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Ron began to see things differently after the fall of Voldemort. War had made him far older and more worn than he was supposed to be. They were only children after all. So much loss. His own brother had perished—and everyone in the house became different. Why wouldn't they be? One of theirs was gone, and he wasn't returning.
Ron learned how to read their expressions. He was vague in understanding about it before, but now? Now he had to do it right. Try to understand them before he made things worse. He noticed the way his mother would be too tired to cook. Accidentally making more because Fred used to go for the mashed potatoes and beans. He saw the way George stayed in his room—smashing each mirror in the house to bits whenever he did come out. Who could blame him? He only saw his twin wherever he went. Percy was subdued in self-guilt. Drowning in his own blame and anger. Ginny was quiet, a stark difference from her fiery personality. She didn't know what to do throughout the house without the steady presence of one of her brother's. Bill had come home to stay with the family, at least until the Burrow had some sense of normalcy. Charlie was home too, not really knowing what to do. He'd been away for so long. It was strange seeing all his younger siblings grown up. To see the twin brother without his other.
And for Ron? He watched everything in the house. He had to. He had to keep an eye on George if he was putting firewhiskey into his afternoon coffee from sleepless nights but so much exhaustion. He had to see if Percy make sure he was eating enough. He had to cheer up Ginny because that's what big brothers were supposed to do. Bill and Charlie were in their own company. But Ron still watched them too. The way Bill would try to make sure their mother didn't have to do all the work. The way Charlie would try to talk to dad about his life was to distract him from the loss of a son. It didn't work. Not really. Not at first.
The point was that Ron had learned how to read his family. It was a skill he didn't have before. Well, it wasn't very good at first. Though, it was now. And it was like that for months, with no clear indication of what would happen next.
June went by like a nightmare that seemed never-ending. They all attended trials. Funerals. Ron felt himself cracking. After Fred's funeral, Bill had left the Burrow. Charlie followed. Then George refused to stay home. Percy would always try to get him back. Ginny was angry all the time. Molly didn't want her children to go. But Arthur told her that they had to leave the nest soon. Home felt broken. There were some things that magic couldn't fix.
Ron felt like no one needed a person who was cracking jokes and trying to uplift the humour in the house. He had to stop hindering with his family's grief. And he had to allow himself to grieve too. He still observed, but instead of trying to fill in that void in the middle of lunch or dinner, he allowed it to thaw. It would be okay in time. That time wasn't now. He understood that he wasn't the same boy who lived in the same house years ago.
At the beginning of July, he asked Harry if he could come over to his new fancy apartment. Harry agreed. He had explained how Hermione had been staying over too, but she went to find her parents after the trials and funerals. It left an unfamiliar taste in Ron's mouth after the fact.
After he had attended Lavender's funeral he didn't know how he felt for Hermione anymore. To see someone who used to love and adore you being buried six feet underground was a sobering experience. Ron felt regret heavy in his heart for how he treated and talked about her. He should have been nicer and been a better partner. He was her soulmate but he wasn't hers. He let the tears fall. Loss and guilt gnawing at him.
He then thought of Hermione. She was his best friend. He'd always been kind of an arsehole to her, hadn't he? Making her cry and unhappy. There were good moments too, but relationships don't need the justification of good to outweigh the bad. They shouldn't have to, he realised.
In the middle of July Hermione had come home. And Ron didn't feel like what he had felt in the Chamber of Secrets. It was a moment of victory and he had shared it with her. He looked at her now and the way she hugged Harry for a moment longer, and something in him clicked. The two of them together always looked natural. He remembered each moment of her worrying about Harry. The only reason the two of them became friends was because of Harry, if he was being honest with himself. The moment passed as she made her way to hug him, as Harry looked away far too quickly.
Ron noted this.
The end of July. Harry's birthday. Hermione had just come back from finding her parents, and the Trio were all living together. A way to know that they were alive. They were here. Her parents had refused to talk to her after she gave them their memories, and it dampened her mood throughout the weeks. But for Harry's birthday? She baked a cake all by herself. The Muggle way. Wished him right as the clock struck midnight.
