The Importance of Being Ron

I've never been referred to as Ron Weasley. I was born Just Another Weasley. I became Someone's Younger Brother. I went to Hogwarts and received three new titles: Harry Potter's Sidekick, Hermione Granger's Friend, and Weasel. And I've always wanted to be Ron. In fact, I was really looking forward to graduating Hogwarts and leaving my nicknames behind. I could be Ron. But that didn't happen. Instead, Hermione and I joined Harry on his adventure instead of going to Hogwarts. Not that it mattered--Hogwarts didn't even open our seventh year. So we went with Harry to finish Dumbledore's work. My mother was terrified. She didn't think that we would return. To be honest, I didn't think that we would return, either. I never told anyone, though. I tried to be positive. I nodded whenever Harry said how things were going to go so well. I managed a smile. The thing is, if Dumbledore's going to die, how can things be all right? I thought, he's the greatest wizard alive! Or, he was. If Voldemort can get rid of Dumbledore, he can get rid of anything! So when I left home and joined my friends on Harry's trip, I said my good-byes to my family and friends and thought it would be the last time that I saw them. I really did. As were leaving the Burrow, I kept looking back, trying to remember that moment exactly. My brothers and father looking proud, smiling at me. My mother was crying silently. She didn't think I would be coming back, either. Then I looked at my sister, Ginny. She wasn't looking back at me. She was looking at Harry, looking at him like she would never see him again. And I figured she probably was right. When I turned back to face the road ahead of us, I caught Hermione's eye. She smiled at me and took my hand in hers, but I saw the look in her eyes. Her eyes weren't showing me a smile. I knew then that she didn't think we would be seeing the Burrow again. But she didn't look afraid. She looked determined. She knew that she might die on the journey, but she had accepted that. And I suddenly became determined as well. I smiled, the same smile that my brothers and father had given me moments earlier. I wasn't scared, I discovered. I was proud and ready. I was doing something good for the entire wizard world. I was going to help Harry Potter, my best friend and Boy Who Lived. Surely something could be said for that. Certainly my nicknames wouldn't continue after I made such a sacrifice.

Now, I didn't go with Harry for "eternal glory." I went with Harry because he was my friend and there wasn't any other place for me. I could have stayed at the Burrow, watched while everyone else made an effort, but that wouldn't have worked. Not at all. I hate staying on the sidelines, watching everyone else work. I need to be a part of something, something great.

But now, years after I left the Burrow, I can look back and realize that I shouldn't have come back. Things would have been a lot nicer had I not returned.

******

It took over a year to find the remaining Hocruxes. During that time, I had little contact with my family. I had no idea what was going on with the war. No idea what was happening. My world became Harry and Hermione and our quest. But at least they all called me Ron. That was nice. I always appreciated that, when I was with Harry and Hermione, I never was Charlie's Brother or Weasel. I was always just Ron. And there's something special to that. So I enjoyed that year. Sure, it was hard work and I saw things and did things I'd rather not have done. And there were several times we all considered giving up and going home. Wait--that isn't true. Harry never thought about giving up and going home. It was just me and Hermione. Several nights, long after Harry went to bed, that Hermione and I talked. We talked about what would happen when we returned. We talked about what our seventh year could have been liked. And we talked about leaving Harry, what he would do without us. I think Hermione felt bad about those talks, about leaving Harry. I know I did. But Hermione always said that Harry would not be able to finish his search without us. And that made me feel better. Harry never told us that himself. He was too busy with his job. Sometimes, I thought that maybe he took us for granted. When I told Hermione this, she gave me a sharp look and told me not to say such things. But she didn't sound very angry, didn't sound like she usually did when she chastised me. So I think maybe she agreed with me, just a little bit. I mean, that's just how Harry is. Maybe he did take us for granted. But he didn't mean to take us for granted. I'm sure if he knew what he was doing, he would have apologized. He was just too caught up in being Harry Potter, saving the world and all that.

So we finished the task. As we were searching for the final Hocrux, I kept waiting for something to happen. I kept waiting for Voldemort to figure out what we were up to and send someone to finish us off. I kept waiting for some trap Voldemort had set to protect his precious Hocruxes to be too much for three teenage wizards. But it never was too much. We always managed to survive, with Hermione's intelligence, Harry's bravery, and my sheer dumb luck. Maybe Hermione and I were in the way sometimes, but I know we helped more than enough to make up for that. We found and destroyed the final item. It was difficult, just as the previous one had been. Afterwards, we went to a local tavern and rented a room for the night. It was the first room we had stayed in. Previously, we had slept in tents and in caves, never wanting to do something as outrageous as rent a room, chancing that someone who knew who we are would see us. But the final Hocrux had been destroyed. The only bit of Voldemort's soul that remained was the part that was in his body. That night, as I showered, I wondered if Voldemort knew, if he could feel what we had done. I couldn't imagine loosing a bit of my own soul. That night, Harry fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, as usual. I couldn't sleep. I lay on the couch--there were only two beds and I was just a Weasley, I didn't need a bed. I looked at the ceiling. Sometime in the middle of the night I heard Hermione's voice, tiny and hesitant from across the room, wondering if I was awake. I was. So we sneaked into the hall and stayed there the rest of the night, talking. We didn't want to wake Harry. That morning he found the both of us asleep in the hall, me leaning against the wall and Hermione with her head on my shoulder. When he woke us up there was a big smile on his face. He announced that we were going home. For some reason, I couldn't smile back.

