Brothers

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CHAPTER TWO

"The best way to keep your friends is not to give them away."

- Wilson Mizner

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I see Ginny eyeing me with a funny look as she and Hermione sit on the sofa chatting. Mr. Weasley is sitting across the room, lounging happily in a big overstuffed armchair in the corner and I can't help but shift uneasily in the seat across from him.

I'm anxious and fidgeting and I can't bloody stop. What's the matter with me?

I keep telling myself that the worst part is over. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley finally know and so do Ron and Hermione, for that matter. This is supposed to be one of the happiest days of my life.

So what's got me so worried? There was something in Ron's eyes that just didn't sit right with me. I frown to myself, overanalyzing his reaction. And since when was he ever jumping at the bit to help his mum? He always hated having to help her with things when he wanted to be chatting it up with us. Unless...he doesn't want to be in here. Is that it? Why wouldn't he want to join us?

"I wonder what's taking your mum and brother so long." Mr. Weasley's voice cuts through my thoughts. "I'm going to go check on them." Standing up, he kisses Ginny on the top of her head and heads back to the kitchen.

As if she was waiting for him to leave, Hermione smiles brightly and beckons for Ginny's hand.

The ring. Should've figured she'd want to see that. They all do. Next thing you know, she'll want to know how I proposed.

"So," she began giddily as she sat in awe over the ring, "how did he propose? I want to know all the details."

I knew it. I could write a book about this stuff. Then again...no. It would be like the blind leading the blind.

"Well," I hear Ginny begin to tell our friend where we'd gone to dinner and then how I'd Apparated us back further down the lane instead of close to the house so that we could spend a little more time together. "I should've known something was up when he wanted to go for a walk." I narrow my eyes at her and she giggles, swatting my arm as I move to sit next to her on the sofa.

"But then, just before we got to the back door, he pulled me around, all nervous and fidgety--"

"I'll have you know that I was not nervous," I say indignantly.

"Yes, you were. You were practically shaking when you knelt down in front of me." She laughs heartily and I throw her a spiteful look which seems to have absolutely no effect on her as she looks back at Hermione and continues..

"Can't we talk about something else? You can divulge everything to Hermione later...perhaps when I'm not around."

"Oh, you poor thing," Ginny pouts in a mocking tone. "What would you like to talk about then?"

"I don't know...Quidditch or something."

"Did I hear someone say Quidditch?" Ron says, walking into the sitting room with wine and glasses in hand.

Thank God. My eyes go wide with enthusiasm as he holds out the glasses for each of us to take. "Yes, I did! Anything to hold off these two from all the girl talk while I'm around." I laugh and am almost surprised when I hear Ron give a quiet chortle back.

"Mum?" Ginny's worried voice draws my attention and I turn to see her furrowed brow. "Are you all right? You look a bit flushed?" My eyes drift from her concerned face to Mrs. Weasley's who looks more than a little flustered.

"Oh, I'm fine. There's nothing be troubled by, I promise." Brushing it off, she looks at Mr. Weasley, a smile filling her features again. "I think this calls for a toast. Arthur, would you?"

"Of course, Molly, dear," Mr. Weasley replies gleefully and waits for Ron to finish filling the last glass.

"To Ginny and Harry, may this be the start of a long and wonderful life together."

The sudden thought of Ginny and I together for the rest of our lives seemed to warm my heart. With a quick kiss, I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her tight to me. This is how I always want our lives to be, happy and full of love. Grinning to myself, I catch sight of Ron over the top of Ginny's head to find a sullen look about him.

I frown and mouth, "You okay?"

He squints his eyes back at me for a moment before finally giving me a short nod. "I'm fine," Ron mouths back to me and I retreat into the conversation even more concerned about what's going on inside his head.

After a slightly awkward, yet pleasant talk with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, they bid us goodnight, leaving the four of us alone in the sitting room again.

"Well, erm...listen," I begin rather sheepishly, "Ginny and I are going to head back to the flat so that we can have a little more time together before calling it a night."

"Oh, no you don't, Potter," Ron interjects abruptly.

"Excuse me?!" Ginny cuts off her chat with Hermione to turn and give her brother a scathing glare.

"I know what'll get up to if you go back to the flat."

"Ronald!" Hermione hisses as she tugs on his sleeve.

"Well, they will!" he exclaims, looking at her with wild eyes. "No, you two can stay here. Hermione and I will go."

"We'll go to the flat if we want." Ginny's eyes narrow on him and her jaw sets rigidly. "No one gave you the right to tell me what I can and cannot do."

"Well, someone needs to!"

"That's enough, Ron!" Hermione says again, this time pulling him back.

"All right, fine," I give a frustrated sigh. "Ginny and I will stay here and you two can go wherever you like."

"Harry, I am not letting this thickheaded git tell me--"

"Ginny," my voice barely above a whisper, "it's fine." Shaking my head, my eyes plead desperately for her to drop the subject. Even though I know she knows just how long her brother can hold a grudge, I'd prefer not to be in a row with him for days on end. Besides, I'm the one that has to live with him now.

"Fine," she huffs.

"Good," Ron smirks and I see a flash of pure anger cross Ginny's face at his delight.

"Come on, Ron. Let's go." Hermione nudges him towards the door and cringes apologetically in our direction. "Have a good evening, you two."

"You, too."

Once the door closes behind them, I look at Ginny in an almost mournful state. Somehow, I can't help but wonder where things went terribly wrong. Not twenty minutes ago, we were happier than we ever could've imagined.

