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"Ron, I have no idea how to tell you this but... I fear I am an unspeakable of the Dumbledore sort."

"An Unspeakable? I could've sworn you were an auror when I saw you at the office yesterday, Harry. And I thought we were all of the Dumbledore sort?" Ron raises a quizzical eyebrow, wondering if Harry had finally lost it. There had been headlines every day about "The Tragic Downfall of the Boy Who Lived" since Ginny & Harry's high-profile breakup, but Ron had never paid them any mind. Maybe that was a mistake.

"Not that kind of unspeakable and not that sort. I don't know what wizards call it exactly and I've been too afraid to ask. Maybe I should've tried Hermione first." Harry lets out a big sigh. Ron's confusion deepens, but he fights back the instinct to snap back at the remark about his inadequacy. Something is clearly wrong. Ron's not oblivious enough to not notice that, though he might've been when he was younger. He claps Harry on the back instead and puts on a fake smile.

"I might not have Hermione's brains, but you're my best friend. So, whatever it is, we can figure it out." Instead of Harry cheering up, like Ron assumed he would, he stiffens and avoids eye contact. It's almost as if the touch is painful.

"All right, fine. I'm gay." Harry is definitely deliberately not looking at Ron now, though Ron isn't sure why. Harry doesn't seem gay in the way Ron knows it, the gay of happy Yuletide greetings. He seems almost angry.

"Is that all? There's nothing wrong with being gay even if it's out of fashion. Hell, I'm gay myself this time of year." Ron even has the emotional scars from last minute Christmas shopping to prove it. Harry sighs even louder, which Ron takes as a sign he's still wrong somehow. He thinks back to all he learned about Dumbledore that year they spent living out of a tent, reading Rita Skeeter's book on him out of sheer boredom. He remembers the disgust he and Hermione felt about her making up his love for a dark lord to sell copies, which Rita labeled his "unspeakable truth". If Harry was saying he was like Dumbledore, then... Ron couldn't believe he had missed it.

"Wait... Is it you have a thing for dark wizards like Dumbledore? Is it Draco? Is that why you and Ginny broke up so suddenly?" Ron is horrified at the thought of potentially having to see Draco every day, but holds strong. No wonder Harry was afraid to tell him, if he's seeing that slimy git. Maybe it wasn't too late and Ron could save him. Then again, it wasn't surprising, considering how obssessed Harry was over him in school. It even made Ron jealous sometimes, when he and Hermione weren't concerned for Harry's psyche. In a strange role reversal, Harry is staring at Ron like he's concerned for his.

"Bloody hell, where did that come from? Yes, Ginny and I broke up because I fancy blokes, but I haven't seen Draco in two years." Ron feels silly now. Of course Harry would never give the time of day to a Slytherin. But why was Harry making such a big fuss then? Maybe it was a muggle thing. He resolved to ask his father and Hermione later.

"So that's why Ginny keeps trying to get you to meet Colin Creevey at the pub." To Ron's surprise, Harry flushes slightly at that.

"I keep telling her I'm not ready yet. Not while I'm hiding. I don't want to keep someone a secret." Ron nods, despite not fully knowing what he's agreeing with. Why would he have to keep Colin a secret? It's not like he'd been on Voldemort's side like Draco. Ron had fond memories of the boy and his constant snapshots over the years, even if he'd been annoying early on.

"And it's hard to go out with someone who has a collection of photographs dedicated to you, even if some of them do belong on display somewhere." Harry continues, this time with a small smile. Ron knows that smile, knows Harry's fond of Colin too, even if not in that way.

"Oh, I'm aware. Don't you remember when I was kidnapped by my biggest fan on a weeklong case?" He wiggles his eyebrows as Harry finally laughs a little. It's a silly memory in hindsight but was terrifying at the time.

"I can never forget your second entanglement with Romilda Vane, no matter how much I try to forget. And believe me, I've tried." The clouds have cleared from Harry's face and Ron feels a sense of relief. He can think about what exactly Harry means about all this later. He's just glad to have his best friend back from wherever he went.

"When you are ready to go out again, don't let mum find out. She'll try to keep you in the family no matter what." Ron is only half-joking. If Harry finds Ginny hard to deal with, he'll be terrified of his mum's ruthlessness when it comes to matchmaking.

"Like a Weasley cousin or something who likes men?" Harry asks, interested despite his previous claims of not being ready.