The thing is, I wasn't expecting on coming home. I wasn't prepared. After working with Harry for a year, I couldn't imagine going home and returning to normal life. Would we have to go back to school, without Dumbledore? Would they let us be a part of the war, or would we have to stay at the Burrow and listen to everyone else's stories? I knew that they would let Harry work with the Order. How could they not? He was the Boy Who Lived. He had destroyed Voldemort's soul. Well, almost. And they would probably let Hermione in the Order as well. After all, it was her intelligence that had gotten us this far. But I didn't know about old Ron Weasley. I didn't know if they would have a role for him in the war. So I wasn't really looking forward to going back. When I was with Harry and Hermione, I certainly had a role. I had helped them and I was an equal.

We arrived in Ottery St. Catchpole at noon the next day. The entire journey home Harry had talked about what he hoped would happen when we returned. He wondered if there would be a party, or if everyone at the Burrow would have them recount their tale repeatedly. He was so excited. I'll admit, it was a bit contagious. I started wondering what would happen, finally admitting to myself that we were going to go home. So we arrived at the Burrow that afternoon without any warning. Harry had wanted to surprise everyone. Hermione conceded, even though she didn't really think just popping in was wise. When we got to the Burrow, part of me just wanted to go in through the back door, like I had a hundred other times. But another part of me wanted to go to the front door and knock. I didn't think I could be Someone's Brother or Harry's Friend anymore. After what I had done, I wasn't the same person who said good-bye to his family a year ago. I was someone else. And the Burrow just didn't feel like home. So we went to the front door and knocked.

Harry was grinning from ear to ear, shifting his weight from foot to foot, waiting for someone to answer the door. Hermione gave him a small smile, but she didn't look too excited. We stood like that for a good ten minutes. No one came. We ended up going through the backdoor anyway. The Burrow seemed exactly as we had left it. Not a piece of furniture had been moved, which didn't feel right. After all that had happened in the past year, I felt that surely something must have changed here as well. But it looked just the same. But still, something felt different. Maybe the atmosphere had changed, or there was a different smell. Later I realized it was the emptiness of the Burrow. Eventually, I got used to the emptiness--I didn't have much else to do. The three of us moved through the kitchen, then the dining room, then the sitting room. Again, all the furniture seemed to be the same. The same pictures were still on the wall. I couldn't be sure, but it seemed like the coats by the front door were even the same. Harry started yelling, calling for someone, anyone. No one answered. Hermione looked worried and I suppose I looked worried as well. Harry was still grinning. He hurried up the stairs and we followed. What else could we do?

The upstairs rooms were the same. Someone else was using my room, though. While my things were still there, someone else's clothes and personal affects had been strewn about as well. Ginny's room was different. Someone had painted it white. The dolls and posters were gone. But her clothes were still there. Maybe she had just changed it. I couldn't imagine anyone having time to paint a room while there was a war going on. My parents' room looked the same as I remembered, as did my brothers' rooms. Finally, Harry stopped smiling and started looking concerned. Hermione hated seeing him like that and assured him that everyone was probably busy with things, at work or something. Honestly, I hated seeing him like that too and was glad he seemed to accept her excuse. We started going back downstairs when we heard someone in the kitchen. Hermione and I pulled out our wands while Harry bounded down the remaining stairs and ran into the kitchen. He got there before we did, but we heard his astonished cry when he discovered who was in the kitchen. Draco Malfoy had been raiding our pantry, looking for something to eat.

Years later, looking back, I still wish we had Owled everyone to let them know we were finally coming home. Maybe then we could have had a proper welcome and maybe we could have been re-introduced to Malfoy just a bit better.

