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The Right Weasley	By : Mamacita Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Ron Views: 7464 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Right Weasley
- 1
This started out to be a one-shot HPHG, but about halfway through it the characters ran amok and it turned out to be something else completely. The ending is just a tad bit sappy, and although I refuse to apologize for that, I give you fair warning that you might need a cup of coffee or some ice water or something by the end to cut the sweetness. (For those who have asked if there will be more to this story, I wrote a second one-shot to answer the question of "But what about Ginny?" It's posted on Fanfiction.net at http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7063796/1/The_OTHER_Right_Weasley)
Ron threw another stone into the pond. A gnome eyed him interestedly from under a nearby bush. In his opinion it wasn’t often that humans occupied themselves with anything interesting, like throwing rocks; it made a nice change from gnome-tossing, certainly. The gnome was one of the “regulars” that frequented the Burrow’s environs and knew it had little to fear from this particular Weasley, who was known to go out of his way to avoid de-gnoming duty.
Sounds of a gathering of some sort could be heard from the Burrow, a short distance away through the trees. It was Harry’s birthday, and his party had turned into yet another celebration of Voldemort’s demise, as so many gatherings did these days. There was music, and dancing on the lawn. Since it was once again safe to be out and about, the party guests were enjoying themselves to the fullest.
Except Ron, who was out here by himself in the starry velvet night, throwing rocks into the pond and sulking.
Oh, did I mention he was sulking?
It would have been obvious to the meanest intelligence: shoulders slumped, head hanging, lower lip jutting in what could only be called a pout. In short, he looked very much like he’d just lost his best friend.
Ha! Try both of my best friends, he thought darkly. Just then there was a loud surge of laughter from the Burrow and Hermione’s voice lifted above the others for a moment. Ron cocked his head toward the sound, then he threw a look of deep dislike in that direction and heaved an enormous, put-upon sigh.
A moment later he started when a small hand stole into his. He looked down to see Ginny standing there with a sympathetic look in her eyes. He snorted.
“Why’d you leave?” he asked rudely. “Party’s still going strong, sounds like. I can hear Hermione from here.” Ginny looked hurt, and he scowled. He shook off her hand and bent to pick up another handful of pebbles.
“Yes,” she said, determined to be pleasant. “They’re having a marvelous time. Everyone wondered where you’d got to, though—so I said I’d look for you.”
Ron snorted again. “Miss me, do they? Not likely—not as long as they’ve got them to fawn over.”
“Them who?” Ginny asked. She put her hands on her hips and looked at him suspiciously. “What’s that supposed to mean? What’s eating you, anyway?” He glanced at her but said nothing. Somehow it was rather difficult to summon up the level of self-pity and sense of ill-use he’d been enjoying before Ginny came along.
“Well, if you’re not going to explain yourself,” she said finally, “you can at least come back to the party. I don’t know what you’re so angry about, but Harry’s your best friend and it is his birthday. It’d be nice if you were there, don’t you think?” She injected a judicious amount of reproach mixed with pleading into her voice.
“I can’t. I don’t—I just can’t,” Ron said miserably.
Ginny looked at him more closely and saw that he really was upset about something. “What is it?” she asked softly. “What’s going on?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” he mumbled.
“What?” Ginny was clearly baffled.
“You heard me. Something’s up—” he sent another ugly look toward the unseen partiers— “and I don’t much like it.”
“Ron, what on earth are you talking about?” Ginny asked in exasperation.
“Harry, that’s what.”
“What about Harry?” Ron muttered something Ginny couldn’t quite catch. “He what?”
“I said, he’s monopolizing everyone,” Ron said, goaded into a near-shout. He refused to meet Ginny’s eyes but poked idly at the pebbles in his hand.
She watched him for a moment, her mind sifting through his words for some better clue to his ill temper. Suddenly her eyes widened and her head came up. “You mean he’s monopolizing Hermione,” she said shrewdly. Ron glanced at her, and her knowing look made him flush. He shrugged, sorry he’d said anything, and hoped she would have the decency to drop the issue and leave him to resume his suffering alone.
