Dark Gods in the Blood

"Françoise," he said, not unkindly. "Françoise, I'm not Harry."

"But you could be!" she wailed. "So easily!"

He recoiled at her words, even as she blanched at the realization of what she'd just said. "No, I couldn't be," he replied, rather shaken. "I'm just plain old Ron. You want me to be Harry, Françoise, but I promise you, I'm not."

"When I'm with you ..."

"When you're with me," he interrupted, "you remember all the good times. You remember Harry. But Harry's dead, Françoise. And he's not coming back."

She made a choking noise that sounded like a mix between a sob and a crazed laugh.

"I know," she gasped miserably. "I know he's dead. And I hate him for dying when I need him the most! For leaving me, for leaving our children, for ..." She gave him a piercing look. "For leaving you."

He glanced away.

"Oh, Harry always needed you far more than you needed him, but you still needed him. Just like Hermione Granger. You always needed each other. I hated Hermione for so long for leaving you two, but I always at least had a good idea of why she left. But Harry ... I don't know if I can ever forgive him. Him or that fucking Stan Walker."

Ron blinked at the expletive, strange and out of place on Françoise's lips.

"So I hate him and I love him and all I want to do is forget for a little while."

His smile was sad. "I could never make you forget. Every time you see me, Françoise, you see Harry."

"I don't --"

"Yes, you do," he countered, taking in a deep breath and dropping his bombshell. The one he hadn't even shared with Hermione. "And that's part of the reason I'm leaving."

Her eyes rounded and her mouth fell open. "What?" she breathed.

"Only part," he repeated. "But I've given it a lot of thought these last couple of weeks. Françoise, I know that you see Harry every time you look at me, because I see Harry every time I look at myself. Every time I look in the mirror, I see Harry's ghost over my shoulder." His laugh was bitter. "I've spent all these years as Harry Potter's friend that I've completely forgotten how to be Ron Weasley."

"You don't have to leave to --" she began.

He cut her off again, knowing that if she asked him to stay enough times, he would. "I do, though. I need some time away from everything to get my head back together. Actually, I've already spoken with Kingsley Shacklebolt about it -- handed in my resignation and everything -- and he's kept it from Hermione for me. I'm planning on leaving in the next couple of days."

Ron could see the acceptance dawning in her eyes -- grim and unwilling, but acceptance nonetheless. "Where will you go?" she asked dully.

"I don't know," he said. "I've never been to Australia ..."

"How long ...?"

With a little shrug, he looked away. "Until I'm ready to come back."

Her hand was unexpectedly gentle on his. "I'll let you go, Ron. I don't want to, but I will."

-- -- -- -- --

Nicholas was alone in the playroom when Ron walked in. "Alice went to her room to get her dolly," he said, correctly reading the question in Ron's eyes. "She'll probably get distracted by something, though. She always does."

Smiling a bit, he nodded. "Can I talk to you for a few minutes, Nicholas?"

"Sure." But he didn't stop setting up his toy soldiers. "But make it quick -- this is going to be a war zone in a bit."

"Between who?" he asked, dropping into a crouch beside the boy.

"Aurors and vampires," Nicholas replied tersely, rearranging a squadron to his satisfaction. "The Aurors have a bunch of dragons on their side, but the vampires've got giants, so it's going to be a tossup, really."

"Nah," Ron said in a teasing voice. "The good guys always win."

Nicholas was pensive. "Not always. Sometimes the good guys get hurt, too. Sometimes they lose, even when they should win."

Sobering, he watched Nicholas studiously put his battling armies into their positions. As soon as they were arranged to his satisfaction, he could order them around like chess pieces -- they'd been a Christmas gift from Albus Dumbledore. "Nicholas, I wanted to tell you, Hermione and her friend caught the bad guy yesterday. The one who hurt Harry."

"The one who killed my papa," he corrected mildly, turning a figure around. "The one who made him bleed."

Ron sucked in a breath. "Nicholas ..."

He kept his eyes focused solely on his toys. "I didn't want to see," he said. "I tried to close my eyes. But I couldn't help it. And then ... even when I close my eyes, I see him. He was hurt badly, wasn't he?"

Deciding not to sugarcoat the truth, Ron nodded shortly. "Yes, Nicholas, he was. Very badly. The man who hurt him was an evil man."

"Was?" Nicholas asked perceptively.

Inwardly, he swore. "He died, too," he replied. "He was trying to hurt Hermione's friend."