"Oh, no. Well, maybe. But all my brothers are single now. Except Bill, but that's a given. I don't think Fleur would share."

"Wait, you mean... They all like men?" Harry is visibly shocked, just another thing Ron doesn't understand. Who didn't know how Percy couldn't shut up about how unfair it was that he had to choose between Penelope and Oliver Wood? Or the twins' competition over who could snog Lee Jordan first during their fifth year?

"I'm surprised you didn't catch on sooner." Ron feels a little smug that he knows something Harry didn't, even something as tiny as his brothers' tragic love lives. He thinks about his brothers for a second. Maybe that's what Harry needs, someone who can treat him properly. Why not his brothers? He knows he can trust Harry with any of them. Even Percy if Harry goes completely mad and loses all taste. He'll need Ginny's help. Probably Hermione's & Bill's too. Definitely not his mum. They move on to talk about other things, work and Quidditch mostly, and end up eating supper together.

"I needed this. I've been a bit lonely lately." Harry says. A loud crack follows as he apparates back to Grimauld Place, with only Kreacher for company now that Ginny's moved out with Luna. Ron feels a deep sadness he can't explain at that, but replaces it with resolve. Harry really does need his help.

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"So, who else knows?" Ron asks the next day, in an attempt at gathering as much information as he can before he puts a plan into action. His auror training has taught him that much, even if it'll never be his best skill. It's the perfect time to ask. They're eating lunch in their shared office, meat pies and chips from the shop across the way, while pretending to catch up on paperwork. Everyone else from the office is at a formal lunch Harry talked their way out of attending by emphasizing the importance of documentation, assisted by Ron's solemn nods of agreement. Neither of them will ever be comfortable with all the politicking that seems to be part and parcel of any ministry job. The Harry that convinced Mr. Bones to leave them alone so readily is nowhere to be seen now. This Harry stares straight at his pie instead of meeting Ron's eyes. It's a minute before he answers, a minute where Ron considers starting real paperwork to break the awkward tension.

"Ginny and I guess Colin by extension, like I told you. Luna does since she and Ginny are rooming together. Not Hermione yet. I wasn't ready for her." Harry says in a strained voice. Ron nods, wincing at the thought. If liking men was as big of a deal in the muggle world as Harry had made it seem, he can understand why Harry would hesitate to tell her. Not out of fear of judgement or hatred, Hermione would never, but because Ron can easily imagine her being too supportive. She'd done that for George, finding every hard-of-hearing support group and product the wizarding world had to offer, before Ron had to kindly sit her down and ask if she had considered that maybe it should be up to George how much he thought about his ear. She was all apologies until George snuck a canary cream into her tea, which he claimed made them even.

"Makes sense. It'll have to be soon though. She'll never let you live it down if she discovers Luna found out before she did." Ron adds, perhaps a little mischievously. Harry turns pale. As he should, Ron thinks. Displeasing Hermione rarely ends well.

"I was afraid of that." He says. Ron laughs and soon Harry joins in despite his earlier unease.

"Maybe you can use her schedule as an excuse. She's been everywhere lately." Ron finally takes a bite of his meat pie, still warm despite the delay due to some strategic heating charms.

"That's true. She's almost busier now than back in third year. Remind me, when is she coming back from Lisbon?" Harry says. He doesn't seem to pick up on Ron's unease about the subject, something Ron is grateful for.

"In another week. Apparently gnome riots are not a good sign when it comes to interspecies diplomacy." Ron leans back in his chair. She'd offered to pull a few strings for him to come along, but Ron knew he wouldn't be much help navigating Iberian social cues, let alone gnomish ones. Besides, they'd agreed leaving Harry alone after the breakup wasn't the best idea. Something had been off about him. They hadn't been able to find out what, or why Ginny seemed oddly cheerful about losing the love of her life. She's out of the country right now too, with Neville and Luna in Bulgaria for an away game. Ron not understanding his sister was nothing new, but she had even Hermione stumped. Ron files it away as something to interrogate her about when she gets back. There's something he's missing, even with the added explanation of what was bothering Harry.

"I can't imagine they would be, if they're anything like the gnomes in your garden." Harry says, snapping Ron out of playing detective and back to the present.
"They're related, but around the size of house elves. I think George could still take them," Ron says.

