AN: Obviously this type of story has been done one hundred and and thiry-seven times. A lot of them have even been about Ron, but I never claimed to be original. My best friend and beta, Elizabeth, suggested I write this, to here it is. Happy Holidays, everyone!
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or It's a Wonderful Life.
Self-pity - nothing good ever comes of it. It leads to very, very bad decisions. Very rash decisions. It's also addictive - what feels better than wallowing in a great old-fashioned pity party? So easy to bundle up, make some hot chocolate and think about all the wrongs that have been done to you; how nothing can go right and it's not your fault. Everybody and everything is against you. Maybe it would just be better for everyone if you had never been born.
That was right where Ron Weasley was. Of course, it didn't feel like self-pity, just honesty. Ron loved his family, but he was the last in line in a succession of clever, smart, good-looking wizards - what was one more? He was neither the cutest, the funniest, nor the most brilliant. What was he known for? His red-haired family and his famous friend. His brilliant, beautiful girlfriend. When people met him they looked puzzled, as if they could not quite see what was so special about him. He saw it in their eyes - Really? That guy? That's who Harry Potter spends his time with? That's who Hermione Granger dates? He helped take down the Dark Lord? Really?
Ron knew he was lucky. He really did. But he couldn't help thinking that at any moment he would wake up and all those wonderful things would be gone. He and Hermione's relationship was tenuous at best. They just couldn't help driving each other crazy. They fought all the time. Of course, the make-up sex was great, but that wouldn't last forever. And sure, Harry was his best mate - but Harry was also The-Boy-Who-Lived. Twice. He and Hermione may have helped, but it was Harry who vanquished Voldemort once and for all. Harry might say he hated all the attention that went with his story, but Ron suspected that maybe, just a little bit, he liked it. Needed it, maybe. Ron would welcome the attention, the Daily Prophet reports, the admiring fans. Who wouldn't? Of course he'd had his share of press, too. He did, after all, assist Harry in his defeat of Voldemort, and the Weasley's were a well-known wizarding family. Hermione's work with arithmancy was ground-breaking. Naturally Ron would be mentioned a time or two. But where was his feature? His cover story? He didn't think he was being unreasonable or selfish, or belittling anyone else's accomplishments. All he wanted was his fair share.
"Ron, you are a prat," Ginny Weasley said. Ron and Hermione were having dinner with Harry and Ginny. Newly engaged, Ginny and Harry managed to make Ron choke down vomit every time they got together. They were just a little too cute, a little too touchy-feely for his taste. He frankly worried that Harry would grab Ginny and shag her right in front of him one of these days. They were pretty gross, and they were also giving Hermione dangerous ideas. Hermione was the girl for him, Ron had no doubt, despite their constant bickering. He certainly couldn't stand the thought of her with anyone else. But marriage? They already lived together, wasn't that enough? He just wasn't ready, and he could feel Hermione getting antsy during their double dates. Considering the four of them dined together at least once a week, Ron had to deal with Hermione's anvil-sized hints quite a bit. Why she wanted to marry him anyway was truly beyond him. Ron was one of the multitude of people that thought Hermione could do way better.
"Now what have I done, Ginny?" Ron asked wearily. No doubt she'd have a list as long as Harry's Firebolt. Which is not a double entendre, he thought to himself. Merlin knows he didn't want to stress about how he measured up in that department, too.
"I can't believe you didn't tell us about Hermione's award dinner. It's quite an honor; you'd think you would have sent us an owl with the news."
"I forgot," he said. One more award for Hermione, whoop-de-do. "I figured Hermione would tell you."
"Of course she told us, but being her proud boyfriend, you should have spread the news, too. One would think you didn't care."
"I care, Ginny!" Ron huffed. "Hermione, please tell my sister how proud I am of you. And to shut up."
"Ron's very proud of me, Ginny," Hermione said mechanically. And he was, she knew, but she also thought Ginny was right. Ron did seem a little resentful of her success, especially lately. It was not worth arguing over, though.
"Very convincing."
"Shove it, Gin!" Ron said angrily. "Just because you and Harry are shoved up each other's arses doesn't mean everyone acts like that. I told Hermione how happy I am for her. I tell her every day that she's brilliant and I'm a poor, dumb schlub that wandered into some very good luck."
"Ron, that's not true," Hermione said. "It has nothing to do with luck and everything to do with who you are. I love you." Why couldn't he believe that?
"For unknown reasons," Ginny muttered. "Disregarding Ronald for the moment, Hermione, Fred and George want to throw you a party after the award dinner. Sort of a 'Congratulations, Hermione' slash Happy Christmas party."
"That sounds fun!" Hermione squealed. "Dangerous, considering it's Fred and George, but fun nonetheless. Very generous of them, too. They didn't have to do that!"
"Well, someone should," said Ginny, with another withering look at Ron. "They've promised not to test any new products at the party. Charlie and Bill will be there, and I think they've convinced Malfoy to come, too, since you guys are friends."
