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"He wanted to thank you for treating him like a son instead of a stray," Ron told his mother bravely. It had been two days since the funeral, and he knew he needed to tell her before the Prophet was told and printed something awful. It always printed something awful.
Molly dropped the rolling pin she was holding, abandoning the treacle tart she'd make and no one would touch, that was always dropped into the fire with prayers she'd learned from her aunt Lucretia. "Oh, Ron."
"He wanted you to know that he was wearing the sweater you gave him last Christmas," Ron felt his eyes burning, but he didn't cry. He refused to cry until he'd told everyone what Harry had asked for them to know.
I know it sounds foolish and selfish, and I'm not trying to hurt you Ron, honest. I just- if you do something stupid, if you've already put down the letter, and are shouting for help, I don't want the last thing they have from me to be screams.
Molly's arms wrapped around him, "Lay my sweet boy to rest," she hummed, breath hitching, "and carry him safely home. We'll be awhile yet, but our love will always go-"
Ron sobbed into his mother's chest, wondering how he'd get through it all.
---
You know what's funny? How easy it is to write this. Everyone always acts like suicide is this big, bad thing, but I feel like I can finally see color again.
"Harry said he didn't want his dramatics to put a damper on his donation," Ron blurted out at the dinner table. It had been a month, and everyone was used to the way he randomly delivered information now. "He said he'd prefer it if you made up some ridiculous story about how you got the money and told it to everyone."
Fred grinned weakley, but George stayed still and quiet. He hadn't smiled since it happened. Ron hadn't told them this yet because, even though thinking this made him feel like a terrible person, what Harry had written for the twins had seemed insensitive. Seemed awful and selfish. How could he erase himself from the world, and yet think he could still joke about it? How could he rip their hearts out, then pretend like it didn't matter.
"Thanks, Ron," Fred said quietly, and they all went back to eating.
---
"No." Ginny said strongly, firmly. That tone that made whoever heard it feel like they'd slammed into an immovable fortress. In reality her swollen eyes were wandering, and she was slumped across her bed with the curtains on her window pinned closed. "You can tell me when we're old enough that I can get drunk off my ass afterwards without getting in trouble. Hopefully you'll forget by then."
She mumbled the last part, but he heard it anyway. He walked to the door, and hesitated.
This is cruel, I know, but I want you to know everything. I want you to understand. Last year, when I was shivering all the time because even with the Dementors at the borders they were too close, I'd wish that Fawkes hadn't saved me in the Chamber. I'd also wish that you had got through the cave-in soon enough to be there when I died. I don't want to die alone, Ron. I just don't want to hurt you like that either.
Ron walked out the door, and pretended he couldn't here the crying once it closed.
---
Ron wasn't interested in the gloomy house, he could care less about that. They'd lasted a month and a half until the news broke. Now, apparently, the adults needed to plan what to do about Voldemort now that Harry was gone.
Ron didn't care, he was more interested in the man he hadn't seen in over a year who had just slumped into the room, who looked as pale and shaky and sick as Ron felt.
"He wanted you to know that you probably gave him the best half hour of his life." Ron said, "He said you were the best, but you wouldn't have been able to save him even if you'd actually gotten to take him with you. It wasn't- it wasn't that."
Sirius Black turned around, and walked away.
---
"I-I know you said you didn't want to see it, but I need to read this part to you."
"Ron, I can't-"
"He asked me to."
Hermione went silent. Her wand was still clutched tightly in her hand from her transfiguring the roses so their petals were curled and colored to look like snitches, from making the tips of the lilies the color of his eyes, and hitting the marigold seeds she'd scattered with a growth charm so they were already blooming. There were more flowers, of course, everyone brought their own bouquet, but she'd made sure it looked a bit more like Harry.
No one had commented on the underage magic.
Finally her shoulders slumped, "If he asked," she gulped, "then I'll listen. "
She'd been going between motionless and sobbing ever since she came. Ron wished he could feel what she felt, but he was still blank from the fire and the screaming as Harry-
He fumbled for the parchment he hadn't let out of his sight since- and took a deep breath. "Tell Hermione that you are both my everything. Hermione's the sky and you're the ground. Hermione's fire and you're the sea. But make sure you tell her she's more than that too- she's m-my b-best friend. Both of you are- are the only things I needed. A best friend and a s-s-sister."
Hermione flung her arms around him, sobbing loud enough for the both of them as Ron tried to start breathing again. It hurt worse somehow, hearing it out loud. Ron slipped the parchment back into his pocket, refusing to read the last line he'd left for Hermione. She'd break completely.
I'm not a hero, you know that, but I think I'm brave enough to die for my world anyway.
---
"Okay," Ginny shook out her hands, grasping the bottle tightly. "Hit me."
They were sitting on the floor in front of his floo. Ron wanted to take the bottle, even if she was twenty four and had been sober for two years, but he knew he could probably trust it not to get Ginny drunk or addicted since it came from Luna.
Ron pulled the locket he always wore out of his shirt, grasping it nervously. He had burned the letter years ago in a Samhain ritual, but he'd made sure to write down one part first.
He took a deep breath, and opened the locket, letting the slip of paper fall into his hand. He started reading.
"Ginny's going to take it hard," Ron swallowed as Ginny inhaled sharply. "We get eachother in a way other's just can't, Ron. She was possessed and I was claimed, and they both really suck."
"No shit," Ginny said tearfully.
"I need you to tell her she doesn't have to be afraid. This isn't the diary, it's more dementor-y. It's not her fault, or because we talked about the Diary, and she's strong enough that this will never happen to her. I know it. She's much better hero material than I am."
