BLEED OUT ━━ george weasley

xxii. human nature

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am.” 

Fleur insisted on feeding Ron first. She ignored the twins as they complained about her ‘playing favourites.’ Next, she ushered Keegan into the seat opposite Ron, this time deliberately passing the twins until Keegan took pity on them and grinned knowingly at Fleur. Fine, her expression seemed to say as she sighed, and as they sat down to eat together, Keegan slipped back into a familiar routine. It was like Ron had always been with them. This was just another family dinner. Sure, they were missing a few of their key members, but they weren’t there because they were busy with everyday life, not with a war and its demons. That was the dream.

Keegan’s stomach twisted with an age-old worry, threatening to send the soup back up her throat.

“You can tell us, Ron,” Bill said once most of them had finished eating. He was chewing on a piece of bread and frowning at his brother, who was scoffing down seconds while looking ready to lick the bowl clean. When Ron paused, they could see the blood drain from his face. Something sour seemed to rest in the harsh line of his brow. “What’ve you been doing all these months? Is… where’s Harry and Hermione?”

Keegan had a feeling she knew what Bill had really wanted to ask before he stopped himself.

Are they alive?

“I’m an idiot,” Ron sighed.

Fred snorted. “We know.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” asked George.

But Ron wasn’t in the mood. “I left them,” he whispered like the air had been knocked from his lungs and this was the last that he could manage. “Things got… tense. And I said things I shouldn’t have. Harry told me to go… so I did. Got picked up by snatchers after I changed my mind and tried to go back. Only just managed to apparate here.”

He kept his gaze locked on the table, unable to bear what he knew he would see reflected in each of his brothers’ expressions. His own disappointment, his own guilt, as pungent as Death itself. Bill wouldn’t have abandoned his friends. Fred and George would’ve stayed and fought, no matter how tough things got. And if they did, they would’ve found a way back regardless of snatchers or other dangerous opposition. But Ron wasn’t like his brothers. Keegan had seen him try time and time again to be someone he wasn’t. He was already picking himself apart without their help.

“You should get some rest,” Bill muttered, rising from the table and beginning to clear away their bowls. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

Keegan expected them to talk about it the second Fleur took Ron upstairs to Fred’s room. Fred had graciously agreed to share with his brother; either that, or he’d bunk with George and Keegan. We can have a sleepover, he had winked at Keegan, who blushed by instinct despite George’s foul expression. Keegs, will you let me paint your nails? 

Only if I can pluck your eyebrows, she’d retorted, and that was the last he teased her and George about it.

But one-by-one, each of them began to settle in for the night. Fleur came downstairs not long after and began whispering heatedly with Bill as they shared dish-washing duty. As Bill scrubbed the plates clean, Fleur dried them with a towel and stacked them beside the sink. Sometimes they simply used magic to clean their mess, but on other nights like this one, Fleur liked to use chores as a chance to back Bill into a corner. She was certainly resourceful, Keegan thought.

“Don’t be angry with him, Bill, he’s fragile,” she heard Fleur snap before she made herself scarce. 

Her and George's bedroom was closest to the landing on the first floor. Ron's was right beside them, the door concealed by the narrow staircase railing. Keegan hesitated just metres away, listening to the quiet rustling of movement inside. She wondered if Ron would speak to her, out of anyone, about the thoughts that plagued him. Keegan wasn't family (yet.) She was a fresh pair of eyes and ears. Someone who could listen without shared blood clouding judgement.