Trunk Junk

Authors' Note: I think I've almost done it! I think the writer's block is ALMOST cured, cause even though I had to force myself to finish this, at least this one has an end. That has to be better than nothing, right? Plus, I'm addicted to the reviews that I got from my last one. Maybe you'll be able to encourage me write more? Maybe not on this fic, but perhaps on another one? Feed me reviews, please! I'm hungry!

Summary: A happier story inspired by a previous one-shot, `Boxes'. As Ron goes through the incredible mess that is Harry's trunk, he discovers beneath the new things a few older things that bring back memories.

Disclaimer-Isn't mine. Never will be.

Morosely, Ron flipped the lid to his best friend's trunk open and glazed down at the pile of junk that, quite literally, filled the trunk to the brim. A few of the most recent additions to the trunk, such as the various magical knick-knacks that they had acquired to banish Voldemort and the piece of his soul for good, tumbled onto the floor beside him, sliding off of the large, unorganized pile of clothes that were thrown into the center of the mess.

A well-used passport from their various trips across the continent, a worn notebook that contained various little doodles, on Ron's behalf, and a large amount of notes about the horcruxes from Harry and Hermione…an old, faded mirror….

* * *

“So you threw it in your trunk, broke it in half, and left it to sit there unused for over a year.” It was plain from Hermione's voice that the mirror that Harry had left broken in the bottom of his trunk, hidden under a fraying Weasley sweater, was more than just a mirror. It was equally plain that Hermione was exasperated with Harry, though Ron couldn't fathom why.

Blushing slightly, Harry rubbed the back of his neck and nodded. “Yeah. Not the brightest thing to do at the time, but it's broken now, isn't it?”

“You ARE a wizard, aren't you?” Hermione replied, smirking. With a quick `repairo' the pieces of the mirror were whole again and the mirror began to look a little familiar. “Where's the other one?” Hermione asked, examining the mirror.

Suddenly, Ron recognized it. It was identical to one Hermione had confiscated as a prefect last year, one that the student had been using to cheat on his Transfiguration exam. A two-way mirror. “Harry! You let this go to waste? Just think of everything we could've gotten away with if we'd had these for finals last year!”

“Yes, except that there's only two mirrors.” Hermione replied tartly, “And I doubt you two will get any better of a grade copying off of each other.”

“Well, that's when we give you the mirror, and take turns using it on different tests.” Ron replied smartly, grinning when Hermione hit him. “But what're we gonna use it for now that we're out of school?”

“Think about it, Ron. We're going to be miles away from any nearby town at times, and I don't think the Daily Profit's going to have completely honest reportings of what's been happening. Owl post's slow, and it can be easily intercepted.” At this, Hedwig hooted indignantly, ruffling her feathers. “Not that we don't have the fastest owl in England.” Hermione hurried to add, making Harry's owl preen slightly. “But with her feathers, we're putting her at risk. This way's much easier.”

“Well, where do you think he would've kept it?” Harry asked the two of them, looking around. Grimmauld Place was as bleak and depressing as ever, and even with Molly Weasley's extreme cleaning, the atmosphere of the entire house was making the trio uneasy and restless.

They turned the house upside down, searching everywhere from Buckbeak's room to Kreacher's cupboard, but came up empty. Biting his lip, Harry announced “I guess there's one more place he might've kept it.” They all knew where he meant. Sirius's rooms.

No one but Remus had been near Sirius's personal possessions since his death. It wasn't just because they didn't want to burden of organizing his things or even because they were still too effected by his death- there just simply hadn't been any time, and what time they had had was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of junk that Sirius kept tucked away. Old school memorabilia, trinkets he and the marauders had created or nicked back in their school days, and a variety of other strange objects were thrown into various nooks and crannies of the room.

Painfully, the trio sorted through everything. There were a few interesting finds, including a book that stuck to ones hands, and when opened, shouted `Look at me, I'm reading pornography' over and over again, and pair of clicky high heels that, after Hermione found them, followed her wherever they went. Finally, hidden under the mattress itself, they found the other mirror.

“He must've always kept it there…incase I needed him when he was asleep.”

There wasn't very much Ron could think of to say to that, and Hermione didn't look like she knew what to say either. Doing the only thing he could, Ron clapped Harry hard on the shoulder in what could be, by men, considered to be a comforting gesture, and left Harry to himself.

A little while later, Harry and Hermione came downstairs. Harry met his eyes and gave him a reassuring smile in response to his questioning expression, and Ron let it go.

* * *

Although they didn't use the mirrors nearly as much anymore, Ron had a feeling Harry wouldn't want him to sell it, no matter how much money it was worth. The sentimental value of it to him was probably still too great. The other mirror had traded hands numerous times, and been a large part of their successes during the war, but this one, Harry had always kept on him. Ron wondered if he always would, just incase someone might need him at a moments notice. Old habits, after all, died hard.

Harry's family photo album, a pack of chewing gum that turned ones teeth and mouth green, and a pair of thick, wooly old socks…inside of which was a little sneak-o-scope that reminded him of another time, just before fifth year, when the little trinket had led to a lot of trouble.

* * *

“What are you doing up at three in the morning?” Wincing, Harry and Ron turned as one to face the female portion of the Gryffindor trio.

“It's Harry's fault.” Ron whined despite himself. “I definitely don't want to be up at three in the morning. But his trunk wouldn't let us sleep.” Just as he said it, the sneak-o-scope in Harry's hands pulsed a bright light and emitted a loud `bleep'.

Harry scowled at it. “Normally, I can just shove it deeper in the sock, and then further down in the trunk, and that's enough to muffle the noise, but its really loud tonight.”

“Aren't those supposed to tell you if there's someone untrustworthy around?” Hermione asked nervously, eyeing the small object that was spinning on Harry's palm, still glowing a blinding white light.

