Brothers

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CHAPTER FOUR

"Life without a friend is like death without a witness."

- Spanish Proverb

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I thought that Ron leaving would have been the lowest point of my week. Can't get any worse than this, I kept telling myself. But I was wrong, dead wrong.

I don't think I ever remember being so angry with someone that I am so close to. Well, except for Dumbledore in my fifth year, but that really paled in comparison to this.

Ron and I have been best mates for so long that it surprised me how suddenly things went from bad to worse. Merlin knows, we've had our fair share of rows in the past, but this is different. This fight has somehow managed to tear both of our lives apart. And from the look of things now, I'm not sure we'll ever be able to find a way back to our friendship.

Remus gave me a proper scolding after Ron left that night. I don't recall ever seeing him so furious. But somewhere behind all of the outrage, I thought I'd seen a flicker of pain. My heart ached, wondering for a brief moment if this was a reminder of his past with Sirius. After all, he went years thinking that one of his closest friends had betrayed him and my parents.

My thoughts seemed to be confirmed when he urged me one last time before leaving the flat. "Harry, don't let pride and stubbornness come between you and Ron, whether it be his or yours. You never know how long you'll have him in your life. Talk to him before it's too late."

I was so blind with anger then that his words didn't penetrate my mind.

Our Quidditch practices hadn't been any better. I almost wondered if he'd even continue with the team. But seeing as he was under contract, not to mention, I knew he'd refuse to give me the satisfaction of thinking our row had this big of an effect on him, he was there at every practice. Early even.

Each day, I would arrive at the pitch around a quarter to 10 to get a decent warm up. That's when I'd catch him zooming around the three tall hoops at the far end of the field, focused with such vigor that he'd hardly notice the rest of the team arrive.

I caught Ethan, several times in fact, completely stunned by Ron's progress over the week's practices and I couldn't help but smile to myself. I was so proud of all the hard work Ron was putting in. But I never let him see my secret happiness because within me, my heart was waging its own personal war against my mind.

I still felt such intense rage and hurt for his accusations about how he made Keeper. He wouldn't even let me explain about the circumstances. With Ron, it was circumstantial. Yes, they wanted him on the team but, to my lack of knowledge, their decision about signing him to the team depended on which move I made.

"...We've recently become aware that you are close friends with Mr. Weasley, one of our eligible candidates trying out for Keeper. Just between us, we've been watching his try-outs carefully and are very pleased with how well things are going. However, it may concern you to know that we do have another wizard we are considering for the position, as well.

"We've decided that if you agree to sign on as Seeker, we just might be able to guarantee Mr. Weasley a contract with Puddlemere."

"And if I don't accept your offer?" I said with vivid interest in their response.

"Then the chances of Mr. Weasley joining the team will not be as good as we hope."

I didn't like the ultimatum then and I sure as hell don't like it now. It was a dirty game that Mr. Eliot, Puddlemere owner, and Coach Samuels had played. After all, it's what Ron and I had dreamed of - to play together for the same team.

I was more than a little hesitant in agreeing to the terms. If Ron found out that I'd signed under such circumstances, there was no telling how he'd react. Seeing him so enthralled about the thought of playing for Puddlemere, I knew that neither one of us could turn down the offer. That's why, when I made my decision, I only agreed if the deal was kept in complete secrecy. No one was to know, especially Ron.

So much for that.

After our row, I had been so tempted to walk straight up to Mr. Eliot's office and give him a good piece of my mind about Coach Samuels's careless actions. But I knew if I did, I'd lose control of my temper, quit the team and probably see Ron booted off as well. Then where would we be - no dream Quidditch career together, no shared flat, no friendship. It was all going downhill fast.

But seeing as I'd made no such move, we went about our practices, went about our lives. Only one thing was different: it wasn't us anymore. No more best mates slapping each other on the back after a good practice, no more friendly horseplay... no more Ron and Harry.

As angry as I was with him, I couldn't stay that way. My anger soon faded, turning into depression.

I'd wanted so badly for things between us to be different but whenever our eyes met, all I could see there was pure hatred. It did nothing but make my insides churn with bitterness. Even if I'd thought about talking to him, it would've only ended up in a shouting match again. Admittedly, my heart wouldn't be able to stand another.

