Brother my Brother

Brother my brother

Brother my brother

One blue and one grey

Will meet upon a quiet field

The morn of judgement day

Ginny pulled her blue robe more tightly around her as the sharp wind tugged at her. She stood on the brow of a hill, gazing out over the gently rolling hills as a pale sun rose, fingertips of light catching the gold of the crops. It should have been beautiful, but she was heedless of it, her eyes searching the horizon for the presence of the enemy. That it had come to this was somewhat of a surprise to everyone. Harry and Dumbledore had made many plans, but all had been shattered when Voldemort had chosen this battlefield and sent a challenge to the order. Somewhere, behind a hazy shield of magic, was a camp; a camp where Voldemort and his Death Eaters were preparing for battle. Ginny had to admit there was something noble in this, something poignant in the old-fashionedness of it all. Voldemort had specified a time and a place for a one-on-one duel with Harry. Everyone knew that the whole war would boil down to that confrontation, it was Harry's destiny to kill or be killed, and so only he could end the Dark Lord's power. Harry had accepted the challenge but of course he wouldn't go alone. The whole Order was here, just behind that hill, ready to fight if they were needed. There were too many old scores to settle with Death Eaters for them to simply watch the duel. They were watchful and suspicious - Dark Lords are not famed for keeping their word - but so far, there had been no treachery.

There was a sudden shimmer on the other side of the field. Ginny drew her wand expectantly, but it was only a single figure dressed in grey. A sentry like her perhaps, a Death Eater come to watch the dawn.

The man removed his mask and lowered his hood. He was close enough for Ginny to see his face, see the features that were so similar her own.

Ron looked at her calmly.

Ginny couldn't repress her misery, and knew her face reflected her pain. He was her brother - her favourite brother - he was her family. They should be standing shoulder to shoulder, not facing each other across what would soon be a battlefield. In a way, it would be easier if he was angry, if his face reflected some dark and terrible emotion. Anything other than the blankness. It was as if she was just another faceless enemy, another body for him to kill.

"Ron -"

But he had already turned and was walking away, the wards shimmering as he vanished into Voldemort's camp. Ginny wiped roughly at her eyes, hating the tears, wishing she could hate him.

This was all so wrong.

Give me now a splendid sun

With all his light full clear

Give me now a gentle autumn

Before the dying of the year

It had been the beginning of autumn, the year after Ginny had left Hogwarts. Grimmauld Place remained the Order's headquarters, though it now bore little resemblance to the dark house of Sirius' parents. Ginny's mother and Lupin had destroyed all trace of the Blacks - bar Sirius himself - and it was now clean, light and utterly safe. Ginny and the others had moved in, Ginny a little hesitant about sharing with Hermione.

It had been almost a year since she had last seen the Trio and the calm, determined young woman bore little resemblance to the Hermione that Ginny had known. Everyone spoke softly around the three, for something terrible had happened, something between them had broken in the year of continually moving to protect Harry. The once inseparable trinity were awkward and a cold resentment seemed to flow around them. No-one knew what the problem was, but the result was obvious: Harry had withdrawn into himself, preparing for his fate; Hermione had become silent and sad, casting calculating but unhappy looks at the others; and Ron...Ron was fey and wild, quick to anger and malicious, lashing out at any who crossed his path.

The Weasleys tried to draw their damaged son back into the family fold but he was having none of it, preferring his own company to the family gatherings. Ginny kept trying long after her brothers had given up, but Ron seethed with a bitterness she didn't understand.

Ginny also tried to talk to Harry, but though he nodded and smiled his eyes were blank; he was living somewhere else, waiting and watching. She often saw him in deep conversation with the older members of the Order, or simply sitting and staring into space.

Because of this, Ginny approached Hermione with trepidation. So much had changed...would Hermione still consider Ginny a friend at all?

But all Ginny's fears were unfounded, for Hermione welcomed her into her life with open arms, desperately grateful for a friend. She often wept but would never explain why. At first Ginny tried to reconcile the Trio - though Hermione and Harry were no longer best friends the maintained a casual friendship, though with Harry so cut off from everything this meant that idle talk and laughter were long dead. But still, this proved that not everything was ruined, and so Ginny ran between the three, trying to discover the root of the discord, that she might somehow heal it. However, Ron ignored all her efforts and so Ginny began to take his place, becoming Hermione's best friend and building what links she could with Harry. Ginny felt like an interloper, breaking into the Trio - surely the three would eventually patch up their friendship?

