Brothers

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CHAPTER THREE

"A friend means well, even when he hurts you. "

- Proverbs 27:6

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I wake up to a gentle humming that seemed to be floating all around me. I almost think it is just a dream until I feel Ginny straddling me, then her full lips caressing mine.

"Mmm..." I moan into her mouth and feel a smile spread across her face.

"Good morning, Sleepy."

"Good morning," I reply, giving her another quick kiss before reaching for my glasses on the nightstand. "What time is it?"

"Early. It's half six," she says with an all too cheery voice.

My eyes droop with sleep and I stretch lazily, pulling her down onto the bed with me. I find her giggling sweetly as I pepper her neck with kisses.

"You're in an awfully chipper mood for it being so early. Besides, I thought you weren't going to have to leave for another hour?"

Her hands are running down my back, sending chills throughout my body and I pull her closer to me.

"I wasn't going to, but I really need to be heading back."

"Do you have to?" I give her my best puppy dog eyes and watch her snigger at my attempts to keep her with me just a little while longer.

"You know that won't work on me, Potter," she replies, kisses me once more and then slips out of bed. "I've got a full day ahead of me at St. Mungo's and I really don't feel like playing twenty questions with Mum this morning...which will happen if she catches me coming in at this hour."

I give a deep sigh of regret and watch her as she walks across the room to pull on her jeans. She looks so damn sexy trying to wriggle into them that I can't move my eyes away from her.

"What are you grinning about?" Ginny chuckles and I suddenly realise that she's eyeing me with a look of amusement.

"Oh," I yawn, "just the fact that soon I'll be able to ogle your bits without you having to rush off."

Giggling, she remarks," You already ogle my bits at every chance you get."

"Yes, but it's just not the same."

Once she finishes pulling on her trainers and puts her hair up hastily, she looks at me again and I sigh heavily.

"You know, you can always change your mind and stay here with me today."

"You've got practice at 10 o'clock, you silly git," she smirks as she begins to crawl across the bed towards me.

"Hey, I could call in sick."

"You could...but you won't. This upcoming match against the Cannons is far too important to both you and Ron."

"Yeah, you're right," I admit and she smiles, kissing me sweetly. "I hate it when you're right."

"I know you do. But you still love me anyway." This time I reach up and pull her body flush against mine. With one swift movement, my lips press against hers in a searing kiss.

"Damn right, I do."

Ginny chuckles again and I pout as she pulls away from me. "I've really got to go now."

"I'll see you tonight, though, right?"

"Uh huh," she nods, gathering up the last of her things. "Have a good practice."

I watch her turn to leave but frown when she stops suddenly and looks back at me.

"Don't forget to pick up the tickets for Sunday's game for Remus."

"Oh! I'd completely forgotten," I wince.

"I figured as much." With wink, she sighs. "I love you."

"Love you more," I say, watching her Disapparate.

Two and a half hours later, I hear my alarm clock sounding next to me. I reach over groggily to turn it off, finally deciding to pull myself out of bed.

After a quick shower, I throw on my clothes and head to the kitchen, looking for food or coffee...or something to fill my empty stomach.

As I open the pantry, I hear a door slam down the hallway. Guess Ron's up.

Shite, not a single thing to eat. I swear, at the rate that he eats, we'll have to get groceries every few days.

Coffee it is then. I need a pick me up anyway.

There is a small tap on the glass and I turn to see a brown post owl perched on the patio railing. Walking over, I open the window and unwrap the paper from the owl's leg, paying him in return.

On my way back to the kitchen, I toss Ron's Daily Prophet onto the table and glance down the hall to catch him just as he's walking back into his room. Well, he sure is in a friendly mood today. God, I hope he's not still puffed up about whatever that was last night.

I stand at the counter, letting the aroma of the coffee overwhelm my senses and fill my mug once it's finished.

"Morning," I say when I sense Ron roaming around the kitchen behind me.

"Hmm," he grunts. Okay, then.

"Are we out of everything?" His temper flares a little and my brow furrows.

"Yeah, just about," I answer. "Nothing to eat for breakfast, though. You want some coffee? I can pour you a cup..."

"No, I'll just have some pumpkin juice." I hear him sigh as he opens the ice box.

"All out. Sorry, mate."

"Fine." Turning around, I hand him a mug of fresh coffee to which he takes, rather gruffly, from my hand, nearly spilling the hot liquid on both of us.

I frown to myself and watch him walk over to the small dining table, immediately grabbing the Daily Prophet and sitting down.

I don't like this. He hasn't said much of anything to me since he's been up. Granted, Ron's never been a morning person, but this silence is enough to unsettle me.

