Protection - H/R - PG-13
Title: Protection
Author: shocfix
Pairing: Harry and Ron – but not actually shippy. How odd.
Rating: PG-13 for one swear word
Words: 3000

Written for the birthday of the awesome green_fairy_. I started out trying to write Harry and Ron working in some sort of Wizarding Call Centre over the summer holidays, but that is harder than it sounds and it morphed and went all plotty. So the funny bit doesn’t work anymore. But I left it in, as it is especially for the birthday girl, so ignore it, OK? Unless you didn’t even notice a funny bit, in which case (a) *sniff*, and (b) plotty, huh?

Beta-ed by the scrummy magicofisis, who didn’t point out the funny bit – maybe she was just sparing my feelings.


Protection
****
When Harry was finally allowed to leave the Dursleys’ and join Ron at Grimmauld Place he thought he’d lose his marbles if he had to spend another day trapped in his bedroom.

Even though it had been his birthday more than two weeks ago, and he was now of age, he’d kept his promise to Dumbledore and hadn’t done any magic.

He’d been a bit upset that Ron hadn’t managed to visit him. Ron had promised that, as soon as he passed his Apparition test, he’d make sure that Harry wasn’t left alone.

And he was worried about Ron being left alone to brood this summer. He hoped that Ginny was taking good care of her big brother.

He’d taken her aside on the Hogwart’s Express on the way down from school, while Ron and Hermione were in the Prefects’ meeting.

“Ginny, take care of Ron until I can get to you.”

She’d raised an eyebrow. “So, you don’t think I need looking after? It was me who was kidnapped by Death Eaters, you know.”

He’d tucked an errant red curl behind her ear. “I know you don’t need Molly coddling,” he’d joked and she’d chuckled and shaken her head. “It’ll do you more good to take care of Ron. Make sure he doesn’t brood about it.”

It.

Ginny had been taken before their eyes, in Hogsmeade on the last weekend of the summer term. Death Eaters had Apparated into the street and, as the students had fled into various shops to take shelter, Draco Malfoy had grabbed Ginny from behind and thrust his wand against her throat.

Ron had dived across the street, throwing himself at his detested classmate, prepared to rip him to pieces with his bare hands, but Malfoy had handed Ginny to a masked Death Eater and, turning to smirk at Ron, Disapparated after them as they disappeared.

Harry had held Ron’s arms tight and shaken his friend, hard. “We’ll get her back, Ron, she’ll be OK.”

Ron had looked so lost, so scared, so young, that Harry had been reminded strongly of their second year, of the way the Malfoys had targeted Ginny and he had been sure he knew where Ginny had been taken; sure he knew who that Death Eater had been and why Malfoy had been involved.

“Dobby,” he’d muttered, dragging a stumbling Ron back to school, Hermione and Neville on their heels.

Heading straight for the kitchens, Harry had tracked down Dobby and explained what they’d seen. Dobby had disappeared instantly and Harry and Hermione had paced nervously around the kitchen until he returned. Ron had sat with his forearms resting on his knees, head and hands dangling between them, long hair covering his face.

When Dobby had reappeared, Ron’s head had snapped up, showing a very white face, his freckles standing out darker than ever.

“Miss Wheezey is at Malfoy Manor, Harry Potter, sir,” Dobby had squeaked. “Dunny says he has seen her. She is in Master Draco’s rooms, sir.”

“Dobby,” Ron had said, coming over to kneel beside the loyal house elf. “How can we get in there – the wards must be strong.”

“Dobby has thought of that, Mr Wheezey, sir,” Dobby said proudly. “He has sneaked into Bluey’s box of Portkeys, sir. Mister Malfoy has them so his friends can Portkey straight into the Great Hall at the Manor – but Dobby doesn’t know if anybody will be in the hall, so sirs and miss must be very careful. Dunny and Pommy will be waiting there to help you.”

“Thank you, Dobby,” Harry had said solemnly, taking the skull shaped token and holding it out to Ron, Hermione and Neville.

“You three will have to deal with anyone in the Hall,” Ron said fiercely, “because I am following the elves to find my sister.”

