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A blanket of navy stretches across the expanse of the stratosphere, dotted with twinkling white stars, perhaps the brightest he's seen in a while.
The red head stares up at the sky as he walks a well trodden path towards the oak tree that his best friend and occasionally himself have come to frequent.
Ron Weasley makes his way past the gates of his home, grateful of the silence that surrounds him, punctuated only by his soft foot falls and the occasional chirping of night time crawlers.
As the Burrow slowly disappears from view, now hidden amongst a cover of trees, Ron reaches the great oak and settles down at its base, his eyes now settling upon the bright full moon.
A pang of grief resurfaces, like tendrils wrapping around his heart as he thinks of Remus who's funeral he'd attended a few weeks ago.
Ron exhales a shaky breath, as he brings his knees up towards his chest, arms rested on them while his fingers anxiously fiddle with each other.
He feels guilty for slipping out of dinner early, but the stifling atmosphere had been too much to bear. Any other day, he'd have powered through it, and he'd even have stepped in to try to change the subject and lighten the mood but not today.
Today, he's exhausted.
Today, he's empty.
Today, as much as he wants to be a pillar of strength, a consoling brother, a caring son, he can't bring himself to shoulder those responsibilities at this moment.
The tendrils of grief mingle with those of guilt as Ron allows himself to feel the pain he's been carrying for everyone else.
He'll never complain. Never. He'd do it all over again. He'd go to hell and back for his family. But sometimes, like today, it's all too much.
Silent tears stream their way down his cheeks and he hiccups slightly, breathing uneven as sobs silently.
Time passes as he breaks a little. He's unsure of how long he's been sitting but it must have been longer than he'd thought as he hears soft muffled footfalls crunch against the small blades of grass.
A small smile adorns his face as he recognised the cadence. He wipes at the tear tracks on his face, although he knows his visitor will know he's been crying either way.
"I figured you'd be here," says Harry as he slumps down next to his best friend.
Ron hums in acknowledgement. They sit in comfortable silence, only occasionally punctuated by Ron's sniffles. Ron feels Harry shift closer, sitting shoulder to shoulder with him. A silent gesture of support.
Ron nudges him lightly, an equally silent gesture of gratitude. He doesn’t really recall when he and Harry preferred to converse with actions, but he appreciates it nonetheless. Sometimes, it’s just easier. Sometimes, there’s no words to describe the turmoil; the anguish.
“You can talk to me, you know,” Harry says in a low voice, staring straight ahead. There’s a tense set to his shoulders that confuses Ron.
“I just got here and I don’t know what happened in there but your mum said you just walked out in the middle of dinner,” Harry prompts, and Ron knows it's up to him. He can decide to elaborate if he wants and he knows his friend will listen; or Ron can choose to stay silent and he knows he’ll be supported either way.
“You love food, mate, so if you leave dinner, especially when the desert is your mom’s special plum cake recipe, it’s a cause for alarm,” Harry jabs, an attempt at humor.
It works, Ron chuckles wetly, wiping his eyes again as he takes a deep breath in, trying to steady himself.
If this were yesterday or maybe even last week, Ron probably would have just told Harry he’d be fine and didn’t want to talk about it.
But ultimately, he was lying to himself wasn’t he? He isn’t fine. He hasn’t been fine in a long while. They’ve all been in survival mode for so long and the only thing that initially seemed to help Ron was making sure everyone else was okay.
Because if his family was alright, albeit grieving, he was alright.
Right?
Ron lets out a shaky breath. “I…it’s….” Ron lets out a frustrated grunt as he hugs his knees tighter to himself. Why can’t he just say it?
Harry puts an arm around Ron’s shoulder. “I know,” he says, simply.
And Ron realizes he doesn’t need to say it. A fresh wave of tears stream silently down his face and he blows out harshly, trying in vain to stop.
“I was going to tell them today, at dinner,” Ron starts to explain. He looks to Harry who nods encouragingly. “I’m…I’m not doing great,” he admits for the first time in weeks.
It’s a weight that he doesn’t realize he’s been carrying until suddenly, it seems less heavy as he confesses.
“I…I don’t know how to explain it. I just - bloody hell,” Ron curses as he roughly wipes at the tear tracks on his face. “It’s not that I don’t want to do it, I just need a break, maybe?”
Ron knows he isn’t making any sense but he feels torn, stuck, a tangled mess of guilt and selfishness, because what kind of son wants to abandon their family in a time of need?
But that’s what he wants right now. He wants to be anywhere except the Burrow.
He’ll play Quidditch, tossing a quaffle back and forth half-heartedly for hours on end with Ginny and George, no one mentioning how one half of the Weasley beaters will forever be absent now. Because that’s how they cope. He’ll help keep George company and brainstorm product ideas in their joke shop because the latter can’t bear to be there alone without his twin.
He’ll sit silently with Ginny, her head resting on his shoulders when nightmares snatch away their sleep. His sister has been through a difficult death-eater filled few months at Hogwarts before their parents didn’t let her return for her safety. He doesn’t know what horrors she’s been through. He'll be a pillar of support for as long as she needs.
