What if Harry had chosen to die?
The real Epilogue
Ron awoke from his fire whisky induced stupor and gazed at his little one room bedsit. Coughing, he got up and looked in the small cracked mirror. He looked like shit. His dirty face, covered with a few strands of greasy unkempt hair stared back. Nineteen years ago. Had it really been that long?
Then Ron remembered, as he did every day. The memories of that fatal day, the last battle for Hogwarts. Him and Hermione, finally realizing that their feelings were mutual, Percy back, all the people he cared about, fighting Voldemort and his deatheaters. Hermione, looking at him the way he had always dreamed. Ron smiled half heartedly, the first time in months. Even though he knew what was to come, he always fondly remembered the events preceding the battle. How he got into the chamber of secrets, speaking parceltongue, Hermione truly awed by him, the quick kiss before the battle…
Ron sighed. The battle was a bloody one. His own brother, Fred, dead. As were Remus and Tonks, leaving behind their orphaned son. Voldemort promising retreat if Harry came to the forest. The hour that followed, bringing the dead to the hall, treating the wounded.
Voldemort walking up to the castle with Hagrid, carrying Harrys dead, lifeless body. McGonagall's voice screaming, his own, Hermiones and Ginnys to. Hermione, consumed with grief and anger, screaming the Avarda Kedavra curse, Voldemort, with a flick of his wand, deflecting it back at its sender. Hermione, giving on last cry of surprise, dead before she hit the floor. Himself to scared to do anything, the whole hall silent, realizing that it was over. Voldemort was truly now all powerfull, the prophecy fulfilled. His only chance of defeat, lying dead in the arms of Hagrid.
In his dingy bedsit, Ron felt the same anger and despair he felt at that moment nineteen years ago from the memories, still fresh in his mind. Voldemort had not killed Ron though. That would have been to merciful, Ron thought. Instead, all his magical powers were forcibly removed from him, as were all who did not accept the new order, of Voldemort. The events afterwards were a grief fueled haze, Voldemort revealing himself to muggles and increasing his power over wizards and muggles alike. Who knows what was going on now though, as he only ever went out of the bedsit to get to the off-licence for firewhisky, which even muggle shops sold now. In fact, Voldemorts reign wasn't that bad. True, only pureblood wizards could now study magic, and occasionally, a few muggles got killed, but wizarding goods could now be brought in all muggle shops. Wizards were hired by muggle businesses for extortionate amounts. Definitely, it wasn't worth losing Hermione over. If only they had hid, and not battled.
And if only he had defended her. When she was killed, he just stood there, unable to move. He was truly pathetic. He could never forgive himself for that. Ron picked up the half empty can of fire whisky. Good fire whisky. His true friend. That'll help him forget Hermione. So Ron sank into another firewhisky induced stupor, similar to ones he had fallen into everyday for the last nineteen years.