DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter in any way, shape or form (unfortunately).
AN: I came up with this story while not paying attention in class one day. It was meant just to be a one-shot, but I couldn't figure out how to end it quick enough. So it became a multi-chapter story. Trust me when I say, I'm not actually as depressing as this story will be, in real life. I'm a rather happy person.
WARNINGS: Implied non-con, and self-harm. I don't mean to offend anyone in the publishing of this story. It is just a story, so I apologize if I insult anyone. And remember, DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ.
It was a bright summers' day in Ottery St. Catchpole; not a cloud in the sky. Birds were chipping happily to one another, the shop owners were smiling at all who walked close enough to their window of goods to show off, and there was laughter drifting down the street.
Some miles away from this happy little town, stood an odd looking building. If anyone decided to wander down this far from Main Street, they could swear it would collapse any moment. Luckily enough for the residents of this home, no one ever came this far from town.
A family of read-heads lived in this decrepit place, and were the happiest they could be on this morning. A few of them were in what seemed to be a overgrown garden, picking up and brutally chucking small, lumpy, grey creatures over the old fence and into the field beyond. Laughter was flitting along the wind from their direction. From the main door, delicious aromas floated along, bringing with it the faintest tingle of radio music.
A portly woman, also with red hair and kind features appeared outside.
"Lunch time, everyone!"
The children stopped their assault on the creatures, and moved to the door, smiles still in place on their faces. As they filed in, the woman with red hair gave a critical eye to their dirty hands and sweaty faces.
"Where's your father?"
"He's in the shed, working on some muggle contraption." A girl answered quickly, wiping her hands on her jeans.
"Thank you Ginny, dear." She said kindly, before turning to the others. "Now go wash up while I go get him."
The matron turned to a rickety old shed, just as a tall, slightly balding man, also with red hair, stepped out. He was pointing a stick of wood at a floating square of dull silver, examining it.
"Arthur, it's time for dinner. Put your silly thing away." Molly said sternly, giving her husband a 'no nonsense' look.
He jumped, surprised, and turned to face his wife, the box still floating in the air besides him.
"Alright dear, I'll be in in a moment." He said sheepishly, sending a disappointed glance toward in latest muggle 'toy'.
She planted her feet, and folded her arms. Arthur took the hint, and quickly caught the object out of the air, and stored it in the shed. Molly smiled at her husband as he walked over to her, and placed a friendly kiss on her cheek.
Inside the house, Arthur sat down, while Molly noticed two notably empty seats.
"Ginny, have you seen Hermione and Ron?"
"They were upstairs worrying over a letter like crazy, last I checked." She replied swiftly, impatiently waiting for dinner to start. Quidditich took a lot out of a girl, after all.
"We'll start in a minute, dear. I'll just go fetch them."
Ron clutched the last letter he received from Harry, barely seeing the room he was in or the person who was with him. There was a dull, angry roar in his ears. He could not BELIEVE this! Harry had point blank refused to come to the Burrow for the rest of the summer! Again!
He was just about to burst, venting his anger at any who crossed his path, when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Give it up, Ron." Hermione said softly to him. "Shouting won't get anything done. He just needs time to think..."
"Think! He's been 'thinking' this whole goddamned summer!" Ron exclaimed angrily, crumbling up the letter in one hand, and pounding the other on his orange, poster covered wall, knocking a few down. Hermione walked over, and hugged him suddenly and tightly.
"I know it's hard with the war and all Ron, but we have to give him his space. You know how he is when he's hurting. He saw Cedric murdered less than two weeks ago. This is his way of coping…" She stated determinedly, but ended softly, as if doubting her own words.
"I don't care Hermione! No matter what he went through, he wouldn't act like this! You saw what the letter said! There's something going on with him! He would never willingly stay with those muggles!" He shouted furiously, with equal amount's of worry and fear in his voice. "We have to find out what's going on with him."
"I know." Hermione whispered, her voice thick with worry. "We have to think of something." She spoke almost to soft to hear.
Ron, turning to face her, was upset to see tears rolling down her cheeks.
"Lets start finding a way." He stated with forced bravado, trying to cheer Hermione up. It seemed to work, seeing as he was granted a watery smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. They both jumped when Mrs. Weasley shouted up the stairs;
"RONALD! HERMIONE! DINNERS READY"
They shared an amused glance, and headed down the stairs.
AN: Please Review, cause I could always use feedback. Unless you're flamers. At lease make them polite in your insulting me.