"It sounds fantastic."
"Well, you've got everything all figured out," Ron said sarcastically. "Ferret and all. Nice that my family doesn't include me in the planning of my girlfriend's party."
"They wouldn't have to, if you had told everyone about her award," said Ginny. "Why does everything have to be about you? You're acting like a complete arsehole."
"Ooo, upgraded from prat! Any of my other shortcomings you'd care to mention, Ginerva?"
"Guys, cool it, please. You're both acting like children," Harry finally chimed it. He tried to stay out of Weasley family fights, but this was getting a bit ridiculous. Ron was going through one of his depressive states, and Ginny had no patience for it. Harry could see her point - Ron had absolutely nothing to be down about. He was a well-liked, well-known, successful auror, one third of the famed "Golden Trio" and instrumental in defeating Voldemort three years before. That kind of fame did not fade, as Harry knew only too well. Ron and Hermione had been together for the last four years, blissfully happy for the most part. He had a good, good life. But it was like the Triwizard Tournament all over again. Sometimes Ron got in these moods, and time was the only thing that could cure them. Unfortunately, Ginny thought it was complete shite, and was not known to be sympathetic when the doldrums gripped Ron. Hermione was a little better. She knew when to ride it out, and when to give him hell about it. This particular black mood seemed a little worse than usual, though, Harry had to admit.
"You're right, Harry," Ron said. "I'd hate to ruin everyone's great time. I'm going home."
"Ron!" Hermione said. "Please don't go - why are you and Ginny even fighting? My stupid award dinner?"
"It's not stupid, Hermione. Ginny has made that clear, and she's made it clear that I'm not doing enough to tell you about it." Ron knew he was being ridiculous, but he couldn't help it. He obviously couldn't do anything right that night - why not go home? He didn't know why it bothered him so much that Fred and George were planning Hermione's party, but it did. Was he invisible? They didn't even tell him they were having one! What if he wanted to throw her a surprise party or something? He hadn't planned on it, of course, but they didn't know that. He also wasn't keen on Charlie coming in from Romania. He swore that Charlie had an inappropriate crush on Hermione. If it weren't for the brothers' code, he thought maybe Charlie would make a move. Who would blame him? And who could blame Hermione if she liked him back? Charlie tamed dragons, for the love of God. Who could compete with that? And don't get him started on Draco "The Albino Ferret" Malfoy. Ever since the fall of Voldemort, and the revelation that Snape killed Dumbledore on the headmaster's orders, Draco was everyone's favorite charity case. Oh, the poor dear, he was forced into servitude. Oh, Malfoy was only trying to protect his family. Oh, Malfoy, make me barf! Hermione forgave him every 'mudblood;' Harry every hex. Even Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had him round for dinner at the Burrow. Ron… Well, he wasn't quite as forgiving. No doubt Malfoy also wanted to shag Hermione. He thought he'd caught the odd furtive glance in his direction from Hermione, too. Lord, he needed to go home. His brain was getting a little ahead of itself.
"Ron, please don't go. That's not what I meant," said Harry.
"I know, but I'm going anyway. Hermione, you stay. I'll see you later tonight."
"Interesting that he can make it through the door with that giant chip on his shoulder." Ron heard Ginny say this - loudly - as he left but he didn't turn around. He apparated home and stayed awake until Hermione came in two hours later, at which point he faked sleep so he wouldn't have to talk to her. Nice and passive aggressive, he thought guiltily. No wonder you two are doing so well. Communication is the cornerstone of any successful relationship.
O O O O O O
The party - well, let's just say it wasn't going so well. Hermione was having a wonderful time. Harry and Ginny were having a wonderful time. So were Fred and George, Bill and Fleur, Charlie, Hagrid, Lee Jordan, Neville, Lavender and Parvati. Even Draco Malfoy was mingling with ease. And why shouldn't they? It was Christmas, after all. Hermione had just been presented with a special arithmancy award (he really couldn't be bothered to figure out exactly what it was for) and her status as "cleverest witch of her age" was solidified again. And everyone was oblivious to (or at least pretending to ignore) the fact that Ron was miserable.
It wasn't exactly that Ron wanted Hermione to have a bad time. He really wasn't that selfish, or so he reassured himself. But watching her dance with every wizard in the room, laugh at every joke Ginny told and down every glass of wine she came in contact with - well, it would be nice if she at least pretended to care that he was so unhappy. She would flit by every so often to see if he wanted to dance or needed a refill; he would grunt a reply and she would be off again. And really, why should she sit by his side all night, weighed down by his sour mood while others celebrated her success? Fred and George tried to rouse him, Harry pleaded with him to dance and Charlie attempted to engage him in conversation to no avail. He was determined to be the nastiest, most unaccommodating person there. Ron had felt these black moods before, but nothing like this. This was definitely the worst. Hermione didn't deserve this nonsense, tonight of all nights. He went to find her.
