darling,

request: ron weasley finding himself waking up in his younger self's body + "Harry might have forgiven you, named his sons after you two, but I'm not Harry and I'll make sure he will have a life beyond your plans"

He goes to bed a man and awakens aboy.

Ron Weasley is thirty years old. Hehas fought a war and survived it, too; he’s loved and lost and loved again,he’s buried one brother and sired two children and he’s—lived. The evidence ofthis is all around him, in the ache of his bones and the premature gray streakinghis hair. It’s in the tired smiles he and Hermione will share on the days thatstill—still, even now, even yearslater—rest heavy on their souls with loss.

When he slips underneath the covers it’swith the warm weight of his wife by his side and the knowledge his children arejust a room over. He shuts off the lights with a weary wave of his wand andcloses his eyes with a soft sigh. Hermione grabs his hand beneath the sheets andher fingers are warm. She squeezes his hand. He smiles, soft, and squeezesback. He falls asleep with her hand in his.

Ron awakens from his sleep a childof eleven years, with gangly limbs and unscarred skin and no body lying besidehim. He wakes up alone, young, and scared—falls straight out of bed into a heapon the floor, threadbare blankets twisted around him, his brothers snoringacross the room. His hands are smooth and soft, free of calluses. The hair onhis head is thick and a brilliant red, no gray in sight. His bones do not ache.His eyesight is as strong as it ever was.

Ron awakens into a world he outgrewyears and years ago—and screams.

-

At first he is inconsolable, and no whisperedwords of comfort from his mother can calm him. She is too young and he is toosmall, and the sight of her starts the angry helpless tears anew, griefclogging his throat.

At first Ron mourns, mourns the lossof the future they all bled to create. He mourns his wife, his children. Hisfriends. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but Ron has lived too long not tolisten to instinct, and he knows—he won’t be going home. He won’t be goingback. He’s lost them all.

That’s when the sorrow turns torage.

Ron is old. Old at thirty, true, buthasn’t he earned the right? Haven’t they all? He’s betrayed and been betrayed,he’s bled a thousand times and lost so much—friends, family, innocence. Hischildhood was a warzone and he’s spent the last twenty years making sure hischildren never grew up the same way. His life wasn’t always happy but it isbetter, it’s bright. It’s his.

So how dare they, whoever they are,whoever is responsible—how dare they take that from him. He fought for thathappy ending, his brother died for it, and the rest of them nearly followed.How dare they dishonor that sacrifice. How dare they take Ron from a time ofpeace and place him right back into the bloodbath.

How dare they.

-

He spends nearly a week in thisstate, caught between rage and sorrow, tottering back and forth between thetwo. His family has noticed, and he can tell by their worried glances that he’sstarting to freak them out. Even the twins are acting…. Far nicer than Ronremembers them to be, but that certainly doesn’t help—Ron can’t look Fred orGeorge in the eye, and every time Percy places a hand on his shoulder heflinches.

He’s a mess. He knows it, they knowit. One week back in the past and he’s already screwed up.

In the end, it is his mother’sdesperate tactic of using his upcoming year at Hogwarts to try and cheer him upthat snaps him out of his stupor. Hogwarts. Harry, Hermione, Luna, Neville. Warand blood and friendship and –

Ron has three weeks until he boardsthe train, three weeks until the year that changes everything is kick-startedinto motion.

Ron thinks of war and blood andbrothers who died too early. He thinks of Harry, tired and old even at seventeen,blood crusted on his cheek. Hermione, eyes flinty, shoulders set back as sheprepares to fight for her life. He thinks of Luna caged in the Malfoy cellarand Neville as he slayed the snake, and he thinks—

No. He knows.

They earned their happy ending, onceupon a time. But that future is gone, now, so maybe—maybe this time—

Maybe Ron can find it for them.

Maybe this time, no one has to die.

Ron has three weeks before Hogwarts.Three weeks before the train. Three weeks to save the world.