Today's match just seemed to drive the nail deeper in me. It was one of the biggest games of the season against the Canons. In my opinion, and I know in Ron's as well, it was the most important. And it was my fault that we'd lost.

"Honestly, Harry," Ginny said, waking me up from my thoughts, "everything's going to be fine. It--it doesn't matter that you didn't beat the Canons." She sighs heavily and sinks down onto the sofa next to me, handing me a cup of tea.

"I don't want anything." I turn my face away from her, not wanting to talk about the match.

"Take it, Harry," she insists. "It'll help you rest. That's what you need right now after such a...difficult week."

I huff at her statement and turn to take the tea from her resentfully. I do nothing but hold the cup in my hands, feeling her eyes watching me intently.

Shaking my head, I mutter to myself slowly. "I was inches from the Snitch. Mere inches." I frown and know she's probably doing the same thing. I quietly take a few sips of my tea before murmuring on. "I almost had it, just nearly...and then all I could think about was this bloody mess with Ron."

I hear her groan with annoyance and mumble under her breath. "Oh for heavens sake." Clearing her throat, she runs a hand over her face to massage her temples. "Harry, I'm not going to keep telling you this. You have to talk to Ron. You know how he gets." She pauses, looking at me again and lays a gentle hand on my thigh.

"I told you, Gin, I can't. He won't listen to me, won't let me explain anything. He won't even look at me. What good would it do for me to try?" I lean forward, sitting my cup down on the coffee table and then fall back against the sofa's cushions. I'm so exhausted with all of the thoughts running through my mind that I close my eyes, attempting to shut out the world around me.

"Listen to me," she says, having to calm her own voice. I know that she's grown tired of me going on and on about my troubles with her brother. "I know that you only had his best interests in mind. But this is Ron we're talking about. He's thick -always has been, always will be."

I can't help but give a sad chortle at her remark and scrunch up my face in further disappointment. The stinging tears that I've been trying to hide for the last few days threaten to spill again and I take a deep breath, swallowing the large lump now residing in my throat.

"Oh, Harry," Ginny's voice washes over me like an angel.

I feel her hand reach up to sweetly caress my face and trace slowly down to my chest. My hand reaches up to hold hers that is now resting softly over my heart and I finally look into her eyes. I know that she can see the tears glistening in mine and I sigh. "I really miss him, Gin."

"I know. And if you don't try to patch things up with him now, it'll only hurt worse later."

"God, I don't know." I stand up, giving a huff of indecision. Pacing around the room, I run a hand nervously through my already tousled hair. "He's just being so stupid!"

She shakes her head and I just know she's rolling her eyes at me. "He's always acting like a git. I told you, he's thick! And it's going to take you making a move before he ever does."

"Maybe you're right."

"Of course I am." Giggling, she watches me closely and suddenly I feel like I need a moment alone.

"I've got to go to the loo," I say, turning to walk down the corridor and letting her eyes follow me until I'm out of sight.

After taking a moment to mull things over on my own, I start to head back to the sitting room, knowing that she's probably been wondering what's taking me so long.

Seeing that Ginny was right, I decide that maybe I am the one that needs to say something first. I have to at least make Ron understand everything that happened and that I didn't do this because he couldn't make the team on his own.

As I near the sitting room, I hear Ginny's voice as if she's talking to someone. "...I'll Floo him tomorrow."

"Oh sweetheart," I finally peer around the corner to see Mrs. Weasley's head floating in my fireplace. "I've never seen him so happy. It's as if this weight has been lifted off his shoulders."

"Yeah, I imagine so..." I watch her hang her head.

What? I can't believe this. After all the trying to convince me to go and talk to Ron, he's actually happier without me?

I can feel white hot anger and bitter pain boiling inside. And suddenly, I'm disgusted with everything and everyone.

"Listen, I'm going to check on Harry. I'll be home later, Mum. We'll talk more then."

"All right, dear. Try not to be too late." The connection closes and I'm so furious by everything I just heard that I can't even bear to look Ginny in the eye.

I storm down the hall to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me and kicking the wall in frustration. Fucking wanker. If he doesn't need me then that's just fine, I don't need him either.

"Harry?" I look up at the door when I hear her voice on the other side of it. "What's the matter?"