Harry had looked up at his best friend and nodded, knowing how helpless Ron had felt waiting for Harry to find his sister in the Chamber, knowing that Ron needed to do this himself.

They had all held the Portkey and Dobby had squeaked, “The Manor,” and they had been dragged whirling and spinning to Wiltshire and dumped on the chequered marble floor of the Great Hall at Malfoy Manor.

Leaping to their feet, they had not been surprised to see that the three Death Eaters facing them were Lucius Malfoy, Antonin Dolohov and Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry had laughed aloud as he, Hermione and Neville has each faced their personal Death Eater nemesis. Ron had turned an anguished face towards him, but Harry had shoved him back and he had slunk into the shadows, to be greeted by the silent figures of Dunny and Pommy, who had spirited him away, up the back stairs to Draco’s suite of rooms.

Either Dobby had told Professor Dumbledore where they had gone, or someone in Hogsmeade had worked out what had happened, because they hadn’t been duelling very long before Aurors and members of the Order had managed to break through the wards and poured into Malfoy Manor. Harry had disengaged from Lucius Malfoy and fled up the stairs, looking for Ron and Ginny.

Following a scream that had echoed down a hallway on the third floor, Harry had burst into Draco’s room to a dreadful scene.

Ginny was tied spread eagled to a huge four poster bed; Draco Malfoy was crumpled on the stone floor, bright red blood in his pale hair; Ron was standing over him, a broken, blood-stained wand in his fist, breathing hard.

“Ron,” Harry had called and Ron had raised his haunted eyes to Harry’s.

“Harry?” he’d whispered, dropping his wand and stumbling towards his friend. “Harry?”

Harry had looked between the two Weasleys and, pausing only to grab Ron by the arm, had made his way swiftly to Ginny’s side.

Ginny seemed unhurt, her clothes were mercifully in place and her eyes were snapping with anger, and as soon as Harry had severed the ropes holding her in place she had thrown herself at her brother, holding him tight.

Ron’s arms had come up round her and he’d buried his face in her hair. “Gin? You’re OK?” he’d muttered.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she’d replied, leaning back in his arms to look up into his face and brush his hair out of his eyes.

Harry had left them clinging to each other and knelt to check on Malfoy. He felt himself grow cold when he realised Malfoy wasn’t breathing; he was clearly dead. Harry numbly pocketed the broken pieces of Ron’s wand.

“Quick,” he’d said, trying to hurry Ron and Ginny from the room. “We have to get out of here.”

“My wand?” Ron had asked.

“I’ve got it, come on, let’s go.”

“But Malfoy…”

“We have to get back to Hermione,” Harry had nearly shouted, keeping between Ron and Malfoy’s body.

This had finally got through to Ron, who’d nodded sharply and the three of them had run silently back down the stairs to find the battle over, and the Death Eaters once again in custody.

Mr Weasley had run to them and gathered Ginny in his arms and Ron had stood beside them, wringing his hands, until his father pulled him into the hug. Hermione and Neville had limped over and Harry had approached Dumbledore.

“Professor,” he’d whispered, turning away from the Weasleys. “Draco Malfoy is upstairs. He, uh, he’d had Ginny tied to his bed and when I got there he was already dead.”

“Mr Weasley’s handiwork?” Dumbledore had asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, but I don’t think he used magic, certainly no Unforgiveables, he must have used his fists,” Harry had fingered the broken pieces of the wand in his pocket, but didn’t even think of handing them over.

Dumbledore had sighed deeply, but nodded at Harry. “I will look out for Mr Weasley, there will be no repercussions after this incident.”

Dumbledore was true to his word; Malfoy’s death had been accepted as a casualty of battle and Ron had not been called in to the Ministry, but he had been very quiet for the last few days of term, barely leaving the dorm.

Harry had brought food up from the kitchens for him and sat with him, realising how it must have felt for Ron and Hermione every year, to watch him suffer.

Ron hadn’t spoken about killing Malfoy, but he’d watched Ginny in the common room in the evenings. Harry knew he was trying to convince himself that it had been worth it and it broke his heart. He himself had spent the past year coming to terms with the fact that he would have to kill someone, to take a life, and for Ron, of all people, to have to go through this was a nightmare.