****

When we left on our little journey Snape and Malfoy were still missing. Everyone believed Harry's story and we knew that Malfoy had tried to kill Dumbledore and that Snape had succeeded. I kept waiting for Harry to gloat, to say I told you so. After all, he had been pretty obsessed with Malfoy. But he never said anything about it. And that made me feel bad, because I probably would have gloated. But I'm digressing, again. I tend to do that sometimes and I apologize. Anyway, when we left all those years ago, they were still missing. The Ministry had issued a warrant for their arrest and a reward had even been offered for their capture or any news of their whereabouts. Malfoy Manor was put under constant surveillance and Narcissa Malfoy was questioned many times, but the Ministry stopped worrying about her when she put out her own notice of a reward for anyone who had any information about her only son. When we left, Lucius Malfoy was two weeks away from receiving the Kiss. So I honestly wasn't too worried about the Malfoys when we left. I mean, if Lucius was going to be given the Kiss, what was there to worry about? Narcissa Malfoy was just his wife and Draco Malfoy had proved himself incapable of doing anything really evil. He was just a schoolyard bully, it turned out. So I didn't think much about them, until he turned up in our kitchen.

Harry performed some spell on him that kept him in the pantry. If it hadn't been for the circumstances, I would have laughed. Draco Malfoy was trapped in the Weasley pantry, stealing food. Now, I don't even think about laughing. Harry yelled at him, demanded to know what the hell was going on and where everyone was. Hermione told him to calm down. I simply sat at the kitchen table and watched. Eventually, Hermione gave up and sat down next to me. Harry remained standing, his wand pointed at Malfoy. While Harry was yelling, I took the time to seriously look at the blonde. He didn't look quite as polished as he did in school. But he was still holding his head high, looking down his pointy nose at us. He demanded he be let out of the pantry. Harry demanded answers. I encouraged Harry. Hermione informed us that we would not get anywhere at this rate and that it would be better if we all calmed down and talked like civilized adults. We all nodded at Hermione, except for Malfoy, who just sneered. But when Hermione asked him what he was doing at the Burrow, he answered. I thought he was lying then, but it later turned out he was telling the truth. Kind of.

After Malfoy and Snape left Hogwarts that night, they escaped to some foreign village. Malfoy said he didn't know where it was, he just knew that it was where the portkey Snape had given him led. It turns out, Malfoy didn't ask a lot of questions when it came to Death Eater duties. Which pissed me off. He was always bothering us. Anyway, they stayed in this village for a few weeks. Malfoy kept waiting for other Death Eaters to show up, but they never did. He said he was worried that Voldemort was going to go after him and he wanted to know that his mother was okay. I smiled when he said that--Malfoy missed his mum. But no one ever came and eventually Snape announced that they had waited long enough. Snape Apparated both of them to Ottery St. Catchpole without telling Malfoy where they had been going. He didn't realize where they were until he saw the Burrow, at which point he turned and tried to run in the opposite direction, but Snape had him by the collar and wouldn't let him get away. While I laughed at the idea of Snape holding Malfoy back by the collar, I didn't like the idea of Malfoy at my childhood home. Or was it still my home at that point?

Malfoy told us that he and Snape had approached the Burrow and knocked on the front door. Just went up and knocked on the front door. See, there were wards on the Burrow then, strong wards, but we still needed a way to interact. So people were able to go to the front door, but they couldn't do anything else. They couldn't go around to the backyard or see anything on the inside. Unless someone let them in or they lived at the Burrow. I guess someone let Malfoy in. How else would he get into the pantry? I'm digressing again. So they knocked on the front door. Ginny, my little sister, is the one who opened the door. Apparently, they were expecting someone from the Ministry about that time. Imagine her surprise, when instead she finds Snape and Malfoy. Poor girl. I hoped she had recovered. At that point, several Order members and my brothers rushed outside and pointed their wands at the two men on the front porch. They surrounded them and demanded they know what they were doing at the Burrow. At that point, Malfoy got lazy and started summarizing, probably because he didn't know the details. Somehow, Snape convinced him that Dumbledore knew what was going on. Dumbledore knew exactly what Malfoy was doing and that he expected Snape to do what he did that night. He had proof. Dumbledore wanted Snape to keep up his agent role. At this point in the story, I started calling Malfoy a liar and other unpopular names while Harry started yelling again. Hermione sighed and told us all to shut up. She told Malfoy to continue. He smirked at me and continued his story. At that moment, I really wanted to punch him. I really did. But Hermione put her hand over mine and told me to stay still.

Now, years later, I really wish I hadn't listened to her. And there's not many times that I can say that. Punching Malfoy, just once, would make a nice memory.

******

So Malfoy finished his little story. Apparently, Snape's evidence was damn good evidence. The Order accepted his story. Malfoy couldn't go back to Voldemort because he had failed in his task and surely Voldemort would kill him. Snape conveniently reminded the Order of Dumbledore's offer and the Order begrudgingly agreed to protect Malfoy. Snape went into his old role as a spy. He claimed that Malfoy had died that night at Hogwarts. None of the Death Eaters contradicted him and he was welcomed back into their circle. And ever since then, Malfoy had been staying at the Burrow, being protected by the Order. And that was Malfoy's story.