“Well, as to that....” Ginny sat down on a large rock that sat conveniently nearby. “I’ve been wondering about you and Hermione. Why haven’t you—”
“Why can’t you mind your own business?” Ron snapped. Ginny just raised her eyebrows expressively and waited. He hesitated, then went over and joined her on her rock. “Look, can you keep something to yourself? I mean, if I tell you this, you can’t go talking to anyone about it—especially not Hermione,” he tacked on, knowing how close the two girls had become. “Can I trust you?”
Ginny nodded. “You’re my brother, Ron. Of course you can trust me. You may be a git and a prat most of the time—” she smiled sweetly when his head snapped round— “but if it’s something important, I hope you know I would never tell anyone.”
He sighed. “All right. This is pretty bad, so prepare yourself.” He jumped up and began to pace back and forth in front of the rock.
“It all started about a week after the end of of You-Know-Who.” Ginny smiled. The old habit was so deeply ingrained in him he still couldn’t bring himself to utter Voldemort’s name.
“You know what chaos everything was in. Hogwarts was so badly damaged and so many people were dead or missing, they decided not to try to finish out the school year.” He chuckled. “I haven’t seen Hermione so disappointed since our first year, when Dumbledore let us off exams at the end of the year as a school treat.
“Anyway, those of us who stayed to help with the cleanup were pretty busy for a few weeks. It was different, you know? Strange. Like we were adults or something, not really kids any more—but still at Howarts, with all the memories of the past seven years everywhere we looked.” There was a wistful expression on his face.
Ginny said, “I begged Mum and Dad to let me stay and help, but Mum said she couldn’t bear to be without me, and Dad backed her up. What was it like?”
“Sort of like a holiday, even though we were all working so hard. At first everyone acted like we were still in school—you know, no running in the corridors, no students out after curfew, always looking over our shoulders for Filch and Mrs Norris.
“It was the day we cleaned up the entry hall that it really sank in that Hogwarts could have been destroyed.” He shook his head. “There were emeralds, rubies, sapphires, and topazes everywhere, all over the floor, scattered among the broken glass that had held the House points. McGonagall just stood there with her hand over her mouth—trying not to cry, I guess. Right about then it stopped feeling like summer camp and really hit all of us: it was really over, V—You-Know-Who was really gone. For us seventh years, it was the last time we’d be spending at Hogwarts—ever, for most of us. It kind of sobered everybody up.” He started to pace again.
“I got to know some people really well that I hadn’t had much contact with before. We all grew quite close, working side by side every day, and gradually we noticed that a lot of people were pairing off. Some more obviously than others, but there definitely was a lot of...activity going on.
“Anyway, you probably don’t know this, but I—I’ve had kind of a thing for Hermione for a while now.” He glanced at Ginny, and she admirably resisted the urge to roll her eyes and say something sarcastic. “I thought maybe it would be a good idea to sort of get my hand in—after all, I didn’t know what her plans were once we finished at Hogwarts,” he confessed, “and I was afraid it might be a long time before I saw her again.
“So one night after dinner—this was about three weeks ago—I asked her to go for a walk. It seemed like I hadn’t seen her for days; I’d been working on a repair crew and she was always off somewhere with Flitwick and McGonagall, doing the brainwork.” At Ginny’s questioning look he said, “They were doing spellwork to replace the protective wards on the castle.” He laughed self-deprecatingly. “Me being the mediocre student I am, I got drafted to help with the manual labor.
“Anyway, she said she’d go, so we went down to the lake. For once there was no one about. It was a bit awkward, actually...seemed like we hadn’t talked for ages. Plus, of course, Harry wasn’t there, so it was just the two of us.”
“He wasn’t?” Ginny broke in, unable to help herself. Ron looked at her curiously.
“You didn’t know?” he asked. “But I thought he—aren’t you two—” He broke off at the odd look that crossed her face. “What?”