“That's the only reason we're listening to it.” Harry replied. “Because if I had a sign that someone in the Order was untrustworthy and I ignored it, I'd never be able to let it go.”

Hermione sighed. “All right, wait a minute while I go get my robe, and we'll all follow it.” A moment later, the three teens had silenced all of the doors to the others rooms, to keep from waking anyone else up, and then proceeded to move around the house to where the sneak-o-scope was squealing it's loudest.

“They're in the basement.” Ron hissed, eyeing the door to the creepy cellar nervously.

“Of course they are. It couldn't be somewhere a little less spooky, like the main floor. It HAD to be the basement.” Hermione moaned, pushing her frizzy hair out of her face. “Well…who wants to go first?”

“Is there anyone staying down there?” Harry whispered, still eyeing the door nervously. Hermione shook her head.

“Who'd want to? Everyone that can go home usually does, and even if they do have to stay here a night or two, they usually stay in the guest rooms upstairs.”

Cautiously, Harry led the way down the rickety stairs, stopping to flinch every time the wood of the old house would creak. Just as he reached the bottom stair, with Ron and Hermione right behind him, the house was rocked by a massive, loud, and blue explosion.

A moment later, as the rest of the residents of Grimmauld Place raced down the stairs in various states of dress, Fred and George emerged from the bright blue cloud of smoke, covered from head to toe in what seemed like blue paint.

“Well.” The first twin said, guiltily eyeing their furious mother. “We know what happens when you add lacewing powder now.”

The sneak-o-scope beeped it's loudest and fastest yet. Exasperated, Ron glared at the small top. “Tell us something we DON'T already know next time.” He told it, ignoring his snickering best friends.

* * *

Looking back, Ron wondered if maybe the sneak-o-scope had been indicating something that he, Harry and Hermione had had no idea about at the time- after all, Snape had been right behind him when the thing had been going off. It hadn't been reliable enough to be used in the war, but Harry had kept it for sentimental reasons anyways. Ron knew that he kept most of his presents from all of his years at Hogwarts. That was probably what one too many birthdays without any would do to you.

Yet another old, over worn Weasley sweater, a box of long-forgotten exploding snap cards, and an abandoned picture in the corner of the trunk that said more about what was happening between the three teenagers than words ever could…

* * *

“It's him, isn't it?” Ron asked, the simple question clearly showing his hurt and fury. Hermione flinched, refusing to meet his eyes.

“You're being ridiculous, Ron. We both know that none of us should be dating, not while we're so involved in the war.” She replied, but her heart wasn't in it, and he wasn't stupid. He knew it.

“What about Ginny?” He asked, ashamed at the way his voice broke slightly. “What about me?” Hermione still didn't meet his eyes, and when she didn't make any move to answer, he knew he would have to calm down, or he wouldn't get a response. “I can tell just from the way you're looking at him in this.” Softly, he handed her the picture of them beside the lake at Hogwarts, each of them smiling softly into Colin's camera. Hermione was leaning comfortably against their favorite tree on the grounds, with Harry to her right, who would occasionally glance her way and then quickly act like he hadn't looked, and Ron to her left, who would often do the same, the red tint of his ears giving him away. It had been taken on one of their few trips back to Hogwarts during what should have been their seventh and final year, in the fall, when the weather was still mild but the tree were beginning to change colors.

From the picture, anyone could tell that both Ron and Harry were interested in the girl beside them. But Hermione, who kept her face to the camera, was much more discreet about her glances.

Still, she kept stealing them at Harry, and now Ron knew why.

The two of them sat in awkward silence until Harry returned with dinner, neither really saying much even as they ate and went to bed. Later that night, Ron found Hermione on the patio of the small youth hostil they were staying in, tear tracks staining her cheeks. It wouldn't be easy, letting her go. But it would be right.

“I won't tell him, but I'm not going to help him figure it out either.” He said, watching as her shoulders slumped in a silent sigh of relief. “And I still think you should wait til after all this is over. He won't be ready for anything yet…” He paused, then added yet another requirement to the deal. “And you need to tell Ginny. I'm definitely not doing that.”

Hermione flinched in guilt, but her expression became firm, and she nodded. After another moment passed, she whispered “I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen.”

Ron bit back the bitter reply that rested on the tip of his tongue and said “At least it's him. I can't even imagine if it were Krum.” Despite her tears, Hermione smiled, and followed him in a moment later.

* * *

Ron had been true to his word and kept Hermione's feelings a secret from both his best friend and his sister. Until a few months before, when Hermione had finally gotten up the nerve to tell Harry and everyone else, how she really felt (Gryffindor courage or not, Ginny could be scary).

He couldn't say that he didn't still get slightly bitter when he thought about what could've been, but he was happy for them. If anyone deserved a great girl like Hermione, it was Harry.

Except right now, Ron couldn't think of a single reason to praise his best friend. “Mate, I mean, come on! Even MY trunk's more organized than this, and I don't even attempt to fold my clothes! And you have more clothes than most GIRLS do- do you even throw ANYTHING away?”

Harry smirked, flinging a sock from the pile of no-matches that Ron had created earlier at him. “Nope. And this was part of the deal, remember? You want the marauders' map to find out of Ginny and some Slytherin are getting cozy, you have to find it. And considering we haven't been at Hogwarts in a year, you might be in for a few hours of…sorting.”

Ron scowled at his best friend, tossing another bunched up shirt at him from his spot on the floor. “What're you gonna do with all this trash anyways?” He moaned, once again setting to the task of sorting out the contents of the trunk.

“You know what they say about some people's trash Ron…” Harry replied, his eyes distant.

Ron didn't say anything more. He thought maybe, Harry might have the right idea. Because come to think of it, he didn't see it as junk, really, either.

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