He then demanded he be let out of the pantry. Hermione told Harry to terminate the spell, but he didn't listen. His eyes and his wand were still focused on Malfoy. I wasn't feeling too well at the moment. In fact, I sort of wanted to be sick on the kitchen floor. Draco Malfoy had been living at my house? For a year? I couldn't imagine him interacting with my family, with the Order, for all that time. My house was mine; my family was mine. Malfoy belonged at school, something completely separate from home. But there he was.

Malfoy broke my reverie by trying to get out of the pantry. The shield created by the spell forced Malfoy backwards so he crashed against the wall and fell to the floor. I had to laugh. Then he stood up quickly, brushing himself off, and called me Weasel. That stupid nickname. I stopped laughing. No one had called me that in so long, I had almost forgotten it existed. Harry took advantage of the silence and asked again where everyone was. Malfoy shrugged and asked us why we were there anyway and weren't we supposed to be off saving the world? Harry was supposed to be off saving the world. I was home, exactly where I should be. But I couldn't tell Draco Malfoy that. Instead, I told him that I wanted to know where my family was. He started to make some rude comment when we all heard the front door open. It was Ginny. She called Malfoy's name, calling him Draco, and telling him about something Remus Lupin had said. She came into the kitchen and immediately stopped talking. Her jaw dropped to the floor. And to be honest, so did mine. She didn't look like my little sister. She was wearing an old jumper of mine that was too big for her and jeans that had seen better days, but there was something different about her. She looked a bit like she had spent the last year traveling the world, looking for Hocruxes as well. Harry dropped his wand and ran to hug her, mumbling her name. Ginny didn't hug him back. Instead, she looked around the room, took in Malfoy's position in the pantry and my appearance. She looked confused. She asked us what was going on. I opened my mouth to tell her when Malfoy beat me to it. He informed her that we had apparently returned from our little journey earlier than expected and had forced him into the pantry. He informed her that we had made him re-tell the painful story of what had happened after Snape murdered Dumbledore. And the way he was looking at my sister and that tone he was using made me uncomfortable. He was trying to elicit pity from my sister. What the hell was that about? But Ginny ignored him and came to where Hermione and I were standing. She hugged me and then Hermione, demanding us to tell her everything.

She looked so happy to see us, that I had to smile. That was more like what a homecoming should have been. All smiles and hugs. But we didn't get to tell her much. We had only started out story when Malfoy started whining again and Ginny made Harry release him. Malfoy sauntered out of the pantry, glaring at us. Hermione continued telling the story where I had left off, but I stopped paying attention. I focused on Malfoy. He was walking about the kitchen, gathering things for making a sandwich. I watched him make his sandwich, watched him as he sat next to Ginny at the table and eat it, and I started feeling sick again. He just looked so comfortable, so at home. And it was my bloody home. I had never imagined him at the Burrow and didn't think I could handle it now that he was there. I looked at the end of the table to see if Harry was having as much difficulty adjusting to Draco's presence as I was. He didn't look at me. He was too busy staring at Ginny.

By six o'clock that evening, everyone in the Order knew we were back. Celebrations were planned. The Daily Prophet was called. People kept pulling Harry to the side to talk to him, whispering things in his ear. No one wanted to talk to me or Hermione. Once our story was told, Hermione and I were pretty much useless. No one wanted to talk to us. And I started to fear that maybe I was becoming Harry Potter's Best Friend again.

*****

Two days later, things settled down a bit and Mum had a small dinner party. It was just family, with Remus and Tonks and Fleur. I was disappointed when Malfoy joined us as well, but everyone assured me that he lived at the Burrow now, and that, while he certainly wasn't family yet, he at least earned an invitation to our dinner party. Besides, he would have come anyway, invited or not.

I was glad for a quiet dinner with my family. The past couple of days had been chaotic. There were several interviews and meetings. Everyone wanted to hear our stories. But then the articles would come out and Hermione and I would get a couple of quotes, a couple of mentions, and then the journalists would prattle on for pages about Harry Potter. It was really disappointing, actually. We had worked so hard, and no one was interested. I was looking forward to getting a little recognition. But at least my family was proud. Mum kept going on about how I was such a brave hero. She kept crying and hugging me. Of course, she did the same thing to Harry and Hermione, but I was her son. But I supposed the excitement was coming to an end. I didn't have any meetings to attend or interviews to give after that dinner. Neither did Hermione. Of course, Harry was busy. He had become a full-fledged Order member. He had lots of things going on. Now, I wasn't bitter. Harry deserved to be part of the Order. After all he had done, he deserved to be a part of the fight. But what about me? I had fought to. So had Hermione. It turns out, she wasn't bright enough for the Order, which I couldn't believe.