“Nothing,” she said hastily. “It’s just that—well, I thought we were...that way...too. Harry was so happy; he seemed so relaxed after it was finally over. I’d never seen him like that before.” Her expression was dreamy and a little smile played round her lips. She caught Ron’s eye and flushed.
“Well—anyway, Mum and Dad made me go home with them, since obviously school wasn’t going to be able to continue. I thought Harry was still here with all of you, working on the reconstruction.” Her brow wrinkled. “But if he wasn’t at Hogwarts with you...and he wasn’t at home with us....” She trailed off, her expession no longer dreamy but puzzled and faintly peeved. Ron cleared his throat and she jumped. “Oh! Sorry, you were saying something about going for a walk with Hermione?”
Ron, satisfied that the conversation was getting back on track—that is to say, concentrating on his problem—nodded. “Yeah. So there we were, all alone by the lake, and...not much to say to each other. So I—I finally decided to get right to the point. You know, take the direct approach.”
Ginny, knowing her brother as she did, cringed a little when she thought of what he might consider the “direct approach”, but managed not to let her doubts show on her face. She made encouraging noises and he continued.
“So I took her hand—you know, it seemed rather romantic. I wasn’t about to get down on one knee or anything stupid like that. That just seemed silly.” Ginny’s lips twitched. “So there I was, holding her hand, and she looked over and sort of—smiled at me, you know? I figured that must mean I was well in, so—well, I asked her to marry me.”
He stopped before Ginny, his hands on his hips. “Now I ask you, what was wrong with that? She had to have known it was coming sooner or later; I mean, everyone’s assumed for years that we’d end up together. So—what? Why are you doing that?” He scowled at Ginny, who was shaking her head slowly and directing an annoyingly pitying look at him.
“Did you actually say that to her?” she asked incredulously. “Tell me you didn’t.”
Ron looked vaguely guilty now. His tone defensive, he said, “Well, yeah, I reckon I did. More or less.”
“Exactly what did you say, Ron?”
His face screwed up in a comical show of extreme concentration. “Let’s see. I think my exact words were, ‘So what do you think—should we get married?’ The direct approach, like I said.” He glared at Ginny, who had now added eye-rolling to her head-shaking and pitying looks. “Well, I couldn’t be any plainer than that, could I?” he asked sulkily.
“Ron. Oh, Ron—where do I begin?” Ginny groaned. “Let me ask you something: did you say anything—anything at all—about love?” Her eyebrows rose inquiringly.
Ron shuffled his feet a bit. “Well—no. But,” he added hastily, seeing her mouth open, “I’m sure she must know how I feel about her after all these years.” He caught Ginny’s eye and had the grace to look somewhat ashamed of himself.
“Leaving aside for the moment the fact that you should never assume something like that,” Ginny began in a rather stern tone, “how do you feel about her?”
Ron stared at her as if she’d suggested he run through Diagon Alley naked. Then he snorted. “Ha! If you think I’m going to tell you, you’re loonier than Luna.”
“No, really, Ron. This is important.” She caught at the pocket of his jeans on his next pass in front of her and he jerked to a standstill. “Are you in love with her? You’ve had a few bouts of jealousy over the years when other boys paid attention to her, but I’ve never seen you so much as hold her hand!”
She let that sink in for a moment, then asked, “All right, then. What did she say when you asked her?”
He heaved a gusty sigh. “She got this funny look on her face and said, ‘Oh Ron, you really haven’t got a clue, have you?’ I mean, honestly, Gin—” he threw his hands up in the air— “what on earth does that mean?”
Ginny shrugged, chewing on her bottom lip. “Well, maybe she just thought it wasn’t a very romantic proposal.” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “It wasn’t, you know."
He shook his head. “I dunno—I don’t think that’s what she meant. I know I’m not good with words, especially not mushy stuff, and I did try to apologize for the way I’d asked her, but—” by now his face was red to the tips of his ears— “but she just kind of shook her head just like you’re doing. I hate it when you do that—makes me feel like the bloody village idiot or something.”