He’ll spend endless hours helping his dad tinker around with muggle objects in their garage. Ron doesn’t understand the obsession but he knows now more than ever, it’s his father’s way of coping with his grief, coping with outliving one of his own children.
He’ll help his mom cook their meals because he knows although she won’t ask for it, she appreciates the company. Ron doesn’t tell her he’s seen her sobbing by herself in the kitchen when she’s realized she’s made Fred’s portion of their meals too. There’s still a home to run and chores to be done. With everyone trapped in their own confines of grief, Ron knows his mom will get overwhelmed so he cooks, he puts out the laundry, degnomes the garden silently and receives a silent hug of thanks every now and then from his teary-eyed mother.
He’d do it all over, again and again and again and again .
But it’s been slowly crushing him, taking from other’s cups of grief and torment to help them but at the expense of overflowing his own. Who or what does he pour his own pain into?
“It’s okay, you know. It’s okay to want to take a break, to get away for a while,” Harry muses, a wry smile on his face.
It hits Ron like a blast-ended skrewt exploding. He remembers the argument he and Harry had a week ago when Harry announced he was moving back into Grimmauld Place.
Harry had been overwhelmed too. Maybe not for the same reasons, but now Ron feels like he understands better.
It had been an irrational argument, a stupid fight but it resulted in Harry disappearing for a few days with no contact or communication. Molly had been furious with Ron and booted him out of the kitchen when Ron tried to help. It’s only when Harry had started coming back around for meals a couple days later that she started accepting his assistance again.
Ron had known he’d been an idiot so he’d asked Bill to help Harry remove the Tongue-Tying curse with the creepy Dumbledore ghost at the front door. Ron had been pleased to learn that Harry and Bill had then ended up spending a few hours together just talking while sweeping the rest of the house for any lingering curses or dark magic.
“I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time for that,” Ron admits.
Harry shrugs, dismissing his apology. “Nothing to apologize for.”
They sit in silence for a little while longer, each passing second making Ron feel more calmer than he has in a while.
“I miss him,” Ron whispers as he looks up at the twinkles in the sky. “And I know everyone else does too, but I can’t…I want to help everyone else but it's too much right now. I was going to tell them tonight, after dinner but then mom started going on about how great Ron’s been and how Ron’s stepped up to take care of everyone and then Dad and Ginny chimed in and I couldn’t take it anymore.”
There. He said it. He feels like an arse, but it’s out in the open now.
“How can I tell them I want to leave, or I can’t help, that I need help? They’re depending on me,” Ron rambles on now, suddenly unable to stop the dam that’s finally broken after weeks and weeks of trying to keep it in.
“And you’re depending on them to depend on you,” Harry pitches in.
Ron frowns. “Wait, what? No, that’s not it, Harry - “
“You’re depending on them to depend on you because that’s your way of coping, Ron. It took me a while to see it but Hermione saw it a lot earlier. She even tried to talk to me about it but I didn’t get it at the time.”
Ron stills, unsure of how those words make him feel. “I don’t understand.”
“You’re helping everyone stay afloat Ron. It’s admirable and honestly, I don’t know if I could ever do what you’ve done for everyone and still be sane by the end of it. But tell me this, who’s helping you?” Harry asks, and suddenly, Ron understands why Harry seemed tense when he first sat beside him.
Harry feels guilty.
And Harry’s right. He feels like he's in checkmate, trapped by responsibilities that he’s shouldered on his own. There’s no escape. It felt nice to be needed by his family, to be able to do something . Anything other than thinking about his own misery, his own suffering.
“Hermione left to spend time with her parents, I left for Grimmauld. So maybe helping two less people may have lessened the burden a little, but mate, you need someone too. I’m sorry I didn’t see that earlier. Everyone may need you, and they’ll probably always need you. But it’s okay for you to need someone too.”
Ron doesn’t realize he’s needed someone to say it out loud for him but every last remaining bit of the dam shatters. His shoulders shake with the force of his sobs as he breaks down. A keening, guttural sound escapes him as wave upon wave of pain, grief, torment, of agony assault him.
Ron turns around and envelopes Harry in a hug which is returned back with equal fierceness and Harry holds him, gently rubbing circles on his back as Ron allows himself to feel what he’s been keeping locked up for so long.
Why did so many people have to suffer for this war to end? Why did he lose those he once held so dearly to his heart? Why Fred ?
It’s not over yet either, there’s still a fractured government to rebuild, escaped death-eaters biding their time in hiding. Suddenly it’s up to The Golden Trio to help out as they’re being dubbed in the Prophet these days. Neither of them feel like they have a choice. They can’t refuse to help. There’s too much work to be done.
But for now, he’ll break. For now, maybe he’ll take Harry’s help and leave the Burrow, just for a little while. He’ll stay with Harry at Grimmauld until he gets his head on straight. Maybe he’ll write to Hermione too. He misses her as well but knows she deserves to spend time with her family after all she did to protect them.
He’ll allow others to help him. He realizes now, he’s been lonely. But he’s not alone. He’s never been alone and he never will be. Come what may, no matter what hardships he faces from here on out, he knows his friends will have his back and catch him when he stumbles and falls, a helping hand always outstretched to help him get back up.