☆~ForeignJello~☆

Hermione Granger was the most brightest witch of her generation. Number one in their year.

But, what was Ron Weasley? He wasn't prophecised for anything. Wasn't as bright. He often felt like a nobody, like he wasn't important.

But as he and Harry broke the surface of the Black Lake, and as he felt Harry clinging to him like a lifeline, everything changes for Ron."

So I've written a little something. It starts in first year all the way to the end of DH.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58716163/chapters/149621305

Ron was not the daughter their mother wanted. Nor was he 'the brother they never knew they had' or however Fred and George had put it.

Ron was just Ron, and he liked it that way. Even if his mother bemoaned about him wanting to cut his hair.

"Are you sure, dear. It would look lovely, like Ginny." His mother would always try to convince him or flat out refuse to cut his hair. But after he had tried to cut it himself with scissors and butchering it, his mother would begrudgingly cut his hair.

Or when he played in the mud and roughhoused with his older brothers.

"It's not lady like to play like.. like a boy, Andronica. Why not play with Ginny? She misses playing with her older sister. " His mother would scold him, yet he could only watch longingly as Fred and George chased Percy around the house.

Ron never liked being called Andronica, his birth name, and everyone in the family knew that. His mother knew that, yet she insisted on using Andronica.

--

The compartments were packed, and Ron had nowhere to go. Luckily, he found one, yet a person was already inside it. Someone he didn't know, yet he had nowhere else to go, so Ron's only choice was to open the door.

Inside sat a lone child, a boy, someone around Ron's age. With short wild dark hair, baggy clothing, and clearly broken glasses. Yet his green eyes caught Ron off guard.

"Um.. is anyone sitting here? Everywhere else is full," he asked in trepidation. Because what if he said the seat was taken? Ron had nowhere else, but the boy shook his head, so he sat on the opposite side.

Awkward silence fell between the two, neither knowing what to say or do.

"So what's your name?" The boy asked him, yet his voice sounded a bit high, like Ron's and Ginny's.

"I'm Andronica Weasley... but you can call me Ron. I prefer Ron," he quickly added, feeling his ears turn a bit pink.

"Oh, okay, Ron. My name is Harper Potter..." and Ron's eyes widened.

As in THE Harper Potter? The Girl Who Lived?

But then Ron spotted a centaur coming their way, and on his back was Harry. Relief instantly flooded Ron as he sprinted towards Harry. 

“Harry!” Ron shouted as he practically threw himself at his best friend, who barely caught him just as he was set down by the centaur.

“I’m fine,” Harry whispered to Ron, before looking up at Hagrid. “The unicorns dead, Hagrid, it’s in that clearing back there.”

I liked your short draft. It is one of my favorite tropes in the Harry Potter universe, the other one being "turn back time and give a journal to my youngest self to fix my future."

What I liked about your fic is that there is no war or dark lord to fight. Now, the characters have to live their lives and deal with them, and it is their decision whether they fall or rise above it.

have a good day and thank you for being open to chat about fics.

The last time Harry had seen Draco Malfoy was during the Malfoy trials. The trails had been a fanfare in itself, but with everything else going on in Harry’s head, he all but spared Draco a glance.

Harry had come to Narcissa's and Draco's defense, giving his testimony for them. How Draco had refused to identify him and his friends at Malfoy Manner, where they had been taken by Snatchers. And how Narcissa had lied straight to Voldemorts face, that he had not survived the killing curse. Without their help, he would have died long ago, and Voldemort would have won.

Harry spared one last glance at Draco at the end of his testimony, only to find grey eyes trained on the floor below. He looked gaunt, thinner than usual, and had sunken cheeks. Harry felt just as haggard as Draco looked, but that wasn't his problem, not when he had so many other things to do.

The speeches, the meetings with the Acting Minister of Magic, Kingsley, and the funerals.

He was running himself thin.

Harry didn't have time to spare Draco any pity, nor did he have time for his relationship with Ginny. They got into more spats than they spent time in bed with each other. It all ended when Harry returned to Grimmauld Place, only to find a note and Ginny's belongings gone.

After the war had ended, everything felt numb to Harry, and the only times he felt an inkling of emotion was when others needed him. Needed him to give speeches, needed him to talk to Kingsley about post-war preparations, and needed to attend funerals of people he had never even met before.

He had run himself dry as he read Ginny's letter.

That they weren't going to work out if Harry kept insisting on being gone for hours on end, to only come back to pass out on the couch. She had returned to her family, to Molly and Arthur, who were still mourning over the loss of Fred. The whole Weasley family was still mourning, and Harry was too.

It was only after reading the letter that it felt as if the fog that had been permanently covering his mind had been lifted at that moment. The walls rattled as his magic fluctuated, his grief pouring out of him at once.

The bottle of emotions that he had sealed when the had dust settled at Hogwarts suddenly burst open, unleashing a torrent of raw grief that gushed out uncontrollably.

--