Ginny looked at him apologetically and, somewhat mollified, he sat down beside her again. “You don’t have to tell me I’m clueless. I’m amazed I was actually going to graduate! But she never really explained what she meant. She just sort of brushed it off—said she shouldn’t say any more, and that was that!”
He looked at Ginny earnestly. “How’m I supposed to have a clue if no one gives me a clue? I’ve tried talking to her, but she just says, ‘It’s not for me to say,’ and, ‘When the time is right I’m sure you’ll find out everything you need to know’.” He sighed again. “I doubt it. I’m clueless, and I don’t even know about what!”
Ginny began, “If Hermione said you’d find out—”
“Don’t you start!”
She huffed in exasperation. “Well, but—”
Ron glared at her. Ginny tossed her head and pointedly looked the other way. They sat there in a brittle silence broken only by a lone bullfrog on the opposite side of the pond and a slight rustle in the bushes as the gnome crept away to seek livelier company. Or company who might provide a morsel of dropped food. Anything would be better than staying around to hear more of this maudlin conversation.
After a while, Ron stirred. “So why aren’t you at the party?” he asked suddenly. “If you want to see Harry, now’s your chance. He’s a captive audience—Mum says he wants to stay with us for at least a month while he gets some things settled. I don’t really know what his plans are. I don’t even know what I plan to do. I’d like to try out for the Chudley Cannons,” he said glumly, “but that’s just a pipedream. Might as well be realistic about it.”
Ginny, eager to make amends for her earlier criticism of his clumsy proposal to Hermione—deserved though it might be—slung her arm round his shoulders. “I bet you’d surprise yourself, Ron. You’ve improved a lot over the last couple of years. You should go for it.”
“Really?” He looked marginally cheered by this sisterly show of loyalty.
“Really.”
“And...what about Hermione?”
Ginny smacked him lightly. “Oh, come on, Ron. If you were really in love with her, I’d say—well, I’d say go for it there, too. But you’re not, really...are you? Really?”
He looked at her thoughtfully, then stared at the ground. His shoulders slumped dejectedly, and he muttered something.
“What?” Ginny asked, nudging him gently.
“I guess not,” he said a bit more audibly. “I dunno...it seemed like a good idea at the time.” He shrugged.
“Mostly because you thought everyone expected the two of you to end up together, though, right?” she reminded him. “It’s not like you’re hopelessly in love with her and wouldn’t want to carry on if, say, she married someone else.”
He looked at her suspiciously. “Why—is that what’s going on?”
Ginny laughed. “Ron, no. But admit it. It’s not the end of the world because she turned you down, is it? Honestly, just between us.”
“Just between us?” She nodded. Ron hesitated for a moment, then capitulated. “No. I guess it’s not. It was just...sort of a nice idea, you know? Comfortable, like.”
“Well, I’d be the last one to see anything wrong with being comfortable with the person you marry,” Ginny said reasonably. “But it seems kind of tame to be the only reason for getting married.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Ron stared into the darkness, his gaze unfocused. “I don’t know that I feel end-of-the-world about anyone, though, you know? I mean, of course if Hermione wasn’t in my life there’d be a huge hole there. And Harry—well, if he disappeared, now that would be devastating.”
Ginny glanced at him sharply. “Of course,” she said slowly. “Because he’s your best mate, you mean.”
“Well yeah, that, sure. But it’s—I dunno, it’s more than just being mates, somehow. Ever since that first day on the Hogwarts Express when he came in and introduced himself—didn’t care if I was ‘only a Weasley’ or that he was someone famous. To me he’s always been just...Harry. And he’s always been there for me. You know?”
Silently, unseen and unnoticed by Ron as his thoughts lingered on Harry, Ginny got up and left him. She walked blindly toward the orchard, shaken and devastated by what she’d heard in his voice just now.
There was a lone witness to her departure. The bushes rustled softly as jean-clad legs stepped out onto the grass beside the pond.
Ron talked on, oblivious to the changing of the guard that was taking place. “Ha. Well, there you go, Gin—maybe Harry’s the one I should be asking to marry me, eh?” He laughed as he turned to the place beside him.