Harry hadn’t mentioned getting rid of the broken wand, he knew Ginny had told her father what Ron had done, that Mr Weasley had promised him a new wand over the summer.

And Ginny had understood his concern, had promised to take care of Ron while Harry was stuck at the Dursleys.

****
And that had been over a month ago.

A month with no contact from his friends, as Dumbledore kept him locked up water-tight.

A month without knowing how Ron was coping.

As soon as Remus had let him in to number twelve, Harry had taken the stairs, two at a time, up to their bedroom.

Taking a deep breath at the door, he was about to reach for the handle when a “psssst!” made him look up. Ginny was hanging over the banisters from the floor above, and he rushed up the stairs towards her, reaching her half-way up the flight as she slipped down to meet him.

They sat together on the step and he gave her a one-armed half-hug. “How has it been, Gin?” he asked, giving her a squeeze.

“Not too bad,” she said. “He misses you something rotten though, Harry. He’s barely said a word to anyone but me. ‘Cos no one else was there, I suppose. And he hasn’t talked about what happened. Mum wants you to get him to talk about it.”

Harry raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I know; only if he brings the subject up. But go on, go in, and try and get him to come shopping, he wont even come and buy his school stuff, doesn’t want to buy a new wand.”

“He hasn’t replaced it? Well, that would explain the lack of Apparition visits. He said he’d come to me as soon as he’d passed.”

“He hasn’t taken his test – hasn’t done any magic at all.”

“Oh, Lord,” Harry squeezed her hand and started down the stairs towards his bedroom.

Ron was lying on his bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling.

His head flopped listlessly as he looked over towards the door. “Not now, Ginny,” he said, before he realised who was standing in the doorway. “Harry!” he said, his voice cracking, as he scrambled up to sit cross-legged on the bed.

Harry closed the door behind him and crossed the floor swiftly to sit on Ron’s bed.

They looked at each other for several heartbeats and then Harry reached out to clasp Ron’s forearm. After a moment’s hesitation, he felt Ron’s hand close around his arm in return.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Harry said, watching the doubt surface in Ron’s eyes.

“I killed someone,” Ron said suddenly and Harry places his free hand over Ron’s.

“In battle, to protect your sister. No one blames you.”

Ron snorted. “Tell that to the Slytherins.” His eyes slid away from Harry’s.

“Fuck the Slytherins,” Harry spat.

“No thanks,” joked Ron with a hollow laugh.

“Ron…”

“No, look, Harry. I didn’t understand why you felt so bad last year. Why you didn’t want to have to kill anyone, even You Know Who, when I thought he deserved to die. But no one deserves to die.”

“Ron, I hate that I have to do it in cold blood, that I have to plan for it, train for it for years. But you saw a death Eater hurting your sister and you pulled him off her and beat him. I’d have done the same thing. Anyone would.”

“You’d have duelled with him. I just saw red; I didn’t even realise I was holding my wand until he was limp in my grasp and I saw my hand punching him with it. What does that make me?”

“The most protective person I have ever met.”

“A murderer.”

“No!” Harry tugged hard on Ron’s arm, until they were almost nose to nose. “You didn’t mean to kill him, not even Malfoy, not even after all he’d done. But he was a Death Eater…”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“I do. I saw the Mark when I checked his pulse.”

Ron blinked at him. “He didn’t have a choice; his family…”

“He did. Sirius took that choice; his family was just as bad.”

“He was just a boy.” Ron slumped forward, resting his forehead on Harry’s shoulder.

Harry stroked the long red hair nestled against his neck. “He made a man’s choice.”

Ron grunted.

“Would he have killed Ginny?”

Ron grunted again.

“Would he have killed you?”

A muffled snort. “Yeah, I guess.”

“I’m glad you killed him, glad he can’t hurt anyone else I care about. What would I have done if I’d lost you?”

Ron reared back to look at him, concerned blue eyes meeting his.

Harry smiled weakly. “So. Ready to come downstairs? Your mum wants to do our school shopping today – wants to get you your new wand.”

Ron stiffened. “Harry, what happened…” he trailed off.

“I burnt it,” Harry said shortly. “I didn’t want you to have it; didn’t want anyone else to have it.”