Ginny took a shaky breath, and when Ron looked up she was rubbing over the old cuts and burn marks on her forearm. "Merlin, it's like he knew." She took a long swing of the bottle, and her shoulders relaxed a bit. "Sometimes I can't believe he's gone. It felt like he was older, like we were older, but he was still comparing things to first and second year." Ron didn't say anything, he'd had much longer to process it. "Right, let's burn that, Ron. I'm okay. I've been okay for awhile."
They helped eachother up, and Ginny carefully took the peice of paper before dumping it in the fireplace. They were silent as they watched it burn.
"Ron?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you, for making sure he was heard. It must've been so hard, but you made sure we all got to hear from him one last time. So thank you, even if I'm almost a decade late."
"Of course." He leaned into Ginny and took a deep breath while they wrapped an arm around eachother. For a moment he was looking at his best friend, grinning in front of the common room fire.
The fire popped, and his eyes opened. But the reality didn't sting, it had become a bittersweet ache a long time ago. Ron would see Harry again one day, but until then he'd keep living, and he knew his family would too.
All was well.
---
Ron grinned, sitting up from his bed and heading toward his trunk, he knew he had some candy left over from Hogsmeade, he could send it to Harry with Pig to cheer him up. He'd been really withdrawn since the tournament, and had seemed so sad when he hugged Hermione and him goodbye at the station. Writing to him sooner this summer would probably help, maybe he wasn't even back home yet and would be surprised by Pig when he got to his room.
Ron opened the trunk to shuffle around for loose chocolate frogs, and saw an envelope set carefully on top of a familiar scarf he'd gotten for Harry last year because he'd always been shivering. Had he and Harry packed the wrong trunks?
Ron picked up the envelope to move it, and saw that it was his name in Harry's hand writing. Was he trying to return the scarf? Did he not want it anymore because Ron had betrayed him, but hadn't wanted to make things awkward while they were still at Hogwarts?
Now frowning a little, he opened the letter.
Dear Ron,
This isn't your fault, it isn't. It isn't because you were a prat at the start of the year either, I promise. If it was I wouldn't give this to you. I'm giving this to you because I trust you, and love you, and you're my most important person in the world. You were my first friend, and you have always tried to protect me, even if sometimes you took it out on the wrong person.
That's why I decided to tell you that once I get to the Dursley's I'm going to kill myself.
"MUM!" Ron screamed, running towards his door, flinging it open and rushing down the stairs, not realizing he'd let the letter fall to the floor. "MUM! DAD! HELP!"
---
Ron didn't know why his dad coming through the floo had made him collapse into sobs, but he leaned into his arms anyway. Why would green flames remind him of Harry? He'd only seen Harry floo when he ended up in Knockturn and when they'd got him to go to the Quidditch World Cup.
Oh, he needed to tell Dad-
"He wanted to thank you for rescuing him from the Dursleys before the cup, and for not being too mad about us wrecking the car. H-he said you're a great dad. "
The arms around him tightened." I'm sorry we didn't get there soon enough, Ron. "
---
"Ron? What are you doing in the attic?"
Ron didn't move. He wouldn't. He deserved to stay up here forever. He hadn't been fast enough.
"Ron," a hand rested on his shoulder. He didn't move. "Come on, Rabbit. Say something."
"Harry wants to thank you for being there for him, for listening and cheering him up by acting huffy, " Ron murmured. "He says you don't always have to follow the rules, that you'd be good even without them. "
Percy didn't say anything for a moment, but his hand stayed.
Finally, "Did he ask you to tell me that?"
Ron didn't move. "I don't want to. It hurts."
"It does," Percy agreed, shifting. "But I also feel him, I think. I can hear him saying the words, and it hurts, but he feels closer, somehow. "
Ron didn't say anything.
Percy moved closer. "The funeral is in two days, they want it done quick to keep it out of the paper. Promise you'll go? "
Ron didn't say anything. They stayed in silence.
Percy's hand didn't move.
---
Tell Hagrid thank you for saving me. For bringing me into our world so I could meet you. I let Hedwig out, told her to find him. Make sure they keep eachother company, okay?
The world was grey as Ron walked away from the hut, dazed and surrounded by the sounds of Hagrid's sobs.
He'd left before Harry had done it, but Ron hadn't realized he didn't know. Why had no one told him before Ron came down to tell him what Harry wrote? He got back a week ago! Why hadn't the headmaster-?
Ron shook his head, turning around and heading back to the hut. Making Hagrid tea would be best, neither of them should be alone right then.
---
"We need to set up a unified front," Dumbledore said from the head of the grimy table, "to let Voldemort and the Ministry know we're not any weaker without Harry."
"We are!" Fred exclaimed, "He's the strongest of all of us!"
"Please," Podmore sniffed, "If he was strong he wouldn't have burnt himself up because he was scared."
The room devolved into shouting and sparks from his family's wands, but it all blurred around Ron, who felt as if he was in a pocket of silence, staring at Dumbledore.
Not any weaker.
It sounds foolish, but Ron, he always pushes me at danger.
Not any weaker.
Ever since second year I feel like he's trying to make sure I do everything for the right reasons, and he wouldn't mind if I die to prove it.
Not any weaker.
I'm so tired Ron, can't I just rest?
Ron slammed his hands down on the table, blinking harshly. Dumbledore and everyone else turned to look at him.
"All he wanted was to feel safe." Ron choked out, staring numbly. "Why couldn't you let him rest?"
The world blurred again as the shouting continued, and Ron felt gentle, motherly hands guide him away.