound that way. But now Ginny's looking at him, a familiar look. She's confused, he can tell, but also angry. She has never taken orders very well.
It's not going to be easy, he thinks resignedly. But, surprisingly, he doesn't care. He's choosing what he knows is right, not the easy way out.
"And why, pray, tell me, can't we go to them exactly?"
He doesn't respond immediately.
"They are talking," he says calmly after a few seconds, as if it were the most evident thing in the world. Not that he was expecting Ginny to understand.
"They are talking, ok," she repeats, crossing her arms in her confrontational way. "And?"
"And that's why we are not going to butt in."
"What the hell are you talking about, Ron? It's Harry and Hermione; we're not going to butt in anything, as you put it." Her tone is less nice this time.
"You don't understand anything," is the only thing he says, his voice flat. He knows that if there's something that infuriates his sister more than telling her she doesn't understand, is just this; staying calm when she's ready for a brawl. But he's really fed up with her sister's tantrums.
She doesn't burst out, though. She just looks at him with an unreadable face, which hardens visibly when her eyes turn to the bench and see Harry and Hermione too close for her liking.
"Yeah, I see…" she says coldly. "Maybe you're right, dear brother. Maybe I don't understand a thing about what's going on. But you can enlighten your little sister, can't you? So Ron, please, would you be so kind as to tell me why you're not with them if they're only talking over there? And would you be so kind as to tell me why you won't let me go to Harry? What are you afraid to find out, Ronniekins? Or is just what you have actually found out?"
"Shut up, Ginny," he says, but it's barely whispering.
"Why should I? I'm telling nothing but the truth here. It's not my problem that you choose not to see it just because it's about darling Hermione," she says with her gaze fixed on him, as if daring him to deny her words. "Do you think I'm stupid, Ron? Because I'm certainly not. She won't let Harry live his life the way he wants to, always `Harry, I don't think you should' or `oh, Harry, you must do this or that...'" she says mocking Hermione's worried voice. "Who does she think she is?"
"Ginny…"
"She just can't stand the fact that Harry won't listen to her and only her; that he's finally found love and he got tired of her constant tight grip. She's not his heroine anymore and she just can't stand it! If I didn't know better I'd swear she's just trying to…Have you seen how she looks at him, dear brother? I've been in love with Harry since I was ten, for Merlin's sake! Did she really think I wouldn't notice? And here I thought she really was the cleverest witch at Hogwarts…"
"Ginny, just -"
"Just what, Ron? Don't like the truth, huh? You like her, don't you? So why are you standing here like an idiot? Why aren't you there with them? And you won't even let me go? I'm sure Harry wants me to be there for him! I'm sure she just played the little willing victim thing, the jealous bit-"
"SHUT UP!!"
He was sure he had been managing to stay calm enough while Ginny was spitting her venom, but his own shout echoing through the garden seems to prove him wrong. Ginny's looking at him, speechless, open-mouthed, as if she can't really believe it's him who has cut her off with a shout. In all honesty, he can't really believe it either.
But he feels angry, very angry, because she doesn't know a thing, and yet she does. He considers the possibility of turning on his heels and just leaving her there. But he's been listening to her; it's his turn.
"Now you listen to me, dear sister. You don't know a thing; you don't understand a bloody thing. What the hell do you know about us, Ginny? Do you think you're part of us? Do you really think that a few weeks of snogging Harry give you rights over his whole life, over the friends who have been there with him since the very first bloody ride to Hogwarts?"
"Of course it does!! I'm his girlf -"
"Don't be ridiculous," he says, incapable of restraining a rather scornful laugh. "You are not a part of us, little sister. Sorry to burst your little pink bubble, but better your older brother than a stranger, don't you think? What's your problem anyway? I thought I heard you say you weren't stupid. Can't you tell when you are sticking your bloody nose in things you have nothing to do with? When did my friends or our friendship become your business? Look at you, talking about Harry as if you just won all sort of rights over him, when you know that he won't talk to you about what he doesn't want you to know. And what's that, talking about Hermione as if she had ever treated you like the shite you're spitting out about her? Look in my eyes and then tell me who the jealous bitch is again."
He feels light headed after blurting all this out. But regret's not anywhere near his thoughts right now.
"You're so blind, Ron..." Her eyes are full of rage and tears, but at least she's not shouting anymore. "Blind and pathetic."
Her face is hard, but so is his as he holds her stare without blinking.
"And so are you."
And with this he knows it's over. He knows it is because, instead of shouting back at him again, she just looks down at the ground, clenches her jaw, but says nothing. No; Ginny Weasley is not stupid.
Her eyes turn one last time to the bench by the fence, before pushing him aside with all her fury on her way back to the party.
I had to do it, he whispers to his feet.
Suddenly he really wishes the party was over. The last thing he needs right now is his mother asking him to apologize. Because he's sure Ginny won't let this go without her having the last word. Well, maybe he'll be lucky enough to hide among his Gryffindor mates until the storm passes.
He's about to leave when his gaze returns once more to the place he knows he belongs.
"Ron," he thinks he has heard. And he must have, since his two friends are standing up now, looking at him, as if waiting for him to come. He can't see their faces, but he can almost picture Hermione's eyes, full of concern, and Harry's look, ready to be there by his side.
While walking towards the bench, he smiles. It is a wonderful night, indeed.
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