But I was happy that Malfoy didn't have much to do either. Turns out, he spent most of his days laying about the Burrow, complaining and annoying everyone else. He couldn't leave because someone might see him. He couldn't help the Order because they didn't trust him well enough. He was stuck as well. Ginny did have a job in the Order, even though she wasn't technically a member--she had to stay at the Burrow. That was pretty much her job. She was fairly safe because of all the wards. And Malfoy was always with her, which, in my opinion, put her in more danger, but it had been going on for a year, so there wasn't much I could say. She told me that it was a boring job. She just made sure the house didn't fall down. Occasionally, someone would come by, needing to find someone else and she was always knew who was where and what they needed. So at least she was well informed. She also helped people who were injured and ended up staying at the Burrow for a short time. So she was sort of a hostess as well. She told me repeatedly she was glad Hermione and I would be there to keep her company, which made me happy. But anyway. Back to the dinner party.

It was a nice party. Malfoy didn't say much. The food was good. I got to talk to my brothers again, though there were several awkward conversations. Everyone had already heard my new stories several times and my brothers couldn't say much to me--they were all very involved with the Order and I couldn't know any details. But still--it was a nice dinner.

****

Over the next few months, I kept remembering that dinner. It was probably the last really happy night of my life. After that dinner, my brothers and father and mother went back to their Order positions, full swing. They were suddenly very busy and I rarely saw them. In fact, the only people I ever really saw the next few months were Hermione, Ginny, and Draco. At that point, I called him Draco. It just seemed easier. He started calling me Weasley instead of Weasel and Hermione, Granger, instead of Mudblood. Which was kind of nice. I don't know what I would have done if he called me Ron. That would have been too much. Harry left too. He was gone the morning after the dinner party. He didn't even say good-bye to me or Hermione.

Which, now, kind of makes me glad. Because if he said good-bye, I wouldn't be able to blame him. Not that I blame him for everything, but for a lot of things. I know what's happened isn't really his fault, but it makes it easier for me to blame someone. Because if I can't blame someone else, I have to blame me. And I'm not ready to do that, okay?

So everyone seemed to forget what Hermione and I had done. The Order was suddenly very busy. The Hocruxes were gone and they had important things to do. I hated being upset by my lack of work in the Order. It was Harry's role, really, but I wish I could have done something. It got even worse when I had to stay at home all day with Malfoy.

Initially, I was sort of looking forward to staying at home, doing nothing. Of course, I hadn't realized how boring it could be or how long that stay would last. I certainly didn't think it would last half a year. Each day was the same. We would all get up about the same time, though Malfoy always managed to sleep in later the everyone, even if it was by only a few minutes. Ginny would fix us breakfast--she had learned how to cook while we were away. Then we would busy ourselves until lunch. Hermione would read some book someone had brought her. Malfoy would go to his room and do who knows what. Ginny had a few things to sort out for the Order. Mainly it was messages to deliver, but occasionally she had actually had something serious to do, like copy a paper. And I played chess. A lot of chess. Then we ate lunch. This time, Malfoy did the cooking. Yes, Malfoy cooked for us. We never had anything fancy. It was usually just sandwiches. At the beginning, I was surprised that Malfoy would lift a finger and do anything as degrading as cooking. But he did. And he did so without complaining or poisoning our food, though I was hesitant to eat everything he put before me in the beginning. Then we would spend the rest of the afternoon cleaning. We cleaned the entire Burrow. I was never really sure of who was staying at the Burrow at any given time. They weren't home when I went to bed and they were long gone by the time I woke up. Occasionally, Mum would leave me a little note. The only way I could judge who was staying at the house at that time was by how dirty the place got. And it got dirty. I assumed that people only came to the Burrow to sleep, but I suppose I was wrong. There was trash everywhere. Beds to be made. Though I hated being a housekeeper, at least it was something to do. Within my first month home, I realized how dangerous boredom can be. After we were done cleaning, we would play games. Go outside. Anything to keep busy. Then Hermione and I would help each other fix dinner for everyone. Neither one of us was very good at cooking, but together we managed a decent meal. We got better the longer we were there. Also, it gave us some alone-time, which was nice. It didn't occur to me until later that that also gave Draco and Ginny alone-time. We would eat dinner in silence. Afterwards, we went to Mum and Dad's room. There was something in there that my parents had kept from me. Or maybe it was something they had acquired while I was away. Mum and Dad had a television.

We spent the hours between dinner and sleep watching television. At first, Hermione thought that it was a ridiculous waste of time. Then she ended up watching as well. There simply wasn't anything else to do. I was fascinated by television. It provided a temporary escape. I was able to forget what was going on outside the Burrow that I was missing. It made me forget the year that I had had. Even Draco watched television with us, though he pretended he didn't enjoy the Muggle invention. And maybe he didn't. But what else was he going to do?

