Ron's eyes cracked open from the sunlight that poured through the window in his room. He squinted his eyes as he sat up, fiery red hair messy and unkempt, but typical of a Weasley boy, save for Percy, he didn't care enough to keep it combed. It felt like late morning, he thought as he glanced up at the small window that held the beams of yellow light, usually his mum would wake him up or get Ginny to do it; weird that she let him sleep in. Yawning, he remembered there was only a few more weeks until school started, so maybe mum had actually gotten off of the scheduled warpath and let him be.

He pulled his lanky legs to the side of the bed and plopped his feet onto the worn floorboards of the Burrow, scratching his head as he stood up. It felt so final, these past few days. He had realized that he wasn't a kid anymore, he had responsibilities now. He owed it to Harry, it wasn't even a question if he wanted to come with him and Hermione to destroy those Horcruxes that You-know-who— Ron shook his head as he grabbed the ends of his red and yellow knitted blanket and threw it haphazardly towards his pillow in a weak attempt to make his bed. He felt ashamed that he still couldn't muster up the courage to use his name so freely when Harry would use it on a whim. Even Hermione could use it.

He stifled another yawn as he yanked open the door with a loud creak and began to stomp down the steps to the kitchen. Ron could almost hear the whine of his mother, so he cut her off quickly and said before she could say anything, "Mum, I'm gonna go out into the garden. Sorry if I woke up late and missed breakfast—" He reached the banister to see the same old kitchen, small as ever, but cleaner than usual. Ginny and mum must've scrubbed everything down when I was sleeping, he thought with a little bit of a smirk forming at the corner of his mouth. Strange enough, the Burrow was entirely empty, devoid of his Mum's incessant ramblings about something needing to be cleaned and Dad, he safely assumed, was busy at work. Narrowing his eyes, he hopped down the final steps and pulled open the door to the garden, hoping to find the only Weasley left in the house besides his parents: Ginny.

"Oi, Ginny," he called out to the seemingly empty garden in hopes to coax his sister out of 'hiding', "Sorry I slept in and missed all the cleaning." He said as seriously as he could, but couldn't hide the snicker as it itched up into his throat. Wiping the remains of the grin, he scratched his head and glanced up at the sky, pure blue and clear of any clouds. The air even smelt like summer, even though it was dwindling away before him. "Why didn't you or Mum wake me up? Can't be that Mum actually felt sorry, for once, for working me like a slave 'round the house..." He remarked, actually curious and eager to have his question answered by the vibrant redhead.

Ginny had emerged from the side of the house with her eyebrow raised as she grilled him for asking those innocent questions. "I barely just woke up Ron. You wanted me to wake you up when I myself was asleep?" He felt the twinge of anger wash over him, but he shrugged to her answer and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to wake himself up a little. He wasn't awake enough to tangle with his sharp tongued sister always more willing to poke at his idiot moves. "And just so you know Ronald," he couldn't help but roll his eyes as she used his entire name with such spite. He was half-surprised she didn't throw in his middle name: Bilius. "Mum did all the cleaning alone. No idea where she went." He let out a yawn, not bothering to cover it with his hand; what a right help she was. She was like the younger, twinless, and girl version of Fred and George. She looked more like them than she did Bill or Charlie and she shared the same love to push Ron's buttons.

"Nice hair. Looks like Harry’s." He let out a grunt as he narrowed her eyes at her and instantly felt even more annoyed at the fact that she shared another thing with the twins. That accomplished smirk. "Well, now all I'm missing is a lightning bolt scar and to bloody refuse you..." He spat, hand automatically going to his head, trying to smooth out the bright red mane of hair as he brushed past her, storming to one of the ponds in the garden. He still felt the knot of regret for letting Harry date his sister since it had only ended up turning sour in the last few months. He did care about both of them, but still was annoyed that Harry could hurt her like that. He should've just... backed off, then she could find some other bloke to date. Ron halted in front of the pond and stared down into the water's surface, at his reflection to see if he truly did look like the boy who lived. A little bit inside him was almost expecting to see ink black hair, brushed away from his face in an uncaring manner that made all the girls swoon, but was greeted with a less impressive reflection. His hair stuck up comically from the sides, making his hair seem like a big, red poof. He smoothed it out the best he could, trying to return it to the way he usually wore it, but it had only succeeded it making the monstrosity bigger. He sighed and gave up, letting his long arms dangle at his side. "Where d'you reckon she is?" He asked quietly, not breaking the eye contact with his own reflection.

Ron had been so deep in thought, he hadn't even realized that he had gone too far. "He had a reason to do it." Even though he was completely unaware to how he had hurt her, the sentence looped over and over in his mind. "He had a reason to do it." He could almost feel the sting of pain from the raw wound that lay exposed on Ginny's heart because Harry had put a halt to their relationship. He opened his mouth to say something biting and witty to make it known that Harry shouldn't have given her hope in the first place, but no words came to mind. Instead, he slowly turned his head to catch the sight of her mumbling about muggle hair dye or something of the sort, then she repeated the same unhelpful answer she had given him before to where their mum was. His jaw snapped shut, caught unaware again from her verbal whiplash. "For all I know she could be buying you some round glasses so you look even more like Harry." He craned his head over to his sister with a bewildered look at her statement. His mouth quickly twisted into a scowl as she continued, using his full name in the process of gutting him for daring to bring up the subject of Harry Potter.