"Honey, I'm going to go."
"What? Why?" Her cheeks were pink from dancing and all the wine she'd guzzled; he watched in sadness as the happy look on her face faded as he spoke to her.
"I've got a headache and it's making me grumpy," he lied. As if he needed an excuse. "I don't want to ruin your good time."
"You're not! Let me give you something for your head. I don't want you to go! You haven't danced with me yet."
"Hermione, I can't dance," he snapped. "My head hurts."
"I'm sorry," she said, close to tears. Why was she apologizing? Why was she crying? This was his fault! She had no idea what in the name of Dumbledore was the matter with him. Headache - yeah right. Ache in her arse, more like. He had been going out of his way lately to make her feel like crap. Well, she wasn't going to put up with it tonight. He wasn't going to spoil her party.
"Sweetie, I'm sorry," he said more gently. "I don't mean to be a jerk. I just don't feel well. I should go; you have fun."
"Fine," she said, wiping her eyes and squaring her shoulders. "I will have fun. You may or may not see me later. Your pathetic attempt to ruin my night has been thwarted."
"Hermione-"
"No, Ron," Hermione said, eyes blazing. "Whatever it is that's been bugging you lately, go home and deal with it. This is my party, and despite your best efforts, you'll not spoil it for me. In fact, I think I'd rather you stayed at the Burrow tonight, so I don't have to tiptoe around in an effort not to see you when - or if - I come home. Good night." She spun around, hair slapping him in the face, and marched off.
Ron watched her go, feeling the gaze of more than one disgusted party goer. He locked eyes with a particularly triumphant looking Draco Malfoy, and Ginny shot him a venomous glare as well. Shamed by his behavior, but with no real inclination to apologize, he cast one more look at Hermione and slunk outside.
Normally, Ron would apparate home, but the cold air felt good and clean, and he decided to walk for a bit to clear his head.
"Hermione's better off without me," he said to himself. "I'm screwing everything up. She loves me, so she's going to waste her life waiting for me to grow up. And I'm too selfish to let her go. I'm not helping the ministry like this, and I'm certainly not adding anything to the family except another Percy-sized prat."
His depression was reaching an all-time high (or low) and he continued to mutter to himself, becoming more and more entrenched in self-pity. The sharp, cold air did nothing to shake him from his downward spiral. And in one horrible moment of weakness, he uttered the infamous words: "I think it would be better for everyone if I'd never been born."
"Well, that's a bit extreme, isn't it?" an impossibly cheery voice spoke behind him.
Ron whipped around, wand extended, and stopped short at the person before him. Well, person was not completely accurate.
"Nearly Headless Nick?" he asked in amazement? "What in the hell are you doing here?"
"I prefer Sir Nicholas, as you are very much aware, and I see that age has granted you neither wisdom nor tact. You always did have appalling manners."
"I repeat: what in the hell are you doing here?"
Sir Nicholas sighed. "Well, I guess we're not going to catch up, now are we? No real point, I guess, when anyone can see how you've been keeping busy. Whining."
"Excuse me," Ron said, highly affronted and extremely unnerved. "I don't recall asking your opinion."
"No, but I'll borrow a page out of your copy of Manners for the Unmannered and give it just the same. You've got a pretty good life. It's insulting to hear you blither on about it."
"You have no idea what kind of life I have," Ron said, beginning to get angry. "What would you know anyway? You've been dead for centuries."
"Yes, and I still feel less self-pity than you do. You're a disgrace to your House. You think Gryffindors act like this? It's ridiculous! Lucky for you, I'm here on a mission of mercy."
"What are you talking about?"
"You've got a choice. You just made a pretty bold statement. I could make it come true, if you like."
"What are you talking about?" Ron asked.
"There are other realities out there, Mr. Weasley," said Sir Nicholas. "We happen to be in the best one. I could bring one from just below the surface. I could grant you your wish, and you'd never be born. But I thought, as I gesture of good faith from one Gryffindor to another, that I'd let you see what you'd be doing."
"You're crazy. Being dead's really warped your mind. You can't do that."
"I can and I will. Or we can dispense with the "Oh woe is me" right now and you can return to your party. That's probably your best bet."
"No," said Ron, suddenly curious. "I want to see, if you can really do such a thing. Probably some sham cooked up to make me feel bad."
"No, young man, I assure you it isn't. What I show you now is nothing but the truth, and if at the end it's what you want… Well, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."
Ron stood for a moment, staring at the ghost. He could see no subterfuge in Nick's transparent face. And Peter Pettigrew aside, Gryffindors had a certain honor to uphold. If Nick were here, it was the real deal. Ron was curious. For all his grumblings, did he really wish he'd never been born? Was his life really that bad?
Maybe it's not about you for a change, a little voice said. Think about everyone else. You owe it to them to find out. They might be better off.
"Alright, Nick, I call your bluff."