And then we went to bed, earlier than I ever went to bed, even when I was young. And that was our life, for several months. Sometimes, I would wonder if that was how Draco and Ginny had lived for a whole year. I wondered how she dealt with it. Draco was just thrown at her. She wasn't forced to believe he was different, like we had. She had to discover it on her own. And I wondered how they fell into their particular routine, which Hermione and I just adopted from them. I wondered a lot of things. There wasn't much else to do.

But occasionally exciting things happened. Someone would turn up injured. We would help him or her recover, though we were never allowed to ask questions or say anything negative. And then there were times we were able to go to Diagon Alley. Someone would leave us with a list of things needed and money. It was almost exciting. Of course, Draco wasn't able to go with us and I enjoyed leaving him behind, even if it was for just a few hours. And other times some Order members wouldn't have anything to do for a few hours and they would stop by and entertain us for a few hours. While they couldn't give details, they could give us a general idea. They made it sound like we were winning. They were all so positive.

They were also liars.

But we also received several magazines and newspapers. Draco paid for subscriptions to pretty much every wizard publication, be it Witch Weekley, The Daily Prophet, or Playwizard. He needed something to do with his time, after all, and he had money to waste. Apparently, he had taken some money out of his family vault before his final school term. Which made me wonder what exactly he had expected to happen that night on the tower. So we had all these magazines. And we read everything. While Ginny and Hermione refused to touch the adult magazines, I did. I needed something to read. And it was nice to know that some things never changed, even in the middle of the war. But then there were all the other magazines and newspapers. And they still seemed to be focused on what Harry had accomplished. Even though we knew not to believe everything printed in those publications, those papers provided more knowledge than our friends and family gave us. We knew that those Order members who visited us weren't telling the whole truth and that Voldemort was getting a little bit more power than they wanted us to believe. Yes, the Order was technically winning and doing quite well, but Voldemort wasn't slowing down. It made me wonder why I had wasted that year, if Voldemort was still doing so well. But that year was only made more useless by the publications. Hermione and I were rarely mentioned. If we were, it was only in passing. We were never quoted, unless it was something we said about Harry. And Harry was everywhere. He was all over the media. It was a bit disgusting, actually.

One morning, Draco was actually up before the rest of us. I came downstairs to find him drinking coffee and reading the Daily Prophet. He smirked at me when I entered the kitchen. I rolled my eyes and sat down at the table, far away from him. I was too tired to put up with him before my breakfast. I was contemplating waking Ginny up when he shoved the paper under my nose. He told me to read it, still smirking. And so I read it while he watched. Harry was on the front page. That didn't bother me by that point--Harry was always on the bloody front page. And the article didn't seem so bad. It was just another article about Harry and all he had done. And it didn't sound like he had done anything recently. I thought it must be a slow news day. And I was just beginning to wonder what Malfoy was so smug about when I saw it. There it was in print.

Harry had been accompanied by Hermione Granger, a smart witch from Harry's Hogwart's days, and Ron Weasley, his Best Friend...

For a second, I couldn't believe it. I thought that Malfoy had done something to the paper. How could they print my name like that? I was more than Harry's friend. Why did they have to call me that? Why did it have to be capitalized?

Harry never visited us while we were stuck in the Burrow. He never Owled. Everyone said he was too busy. He had so much going on. After all, he was the Boy Who Lived. But still, we were there for six months. Six months. That's half the time we spent helping him save the world. Six months and he didn't try to contact us, see us. Hermione and I were supposed to be his friends. And wasn't he dating Ginny? One night I spoke with Ginny about it, wanted to know how she dealt with his abrupt disappearance. She just shrugged, said she didn't really notice it anymore. And then she smirked at me and said that he was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and what did I expect?

After six months of being stuck in the Burrow, we found a way to get out and make something of ourselves. Found something to do. Six months after our return, Ginny Weasley received the Dark Mark. I was there when she did it. I watched. I wasn't proud of her and I certainly wasn't planning on joining her. And later that night, the first night she spent at Malfoy Manor, miles away from the Burrow, Draco Malfoy proposed to her and she accepted. And I kind of understood why she did it. She just wanted to do something, to fit in somewhere. She would never be a part of the Order because they didn't need her. But the Death Eaters needed her. She was a connection with the Order. She was a direct contact to the Weasleys, who were very active in the Order. And she was also important to Draco Malfoy, it turns out. He needed someone that year and a half he was stuck at the Burrow, following Voldemort's orders, and Ginny was that person. I don't know if he really loved her, but I think she grew to love him and I know he needed her. And Ginny had another use for the Death Eaters--she brought them Harry Potter's Best Friend. That night I asked her about Harry she told me the truth. She told me that Malfoy had been instructed by Voldemort since his arrival at the Burrow. True, he was in trouble for not killing Dumbledore, but he more than made up for it by communicating to Voldemort during that year and a half and telling him everything he knew. Turns out, Malfoy spent his free time, that time in his room that I didn't know about, sending Voldemort secret messages through old copies of Playwizard and other publications. No one would think an old magazine would need to be checked, need to be inspected for dark magic. But Draco surprised everyone. We all did. And that night Ginny convinced me that we could become something more. She informed me that she thought that she was in love and that she couldn't stand another second in the Burrow. She told me that I could come to. At that moment, I thought of the year I had spent with Hermione and Harry. They were my best friends. I couldn't just leave them. But I couldn't stay at the Burrow. Then I thought of that article in the Daily Prophet. But I didn't want to be Harry Potter's Best Friend, either. I told Ginny I wouldn't go without Hermione. She said she understood.

