ron absolutely hates them, all they remind him of is that he wasn’t able to protect anyone, and that he was stupid enough to get confounded in the first place. bloody git who cant do anything to save anyone

the summer after fifth year, no matter how hot it is outside he wears long sleeves. if he doesn’t have any that are clean he wears a t shirt and stays curled in on himself on his favorite squashy chair and he’ll only get up to do his chores.

they give him the strangest dreams, memories that aren’t his. Some days he’ll wake up and not know where he is. There’s things he knows that he doesn’t remember learning and there’s also feelings that aren’t his own and he bloody hates it because it was hard enough before to figure out what he was thinking but now it was a bloody jumbled mess.

He’s constantly messing with them, picking at the edges of the scars along the hem of his neckline and wrists.

He shudders to think about what hermione and harry will think. hermione will think that they’re ugly and proof of his recklessness and stupidity. Harry will probably think that he’s finally happy to have scars of his own, and yea he wanted proof that he could be cool, without having to fight tooth and nail, but not these. He meant maybe a gnarly scar on his forearm and not these swirling red welt looking catastrophes that reach up his arms and around his neck and making him look like some sort of freak of nature, it doesn’t help that he’s got these freckles and long gangly limbs that grow way too fast for his pants and shirts, again causing the showing-the-scars-problem.

Also that gunk, dr ubbly’s oblivious unction, he would rather call it dt. gonkly’s gelatinous irritation, anyways it sticks his arms to his shirt and he’s always itching and oh my god everything smells like the bloody thing. smells like sterile rotten eggs, which doesn’t make sense but yeah.

The first time mione saw them she gasped and he hunched in on himself and waiting for some kind of insult or reprimand but all that came was an “oh ron” and he turned around to see hermione looking at him softly with sympathy.

The first time Harry saw them he went as pale as a sheet and started shaking. He should’ve known it would bring back memories of sirius and he felt awful but he didn’t know what to do so he helped harry to sit down on his bunk and waited until the weirdest thing happened. Harry looked frantically at ron and a slew of “ron you’re ok right? no lasting effects from that brain? i was there when you, ya know were attacked” he trails off. Ron doesn’t know what to do with this “yea mate i’m alright.”

Time passes by and soon ron learns to deal with them and he slowly starts to forget about them and by that time he’s with the love of his life and Voldy’s finally dead and it startles him, that he forgot how much he hates them. Then one day hermione and him are snuggling in bed and she starts to trace them. His bloody scars that had such a stupid origin story and had tried to use them a long time ago as a bargaining chip for her affections. and she’s, just.... tracing them?!? as if it means nothing and like trying to count his freckles that one time she got drunk. And she sleepily says “i know you don’t like them but they always remind me of the brave boy i fell in love with”

Rating: General

* * *

Hermione was hunched over the desk, the maple wood hidden beneath a pile of books, yellowing parchment, and the leather-bound tome she was analysing. It was the type of quiet, dedicated work that she preferred to do in the Ministry where she could lock herself in her office, a simple spell turning away anyone that came to bother her – a little trick she’d picked up from Hogwarts: A History. But that wasn’t a luxury she could give herself at home, not with the kids.

The kids.

Hermione glanced at the silver watch Ron gifted her on her thirtieth birthday and realised she’d been unbothered for nearly two hours. With Ron away on a mission, Rose and Hugo should have already come to seek her. Where were they? Why hadn’t Hugo come running in, crying that Rose was not sharing her toy broomstick with him? Or why hadn’t Rose complained that Hugo wasn’t leaving her alone?

Listening for any sound of what they might be up to, Hermione only received silence. No arguments, no hushed whispers, nothing. She stood up and peered from the door of the study, her mouth dropping at the sight.

Godric’s Hollow

Cedric Diggory in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Bella gnawed her lip for a moment. “I can’t explain it right,” she finally said. “But he’s even more unbelievable behind the face.” She looked away from Jessica, her eyes slightly unfocused as if she was staring at something very far away.