"What's got into Ron? I just don't understand where all of this came from," I say after a few quiet seconds.

She shakes her head in annoyance. "Who knows what the bloody hell is wrong with that insensitive twat!"

I sigh and pull her into my arms, hugging her tightly. "Let's just forget about whatever that was and concentrate on us."

With a nod against my shoulder, she sinks against me and I feel a heavy tug at my heart. In the back of my mind, I can't seem to shake the questions from my mind. What in Merlin's name is going on with Ron?

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"A friend is one who believes in you when you have ceased to believe in yourself."

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I Apparate back to the flat without a word to Hermione and the sound of her Apparation pulls me from my thoughts.

"What was that all about, Ron?"

I look at her and she's wearing her 'bossy boots' look: hands on hips, eyebrows furrowed, eyes squinting, toe tapping. I am not in the mood for this tonight.

"Don't know what you mean, love." I clear the distance between us and kiss her cheek before hanging my cloak up on the hook. "My sister's getting married to my best mate. What could be wrong?"

My voice is a bit less than enthusiastic and I know what's coming next.

"That's a bunch of hoo-hah and you know it!"

I have to contain my laughter as 'hoo-hah' is the closest thing to swearing to come out of her mouth. I take a deep breath, quelling the urge to laugh in her face, and meet her eyes.

"I was surprised, that's all."

In part, it is true. I was surprised that Harry'd had the balls to do it at all. He may be the 'Saviour of the Wizarding World,' but when it comes to my sister, he's whipped as hell and loses his nerve in a confrontation with her.

Hermione scowls again. "You're jealous!"

"Jealous of marrying Harry?" I scoff. "Come on, Hermione. I'm straight as an arrow."

"That's not what I meant, so please stop trying to avoid the question."

At her words, my grin fades and I cross to the living room to slump into my favourite easy chair. With my feet propped up on the coffee table, I look at the pictures that litter the room: me and Harry at The Burrow; me, Harry and Hermione at Hogwarts; a newspaper photo of the three of us after Voldemort was defeated; Harry and me with my family at Bill's wedding. Those pictures make me think of why I wasn't thrilled at the prospect of my friend getting married: I miss things being just Harry and I, and they haven't been that way for a very long time.

I was his friend first, not Hermione. I sacrificed myself on the chessboard for him and faced gigantic spiders because he asked me to. But we were always part of a set, part of a trio, a team, or a quartet. If it wasn't for me, Harry wouldn't be friends with Hermione and he wouldn't be getting married to my sister.

I miss having Harry to myself and I thought I'd be getting that for a while.

We both play for Puddlemere United--me as Keeper and he as Seeker--and got this flat together. I was pleased as punch to be out of the crowded house I grew up in, and Harry was thrilled to have something of his own for once. We had planned on having our bachelor pad and parties that rivaled those thrown by Seamus Finnigan.

But I think somewhere along the way, Harry forgot about our plans and got serious with Ginny. He was gone more than he was here, doing Merlin knows what with my little sister, and I'd never seen him look happier. He'd left me alone, and soon, my sister would take him away from me altogether.

I know that being friends with The Boy Who Lived wouldn't be easy, and through the years, he proved it. But part of me longs for the days at the beginning, before Hermione, before Quidditch and before Ginny.

I let out a huff and suddenly remember that Hermione is still in the room; at some point she'd sat down on the floor in front of the chair.

"Ron, I understand what you're going through." Her hand begins to rub my thigh and I close my eyes to the feelings she's causing.

"And what am I going through?" I keep my voice level, not wanting to give myself away.

"Well," she begins, moving into my lap, "the two of you had all these grand plans and now that he's getting married, you're afraid that you'll never get the chance to do things together anymore."

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. All I can do is stare at her. How does she do that? How does she always know what I'm thinking?

"It's utterly absurd, Ronald. You'll always be a part of each other's lives."

"You just HAD to use the word 'absurd' didn't you?" I know she didn't call me absurd, but it felt like it. Besides, I don't deserve to have my feelings discounted like that. "You may as well go home, Hermione, because nothing you say now will make any difference to me . And whatever you were trying to pull by running your hand up my leg just ain't gonna happen tonight!"

I watch with a hardened heart as Hermione pouts and her eyes begin to well up with tears. "I...I didn't mean it like th-that..."

She tries to put her hand on my shoulder and calm me down, but I'm too far gone. I grab her wrist and stand us up, letting her slide off my lap. "Then tell me what you did mean."

"You need to talk to Harry..." She sniffs as she pauses. "You can't let this get between the two of you. Ginny will be the one hurt the most."

I know she's right, of course, but I need to stew for a while on my own. "I'll try in the morning, okay?" I tweak her nose playfully and she smiles, telling me that I was forgiven...sort of. "I meant what I said about...well, you know."

"Fine," she answers, tweaking my nose in return. "I have to get to work early anyhow."

"You're always going into work early, love."

"Prat. I love you." She stands on her tiptoes and kisses me quickly on the lips. "Promise me you'll talk to him?"

I nod and kiss her fully on the lips, letting the contact linger a bit more than I had anticipated.

She steps back and Disapparates, leaving me alone in the sitting room. I take a deep breath and walk to my bedroom, ready to collapse. I quickly change and climb between the sheets, falling asleep almost immediately.

I wake up a few hours later and look at the clock. It's 2:33 in the morning and I hear...giggling? Oh, bloody hell!

One more thing I'll have to talk to him about.