"Turning 18 is a milestone in the Muggle world," Hermione had said after she wiped chocolate batter from her cheek, telling Ron that evening why she went through so much effort. He understood why people in family would cook for one another. To do it for a friend is more than just familial. It was an act of love.
Her hands were shaking as she held the cake. Her eyes were still red and it was clear she had cried a while ago. Hermione brought the cake upto him as she sang, uncontrolled tears falling down her face. Harry had taken the cake out of her hands, placed it on the table, and hugged her as she broke down in his arms.
And Ron felt a twinge of jealousy. But he pushed it aside—Hermione needed this. Needed a hug. Even if it wasn't from him. And Ron felt surprisingly okay with that the more he thought about it. He thought of Lavender's rants in the common room, when they spent late nights together in their rare moments of conversation.
"What do you think about Harry and Hermione?" Lavender asked with a serious expression on her face.
Ron tilted his head, eyes wide open as he thought, "They're good friends. My best friends. Hermione and I aren't really talking right now, but yeah. That's alright. We'd be there for one another. That's what friends are supposed to do, right?"
"No! Silly. I meant them, together."
Together. The word struck him like a bucket of ice running down his body. At the time, he hated that thought. He'd heard rumours from other people around school who would give their own two knuts about Harry and Hermione. He'd known that Viktor had asked Harry about Hermione. In the year later Harry had told Cho about Hermione on Valentine's Day and it wasn't very pretty—it sent the wrong message. In the fourth year, the whole Prophet scandal. He chuckled at the memory of 'Bulgarian Bon-Bon Viktor Krum.' It sort of rhymed with Won-Won, didn't it?
But now, as he's gone through war and lost so many—that idea didn't seem so crazy anymore. Not with the way Harry held her in his arms. The way she fisted his shirt and cried so freely against him. Harry understood what it was like to not talk to his parents after all.
After Harry's birthday, they all received their Hogwarts letters. For the first time in perhaps many years, they had no smile on their faces.
"I'm not ready to go back yet, I think." Harry had confessed at the table as they ate brunch. Hermione paused her bites and placed her hand on his.
Hermione nodded, "We don't have to reply to these letters. Let's just keep them safe and decide if we're going later. Come on, today's the day we go to Muggle London."
Ron was shocked at what she'd said, but it made sense. Too much had happened in such little time. But it was time for their trip to London. Something she'd been wanting to do for ages with the two of them.
They apparated with her in the middle of a street, and they walked onto the busy road, blending in seamlessly.
Harry had grown up in the Muggle world yet wasn't able to explore much of it because of his relatives. For Ron, it was a whole new world. She showed them the giant Ferris wheel, and they had gone on it twice. She had the biggest smile either of them had seen in months. She gave them ice cream from a stall nearby and they ventured into museums and little shops that Ron wanted to peek into all around. Harry wanted to do the same, secretly. Hermione had gotten a Muggle camera for the day. She'd said something about her own photo album with all her friends and the people she loved. Ron zoned out as he looked at the wonders of a Muggle heater and Harry had asked her more about it.
Ron noted this, too.
Hermione wanted to take photos with the sights. Ron tried but he clicked them clumsily with a few fingers on the sides of the frame and with not the best understanding of how to use it. But when Harry had offered, it was like an artist in their perfect element. He wanted to take a photo of Hermione. He took more than what was required. Harry understood her angles and how she looked best, all while holding a muggle camera for the first time. Ron shrugged but he kept note of this new behaviour. Harry knew how to operate the camera better than Ron anyway, so he let it slide.
But Ron noticed the way Harry paused when he clicked the button, right before a photo. To look at Hermione in the frame. And Ron had wanted to laugh and tease him instead of tear him a new one. That was a good thing. His mind trailed of to Lavender, as he remembered the unfinished conversation that night in the common room. Something that he should have said in the moment.
Yeah. I think they'd be great together. They just need to realise that they already are.