"When I said your hair looked like Harry's, it was a compliment. Do you know how many stupid Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw girls admire him just for his hair?" Ron felt the annoyance bubble up from his stomach because of his sister's obvious feelings for Harry even after he had told her that they just weren't going to be able to see each other anymore. Anyway, she had practically all the boys at her feet and she had her pick. Why was she still caught up over Harry? Frowning even more, he realized that knew the answer to that question, but didn't want to even think about it. Instead, he forced himself to concentrate on thinking of a suitable cutting reply to her calculated remarks. "Maybe, you should ask Romilda Vane about it." She said sweetly before he could think of anything, making his ears flush red with anger and embarrassment; he remembered that stupid prat and her bloody chocolates that made him act like a blubbering idiot. He glanced back over to the pond away from Ginny, bowing his head down in the process, but avoided looking at his reflection. He would only try to attempt at fixing his hair which was futile effort. Vivid, green lily pads sprouted from the depths of the water, one was even accompanied by a shockingly pink flower to Mum's surprise. Seconds crept by and his lack of a comeback only fueled the silence between the two. Ginny wouldn't throw a spell at him, not because of the Trace, but she didn't mind using her words like knives. He knew she wasn't expecting an apology from him because, to him, he had nothing to apologize for. She knew him too well to expect that. She also knew that silence, from Ron, was a white flag.

Ron wandered back inside, walking right past Ginny who seemed fixated on obliterating him with a deathly glare, with the small desire to see what time it was from one of the many clocks in the Burrow. It was mostly just to get away from his sister's line of sight, he could feel her stare drilling into his back. But, in passing her, seeing her so pissed off triggered the sinking feeling of guilt that began to roll around in his stomach. He remembered what he so easily spat at her and felt wince of regret about even mentioning Harry around her. Not that he would show it, of course. In the past few months, he had tried to stray away from any talking about that tabooed topic, but in trying to think of something that scorch her with words, he had barreled right into the place he never wanted to be in. Opening the door, he glanced inside at an antique clock, the second hand clicking away happily as it read, 10:33. Ron felt an unsettling suspicion to where Mrs. Weasley could be and why she chose not to tell him or Ginny. With the Order, the logical part of his brain called out and he couldn't find a reason to disagree with it. His mouth twitched into a thin line, She must've thought we would sleep in till she got back, he thought as he made his way into the kitchen. Like that would bloody happen, he thought, a smile slipping onto his mouth as he snatched up a pale green pear that rested on the clean countertop, Mum's got us trained.

He bit into the ripe pear and savored the sharp taste, but it only emphasized the emptiness in his stomach. It growled loudly, complaining to anyone within earshot that he was starving and Ron happily complied, opening up the cabinets and pulling out anything that sounded good at the time. Bread, butter, and jam was the only thing that didn't require any cooking skills, since he seemed to lack the certain knack for making anything besides toast. Even that proved to be too time consuming to wait around for it to only end up burning into something charred beyond belief to eat. He pulled out a silver butter knife and unconsciously picked up two plates, then plopped down in a worn, though comfortable wooden chair and placed the plates down on the table. He glanced up at Ginny and gave a quick jerk of his head to beckon her over, knowing that she wouldn't stay in a foul mood over his words for long. She was an optimist at heart and anyway, she wouldn't pass up a chance un-toasted bread and jam with him. At least, that's what he convinced himself.

[Hah', give yourself a break. We had about four posts going without anyone talking. That itself was an amazing feat.]

Ron glanced up as Ginny walked in with her skinny arms folded over her chest, scowling at him as if he had just told her that Quidditch was outlawed in the U.K. and that he was the one responsible for it. She quickly sat down and knowing that she would try to stare bullet holes into his face, he looked away, busying himself with spreading the raspberry jam across the soft bread. It seemed as if he had pierced the easygoing attitude that usually followed Ginny around like a puppy and felt as if she was taking him too seriously. He hadn't meant it, it was just something to snap at her with. But, that was the problem with Ron. People either took him too seriously or didn't take him seriously enough. Usually it was the ladder of the two, but both occurred quite often for the him. It was always the first impression that caused people to think of him as rude and insensitive or as the blundering oaf who lumbered after the boy who lived and the exceedingly clever girl from Gryffindor. Never the leading man, but always lingered around as a measley understudy.

He bit into the bread, sinking his teeth into it, which made his stomach grumble, telling him to hurry up and stop wasting time tasting anything. Ron hated all this secrecy his mum had been shoving at him lately. She belived that he couldn't handle her sneaking off to talk with Tonks, Remus, Mad-Eye, and Kingsley about matters that the Trio had speculated over months ago. He knew perfectly well that she didn't mind telling Bill or Charlie, of course not, they were sent invitations to this tea party too. It was as if he was a still a little tyke to them and that he hadn't changed in the slightest within the few years of knowing about You-know-who and his return. It bothered him, but Harry was the one who they treated as an adult. Hell, even 'Mione was treated like an equal. Maybe because his family was mixed into the Order, but he thought otherwise. "Mum's with the Order, isn't she." He stated blandly; he was sure that Ginny felt the same way about being treated younger than they actually were. Even Harry treated her as if she was some porcelain doll, but Ron reckoned that was because he cared about her so much.