“Maybe he is,” Harry said quietly.
“H-Harry!” Ron gulped. Suddenly, he didn’t know why, it felt like several thousand butterflies addicted to calisthenics had taken up residence in his stomach.
Harry gestured toward the rock. “May I?”
“Oh—yeah, sure.” Ron was glad the darkness hid his burning face from view.
“So,” Harry said. Ron grunted and casually threw a pebble into the pond, then another. A hand appeared out of the darkness and grasped Ron’s firmly. “Ron.” Harry took a deep breath. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Ron started. “Er—Harry, I was only joking,” he said weakly. “I didn’t know you were there.”
The hand was joined by its fellow, and now Harry held Ron’s hand firmly between his warm palms. “I know. And I know you didn’t really mean you’d ask me to marry you—but hang on, we’ll get back to that in a minute.”
What? We will? Ron thought dazedly as Harry marched on relentlessly.
“Ever since that first day, you said. Well, our meeting meant something to me as well, Ron. You’ve no idea what it felt like to meet a new chap who, right away and with no questions asked, wanted to be my friend. To me, coming from—well, you know what I came from—that was huge, Ron. You were my first real friend. Ever. And you quickly became my best friend, and have been ever since.” He chuckled. “No one but a best friend would have put up with half the stuff you’ve had to go through just because you were friends with Harry Potter.” There was a faint trace of bitterness in his words.
“It was never boring, that’s for sure,” Ron murmured reminiscently.
“And you stuck with me through it all,” Harry said. “I can never begin to tell you what that kind of friendship means to me, Ron.” He cleared his throat. “Hermione told me—um—that you asked her to marry you.”
Ron’s head shot up and he looked at Harry warily. “She did?”
Harry nodded. “Did she tell you why she turned you down?” Ron shook his head. Harry looked down at their hands, seeming suddenly shy.
“She knew there was already—someone—who cared desperately for you but hadn't found a way to tell you.” He glanced sideways at Ron and as quickly away again. Ron’s eyes widened as the clue he had been lacking suddenly clicked into place. He squeezed Harry’s hand, unable to speak for fear he would wake up and never get to see how this ended—that he would wake to find it had all been a deluded dream generated by his treacherous subconscious.
“Am I—” he croaked. He cleared his throat and it seemed loud in the sudden stillness. Even the bullfrog, it seemed, was holding its breath in anticipation. Ron tried again. “Am I to understand you know who this...someone...is?” he whispered, trembling lest the moment shatter and send reality flooding back in.
“Oh...I might.” One of Harry’s hands, gleaming faintly in the starlight, floated up to Ron’s face and turned it gently to him. Harry’s face held an expression of great tenderness. “You mean the world to me, Ron,” he said. “You are the most important person in my life, and I want you to be with me always.”
“Always...as in forever?” Ron asked softly.
“As in forever,” Harry affirmed solemnly. “Do you understand what I’m saying, Ron?” He peered into Ron’s face.
Suddenly, Ron did know. And as suddenly knew it was right. Hermione had known even before he had. Well, of course, he thought wryly. He nodded.
“I understand. Gods, Harry, I can hardly believe that you—that you feel like that about me. Me!” He shook his head in amazement.
“You and only you,” Harry said. He leaned over and bestowed a chaste kiss on Ron’s lips. Ron stared at him in wonder for a moment; then he grabbed the front of Harry’s T-shirt and pulled him close to return the kiss. It was every bit as heartfelt as Harry’s, if not nearly as chaste.
After a few frenzied moments of wet, hot, clinging kisses, practicality intervened and they had to breathe or risk passing out right there in front of the bullfrogs and the gnomes and anyone else who might happen along. Harry rested his forehead on Ron’s, one hand buried in the auburn curls that hung just a bit too long over the back of Ron’s neck. They sat like that for a bit, their breathing gradually returning to normal.
Suddenly Ron groaned. Harry pulled back with a look of concern. “What is it?” he asked, his eyes drawn to Ron’s invitingly full lower lip.
