Chapter Text
The sparse choking of a dated Ford engine rang out into the dead silence of the early morning summer air; in each attempt the engine made in starting up, its blunt sound filled the sprawling lawn in front of The Burrow with its sputtering and cut piercingly into the midnight silence, making the second youngest Weasley child hope to Merlin it didn’t wake his parents and hoped, since the enchanted car that he was definitely not allowed to drive sat enough distance away from the house, they would stay asleep. He was currently sitting in the driver’s seat, desperately trying to start it up but was having very little luck in the endeavor. Ron Weasley roughly jerked the car key again with a half, rough twist within the ignition, leaning his torso against the wheel and staring determinedly ahead of him out the front window with a hard, annoyed stare into the dark grass as the engine once again, choked out loudly and swiftly ended in a weak sputter. His family rarely needed the car, which was a large reason why his dad always put off repairs on the ‘rusty old bucket’, as his mum liked to call it. Ron momentarily cursed him for not putting his muggle mechanic skills to use on the damn thing.
“Come on, come on -” He whispered to himself desperately and upon one more try, swore loudly when it died off for the fourth time.
Ron let his forehead fall hard onto the steering wheel hopelessly with another loud ‘fuck!’ and proceeded to pull the keyring out angrily, throwing it onto the passenger seat. He kept his head against the wheel, trying to come up with another plan but he had very little creativity in the matter- he was two days walking distance from his destination, almost 240 kilometres away and he did not have that much time to spare. He was desperate - so desperate in fact, that he was attempting to go against the absolute promise he made to his dad in the summer before second year to never, ever again take their enchanted car out for a ride, even if it was to grab Harry from the household they both swore up and down wasn’t that bad- only dull, boring and lacking the same love The Burrow had.
But it was that bad.
Ron knew too much of just how bad it was and though he was glad his best mate shared such things with him and trusted him so greatly, it absolutely haunted him; the guilt from the secrets he kept - all alone with no support in the matter - ate away at his soul since he was eleven and now, age fourteen and having sat beside Harry multiple times while diligently and gently rubbing healing paste onto wounds Ron had only heard of being present on a person in the war, his guilt was turning into fear- for two first terms since they had met he had seen the wounds become worse. It now seemed at the point that he could do very little to heal Harry’s wounds or even alleviate his pain, as much as he tried to do so. He wasn’t booksmart like his old fancy and second best mate, Hermione and was told strongly by Harry that he had to keep her in the dark about it- Ron didn’t even have the option in trying to secretly and casually inquiring about medicinal matters talked about in the books she read anymore because she had transferred at the end of their last term to France.
Aside from that all though, Ron was stuck in the dreadful matter that he hadn’t heard from Harry in over a week and Ron knew Harry had taken the deal they made quite seriously; he told him he wouldn’t tell the adults in their lives the secrets of what his aunt and uncle were doing to him if he promised to write to him regularly to just show he was alive and still breathing. Ron told Harry he was to write a letter at least once a week but one needed an owl for that and to Ron’s absolute horror, Hedwig showed up at his window one evening a week prior with no letter in her claw and didn’t leave. She outright refused to, even when Ron urged and begged her to and even took her to the far end of their property to try to get her to fly back. She just gave an annoyed call, flew back to Ron’s arm after he had twitched her off of it and though Ron wasn’t very in tune with animals, the look in Hedwig’s eyes told him she didn’t want to go back or possibly, didn’t have a reason to.
It was clear to Ron that something was terribly wrong and he felt sick at the thought he might be too late.
With another loud curse, Ron threw open the car door loudly and decided it was finally time; time to let out what he should have years ago, time to go against his loyalty to his mate for the sake of his safety and for the sake of his life . He had wanted to for so long but he was stupidly devoted and foolish- all of fourteen, and he was involved with more than he could ever handle alone. He hastily grabbed the keys off the passenger seat and shut the door, making a stride to his house with a rapidly beating heart.
He wondered if he would be punished for keeping such important information or possibly hated by his parents for being the opposite of what their house and family name stood for; he felt he was a coward and lacked the bravery that was supposed to be in their blood. As he walked quickly up to the door, he saw his kitchen lights flick on when he was about ten meters away from it. Ron swallowed and frowned nervously, trying to muster up the courage to take the step he should have taken the moment Harry tearily told him the torture he endured behind the safety of their common room bed’s curtains.
Suddenly, the door flung open and Arthur Weasley stepped out onto the stone steps in his pajamas with a sharp and angry glare at his son.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!" He barked. "Do you not remember the pro-”
“Dad…” Ron interjected, stopping Arthur in the midst of his words.
He looked to the side for a moment then diagonally so he wasn’t meeting Arthur’s eyes and with a final intake of breath, let out the words that had danced on his lips for years right out into the cold July morning.
“I need to tell you something.”