And Ron may not be the hero, or thechosen one—but he has always, always, been good at strategy.

-

When he steps on the train it’s withfear in his heart and excitement lodged in his throat. The bag looped aroundhis shoulders is filled with roast-beef sandwiches Ron has never liked (butHarry will eat them and so he doesn’t mind), used books, and a hand-me-down wand.But there are also journals, made invisible with illegal spells Hermione slavedover years ago, journals filled with diagrams and plots and important thingsRon cannot afford to forget.

(He hopes, just a little bit, toperhaps buy a pensive. One day. It’s a stupididea, but—is it so wrong for Ron to want to see his children again, even ifonly in his memories?)

Ron steps onto the platform and it’slike stepping into Hogwarts the first time—it’s bustling and loud and alien,almost menacing in its confusion. He sees faces of future enemies and futurefriends alike—Draco Malfoy, sharp features soft with baby fat, sneerill-fitting on his sallow face; Neville Longbottom, shoulders hunched near hisears and toad clenched in shaking hands, no confidence to be found; LavenderBrown, her pretty face glowing, small hoops dangling in her ears, no bloodbeneath her perfectly manicured nails.

It shakes him to the core, andthough Ron is young, now, young and small and as gangly as the rest of them, hefancies himself a stranger. They are so young, all of them, young in body and eyesand soul. It hits Ron right then and there that though he may try, he’ll neversee those brothers- and sisters-in-blood in these children. They’re here beforehim but they’ll never be as he remembers them to be, once upon a future.

He nearly flees onto the train, but thetwins are close behind, their eyes watchful and worried. Still, he cannot meettheir eyes.

“Gotta go,” Ron tells them, beforethey can comment, and then he dashes up the steps and into the corridor. Hewaves out the open door with half-hearted enthusiasm when his family looksback, uncertain. He smiles to put them at ease, and maybe he even means it. Itmakes him feel better, being on the train: the only way to go now is forward.

His mother beams at him, wavingwildly, Ginny bouncing on her heels beside her. For the first time their youngfaces do not fill Ron with grief. Instead, as he waves wildly back, somethingwarmer rises in his chest. Something like hope.

There’s a whole future before him, andRon is ready. All the pieces in place. Voldemort best be ready, because Ron hasbeen playing this game his whole life. He’s not planning on losing now.

Ron wanders the train, careful notto sit down. He’ll have to wait until the train is about to leave to find Harry,and as he glides past the youthful faces of his year-mates he finds himselfsettling. He sees Hermione and smiles at her as bright as he can—it hurts tosee her, but the small smile she gives back leaves him giddy for the rest ofthe trip.

A whistle blows. Ron wanders forward,already knowing where to go.

Harry is at the back, as he alwaysis, leaning against the widow with his eyes half-lidded as he watches. Ronwatches him, too. Sees the shadows under his eyes and the quiet slump of his bonyshoulders and marvels, again, at how young they all are.

He thinks too of Dumbledore, andSnape, and children named after heroes and villains alike. Harry had forgiventhem, but that was years ago, and Ron has never been the hero. Never been allthat good at forgiving.

They’re young, all of them. Justchildren, and that fact is clearer to him now. They are all just children.

He’ll have a life beyond your game of chess, Ron thinks—promises. This time, he’ll be better. He won’tlet himself be blinded by jealousy or necklaces that whisper in the night.He’ll save them all, be the friend he tried to be and this time succeed at it—andthis time when Harry looks back at these years, he’ll have more happy memoriesthan bad ones.

For the future Ron lost, for thefuture he could yet have again—Ron will make sure of it.

He slides back the door and smileswhen bottle-green eyes glance back. A whistle blows loud and piercing. Beneathhis feet, the train begins to move.

“Hi,” Ron says. “Can I sit here?Everywhere else is full.”

Harry nods, slow and careful. Ronsmiles his brightest smile, and for the first time, feels no grief, no fear, noworry.

It’s a new day, a new game, and Ronis ready to play.