"He was always the best with them. Maybe it was all the Beater experience." Harry says, smiling in a way Ron hasn't seen in a long time. He imagines his friend is probably lost in the memory of the quidditch he used to love. Harry always had a special fondness for the twins. He'd follow after them like a lost puppy on his very first school holidays at the Burrow. Ron, sometimes grumpy in his jealousy, would sulk about why Harry thought they were so special.
"I really should check up on George. Haven't seen him in a while." Harry continues, voice soft with nostalgia. Ron drops the bite he was about to eat in shock. Luckily, his deskmate somehow doesn't notice, switching gears to complain about the strange sweet chutney accompanying their chips. Ron has no space in his brain to process the horror of sweet chips. He can't believe he's been so clueless for so long. Harry is clearly in love with George. Maybe he always was. Ron feels a pang in his chest at that, but quickly dismisses it. His old childhood envy has no place interfering in Harry's happiness, or his brother's. They would be good for each other. At least it's not Percy.

"I'd say so. He'd be delighted to see you," Ron says, much louder than he needs to. The awkward silence returns as Harry gives him a weird look. Very smooth, he thinks to himself.

"If you're that enthusiastic about it, I suppose I have to. Although, I confess I had no idea George cared for my company that much. " Harry teases. Ron's ears turn pink in embarrassment.

"He's always liked you. Besides, he's looking for new test subjects." Ron says, trying his best to play it cool and not mess up the plan beginning to form in his head. He knows he isn't wrong though. It's hard not to like Harry. The conversation turns to other things, chips get hastily eaten without chutney, and when the rest of the office comes back, there's no evidence anything but serious form filing has occurred in their absence. Mr. Bones praises them for their work ethic, claiming it must be the real reason they won the war. As the two slackers leave for the day, Ron extracts a lighthearted promise from Harry to meet up at George's shop this weekend.

Matchmaking might be harder than Ron thought, but he's a Gryffindor. He can't let Harry rot away in Grimmauld Place alone with a murderous house elf. Even if Ron's starting to feel a little in over his head. He disappears with a snap, thoughts whirling. Despite his finely honed instincts, he fails to notice Harry looking at him a second too long to be polite.

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"So wait, what?" Neville says, eyebrows raised in alarm. Luna has always admired his eyebrows, his strongest feature despite their pale blond hair color. Eyebrows were the most underrated part of the body, she thought. A Neville without eyebrows wouldn't be much of a Neville at all. For a moment, she imagines reaching out and smearing them with a light green paint, Neville's favorite color, but quickly shakes the notion. She should probably reply to Neville, shouldn't she?

"I'm surprised," she says, tapping her foot impatiently. "It's obvious if you pay attention." They're in the bleachers of a Bulgarian Quidditch pitch and are supposed to be watching Ginny train. She's the first witch to be chosen to trial for the English national team since 1850, a fact Luna tried to seem very impressed by when she heard it. For some reason she can't understand, Neville is hung up on something she said instead.

"It's just hard to believe." Neville says. "They seemed made for each other." Luna shakes her head. Neville is usually more interesting than this, focused on things that matter, like the amount of pixiefish poison needed to produce the optimal gillyweed. Fussing felt out of character for him, as if he was being possessed by the spirit of Ginny's mum. That was impossible though, considering the protective friendship bracelets she had woven for him and Ginny that dark year at Hogwarts they always wore. She makes a mental note to check up on it just in case.

"Maybe they were but became unstuck somehow." Luna says thoughtfully. She thinks about her father, once her only friend in the entire world. They haven't talked since she went back to Hogwarts and never came back, though he still sends her Quibbler issues she uses in her collages.

"I guess so. It's still a shame though. I hope the lads back home are looking after him." Neville says. He leans back in his seat, as if thinking about all the world's problems instead of someone else's breakup. Luna wonders if this is an appropriate moment to take out her sketchbook. Ginny's been teaching her to think about things like that.

Their attention is stolen by Ginny diving too close to the stand to be legal in a real game. She waves as she passes by, clearly trying to get their attention. The red of her friendship bracelet shines in the sunlight like her hair. When Luna was in school, her fellow Quidditch commentators would praise how Harry was a natural on the broom, sleek and stealthy. Luna always preferred the way Ginny flew, like she was laughing. She hadn't flown like that for a while, not since the headlines even Luna had seen in magazines no one should read. That's the reason Luna had agreed to come to Bulgaria, to see it again. Maybe to capture that feeling with paint somehow. And to find the Bulgarian mini hydra, though that went without saying.