I give a sickening laugh and snarl my nose up. "How can you ask 'what's the matter?' You know very well what's going on."

Grabbing an empty box from my closet, I fling the door open and march straight past her and into the sitting room.

"Harry," she says puzzled, following behind me. "I don't know what you're talking about. One minute I think you're ready to go and talk to Ron, the next you're slamming doors and raving mad again. You're going to have to explain that one to me."

"'I've never seen him so happy?' 'It's like this weight's been lifted?'" I mock angrily. Walking around the room, I start gathering every picture with Ron in it, every item that signifies some kind of remembrance of him and throw it into the box. "Any of that sound familiar to you?"

"What? Harry! Mum and I were talking about Charlie--"

"Yeah, sure." My own voice is thick with sarcasm, sounding unfamiliar to me. "You don't have to hide it from me, Gin. If living this way is so much better for him, then that's just fine by me. You can tell him that I'm doing spectacular without him, too."

"I'm not hiding anything, Harry!" I hear her say, growing more aggravated with me. "Charlie Floo'd Mum earlier this evening to tell her that he'd finally proposed to his girlfriend. He's been planning it for ages but he was so worried and nervous about taking that step."

"Stop lying to me. I don't want hear the cover-up stories. I don't need to be shielded from this-"

"Harry Potter, you will NOT take this out on me!" I turn to see a blazing look in her eyes, her cheeks holding a burning shade of red. "I have done nothing but stand beside you during this whole pathetic mess between you and my brother. I've listened to your rants and your moaning, but I'll be damned if you think I'm going to let you take this bollocks out on me!"

I can't seem to move as I stand there, mouth gaping open in shock. How did it come to this? Why the hell am I yelling at her?

"Gin...I didn't...I--" Somehow I can't manage to form the right words.

"You know, I don't mind being here for you. You're my fiancé, for Merlin's sake. I love you." Her face is full of hurt and resentment. "But right now, you and Ron need to figure this out before it's too late." I can feel my heart twisting into a large knot and my breathing grows shallow with every word falling from her lips.

"Gin... I'm sorry that I--"

Calming somewhat, she sighs heavily. "No, it's okay." Moving towards me, she wraps her small arms around me with a quick squeeze and stretches up to kiss my cheek sweetly. "I'm going to head home. I'll talk to you later."

I nod slowly and hang my head as she turns on the spot, Disapparating from the flat. The box of pictures slips from my hand, falling to the floor as I crumple into a jumbled mess next to it.

Looking down, a picture of me and Ron at the Burrow catches my eye and I pick it up, watching the two of us smile broadly and wave with happiness.

I clench my jaw, desperately wanting to hold back all of the emotions that are stirring within me. How is it that in a matter of days, I feel like I've lost everything?

I just want my friend back.

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"True friendship is a plant of slow growth, and must undergo and withstand the shocks of adversity before it is entitled to the appellation."

- George Washington

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I can't believe he lost us the game! Since when does Harry Fucking Potter miss catching the Snitch? I had my best game ever and he went and ruined it for me!

I toss back the shot of Firewhisky, feeling the burn all the way down my throat and wince once it hits my gut. I'll pay for my indulgence in the morning, I know, but I can't think of any other way to make the hurt go away.

It's been one of the worst weeks of my life, thanks to Harry sticking his nose in my business. I've been grumpy, short with anyone who tries to talk to me and downright nasty to Hermione, Merlin bless her. She never once yelled at me for leaving the flat that night.

"Ron, what are you doing here?"

"I had to get out there. I can't take it any more."

"Wh-what happened?"

"He made a deal with Eliot to get me on the team! I was a bloody bargaining chip!"

"Oh, Ron..."

She had pulled me into her arms after that and let me rant about, pacing around her kitchen, gesturing wildly. I yelled, I screamed and I even cried. I had even cried over Harry Potter.

"What am I going to do, Hermione? How can I keep playing knowing that I didn't earn my place on the team?"

"You certainly did, Ron! You're a fabulous Keeper and you put every ounce of yourself into your matches, and I couldn't be prouder of you!"

She had kissed me when she finished, and we ended up making love on the too small loveseat. It wasn't a pity-fuck. She'd always known how to make me feel better and having her body in my arms, taking away some of the hurt was enough for that moment.