"Oh..." I yawn sleepily as I take the seat across from him and try to coax him into conversation. "I'm so tired."

"You'd better not let Samuels see you this exhausted." His voice is flat and unwavering as he flips the page idly.

Yawning again, I stretch back in my chair. "I don't know why I'm so sleepy."

"You and Ginny might actually want to try sleeping next time." I see Ron grow still and then a moment later, his not-so-bright face appears as he folds the paper down. "So, what time did my sister actually leave this morning?"

His expression is unreadable and I can feel the blood in my veins going cold. Memories from the previous night flood my mind, making me wonder if he heard the two of us at some point.

"About 6:30. Did we wake you?" I ask, clenching my jaw, a bit...embarrassed for lack of a better word.

"Yeah, around half two. I had been sleeping quite soundly up until then."

Smirking at him, I say, "You always do." Ron's appearance didn't show the slightest bit of amusement at my remark. Very smooth, Harry. Change the subject, quick.

"Anyway, where was Hermione? I figured she would've been here, too."

"No. We were both beat by the time we left Mum and Dad's last night." He stands, picking up his mug and setting his paper aside. "Besides, she had to be at work early this morning," he adds, giving a quick wave of his wand to wash his cup.

"Oh." I don't really know what to say. "Well--"

"I need to get going," he says, waving his wand again to dry the cup then put it away. "Don't want to be late for practice again or Mr. Samuels will really have my head on the chopping block."

I stumble over my words, completely perplexed by Ron's attitude. There's definitely something that he isn't telling me.

"Ron," I call as he picks up his bag and throws it over his shoulder. "Is something wrong? You've hardly said much of anything this morning."

He pauses a short distance from me and takes a deep breath, opening his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. I squint my eyes, trying to read him but it's not working.

"Everything's fine," he says finally and moves past me to pick up his discarded glove by the sofa.

I huff, knowing that it won't be easy getting him to be completely honest with me. "Are you sure? You've been acting strange ever since last night. First, you get upset at Ginny for wanting to come back to the flat and then you hardly say a word to me this morning."

"I told you," Ron starts, his eyes barely glancing up to meet mine, "I've got to get to practice or I'll be late again."

With a sudden crack, he Disapparates, leaving me standing in the sitting room alone. Making quick moves, I pick up my bag and broom, Apparating just outside the locker room. I find Ron a short moment later, changing into his Quidditch robes.

"Ron, I really think we need to talk," I say setting my bag on the floor in front of my locker.

"What could there possibly be to talk about, Harry?" he says without looking at me.

"Obviously, you have some sort of problem." I'm whispering in hopes of not drawing any unnecessary attention from our teammates.

"Oh, so it's me that has the problem? Of course...it's always me, never you." I can see his temper starting to get the better of him and I rush to get us back on solid ground.

"I didn't mean that. I'm just saying that you're upset about something and I'd like to know what it is."

"All right, fine." He turns to glare at me with a spiteful look. "I'm tired of not being able to have a single quiet moment around the flat. Every time I turn around, Ginny is always there."

"Hermione's there just as much as she is," I say and bite my lip, knowing that I've just added fuel to the fire.

Ron snorts with mock amusement. "Hardly," he spits, slamming his locker door.

Between that and our rising voices, it seems to have been enough to draw more attention than I desire to have. "Listen, can we at least talk about this later?" I plead.

"Whatever," he says, walking out of the locker room and heading for the pitch.

After a few hours of runs and drills, I find myself still searching for the Snitch. I'd found it twice already, but during any other normal practice, I would've found the bloody thing ten times by now.

I know that whatever was going on with Ron was proving to be a big distraction to me. Quite frankly, I think it's having the same effect on him, too. On several occasions, I glance in his direction to find him fumbling desperately in attempts to stop the Quaffle. He isn't having much luck and I know by the look on the Puddlemere manager's face, that Ethan Samuels is not happy about this at all.

A few moments pass and I finally spot the Golden Snitch flying feet away from Avery, one of the Chasers. Pushing forward on my broom, I dart towards the Snitch. Just as I see it dive for the ground, I feel something hard hit me square in the back. A sudden wave of pain shoots through my body as I clutch to my broom, trying to keep from falling off it.

Before I can turn around, I hear Ethan blow his whistle, bellowing from below.

"Weasley! What the hell was that? Do you call that Keeping?" He is livid by the time we all land. As my feet touch the ground, I feel my back throbbing with pain and I try to knead it with my free hand.

I turn to face Ron, surprised to discover that he is the one that hit me.

