- Rating:
- PG
- House:
- The Dark Arts
- Ships:
- Ginny Weasley/Harry Potter Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
- Characters:
- Ron Weasley
- Genres:
- Inspirational Romance
- Era:
- Children of Characters in the HP novels
- Spoilers:
- Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Half-Blood Prince Deadly Hallows (Through Ch. 36) Quidditch Through the Ages Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them J.K. Rowling Interviews or Website
- Stats:
-
Published: 06/19/2007Updated: 06/19/2007Words: 1,617Chapters: 1Hits: 877
Shoes
Agape
- Story Summary:
- "Ten years is more than I am!" Ron's niece has some pretty big shoes to fill. R/Hr, G/H, one-shot
Chapter 01
- Posted:
- 06/19/2007
- Hits:
- 877
A/N: This is one I started who knows how long ago, and just recently decided to finish. I was going for profound, but I think it may have ended up more random... yeah. It reads more like a play than a story, but I *hope* that enhances the effect. Anyways, it's pretty depressing, and the second fic I've written lately that deals with this particular character's death. (Which is weird, because it's definitely not the character I expect to/ want to lose.) Anyways. Enjoy! (And then review--please?)
Shoes
"Mama, why is Uncle Ron crying?"
Ginny Potter picked up her littlest daughter and gave her a hug and a kiss. "Let Uncle Ron alone, dearest."
"But why, Mama? Why?"
"Go play with your sister."
"Mama!"
"Go on."
"But I want to know!"
"In time, dearest. In time."
**
"Ron?"
No response.
"Ron! You're worrying the children."
A sigh.
"RON!"
Mournful blue eyes met her own. "Ten years," he said hoarsely. "Ten years."
She sat down beside him and took his hand in her own. "I know."
**
"HJG... Mama, what does HJG mean?"
"HJP? Your initials, dearest."
"No, Mama--HJ gee."
"Ask your Uncle."
"Harry, I don't think that's a good idea--"
"He needs to let go, Ginny. It's no good, him just sitting there and moping."
**
The littlest Potter crept past the stair, across the carpet, behind the sofa. "Uncle Ron?" She held a smooth piece of metal in her fingers. "Uncle Ron?"
Pale, wan Ron Weasley opened an eye to glare blearily at his niece. "What?"
She held up the object in her hands. A sudden change flashed onto her uncle's features; his eyes flew open and he looked more alert and angry than she had ever seen him in her life.
"WHERE DID YOU FIND THAT?"
"Uncle Ron--"
"WHERE?"
She started to cry. "Albus found it in the attic. He was going to throw it away but I wanted to keep it. It's pretty..."
Ron snatched the ring from her fingers. He seemed to deflate as it touched his fingers and his anger bled away. "Ten years," he murmured.
"You lost it for ten years?" she ventured, wide-eyed, tears forgotten. "That's more than I am."
A wry smile twisted Ron's mouth. "It is more than you are, sweet. It is more than you." He settled back into his seat and motioned for her to come sit with him. "Would you like to hear the story?"
**
"Harry, she has been in there a long time," Ginny said worriedly. "I'm going to go check on them--"
Harry's face darkened. "Ron won't hurt her, Gin. It's his niece."
"But that ring... and you know how touchy he is, especially lately..."
"She's is fine."
"I'm going to go see anyways..."
**
Ginny peeked around the doorframe to find a surprising tableau: her brother, lately so volatile and aggressive, holding her daughter in his lap and slipping a ring on her finger. When the girl noticed her mother, she brightened and climbed to the floor.
"Mama! Mama! Look, Uncle Ron gave me a ring!"
"It's lovely, dearest." Ginny looked at her brother. "Ron..."
"It has her initials on it, Ginny."
"No, Ron. Those are her initials."
"That's what I said."
Ginny's eyes flicked worriedly from her redheaded offspring to her tired-looking brother. "Ron..."
Her daughter looked anxiously between her mother and uncle. "Can I keep it, Mama?"
"Yes," answered Ron, at the same time as Ginny began to say "No--"
"Uncle Ron says it's all right! I'm going to show Daddy."
"Ron--"
As the littlest Potter scampered from the room, Ron leaned back in his chair and smiled to himself. Ginny crossed the carpet and perched herself on the sofa opposite. "Talk to me, Ron."
He shook his head. "She's really something, you know? Could be as clever as she was. Really something. And did you know that ten years is more than she is?" His chuckle died too soon. "She could have been mine."
"She was yours, Ron, she always--"
He interrupted her impatiently. "You don't understand. Never mind." He turned away from his sister and patiently ignored her until she left the room.
**
"Ron? Hey, mate--"
Ron cracked an eye. "Bring me a drink?"
"Ginny doesn't let you drink when the kids are around. Don't be stupid."
"Ten years, Harry."