At practice, I had put everything into making it clear to the manager and the chairman that I belonged on that team, no matter what they originally thought. I got there early. I stayed late. I lifted weights an extra hour a week and cleaned up the speed charms on my broom. Hell, I had even picked a book on the best Keepers in Quidditch history.

All the extra work had helped me forget about being pissed at Harry for a little while, but when I got back to Hermione's place, I was faced with pictures in every nook and cranny. She even had the same one that was in our flat--the one of me and Harry at The Burrow. Every time I looked at it, which was nearly every day, I felt a sharp pain deep down in my stomach, and felt sick over what was happening to us.

So I'd spent the next week at Hermione's flat, hiding out from my best friend. I didn't take much with me when I left and had to resort to buying some new clothes as I was too angry to go back to the flat I'd once shared with Harry. It was, however, rather nice to fall asleep and wake up with her in my arms. Then I'd think about what would happen when Harry and Ginny got married. I'd, of course, let them have the flat. Moving back home to The Burrow was not an option. It would be admitting to the world that I'd failed in this part of my life and would be more humiliating than throwing up slugs. I couldn't move in with Fred and George and have the mickey taken out of me every second of everyday of every year. And I couldn't move in with Hermione that was sure. My mother would never forgive me, and I had the feeling that her parents wouldn't be too keen on the idea themselves.

As the days passed, I found myself going over the reasons why I was angry with Harry for getting engaged in the first place. After the war, he and I had decided to spend more time with each other, and given the fact that Ginny was in school the following year, it was easy. We worked together, lived together and soon, we became the 'old' Harry and Ron, friends who knew each other better than we knew ourselves. At some point, I'd realized how selfish I was about the whole thing. I mean, he's marrying my sister...he'll be my brother-in-law...why would I be upset about that? And the truth is, I was over that part rather quickly, reminding myself that I had years with Harry before he got together with Ginny.

But the Quidditch thing...

"'ow 'bout another, mate?" the bartender asks, his Cockney accent irritatingly cheerful, pulling me out of my gloomy thoughts.

I look at him and give him a slight nod and watch as he turns around to get the bottle. "Leave the bottle," I tell him, getting an 'uh-huh' in answer.

I pour myself another shot glass of liquor and then toss it down my throat, savouring the feel of the burn as the Firewhisky flows down. Maybe if I drink enough, I won't feel so miserable when I get back and see the bloody picture.

After I finish the bottle, I walk out the door of the bar to the Apparation point three streets down. I'm about ready to Apparate when I realize I may be too pissed to make it in one piece. I curse at myself for not thinking about this before. I look around to find a few Muggle couples idly strolling down the street, making my heart ache for the warmth of Hermione's comfort. I'm not too familiar with this part of London and don't feel like walking all the way back to the pub to Floo home. I take a deep breath and, with a determined spin, I make my way back to Hermione's.

My landing is less than perfect and I find myself on my arse in the middle of her sitting room. My head hurts like the devil and I check myself over to make sure everything is where it's supposed to be.

"Ron?" It's Hermione. She rounds the corner from the bedroom, wearing her flannel bottoms and a tank top with the phrase "Property of Puddlemere United."

"Hey, 'ermy...you didn't 'ave to wait up fer me!" I rise to my feet and sway as I put my arms on her shoulders. One of my hands goes to her left breast, cupping it in my palm and stroking the nipple with my thumb. "But I'm glad...burp...you did, if ya know what I mean, eh?"

She slaps my hand away and crosses her arms over her chest and stares at me, telling me without a word that I most definitely will not be getting lucky tonight.

"Ugh! You stink like alcohol!" she whines. Hermione picks up her wand and says, "Noninebriato!" I feel the spell clear my head and the after effects of the alcohol no longer make me feel like my tongue is coated in wool. Then she casts a couple freshening charms on me, making my clothes smell like roses, a spell my mother wouldn't even subject me to. "There, that's better. Why didn't you come home right away? Everyone was asking about you."

"If you mean Harry when you say 'everyone,' I highly doubt that's true, love." I drop my bag and settle onto the loveseat next to the fireplace. Out of habit, I look up to the mantel, and there, like always, is the picture of me and Harry in happier times. Sometimes I wish I could just throw that photo in the fire. But this isn't my flat and Hermione has every right to have photographs in her home.