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Ron takes a deep sniff as he apparates in front of the home he shares with his older brother. Even from the outside, he can smell mermaid scales and... burnt toffee? Something must be brewing in the kitchen. There always is. He disarms both magical and muggle locks. His security has been ramped up ever since the stalking incident, though whether it's more harmful or helpful he's still not sure. Mr. Bones had assured him it was good practice for an auror of his standing, let alone a controversial war hero. Bill (and everyone else who had chimed in when it seemed like the only subject on anyone's mind) had assured him muggle security was actually the best defense against other wizards.

"If I trust my defenses with protecting my wife and daughter, I trust it with an auror like you. Even if your curse breaking needs a little work." Bill had said over dinner at Shell Cottage, gently but firmly the way he does. He reached down to pick up baby Victoire, who was trying to hit her bald head on the table while screaming. Ron had no choice but to listen, to both Victoire and Bill.

Security has since become a niche side business of Bill and Arthur's, helping their friends acquire similar setups with one notable exception. Harry had refused their help at Grimmauld Place despite their urging, only paying for a security upgrade on the cottage little Teddy Lupin shared with his grandmother. He didn't trust anything he didn't design himself, accepting the affectionate comparisons to Mad Eye Moody with a smile and slight twitch in his own eye. At least Harry still has his nose, Ron thinks. He can't handle any more body part humor after living with George.

The man in question is in the kitchen, exactly where Ron expected him to be. More accurately, he is standing in the midst of plum colored smoke, burning Ron's eyes as he walks in.

"What is it this time?" Ron says through a cough. The smell of burnt toffee has somehow morphed into rancid pipe tobacco. "It smelled much better from outside." George turns around. He is completely bare from the waist up, clad only in bright blue knickers. His once-ginger hair is the beautiful lilac colour of their mother's favorite bedspread. For a brief moment, Ron considers flooing Neville's gran and asking St. Mungo's pricing. Harry can come visit and take George out on supervised dates to the ice cream parlor. Hopefully he likes purple.

"Have you ever wondered what it would feel like to live in someone else's shoes?" George asks in a booming voice. "Literally, of course." He wiggles his toes for emphasis.

"You're not wearing any." Ron says drily. He wonders if St. Mungo's takes payment plans.

"Exactly, Ronald. But I can." He pulls a spoon out of the cauldron on the stove. It's covered with what looks to be sequined black tar. Before Ron can stop him, George takes a bite. Ron feels a strange shudder throughout his body. When he looks down, he sees his lanky loafers replaced with round hairy feet, with the same toes he'd seen wiggle mere moments prior. George stomps in place, shaking the floor. Ron turns a bit red, embarrassed at how his already long feet appear even more elongated on George's short frame.

"Is this what you've been doing while I'm at work?" Ron adopts a steely glare, based on one he once witnessed from Professor McGonagall. George nods, clearly unashamed.

"New product. How much you eat changes what body part you can steal. Putting that aside, is it even possible to find shoes your size?" Ron fights the urge to channel his inner-Victoire as a response.

"We're wizards, George. Everything is our size if we try." George doesn't appear to be interested in hearing the answer to his own question. Somehow, he's still distracted by Ron's shoes, clicking his heels together.

"None of this explains your hair though." Ron continues, giving up on reason. George finally looks up at that.

"We're wizards, Ronald, like you said." He mocks. "Surely you've seen stranger things than my hair."

"I'm not sure if even Voldemort was that creative. Luna might be." Ron says. His brother snorts at that. Ron takes out his wand and puts out the stove. He's not risking waddling around with George's feet near an open flame.

"What's Luna up to now, anyway?" George asks, more out of fondness than genuine curiosity. He's not the best at keeping track of himself these days, let alone anyone else. He needs someone the way Harry does. Part of him is glad maybe they can be that for each other even if the idea makes his stomach hurt. Ron knows he's not the right brother or the right type of friend.

"With our own sister in Bulgaria, as you very well know." Ron says. "And Neville, but he's never too far." He hears a pop and feels another shudder. His feet have returned home.

"Oh, I suppose I did know," George says. Ron sighs.

"I ordered takeaway. You'll need trousers because you're the one picking it up from that squib curry place." Before Ron heads up, he remembers his conversation with Harry earlier that day. "Also, you better dress up tomorrow. Harry and I are stopping by the shop. Your knickers don't count." George sputters at that. Ron has the last laugh, grateful to leave the kitchen behind. He has no idea how to set up two blokes who don't want to be helped. He has until tomorrow to figure it out.