"The snake," he supplied with a sage nod. "The dragon was going to eat the snake, but Hermione shouted at the dragon and made it go away."

His jaw dropped as he realized that the boy was making a fair amount more than a modicum of sense. "How did you ...?"

Nicholas finally looked up at Ron with a sad smile. "I dreamed about it again. Last week. After you went away and Mum started crying again."

That hurt.

"Have you come back to stay, Uncle Ron?" he asked, cocking his head. "Mum doesn't cry as much when you're here."

"I ..." he began, trailing off when he realized he didn't know how to phrase it delicately enough.

With a calculating gaze far beyond his seven years, Nicholas frowned at him. "Are you going to marry my mama?"

For the second time in as many minutes, Ron's mouth fell open. "Nicholas ... what on Earth ...?"

"You spend all your time with her, when you're not at work or with Hermione. And I asked Hermione and she said she doesn't want to marry you. And Alice likes you. So I thought ..." Pausing, Nicholas looked rather confused.

Alice likes you, he heard. "And what about you, Nicholas?"

He would not meet his uncle's eyes. "I don't mind," he said quietly. "Especially if it makes Mama happy." He sounded very young

Nothing short of Harry Potter walking this Earth again would make Françoise happy, Ron thought ruefully, but he kept it to himself. "Nicholas ..." he began.

"After Papa ... after he went away, you tried so hard to do what he did," Nicholas continued, turning a single soldier over and over in his hand. "You tried to be Alice's papa and you tried to be my papa. But I don't want you to be my papa. You're okay as my uncle, but you're not my papa." He spoke hesitantly, as if he was afraid of making Ron angry.

Feeling an overwhelming rush of compassion for Harry's son, Ron put a steadying hand on his shoulder. "I don't want to be your papa, Nicholas,"he said quietly. "I prefer being your uncle -- no one is able to replace your father. And don't worry, kiddo -- your mum and I aren't going to get married."

He stifled a chuckle as Nicholas sighed with obvious relief.

"Actually," he continued. "I wanted to tell you something else, too. Preferably before your mum tells you all about it. She's not very happy with me, you see."

"Oh, I knew that," he replied with a little smile. "Ever since you went away, she's been mad at you."

"No, Nicholas, it's something else." His face was unreadable. "Nicholas, I'm going away for a while."

He perked with interest. "Where to?"

"I don't know."

"For how long?"

"I don't know," he repeated.

Wrinkling his nose at him, Nicholas put down his soldier. "Uncle Ron, you don't sound very good at planning trips."

He tried not to smile. "Nicholas, this is serious, all right? I'll probably be gone for a long time."

"Like a month?" he asked cheerfully.

"More like a year or two," he said.

Probably failing in the attempt, Ron tried to mask his delight as Nicholas' jaw dropped. "A year?" he cried. "But that's ... forever! What're you leaving like that for? Are you mad at us?"

"Oh, Merlin's ass, Nicholas," he exclaimed. "Of course not! It's just ... something I need to do."

"Like when Hermione left when you were young?" he asked timidly.

Ron considered it. "Actually ... yeah, sort of. Only, unlike Hermione, I fully intend to write letters. I also plan to come back sooner than thirteen years from now."

"Oh ... okay," he said, turning his attention back to his soldiers. "When are you leaving, Uncle Ron?"

"In a couple of days."

"So soon?" He nudged another formation into position.

Ron watched him shove a lock of hair impatiently out of his eyes and was reminded achingly of Harry. "It's for the best, Nicholas."

They were quiet for a bit, Nicholas meticulously organizing his armies and Ron regarding him as if this were the last time he would ever lay eyes on the boy.

"Hey ... Uncle Ron?"

He hummed questioningly.

"Erm ... I was wondering ... maybe you'd like to play armies with me?" Nicholas asked, suddenly shy. "'Cause I have two. You can even be the Aurors," he offered graciously. "And I even promise not to cheat, even though both armies would listen to me."

Ron laughed and ruffled Nicholas' hair playfully. "Sounds like fun. You do realize, though, that I'm going kick your ass, right?"

"Uh-uh," he retorted stoutly. "I'm going to kick your ass."

Sighing, he frowned at Nicholas. "Uh, Nicholas? Don't say 'ass' in front of your mum, okay?"

"Okay, Uncle Ron," he agreed with obvious glee, meaning that he was probably going to say 'ass' in front of his mother, as often as he could.

-- -- -- -- --