Give me a field of unbloodied grass

Where I can still see far

Give me one night on a river

And one unfailing star

And then, one summer evening, the two girls had sat on a riverbank and Hermione had confessed that whatever special bond had been made, it was now forever broken. Ginny had pulled her into a comforting embrace and there, as the stars wheeled overhead, they had shared their first kiss.

Old bonds die and new are made to take their place.

Certain that this was no crush or lust-filled fling, they had decided to tell their families and the rest of the Order. Harry had been thrilled for them, perhaps a little relieved that he was no longer expected to marry one or the other. The Weasleys had been shocked and dismayed - no grandchildren, no son-in-law - but even Molly had, after tears and recriminations, come round to the idea that Ginny and Hermione loved each other and were going to stay together despite anyone else's opinions.

But Ron had been furious.

Guilt-ridden over 'replacing' her brother, Ginny had tried to reason with him, begged and pleaded with him, but Ron had been implacable in his refusal to accept them. Ginny had expected homophobia from some people, but she had hoped that her brother would be able to understand. She had even wondered if he still harboured feelings for Hermione and resented her for 'taking' the object of his affections, and had gone so far as to ask him this directly.

He had laughed bitterly and called Hermione the kind of names Ginny would never have expected from him. He had stalked out of the headquarters and vanished. They had frantically searched for him - this was a war after all, who knew what could happen to him alone on the street? - but wherever he went, he was hidden from all their magic and effort.

And then, just as suddenly, he had reappeared.

A sharp pop and he was standing in Diagon Alley in front of Harry, Hermione and Ginny, looking at them with utter disgust. They had crowded round, exclaiming their happiness and relief but he had just sneered at them - Ginny had never seen any of her brothers sneer like that before; it did not suit the Weasley features.

After an awkward pause, Hermione had put her hand on Ron's arm and tried to speak. He snatched it away and backhanded her sharply across the face.

"Don't ever touch me, you filthy Mudblood!"

Hermione had hit the ground and Ginny had gone to her, Harry stepping over them, his face a mask of rage. But in that split second the air behind Ron shimmered and a familiar, gloating face appeared from underneath an Invisibility Cloak.

Draco Malfoy.

Harry had stopped, anger fading into confusion and shock, as Draco stepped in front of Ron and placed one thin, spider-like hand on Ron's chest, his other arm snaking around Ron's waist. Ron responded, pulling Draco close to him so that his head rested atop Draco's. Ron looked defiant but also a little guilty, whereas Draco's eyes shone with a fierce triumph. See Potter, those mocking eyes said, at last I've beaten you. I've snatched something far more precious than a Snitch from your grasp.

Ginny had felt Hermione's body shaking as her resolve broke and tears cascaded down her face, had seen the regret and pain in Harry's face as his best friend embraced his enemy but couldn't accept it, couldn't believe that Ron, her own blood, could do this.

"Ron -" Her brother had switched his gaze from Harry to her contemptuously as she spoke. "What about the family?"

A strange plea, but a uniquely Weasley one. Percy had come back to them, had seen he was wrong and had been welcomed home. The bonds of family were stronger than any other in Ginny's world. Ron couldn't turn his back on them.

"Fuck the family."

No, he couldn't mean it.

"Ron...what about me?" Ginny had heard the pleading in her voice and tried to force her feelings into her gaze. You love me best, I know you do, she willed him to understand, it's always been the two of us who were close. Bill and Charlie, Fred and George and Percy went his own way. It was always you and me.

Ron had stared at her, face and eyes blank, and Ginny's heart had constricted painfully, hope warring with despair. Please, please, let me reach him...

But Ron had smiled slowly, cruelly and Ginny's blood had frozen. Everything crystallised, Ron's voice sharp and clear as he shattered what was left of Ginny's brittle self-control.

"Fuck you, Ginny. Especially you."

A sharp pop and a laugh, a shrill laugh that delighted in all the harm it had done, all the pain it had caused.

There had been no sign of her brother since.

Brother my brother

One blue and one grey

Will meet upon a quiet field

The morn of judgement day

Ginny blinked away her bitter tears, eyes darting over the seemingly empty field where her brother and his lover were preparing for battle. If nothing else, she wished she could understand Ron's choice, but his fury towards her and Hermione was beyond her comprehension. If Ron did not love Hermione, if Ron was not homophobic, then why the hatred? What had pushed him into the arms of Draco Malfoy?

What had torn the Trio apart?

The questions tugged at her, stronger than the clawing wind as she stared out over what would soon be the place of judgement.

But no answers came.

It was all so wrong.

Brother my brother

God has heard your battle call

Now he'll watch his precious children

Learn how to stand, learn how to fall.