That arrogant stance. That annoying, superior, smug expression across his slightly pointy visage. And those unyielding, steely grey eyes and that smirk. That fucking smirk. This boy was epitome of everything he hated since his schoolboy days. Everything that he has always resented. Until that moment, Ronald Weasley had never, in his life, felt such hatred towards a child.
"No. You can't make me."
"You arrogant, little piece of -"
"WHAT IS GOING ON!?" Hermione yelled as she entered the room. The little boy, no older than 8, ran to her and buried his face into her waist,"He's yelling at me, mum, and I haven't clue why" the boy whined as he clung to her hips.
"Ron," she admonished, "How many times have I got to tell you, you don't need to yell at him! He's a quiet boy, if you just sit down and speak, he'll listen!"
"No, he won't," Ron spat, "All he does is talk back! Every time I try to tell him something, he doesn't listen! He does the exact opposite and when I try to punish him he comes running to you! And what do you do? You coddle and comfort him, every single time! You're spoiling him rotten, Hermione and I'm tired of the lack of respect he gives me." By the end of his rant, Ron's face was red and his was breathing in short huffs.
"See, I told you!" cried the boy, pointing an accusing finger, "He's always yelling at me!"
"Love, come on now, don't cry. No need to cry" she comforted. "Look what you've -"
"You're doing it again!" Ron yelled, "Stop coddling him!"
"He's just a child, Ron," she argued.
Sniffling, the boy released his grip on Hermione's hips, turned to face the angry, ginger man, squared his small shoulders and lifted his chin in defiance.
"It's okay. I understand. I know he hates me." he said in a calm, business-like tone, it was a voice that belonged to someone far beyond his years.
"Honey, h-he doesn't hate y-" Hermione started
"Yes," he interuppted, "yes he does and I know why."
"Honey,-"
"It's because I look just like him! Just like my dad and he hates my dad. He has always hated him."
"Shut up!" Ron ground out "Shut up you-you bastard!"
"RON!" Hermione yelled, "How dare you!"
"NO! I'm not going to shut up because you know it's true!" the boy replied, unfazed.
"He's jealous because he knows that you will never love him like you loved my father! He hates me because I'm just like him!"
Hermione just stared, astonished at her 8 year-old son. She didn't realise he knew so much, so much about his father. A father he never had the chance to meet. Overcome with emotion, tears welled up in her eyes and she reached for the boy and held him tight.
Ron couldn't stand it any more. The boy was right. He had always known, but to hear it out loud from the carbon copy of the bane of his existence, it was unbearable.
He stared on at the scene in front of him of a sobbing Hermione holding her son. Her son that she did not share with him and his heart clenched. He had to leave. He had to get away from there.
He made his decision then. He would sign those divorce papers she had delivered to him almost 6 months ago, after their last big row when he slipped and called the boy 'ferret'. He would let her go. Because after 7 years of marriage, after 7 years of fighting for the heart of a woman in love with another, Ronald Weasley had lost. He had lost to a dead man. Even in death, Draco Malfoy, through his son, managed to best him.
As he turned to leave, he caught sight of the face of an 8 year-old boy whose eyes shone with the knowledge that he had won.
