Autumn Air

My eyes blinked open only to come in contact with those of my son's, their bright green color and life nearly blinding me, not for the first time. His frizzy brown hair popped up every which way. Once again he shook me. I smiled.

"I'm up, I'm up..." I said slowly rising to the smell of breakfast.

"Do you know what today is? It's the 24^th!"

"Of September?" I asked in fake surprise. He nodded and grinned. "No, but that would make you 10 years old! How have these years flown by! Well, I remember when you were just a toddler and-"

"Daaaaad!" I was cut off.

"Well, it's true! It seems like only-"

"Harry! " I was cut off again by my wife's voice calling our son downstairs. I smiled for the second time this morning. Harry groaned.

"Well, go on then, I'll be down in a minute," I told him. I got dressed, combed my hair and then apparated down into the kitchen where I planted a good-morning kiss on Hermione's lips and sat down at the table.

"Mornin' Love," she said, giving me bacon and eggs. She turned to Harry. "And what does the birthday boy want for his breakfast?" she asked affectionately.

"Hmm...pancakes! With chocolate syrup!" I made a face and my son stuck his tongue out at me. Hermione's belly jiggled as she flicked her wand and gave Harry his pancakes. I was reminded that Harry would not be an only child soon. The thought made me anxious and a little nervous but I knew everything would turn out great for our new little girl. We hadn't decided on a name yet but Hermione wanted to name her Amanda. It was our house elf's idea as Amanda had been the elf's mother's name. It was a nice name but I wanted something more along the lines of Deidra or Yvonne. Something exotic and different but, then again, I had been the one that had decided on the name Harry so it really was her turn to pick.

"Can we go to Diagon Alley today? Uncle Fred and Uncle George said they'd give me a whole barrel of skiving snacks free since it was my birthday! I can use them in the Muggle School; they'll never know what's hit them." I laughed but Hermione just tutted. She had wanted Harry to go to the Muggle School before Hogwarts because she said that's where she got her great organizational skills. I had argued but in the end I decided to give up. It wouldn't hurt him to learn some math or history of muggle Britain. His granddad sure thinks it's a good idea.

"So are we?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Cours' we are," I grinned at him.

"Now Ron, I know your brother's don't mean any harm but really, don't get anything too dangerous," chided Hermione.

"Mum! Skiving snacks aren't dangerous...now Wildfire Whiz Bangs on the other hand-"

"Harry!"

~

Diagon Alley was crowded as ever. I spose' with school starting up again it would be but really, it was mad. Inside Flourish and Blotts Harry met up with Ernie Maccimillian's son. They live in our development on the outskirts of London so Harry and Jet have always been good friends. Jet is starting his first year at Hogwarts so there's a one year age difference but it's no big, they get along great. Harry and Jet had run off to one section of the book store or another when I saw a familiar pale blonde at the end of the aisle I was in. I pretended to act like I didn't notice and continued looking at "Guide to Herbolagy, for all ages" when Draco Malfoy passed me, did a double take and then came back to where I was standing.

"Weasly, good to see you," he said in a mock tone of happiness. I forced a smile as a young girl who looked to be about 13 came up behind him.

"Lo'," I mumbled.

"How's the...Mrs.?" asked Draco in a way that was obvious he was trying not to criticize Hermione. Well he was putting in an effort to be civil. So would I.

"Great. So I hear your working for the ministry now..." Well, I had heard that, but I had no idea which department and what came next hit me hard.

"Yeah, I'm an Auror, "he said calmly and I met his gaze, stunned. " You?" he asked.

"Keeper for the Chudley Cannons," I said proudly. And I had a right to be proud too. They hadn't won a game for years until I came on the team. Now we're competing for the Quidditch world cup.

"Oh, of course."

"Daddy, can we go now."

"Yes, darling. Well, Weas-....Ron, I better be going. "And with that he was gone. Draco Malfoy called me Ron. Never. Not once in my life had he ever called me by my first name. And believe me; I've been called a lot of things by him...Including King. Well, that was certainly something I would be telling Hermione.

~

It was actually a quiet day for Weasly's Wizard Wheezes. As promised Harry got his Skiving Snacks but not without a bit of teasing.

"Can I have my skiving snacks? You promised on my birthday that I'd get them! Please?"

"Do we know this little boy, Fred?"

"I don't believe we do, George."

"Nope, I'm sorry mate but you're going to have to pay for them just like everybody else."

"What? I'm your nephew!"

"Oh give it a rest you two! Honestly..." Fred's Fiancé, Katie Bell had said as she handed Harry his snacks and ruffled is hair. Harry thanked her and ran off to look around the shop.