Their eyes met again and Ron smiled at him. A real smile. And Harry’s heart lifted to see his best friend coming back to him.

When they went down to the kitchen, Ginny was sitting at the table, reading her Hogwarts letter.

“Just arrived,” she said, through a piece of toast, raising her eyebrows at Harry.

“Excellent. Potent Potions for Poisoning Potter, by Severus Snape, I assume?” Harry joked as he slit his envelope and nodded back at her.

Mrs Weasley bustled through the door, arms full of laundry. She saw Ron thumbing the corner of his envelope, but wisely said nothing.

“Hogwarts letters arrived just in time, we’ll go to Diagon Alley as soon as Bill gets here. Anything I need to know, Ginny?”

“Nope, still not prefect,” Ginny grinned at her. “D’you think Dumbledore rewards people for peddling Wheezes?”

Mrs Weasley tutted. “Harry?” she asked, her eyes sliding irresistibly to Ron.

“Um, no, Mrs Weasley, just books.”

“Ron?” she asked casually.

Ron sighed and tore his envelope in two, roughly pulling out his letter and booklist and letting something fall on the kitchen table with a clunk.

Mrs Weasley stifled a gasp as Ginny picked it up.

Harry felt Ron stiffen beside him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“No way,” Ron hissed. “No fucking way. It’s not bad enough that everyone will be staring at me anyway. I can’t be Head Boy. What is Dumbledore thinking?”

“I would say,” came Bill’s voice from the doorway, and he came to the table and plucked the badge from Ginny’s fingers, “that Dumbledore thinks that we are at war, and that a Head Boy doesn’t need exam results or nice manners anymore. He needs to be able to fight; to protect the students. I think he couldn’t have made a better choice.” He held Ron’s badge out to him, and as Ron reached for it, clasped his youngest brother’s hand between both of his.

Ron smiled up at him, then turned and showed Harry his badge, with a one-shouldered shrug.

“Absolutely,” Harry said. “Couldn’t have put it better myself.”

Ron snorted.

Mrs Weasley came round the table to hug him and he closed his eyes and sighed deeply as he leant into his mother’s embrace.

****
By the time they had finished their shopping, and Bill had taken the three of them into the Leaky Cauldron for a drink while Mrs Weasley bought her list of things for the house, Ron was back in a bad mood.

Bill was talking to some friends at the next table, while Ron sat with his back to the room and let his hair fall into his face.

“How do you cope with this? How have you done this for six years without cursing everybody, Harry?” he asked. “People staring at me everywhere!”

Harry shrugged. “Just ignore it, Ron.”

Ron snorted, dug a box out of a bag from Ollivander ’s and took out his new wand. “Harry, school is going to be hell,” he muttered.

“School is going to be the same as ever,” Harry replied, taking his new bottle of his favourite ink that changed colours out of his shopping bag and selecting a quill. “It will be the latest thing for a few days, and then everyone will forget all about it.” He took the empty box from Ron’s wand and started drawing on it. “The Gryffindors know you and will stand up for you.” A Quidditch scene on the top, with a stick-figure of a red-headed keeper defending his hoops. “The Slytherins will be foul, but they will be struggling to find a new leader, anyway.” A row of chocolate frogs following each other around the sides of the box. “Everyone else will give you the benefit of the doubt.”

Ron was watching his handiwork, nodding at his soothing words, and the three of them jumped as someone slammed a heavy bag of books onto the table and took the spare chair.

“Hermione!” Ginny squeaked.

“Well?” Hermione demanded of Ron.

“Um, hello, Hermione,” he replied. “Well, what?”

“Well, you got your letter this morning.”

“Um, yes?”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Are you Head Boy? Because, if you’re not, I’m sending my badge back. It’s yours. There is no way they should take it away from you because of what happened!”

Ron blinked at her.

“It’s his, don’t worry,” said Harry. “Bill reckons Dumbledore is happy to have a Head Boy who will fight to protect the students.”

Hermione beamed at Ron. “Well. Exactly.”

Ron met Harry’s eyes and grinned. OK, maybe things hadn’t changed as much as he’d feared. Maybe.