"Sorry, Mr. Samuels. The Quaffle just slipped from my hand." He doesn't once meet my eyes as I look at him, completely gobsmacked.

I know that if it had genuinely been an accident, he would've rushed over to my side to see if I was all right, profusely apologizing for his mistake. As it was, he seemed to be restraining himself, purposefully keeping a rather large distance between us.

"I should throw you off the team for that play alone!" Ethan yells again. "What seems to be your malfunction, Weasley? You haven't been playing anywhere close to good, today." I see Ron's ears turn a deep shade of red and drop his head in embarrassment. "If it wasn't for Potter, here, you wouldn't have even been considered as Keeper for Puddlemere. You should consider yourself lucky that I don't toss you right now!"

I jerk my head up, gaping disbelievingly at our manager. No, I had to have imagined hearing that, I try to convince myself. Slowly turning my eyes back in Ron's direction, I find him staring at me, anger, rage and loathing radiating from his entire body. In that instant, I feel my heart plummet into my stomach. Oh God.

"Hit the showers," Samuels's voice registers inaudibly in my mind. "And you'd all better be playing five times better tomorrow because at this rate, we won't score a single point against the Cannons on Sunday."

Before I can even move, Ron marches off towards the locker room and I start to follow. "Ron!" I call after him. He doesn't even acknowledge hearing me.

"Mr. Potter," I hear a voice say. I'm torn between running after my best mate and hanging back to see what Mr. Samuels needs.

"Yes, sir," I answer, deciding to do the latter.

"Are you all right?" he asks, concerned.

"Yes, sir." I'm distracted again, but this time both angry at Samuels for saying what he did and worried at what Ron might do.

"Don't lie to me, Potter. If you're hurt, go get checked out by the team's Healer."

"No. Really, I'm fine," I snap. "I'll be fine." I barely register his frown as he nods.

Clutching onto my broom, I start to make a mad dash for the locker room, but a voice stops me again.

"Potter! Don't forget you've got tickets waiting for you in the office. You need to go fetch them now before they close up for the day."

Shite, the tickets. Damnit, I forgot.

"Thanks for the reminder, sir," I say aggravated and rush off towards the office.

By the time I make it back to the locker room, I don't see any sign of Ron and I feel my chest twist painfully. Maybe he's in the showers.

Running past the blur of lockers, I brush past Avery. "Ron! Are you in here?"

Damnit! Where is he?

"He's not in there, mate," I hear Avery's voice from behind me.

"Do you know where he is?"

"Sorry, I don't. He left nearly five minutes ago. Right after we came back from the pitch. He just stuffed a few things into his bag and walked out."

"Thanks," I say breathlessly as he nods.

Rushing over to my locker, I grab my bag and broom with desperation and immediately Disapparate in hopes of finding Ron at the flat.

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"Should I forgive and should I forget the hurt that's caused me all this?"

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Hot anger washes over me as I Apparate to the flat and I'm surprised I haven't splinched myself.

How the hell could he DO that to me? What kind of a friend is he?

I storm through the flat, tossing my Quidditch things to the floor, and stomp in a huff, into my bedroom and slam the door even though I'm the only one here. I begin pacing and going over everything that went on today.

At breakfast, or what was supposed to be breakfast, the wanker just kept going on and on about Ginny. Merlin, that was irritating. 'I'm so tired' he whined at me. That was perhaps the worst--that and hearing him fucking my sister in the middle of the night. And he wonders why I'm angry? It's not my fault that Ginny still lives at home. Hermione is at least smart enough to have her own place.

What's also driving me mad is the fact that once we moved in here, he forgot all about me and our plans. We had one small party with our friends, but once Ginny showed up and they just kept snogging in the corner. Whenever the subject of another party came up, all he wanted to do was "something small" with a few couples. Oh yeah, that would have been a barrel of monkeys.

This was supposed to be our place...Harry's and mine. It was a mere six months after we moved in here that the Red Storm blew in and started staying over every few nights. Hell, I would go over to Hermione's even on the nights she had overnight shifts it got that bad. Harry said this morning that Hermione's over as much as Ginny but it's just not true. In all the time I've lived here with Harry, Hermione's stayed over maybe a handful of times whereas Ginny's been sneaking back to The Burrow for months. Bloody hell, Ginny even has space in his damned closet and a drawer in the bureau. And of course, after they're married, guess who'll be the one looking for a new place to live?

And then there's Quidditch. He's got all the fans. He's got all the glory. Anyone ever stop and think who's responsible for keeping the other teams behind so that when the bloody Snitch is caught, our team can win? Nope. Ron Weasley's again in the background, again in Harry's shadow. And now, after today, looks like they don't even want me on the team.