"Are you going to tell him?" asked Fred seriously, which, mind you, was an accomplishment for him.

"What are you talking about?" I retorted but I knew what he was talking about. He was talking about what had happened 12 years ago. 12 years ago this autumn. In Hermione and mine's 7^th year of Hogwarts. The year my best friend died. The year I decided our first born child was going to be named Harry. And Hermione had agreed.

"You know what we're talking about. " George said coolly.

"I don't see why he has to know." I replied in a equally cool voice.

"Ron, you have to tell him. When he goes off to school he's bound to find out!"

"It doesn't concern him anyway." I said, my anger slowly building.

"Yes it does. Its how the boy got his name." said Fred.

"And look at those green eyes? You think that's normal? He got the freckles from you, the hair from Hermione but the eyes, Ron. Where did he get those?"

I slowly looked up at the small boy, with his frizzy brown hair and green eyes the size of London, I swear. I turned toward George.

"I don't know," I said. Even though I knew my lie was not fooling anyone.

"You do know. And you also know that you have to tell him."

"Tell me what?" asked a small voice and I jumped a foot in the air. I looked from Fred to George and back again but I could tell they weren't going to get me out of this one.

"Come on Harry; let's go home, I'm sure Pig has brought you something good from your friends..."

"But dad," whined my son. His eyes looked up at me threatening to fill with tears but I didn't look into them. I couldn't.

~

I sat on the roof over my house. My head pounding and my emotions racing. I looked up at the full moon and sighed. I hadn't talked to Hermione about telling Harry, but then again we never talked about that. I'm sure she knew though. I'm sure she knew my son came home crying. Why he claimed I hated him. She had taken him in her arms and put him to bed. Singing lullabies and cooing sweet words. I couldn't look at my own son. I felt terrible. I had let him down. After 10 years of trying. Pushing the memories away, forgetting, and putting on a smile even when I was screaming inside. I had broken. I felt an arm brush mine. She rested her head on my chest and I felt her wet tears.

"Ron...we need to talk," she whispered. I tried to speak but nothing would come out. So I nodded instead. "It wasn't your fault..." she said. I tried not to think about anything. I tried to clear my mind. Make it blank so no thoughts could escape or enter. It didn't work. I felt my tears burning in my throat as I pushed them down. I knew me and Hermione were both thinking about that same day. September 30^th....12 years ago. Voldemort was defeated, yes. But Harry had not the strength to go on. For the last time I tried to force the memories down but they all came flooding back to me.

I was 17. Voldemort had just been defeated. He evaporated into thin air. I lay on the ground. Unable to move, half dead if not more. Hermione over me, splashing cold water on my face, was crying. My thoughts were blurred. All I knew was that I was going to die. Then I heard his voice.

"Ron, I'm going to perform Serena viva on you. It's the only way you'll survive," said Harry, it was a half voice. Barely even a whisper. If it was possible, I had thought, he was worse off than I was.

"You can't...that would kill you..." I breathed.

"Don't you understand, Ron? I can't be saved. No matter how much life is given to me, no matter what spells you do...I've done what was needed...I've defeated him...he's not coming back..." I tried to protest but Hermione shushed me.

" I love you, Harry...you know, your our best friend and we couldn't of made it at all without you...don't leave us...we'll get help..." whispered Hermione as she stifled a hiccup.

"No, there's not enough time...but Hermione...," he took her hand and half spoke, half mouthed," I'm always going to be with you guys...no matter what...I promise." Then he said something in another language and when he was finished Hermione took back her hand like she'd been shocked. Harry smiled a sort of mad smile and...fell back...I never heard him say another word but I felt much better, fully revived and fully in sorrow...

"It really was the worst way he could go..." I said softly.

"No Ron, it wasn't. He could have died alone. With no comfort...no anything. "I sighed. Tomorrow I would tell my son.

"I'll do it tomorrow...I'll tell him tomorrow..." I whispered. Hermione smiled up at me and at once I knew I had made the right decision.

~

Harry took it very well. At first he wouldn't speak to me. I was hurt but I more than understood. I really am glad Hermione and I talked with him. They say talking helps everything. It does.

As I sit in the graveyard where my best friend was buried, with one arm around my wife and the other around my son, he looks up at me with those big green eyes and asks, " Dad, was he brave?" I reply with only the truth.

"The bravest." And as we sit here, with the leaves all around us different colors, dropping to the ground and the smell of autumn surrounding us, I know that the love that Lily passed on to Harry now lives on in my son. I can even remember perfect moments of my friend complaining about that potions exam or cheering on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. And as I take in a breathe, I hear a faint familiar laugh echoing through out the crisp autumn air.