And I tried to convince Hermione. Really, I did. Tried my best. But she just wouldn't listen. She couldn't believe that I was thinking about leaving. She said she was happy at the Burrow. That night, Draco and Ginny were ready to leave. Ginny was going to get the Mark that night, that symbol that Draco had hidden under a glamour charm for the past year and a half. Hermione refused to go.

Leaving Hermione was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I always thought that we would be together. Sure, Harry might leave us, but he would leave us together. And I really thought that I could love her. Not love her like a friend, but really love her. But she wouldn't go, wouldn't even think about. And so I left her. She was crying and screaming, begging me to stay. But I turned my back on her and walked out the door.

****

We ended up at Malfoy Manor. I don't remember how I got there and don't care. Narcissa greeted us. She wasn't very pleased to see Ginny or I but she was happy to see Draco. At least, I think she was happy. I've known Narcissa Malfoy for over a decade now and I still can't really discern her emotions. But anyway, she showed us to our rooms. Draco and Ginny would be staying in his old room and I would be staying in a room not far down the hall. Later I was informed that was the room that Draco's friends would stay in when they spent the night. I tried to ignore that. I didn't want to be Draco Malfoy's Best Friend either. And that night I watched as my sister took the Mark. They let me watch because they thought it might encourage me to take the Mark as well. They wanted me to see the devotion Ginny was showing to the Dark Lord. But the thing is, I knew she wasn't showing devotion to Voldemort. Even as she started screaming and clutching at her arm, even as the other Death Eaters circled around her and started to cheer, I knew that she was really there because she just wanted to belong. She just wanted to be a part of a group that needed her. And Draco needed her. And the Death Eaters needed her. And I think I needed her too.

I never did become a Death Eater. I didn't need to. I proved my loyalty to Voldemort in a different way. See, I'm not afraid to use his name any more. Haven't been for ages now. But that's a different story. I proved my loyalty by killing Harry Potter.

I didn't mean to. But he and the rest of the Order stormed Malfoy Manor one evening. And they found me. They hadn't expected to. While everyone knew Ginny Weasley, though I think it was Ginevra Malfoy at that point, was a Death Eater, no one really knew what happened to me. Hermione had told everyone that I had left with Ginny and Draco, but they knew that I hadn't gotten the Dark Mark yet and that I wasn't a Death Eater. They assumed that I had run away like a coward.

So Harry was shocked to see me. Completely shocked. He had barged into my room, expecting to find Ginny. I found that out later. He knew that this was the room that Draco's friends had stayed at and assumed that she would be there. He thought that he could go find her and rescue her, save her from the evil Malfoy. Even though he knew she was a Death Eater, he thought that maybe he could still save her. I later realized that he loved her. Or thought he loved her, which is really the same thing. Now, I pity Harry Potter. But at that moment, all I was was angry. He stormed in, waking me up. I grabbed my wand and pointed it at him just as he lowered his. The surprise was evident on his face and I had to smile. Harry hadn't thought I'd had it in me. I had surprised him. In the end, I surprised everyone. Even myself. So there we were. Harry with his wand dropped, jaw open, and me still in bed, the bedclothes wrapped around my waist, and my wand pointed at him. I didn't mean to kill him. Really. But then he reached his wand up and started to yell a curse, but I didn't hear the specifics. I was just so angry. Of course Harry had to show up at that moment. Had to come rescue me. Why? Why couldn't he just leave me alone? I thought that he was throwing an Unforgivable at me, so I threw one back. I watched him fall to the floor, dead. And then the last person I wanted to see came into my room. Draco Malfoy entered. He was still in his pajamas, a green silk affair that I thought a bit feminine, and his hair was tussled. His wand was raised. He asked me what was going on. I told him I had just killed Harry Potter. He looked at the body and then at me and smirked. But it wasn't the same smirk. It was the one he gave Ginny, the one he gave the other Death Eaters. It was the closest thing Malfoy could manage to a smile. I was officially one of them then. He congratulated me on a job well done and then went off to check the rest of the house. Apparently, the Order hadn't gotten very far. There weren't very many of them. They were just looking for a few specific Death Eaters.

