'Older Men declare war. But it is youth that must fight and die.'
- Herbert Hoover
Part one: Dad
The winter looked cold now. It wasn't truly winter for months but yet it felt cold, so cold. Sometimes he felt he wouldn't be warm because there was no warmth in what had happened. Aaron had been so tiny, so young and so, so innocent. The first known casualty of the second wizarding war had been an unborn baby. Nothing could be more innocent.
He had felt so many things in the past six months, so many things he hadn't really labelled before, they were feelings that had never been strong enough to need a word: protection, fury; regret.
He regretted that he had left Hermione and Harry back in the winter of 1997, regretted that he had gone off in a time when they both needed him. He hadn't known at the time but there was more to regret, more guilt in the emotion. He had left them, not two people but three. Hermione had recently realised she was pregnant, had allowed a few more weeks to be really sure. She was waiting for the right time to announce it, and she never got the chance. He hadn't known she was expecting a baby until the baby was no more.
He regretted that he could not have stopped them going to the Malfoy's, regretted he hadn't insisted on giving himself to save her and their baby from torture. It had made him feel sick to the stomach to hear the screams of the girl he loved. It had made him physically sick when he knew there had been pain suffered by that tiny little boy inside Hermione. His son had begged for help and Ron had been unable to do anything for him.
It was always down to him, down to the things he had done wrong, the times when he only thought of himself. He should have known better, he lived in a household of nine people, knew caring for others was what kept them all together, kept them safe. He would never have the opportunity to keep Aaron safe.
The name had been a surprise to him. She had come up with it as a suggestion, just a thought. He had his name, Ronald. Aaron Ronald Weasley. Hermione had chosen to do that, to name their baby after him. She cared about him – now he knew how much, but then he hadn't known, had been too insecure to realise what was right in front of his eyes.
They had been about to have a baby, a real human baby. He wondered what Aaron would have been like, would he have grown up like Hermione, he had imagined him that way in his mind. A toddler with afro-like curls, wearing a Chudley Canons t-shirt and with mud on the knees of his jeans. He wondered if Aaron was clever like his mum, or was he average like his dad. He would never know, any of it. Their future had been changed by that horrible, insane woman, and this was something they could never take back.
If the torture hadn't happened, if the bitch hadn't insisted on attacking the one person he couldn't bear to see hurt then he would have a young baby here now. She had done irreversible damage and for what? To make herself feel better? Because she was worried about the bloody sword, that was it. It was petty, unimportant and it had scarred Hermione for life, both mentally and physically.
The thought of it all, the thought of what Bellatrix had done but also of the other Death Eaters and Voldemort himself, it made his hands curl into tight fists. Still, he wouldn't trust himself not to kill one of them if they met face to face. The war had killed friends, his brother, and his son. He was more than glad that they were going to rot in Azkaban.
He was going with Shacklebolt, going to take up the offer and hunt down those that had got away. He had to do it to try and find some peace, to try and work through the pile of emotions tangled like devil's snare in his head. Some of the others knew now, knew that the first casualty for the Weasley's had not been Fred, but his nephew.
One day he would be that, and that was partly why he'd asked the over-anticipated question. He wanted to make it right, wanted to make them right and the family whole. He knew if he hadn't asked then he never would, the day after the battle had been the right time, the only time. He hadn't had time to think, but he had the ring he wanted, it had been his Mum's, he knew she would be more than happy for it to reside forever more with Hermione.
He would never leave again, never not be at her side. She now had his promise as she went back to school, back to a form of normal away from the spotlight and the fame that was trying to engulf them. She needed to heal, he did too, but they would never forget. Aaron was just as valid as Fred, he had died due to war and in the effort to save their world once and for all from Tom Riddle.
Fleur was pregnant. They had told them all last week, Hermione had excused herself, been physically sick and unable to come back to the family gathering. She would never forget either. Soon he would tell them all, now that she was away from home and didn't have to recall it all again. He couldn't protect his son but he planned to do his best at protecting Hermione, to learn from life's mistakes and never let go again.