"No," she begins, "I meant your parents and brothers. They came by after the match wanting to make sure you were alright." Her voice is a bit sharp, and I know she's bordering on shouting at me. "They were so pleased with your performance and they wanted to spend time with you! When you didn't show up back here, they left. Your mum was hurt, Ron."

"They were happy we lost? Oh come on, Hermione! Harry buggered up our chances for the championship!" I make to get up from my seat, but she crosses the room and pushes me down.

"That's not it and you know it, Ron! They want you and Harry to work things out as much as I do. You should have seen your sister! She's torn between the man she loves and her favourite brother!"

"I recall you didn't say she was here...seems to me that she made her choice!" I shoot back sarcastically. Hermione's face is filled with shock.

Out of no where, she slaps me on the cheek.

"Right now, Ginny's the only one he has! And if you're not careful, you're going to make her as miserable as the two of you!" She takes a deep breath and tries to calm herself down while taking my hands in hers. "I love you, Ron, and I love Harry like a brother. You're putting me in the middle, too."

She's right, of course. I completely forgot about how this was affecting people around us. I can only imagine what Hermione's going through, let alone what this is doing to Ginny.

"I'm sorry, really I am. It's hard, you know, knowing what he did...I just hate that he felt--"

"Ron, I've heard it all, remember?"

We hold each other's gaze and I know that sooner or later, either Harry or I need to swallow our pride and take a step. But knowing the both of us, it could take a while.

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"You've got troubles, I've got 'em too. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you. We'll stick together to see it through cause you've got a friend in me."

- Randy Newman

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I Apparate to Hermione's after practice to an empty flat. I hate being alone lately, as it reminds me of what's been missing in my life these last few days. As is my custom, I drop my bags on the floor and head into the sitting room, my eyes making their customary journey to the mantle. There, resting against the picture of Harry and I is an envelope with my name on it. I reach up and pick up the envelope, letting it fall to the floor as I begin to read the letter.

Ron--

Your fight with Harry has to stop. I miss both of my best friends. See how happy you used to be?

I'll see you later tonight.

Hermione

With a heavy sigh, I again look at the picture and in a moment of nostalgia, I put my hand on it to look at it more closely. I feel a pull around my navel and begin to feel sick to my stomach.

What the fuck did you do, Hermione?

I land on a hard, wooden floor and look around, trying to get my bearings. It looks like the broom shed at The Burrow, but it's empty and the walls look...padded.

"Ron! So glad it's you. We need to talk."

I look up with a start and find my father standing before me, arms crossed and...is that a frown on Dad's face?

He gives me his hand and helps me stand up before he speaks. "Now, Ron, tell me what's going on with you and Harry."

I know better than to not answer him. "He...he used me, Dad. He used my dream of playing Quidditch. They weren't going to hire me. All they wanted was Harry." I can feel the anger begin to build inside me again.

"Do you know that for sure, Son? Have you asked Harry about it? Or did you just punch him?"

I turn around and feel my face begin to flush. Parents. No matter how old you get, they still know how to get under your skin and pick up on what's bothering you.

"I was angry as hell, Dad, and he had no right to do that to me...It was like he kicked me in the gut." I spin around and know that the anger is bubbling up again.

"I understand that, Ron," he answers, "but don't you think this has gone on long enough? There's too many years, too much history for the two of you to let this get to you." He makes to put his hand on my shoulder but I shrug it off.

"How can you understand? Did your best friend betray you? Did he take your dream and grind it up to a fucking pulp?"

"Watch your language, Ronald Weasley!" he shouts at me, his finger poking me in the chest. "Don't you ever speak to me in that tone or with that sort of language! I may be six inches shorter than you, but I am still your father, and I deserve to be spoken to with respect." His finger pokes at me with each word, making me feel his anger. I feel about three inches tall.

"Yes, Dad." My eyes fall to the floor and I study a dead woodlouse.

"What was that? Look at me when you speak to me." I lift my head and meet my father's blue eyes.

"Yes. Sorry," I mumble a bit louder than last time. "So, why am I here in the broom shed?"

Before Dad can answer my question, Harry tumbles to the floor, apparently arriving via his own Portkey.

"Ron? Arthur? What the hell am I doing here?"