While I waited for something to happen, I walked across the room and picked up Harry's wand. I looked at it, wondering what he was going to do to me when he had found me.

Later I found out he was trying to cast a spell that would have sent me back to the Burrow, back home.

****

They call me He Who Killed Harry Potter. They're afraid to say my name. Now I'm nothing but a nickname. Ron Weasley is gone, replaced by this monster that sits at Voldemort's right hand. I honestly don't know how I got here. I keep thinking that I'll wake up and I'll be back at the Burrow, wasting time with Draco, Ginny, and Hermione or maybe getting ready for my trip with Harry and Hermione. I wish we had never found that final Hocrux. I wish our trip had lasted forever.

Sometimes, I really miss Hermione. I think we could have been happy, whether I had stayed or she had come with me. I haven't seen her in awhile, but I know she's alive. Someone would tell me if she had died. People tell me things now. I'm very well-informed, as a matter of fact. I wonder what she thinks of me. Maybe she regrets not going with me to the Manor that night. Maybe she regrets ever coming home from our trip, like I do. And I love her. I realized a long time ago that I really love her. And I know now that I probably always will. The thing is, she loved Ron. And Ron's gone. Plenty of women love He Who Killed Harry Potter. But no one knows Ron, except for Hermione. Even Ginny and Draco, the only people who once knew Ron that I'm still in contact with, don't call me Ron. Draco still calls me Weasley, though without that superior tone. If anything, I'm his superior now. And Ginny calls me Brother. Capitalization included. She's so formal now. Not Ginny but Ginevra. She's going to be just like Narcissa. Or maybe Bellatrix. I try to call her Sister, but it always comes out wrong. Honestly, I have difficulty being He Who Killed Harry Potter.

So I wonder about Hermione. I assume she's working with the Order, but I don't know. And I don't like not knowing. I want to be informed. Maybe I'll send someone to find her, but they might kill her. And I don't want to kill any other friends. Because I still think she's a friend. I think that if I showed up on her doorstep today, she'd take me in. Friends do that.

And my family. I know that some of them are dead. Others have went into hiding, ashamed of what I have become. Others are still working for the Order. I saw Fred recently. I was going through Diagon Alley. I hate going through Diagon Alley. It's such a big ordeal. I'm surrounded by Death Eaters. The crowd parts for me, like I'm something special. And everyone stares. That's how it's like pretty much everywhere for me anymore. I kind of miss normality, being a nobody. I only leave the Manor when I absolutely have to. But I had to that day. I needed a new wand and you have to be there when you get a new wand. I wanted Ollivander to come to the Manor, but Voldemort wouldn't allow it. He said that I needed to go out, anyway, show the people who I am and all that. Honestly, I think he would be better off hiding me. Does he want people to know how pathetic and unimpressive I look? So I went to Diagon Alley. As I passed Fred and George's shop, I looked in. There my brother was, at the window. Like everyone else, he was watching the progression, wanting to see who it was. Then he saw me and we looked each other in the eye. There was anger there and confusion. But there was also love. I saw love. And that gave me hope.

And I miss Harry. How could I not miss Harry? He was my best friend. See, I never thought of it like that: I was Harry Potter's Best Friend, but he was also Ron Weasley's Best Friend. I think I made a mistake with him.

*****

Since Harry died, the war's still been going on. But it's kind of reached a stopping point. Technically, nobody won. There are still Muggles and Muggle-borns. Hogwarts is still open, though it doesn't have the power it once did. Everyone still goes about there lives like normal, but there's tension and hatred everywhere. People are scared, waiting for something to happen. But nothing can happen. Harry's dead. Harry was going to save everyone. Without him, the Order isn't strong enough. But they're just enough to stop Voldemort from going too far. But they can't stop him. Not completely.

But I'm going to change them. I don't want to be He Who Killed Harry Potter any more. I just want to go home and be Ron Weasley. I wouldn't mind marrying Hermione Granger and just having a normal life. White picket fences and all that. I want to take Ginny home, get rid of Ginevra Malfoy. I don't really like her and I miss Ginny Weasley. I miss her a lot actually, and seeing that woman she's become only makes he miss her more. So I'm going to change things. Tonight I'm going to kill Voldemort. I know how. I've been his right hand man for almost six years now. I know just what to do. And then it will be over. The Death Eaters can't function without him. The Order can handle things from there. I don't know what will happen to Ginny. I don't think she'll want to go home. But that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to go home and beg forgiveness. I'm going to go home and try to be Ron Weasley again.

I don't care for nicknames. Never have. And I'm ready to get rid of mine. Get rid of everything until it's just me, Ron Weasley. Nothing more.