Well, I'm through playing second fiddle to Harry Potter. I'm done being his stupid friend and letting him walk all over me. No more. I'm finished.

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath. "Accio dufflebag!"

A large, black dufflebag zooms out of the wardrobe and lands at my feet. I start stuffing it with whatever clothes I can find, silently berating Harry for not doing the laundry this week. It was his turn, after all.

When the bag is full, I kick the old wardrobe and slide onto the floor, my toes throbbing and my head in my hands. My eyes sting as I fight the tears that I know will come. Instead, I swear loudly into the room.

"Fuck you, Potter! Who the bloody hell needs you? Not me! Take your fucking pity and shove it up your arse!" I pick up an old shoe and throw it at the wall and wishing something was there that I could break. I take a moment to replay the events of practice in my mind, and I keep going back to Samuels' words.

"If it wasn't for Potter, here, you wouldn't have even been considered as Keeper for Puddlemere."

How did that happen? I had, what I thought, an excellent series of try-outs with the team, thrilled beyond belief that I might actually get the chance to play Quidditch professionally. The coach and team owners had raved about my skills and the way I'd taken chances in order to make saves. They even took me out to a couple of clubs. But it all came down to Harry, apparently. They wanted Harry, and I was an afterthought. Or worse, I was Harry's pitiful bargaining chip. Bastard didn't think I was good enough to earn a spot on my own. I had thought he knew me better than that. Apparently, years of friendship didn't mean anything to Harry Potter, Seeker.

Convinced that Harry will be here anytime, I grab my bag and broom before summoning the rest of my Quidditch gear into the bag. With anger my driving force, I leave the room, vowing never to return.

Just as I reach the door to the bathroom, I hear a crack and I swear again, knowing instinctively that it's him.

"Ron! Get your arse in here. We need to talk!"

I take two steps into the sitting room and drop the bag, crossing my arms and pursing my lips.

"What's that for?" he asks, indicating the stuffed bag, now lying at my feet. "Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving, Harry." There is no trace of emotion in my voice and I am secretly proud of myself.

"Ron...don't be stupid--"

"Now I'm not only untalented, but I'm stupid! Anything else you need to tell me, Harry?" My voice doesn't sound familiar to me as I'm angrier than I've been in years.

"It wasn't the way you think...Just listen to me for once!" He takes two steps toward me and I draw my wand instinctively. I almost laugh at how quickly his hands raise in surrender.

"Ron, this whole argument is just ridiculous. I can explain everything if you'd just let me," he pleads.

I roll my eyes. It's always the same with Harry. It's always someone else's idea; he didn't mean to do something; he was talked into the situation. "You know, Harry," I begin, "you have an answer for everything, don't you? It's never your fault, is it? Well, this is it. I'm moving out. I'm sick of all the shit and I'm sick of you!"

With a quick swish of my wand, I throw a jinx at him. He ducks just in time and looks at me, his eyes blazing in shock.

"Didn't think I had it in me, huh?" Before he can say anything else, I hit him with a good old-fashioned Bat-Bogey Hex. If I wasn't so damned angry, I'd laugh at him trying to fight them off.

"You...fuh--ker!" he shouts in between waves of his hands. He swishes his own wand through the air and shoots something at me. I feel my legs start to wobble and I fall to the floor.

"Oh that's smart, you piece of hippogriff shit! Take THAT!" I scream at him from the floor, legs flailing. I shoot a Cross-Eyed Jinx at him, but the bastard rebounds it and it hit me instead.

Damn, now there are two of him! And twice as many bats...

I try to throw another hex at him, but I can't decide which Harry is the real one and I have no real desire to destroy the flat. Concentrating hard, I release the spells on me and heave myself off the floor. Harry's still fighting off the Bat Bogey Hex and, in a moment of mercy, I stop the spell. He lies on the floor panting.

"Now will you just pay attention to what I have to say to you?" His eyes look like they could shoot their own curses at me. I hate it when he looks like that.

"Oh, so you're gonna tell me that I have no ability and was signed just because of you?" I poke him in the chest at the word 'you.'

"If you wouldn't be so fucking insecure, you wouldn't HAVE to ride my coat tails!"

"You bloody egotistical fucking wanker!" I haul back my arm and before I know it, I punch him in the nose, breaking his glasses, and from the sound, his nose as well.

One of his hands goes to his face, trying to stop the blood from spraying out his nose while his opposite elbow hits me in the gut, causing me to fall backwards. He's on me in a flash with his knee on my chest making it difficult to breathe.

