Nope, don't own nothing.
A short one-shot about Ron from when he was six to around 19.
A Weasley Does
The first time I swore in front of my mother she turned that famous shade of reddish/purple that my siblings and I were so used to. The one where we knew we should start running before she found her voice, I, however, was too slow this time.
"Ronald Bilius Weasley!"
Ah, the middle name comes out; you know you are in trouble when your parent uses your full name.
"What did you just say, young man?"
Also can tell you're in trouble when you're called 'young man'.
"Nothing, Mum."
"Don't you lie to me Ronald!"
I knew I was trapped; Mum would wait all day if she had to until I admitted to what I had said.
I gave a slow sigh, "I just said bloody hell, Mum." She gave a frown, and her mouth opened to yell, then I said words I knew I would regret, "Bill and Charlie say it all the time."
Oh, good plan; put the blame on your much larger, older brothers. The ones who would make sure you suffered if they got in trouble because of you.
The reddish/purple shade slowly transformed into simply red meaning, in one word, trouble, "William Arthur Weasley! Charles Michael Weasley! Get down here now!"
Bill and Charlie were upstairs, but when mum was in one of her moods, it didn't matter what part of the house you were in, you could still hear her. It sounded like a herd of elephants lumbering down the stairs. They had barely reached the sitting room before mum started on them.
"Do you know what your brother just said?" She paused, knowing full well Bill and Charlie didn't know the answer, "Bloody hell! Where do you think he learns language like that!?"
It didn't matter that Bill, at just 14, was taller then mum. And Charlie, 12, was just as tall as she was. They cowered; mum had that effect on us. But what scared me was the glower that they were giving me. Mum turned back to me, and I could feel myself slowly sink down. "Gentlemen don't use that type of language Ronald!"
I couldn't stop it, me and my speaking before the thought process started, the next phrase just came out "Maybe not, but a Weasley does."
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It was almost ten years later when a group of friends and I snuck into the ministry. The one act that solidified our friendship for the duration of Hogwarts and long after. I don't remember much about the battle, simply that I was the first to fall, but it saved my sister. I remember afterward, though, in the hospital wing, talking with Harry.
The rest of the DA members that had gone into the Ministry were in the hospital. Even if they didn't have to be there. It was the one time Madam Pompfry had bowed to what the students wanted. It could have been the look that Profs. Dumbledore and McGonagall gave her, I suppose. The members were all already asleep when Harry pulled a chair next to my bed.
"Ron? You awake?" He gave me a slight shake to accompany the words.
"I am now."
"Sorry I woke you, Ron. I'll talk to you tomorrow, I guess."
He began to stand.
"No." I rolled over to my back, "I'm awake, what is it?"
"Ron," he frowned, "why did you all come with me?"
I smiled slowly, "We couldn't let you go alone, could we?"
He smiled back, the first real smile that he had all year, "Nah, guess not. I've been horrid to you all year, haven't I?"
He bit his lip.
I pushed myself to a sitting position, wincing as I put weight on my arms.
"Let me tell you something, Harry. We're more then just the D.A. we're your friends. And friends, well, they go through hell for one another."
I looked around the room at the various places the 'central' D.A. members were sleeping. Hermione in the bed next to my own, Ginny on my other side, Neville was snoring lightly in a cushy chair pulled between Ginny's and Harry's beds. Luna was curled in a tight ball on the small couch Dumbledore had created out of thin air. We were all there, closer then before.
I smiled at Harry, "We're here for you Harry. It doesn't matter what you go through. That's what friends do for one another."
Harry suddenly buried his face in his hands, and I watched as silent sobs shook his body.
"It's not fair, Ron. He was my dad's friend. And he shouldn't be dead."
"'S Ok, Harry."
"Most people probably don't believe me, Ron."
I reached out and clapped my hand on my best friends shoulder. Just sat there as he cried, my hand on his shoulder, letting him know I was there.
Just like when I was six, the words came out before I could help it, only this time it was the right words to say. "Maybe not, but a Weasley does."
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The final battle came some four years later. A little over three months after graduation. By that time, my world had completely changed. Ginny had finally realized that she would never get over Harry completely, and Harry had finally gotten the courage to ask her out. Better still, Hermione and I were no longer "just friends". We had stopped being just friends at the end of sixth year.
So, it came down to the final battle, Hermione and I were waiting behind some rocks, for our signal from Harry that it was time. Neville, Luna, and Ginny were some ten feet away from us. The signal from Harry had been previously been planned in the Ravenclaw common room two nights previous. It was his request to me, should Voldemort attack the messenger, that it be him bringing it. The row we had reviled any that Hermione and I had over the years, but finally, I had agreed.
I was general over the troop, years of chess had finally paid off, technically Harry's superior officer, but he was still the only one who could defeat Voldemort.
Hermione looked over at me, "Ron?"
I looked towards her.
"Are you scared, Ron?"
"Of course I am."
"So am I." She was silent for a little bit, then. "Ron? Do you love me?"
I smiled at her and leaned over, placing a chaste kiss on her lips "Of course I do."
"I love you too, Ron."
She frowned, messing up that pretty face of hers, "There are some people saying that Harry won't defeat Voldemort, Ron."
"Of course he will."
"I think he will, too Ron. But most people don't have as much faith as us."
"Yeah, well, most people aren't like us, Hemione."
"No, they're not."
"Maybe not, but a Weasley does."
My wife smiled at me.
"Yes, a Weasley does."