“I was just thinking about Hermione,” Ron said.
“Oh great,” Harry joked. “I’m kissing you with everything I’ve got and you’re thinking about Hermione?”
“Git,” Ron returned, but it was said lovingly. “No, it’s just—you know she’s going to say she knew about this all along, right?”
Harry shrugged. “Yeah. Probably. So?”
“Oh, nothing, I guess. But it would’ve been nice if she’d clued me in instead of letting me make a fool of myself,” Ron grumbled.
“Oh well,” Harry said comfortingly. “After all, she’s not getting you, I am—so we can afford to be a little generous. Right?”
Thus reminded of what he still could not quite believe was real, Ron smiled back and sighed with contentment. Then a thought struck him. “Ginny!” he exclaimed.
Harry chuckled ruefully. “Gods, Ron,” he complained good-naturedly. “First Hermione, now Ginny?”
“Oh—no, it’s just that—well, everyone thinks I’m so clueless, but did you know Ginny’s in love with you?”
Harry looked the tiniest bit uncomfortable at this. “Er—well, I did rather have a feeling about that. But,” he said firmly, “she’ll get over it.”
“She will?”
“She’ll have to. I’m sorry, but there’s only one Weasley I plan to fall in love with in this lifetime.”
“And that’s...me?”
“That is most definitely you.”
Ron threw his arms around Harry. “I’m glad,” he whispered into the messy shock of dark hair next to his own bright head.
A distinct sniffle from the bushes had both of them shooting to their feet, wands at the ready. “Who’s there?” Harry growled, trying to see into the hedge.
Molly and Arthur stepped out into the dim light. Molly was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, and Arthur was patting her on the back and murmuring, “There, there,” and generally looking uncomfortable, as men do when confronted with weepy females.
Harry and Ron lowered their wands. “Oh!” Ron exclaimed. “Mum—Dad? What are you doing out here?”
“We thought we’d just take a little stroll in the moonlight,” Arthur said, looking as if he wished they’d gone in any direction but this one.
“Ah...and you, er, did you hear us talking?” Ron asked nervously. It was obvious that he thought there was still a chance the dream could come crashing down around him.
Molly blew her nose loudly and tottered over to Harry, engulfing him in a rather watery hug. “Oh, Harry! she gasped. “Dear, dear Harry—so happy—finally part of the family—so, so wonderful!” Her words tumbled out disjointedly, but she was clearly pleased by the turn of events.
Arthur stood there beaming as well, obviously just as happy but minus the tears. He and Molly stood there and gazed at Ron and Harry for several long moments.
Then, “Well, I expect you’d like to be alone for a bit,” Arthur said briskly. “Don’t be too long, boys. Pretty late.” He put an arm about Molly’s shoulders and led her away, not without several backward glances. They could hear Molly's happy little exclamations and Arthur’s murmured responses for some distance up the path.
Ron gaped after them, his mouth hanging open inelegantly. Harry grinned. “Well!” he said, his tone immensely satisfied. Ron transfered his gaze to Harry and looked a question at him.
“Well, I wasn’t sure how they’d take the news,” Harry said by way of explanation. “I really love them, you know. If the idea of us—” he gestured between the two of them— “had really bothered them, I’m not sure what I would have done.” He walked over to Ron and pulled him into a tight hug. “So I’m glad they know.”
“Me too,” Ron said in a muffled voice. “’Course, there’s still Ginny....”
“Ron.”
“Yes, Harry?”
“It will be all right.” Ron began to pull away, but Harry held on tighter. Ron sighed and gave in, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder—not difficult, thanks to Harry’s growth spurt in sixth year that had more or less evened out their heights.
“You think so, do you?”
“Oh yes. As a matter of fact, I know someone who’d be perfect for her.”
Ron smiled. Harry and his ideas! If he had it in mind to make a match for Ginny, no doubt she would soon find solace for her broken heart. Harry’s ideas seemed to have a way of working out for all concerned.
He really was one in a million.
- 1
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The Right Weasley