"I've tried putting up with your shit all these years, but now I'm not so sure I want to anymore!" His words are muffled and blood spatters my face and I taste it in my mouth. I quickly push him off me and get to my feet.

I watch as his arm starts to pull back but I catch his wrist before he makes contact with my head. In his frustration, he hits me with a head butt, sending my skull backwards onto the hard, wooden floor and I see stars.

"You need to grow up, Ron! So what if I did something for you? Just stop being so damned prideful and--"

Before he finishes, I knee him in the groin and he falls backwards with his hands clutching his balls.

Serves him right for screwing my sister.

"I don't care what you did. It's that you had to do it at all!" I shout, watching him roll around on the floor.

"They--they wanted--" he groans breathily, "you but on--only if...if I signed--too!" His eyes roll back in his head and he lets out another moan.

"You expect me to believe that? No one wants me if they can have you..."

It's always been the same thing. I'm Ron Weasley, Harry Potter's tag-along friend. He's famous for killing You-Know-Who and Hermione was the brains behind us. What'd I do? I was the one taken prisoner and who had to be rescued. Twice. I was sick of it all and just wanted to leave.

"Yes, I do expect you to believe it, 'cause it's the truth you idiot!" His leg rears back and he kicks me in the knee, pain shooting up and down my leg as I fall onto my good leg.

"FUCK YOU POTTER!"

Fueled by adrenaline, I try to punch him again, but he dodges my fist and lands a punch of his own.

In the midst of my pain, I hear the crack of Apparation and look up to see the shocked and angry face of Remus Lupin staring down at us.

"What the hell are you two doing to each other?" He picks both of us up by the necks of our t-shirts and tries to stand us up. I yelp in pain and fall back to the floor. "What'd you do to him, Harry?"

Without giving Harry a chance to answer, I shout, "The son of a bitch broke my leg!"

"I did not! You broke my nose!"

"You punched me!"

"You kicked me in the balls!"

Remus shoves Harry into an armchair and gives him a scathing look before turning his attention to me.

"Can you move your knee, Ron?" He looks down at me with a caring look and I try to bend my knee but scream in pain.

"You fucking ruined my career, Potter!"

"Shut your fucking mouth, Weasley!"

"Enough! Silencio!" Remus shouts, his eyes frighteningly wild.

Both Harry and I are shocked at what Remus has done. I'm just itching to curse at Harry, and being silenced does nothing to calm me down. Harry must be feeling the same way, since his mouth continues to move as he makes rude gestures which I copy wholeheartedly.

"Would you two stop it?" Remus demands. He performs another spell and binds our hands in magical ropes.

"Ron, your kneecap is dislocated. This is going to hurt..." He grabs my leg below the knee with one hand while the other takes the joint. With a quick, jerking motion, he moves it back in place and I let out a silent scream. "Take some analgesic potion for the pain and ice it. You'll be fine in a few days."

I watch as he makes his way over to Harry and fixes his nose and glasses. Harry's face is full of coagulating blood, reminiscent of sixth-year when Malfoy broke his nose on the train.

"Anything else?" Remus asks, prompting Harry to shake his head in answer. "I'm going to lift the Silencing Charm...and I don't want you to start yelling at each other again, understand?" Harry nods and Remus turns to me, and I grudgingly agree. "Restoro!"

Both Harry and I are silent for a moment, both of us seemingly too angry to speak.

"Thanks for fixing my knee Remus." I get up off the floor and pick up my bag, flinging it over my shoulder. "I think Harry has some tickets for you."

"Ron, I think you and Harry need to talk about this," Remus urges gently. "You're too good of friends to let this get in the way."

"Well, he," Harry barks, pointing at me, "started it with the hexes and punches! Apologise to me, Ron!"

"No bloody way in hell. Not until you admit you made a mistake!" I sling the bag over my shoulder and prepare to Apparate out of there.

Remus puts his arm on my shoulder, trying to stop me. "Ron...please, talk to him."

"Sorry, Remus, but he's really pissed me off. I can't. I just can't." I look over to Harry and to my surprise, his eyes seem full of hurt. I shake away a ray of hope inside me and take a deep breath. I retreat to the only place I know where I will find someone who'll be completely on my side.

I walk up the stairs of the old building, catching bits of conversation and songs from a wireless. At number sixteen, I knock on the door. Footsteps on the other side of the door make me release my breath, which I hadn't notice I'd been holding.

The door opens and I pull the woman into my arms.

"Ron...what are you doing here?"