"I know. My wife told me. My daughter showed me the ring."
"It may as well be hers. I don't have anyone to pass it along to."
Harry sat on the couch recently vacated by his wife. "You want to talk about it?"
"Not unless it's with her. Well, that wouldn't really be talking, would it? It'd be more of yelling. I miss that, you know. The yelling."
"I don't." It was a lie. They both knew it.
Ron let his gaze slide to the empty doorway. "You know, those kids... we could have had some."
"Should," corrected Harry.
"Should," Ron agreed. "The first one, we'd name after you."
"Even if it were a girl?" Ron's eyes went back to his friend. Such dry humor was rare from Harry, anymore.
A glint of the old Ron shone through. "Especially. I'm sure she'd have been wild about that. Something you can't find in the books: Harry the girl. She'd go into apoplectic shock."
"You could at least call her Harriet, or something."
Ron's eyes were distant again. "No. If it was a girl, we'd name her after her mother."
Silence.
"Say her name, Ron."
Silence.
"You haven't said her name in ten years."
No response.
"Come on, mate, it's just one name, saying a name can't be any worse than this hell you've been making for yourself and everyone around you--" He was angry now, livid with pain and rage and old wounds re-opened. But Ron did not acknowledge his outburst.
"Maybe we'd call the next one Jack."
Harry just stared. "Say the name, Ron."
"Harry and Jack... then girls, of course she'd have wanted girls..."
"Ron..." Ginny stood in the doorway again. Harry waved a hand at her, shooing her away.
"Let her stay," Ron said. "Like old times."
Ginny shook her head. "Never." Pause. "You can never go back, Ron."
He looked at his hands. Big, strong hands. Not strong enough. "No," he agreed.
Harry and Ginny's daughter came flying into the room, catapulting herself into her uncle's lap.
"Look, look how it sparkles, Uncle Ron!" She flashed the band in the light. Suddenly, Ron laughed.
"It is like old times, Ginny." He pointed to the girl in his lap.
Ginny shook her head again, tears welling from her eyes. "Ron..."
With one penetrating look at Harry, Ron picked up his niece and tossed her in the air, to the child's delight. "Just like old times, I said."
"What old times?" asked his niece, breathless from flying.
"Why, the people in this room. Ask anyone; they'll tell you--'you never see them apart,' they'd say: 'Ron, Harry, Ginny--and Hermione.'"
Harry looked at his friend. "Ron..."
"That's me!" giggled his niece, thrilled. "I'm Hermione!"
"Well, not quite," Ron said. "But you're pretty close. Hey, I think you're about big enough to read. What do you say we get out one of your aunt's old books? You can help me read it."
"What aunt?" the Potter's girl asked. "Aunt Fleur? Aunt Angelina?"
"No, no, no. You don't remember this one. She's from a long time ago. Your aunt Hermione."
She gasped. "Just like me."
Harry and Ginny watched, amazed, at the transformed Ron as he swept his niece into a bear hug. "You bet just like you. In fact, it's in your best interest, missy, to try to be just as good as aunt Hermione. She's got some pretty big shoes to fill, so we'd better start soon."
Hermione Potter's eyes glowed. "Really? How big were her feet?"
Ron laughed, more honest and lighthearted than Harry or Ginny had seen in ages. "Enormous. Simply enormous."
Hermione looked askance at him. "Well, will this book make my feet grow, then? Because mine are little."
"Oh, yes. They'll get them started growing like weeds."
"Well, what book is it?"
Ginny could have sworn her brother winked at her. "What else? Hogwarts, A History."
New tears pricked at Ginny's eyelids. "Come here, Hermione," she suddenly said to her daughter.
"Why, Mama?"
"Because I just remembered that you need to go outside right now."
Hermione shrugged, used to her parents not making sense, and obediently ran out of the room. Ginny could hear the door slam behind her as she exited for the grassy yard.
Harry was grinning, and even Ron let a chuckle escape. "Big feet..." he muttered. Ron stood, the first time in a while Ginny had seen him stand straight, and walked to the window.
"Harry," Ginny beckoned, whispering. Harry softly rose from the couch and joined her at the entryway, ready to leave.
Before they left, he heard Ron's whispers, the sounds of healing, words coming as if ten years had never passed.
"I'm sorry, Hermione, you can yell if you want--I mean, you know--well, I like it when you yell. Sorry. And ten years is a long time not to talk to you, but you know Harry's littlest girl? She's going to be as clever as you--cleverer, maybe, you know... I'm sure you'd approve of Hogwarts, A History..."
Ginny tugged Harry's elbow, and he reluctantly tore himself away from the morbid, heartbreaking, but beautiful scene of a man bringing his soulmate up to date. Even as he crawled into bed that night, tucked warmly against his wife, he could swear he heard Ron in the next room muttering:
"And she's got some mighty big shoes to fill."