Of Roses and Thorns

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I disclaim.

May 2, 1998

Ron couldn't breathe. He didn't know if it was the air in the Great Hall, the sight of his brother's lifeless body, or the sobbing everyone was doing, but he had to get out of there. Everyone seemed content to cry and clean and wait for Voldemort to show up and kill the rest of them off, but he bloody hell wasn't. He didn't get it. He wanted to cry too, didn't anyone realize that? But he couldn't because he's Ron Weasley, best friend to the famous Harry Chosen One Potter and Hermione Brightest Witch of Their Generation Granger. What did he have to claim to his name in the end? A few lucky saves as Keeper in Quidditch? Won-Won, Lav-Lav's ex-boyfriend? He had nothing. He didn't save the bloody world every day like Harry seemed to do, he was just...what was he? He sighed, resigned. He was just another Weasley.

He collapsed onto the ground, his eyes glued to his dead brother and his sobbing mother. Fred. His eyes moved to George, wondering what was going through his mind. George's hand was clamped over his mouth, his eyes opening and shutting over and over, as if in disbelief. He seemed to be moving in slow motion. In fact, Ron discovered, everyone was moving slower than usual. And what was that ringing noise? He barely registered Ginny falling into his arms and crying. He made no move to put an arm around her.

Fred was dead. And so were tons of other people, Ron knew, but all he could understand was that Fred was dead.

The ringing left his ears and he looked down at Ginny wetting his shirt with her tears. He put a hand up to her head and patted her awkwardly. "Shh, Gin. You know how Fred gets when you cry." He didn't know what had possessed him to say that, but it seemed to make everything a hundred times worse. He couldn't get anything right, could he? Ginny sobbed even harder into his shirt and even Percy seemed to crumble at Ron's words. Ron watched as his prat of a brother sank down to his knees and began to sob. They had never been close, so the wrenching in his heart he felt for his brother surprised him.

"It should have been me!" Percy ground out. "It was my fault, it should have been me!"

"No, Percy, don't-" His mum began, but was interrupted by Ginny's scream.

Ron hadn't noticed that Gin had even stood. "You're damn right it should have been you, you horrible, pathetic excuse of a human!" She was shrill and everyone in the Hall had fallen silent at her words, but no one made a move to stop her. Ron looked up at his dad, who had his head down, his eyes on his fallen son. Ron knew his father wouldn't say a word. Ron wondered if he'd ever speak again. Gin pushed on, ignoring that her once proud older brother was sobbing at her feet. "You left us, Percy! You publicly disowned us! Fred was with us the entire time! Fred loved us!"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" Percy was begging, his hands wrapped around his sister's ankles. Ron felt sick. This was wrong. This was all wrong.

"NO!" Ginny screamed shrilly, "No, you do not get to say sorry as if it would make a difference! You deserve to d-"

"Ginny!" Ron shouted, turning her around and staring her in the eyes. She avoided his gaze, tears streaming down her face. "Don't, Gin, you know you don't mean any of that."

She gave him her best glare. If Ron were a lesser man, he would have flinched. "Don't you dare take his side, Ronald! He left us! We needed him and he left us! Where was he when you and Harry were trying to save me from the Chamber, hm? Where was he when Harry saw Voldemort after the tournament and no one would believe that he was back, even after Cedric had been killed? Where the fuck was he when we were nearly killed by Death Eaters at the Ministry? Where-"

"GIN!" Ron roared, furious.

Ginny was not intimidated, however. Everyone was staring at this point. The only other sound in the Hall was the sound of Percy weeping at their feet. "What, Ron? Are you going to deny it? That while he was off kissing Ministry arse, everyone in this family was sacrificing everything they had in order for a better world?" Her tone was taking an ugly, sarcastic tone that caused Ron to flinch. Where had his baby sister gone? Where was his annoying, nosy, noisy baby sister? "He doesn't get to show up out of nowhere one day and suddenly everything's peachy keen! He abandoned us, his family, Ron!" She was crying again and her words were difficult to understand. "Fred is dead, Ron. Fred is dead and as far as I'm concerned, Percy is too."

Ron could barely contain his own tears. But he was Ron Weasley and while the world didn't need him, he knew his family did. He shook his head at his baby sister and pulled her into his arms. "Gin, we're a family. We're not perfect, and we've all made mistakes, but at the end of the day, we're a family. We're all we have and we've never needed anything more, you know?" Ron was never really good at feelings, and Hermione once said he had the emotional range of a teaspoon, but he squashed those thoughts and pressed on. "We've all done things for what we thought was for the best, Gin. It is not Percy's fault that Fred isn't with us anymore. Nor is it yours or mine or anyone else's. It's...we'll be okay, Gin. My point..." Ron struggled to find the words that would fix his baby sister's heart. "My point is that we're all we've got and no matter what anyone in this family does, we're still a family and we love each other." He pulled back and looked his baby sister in the eye as tears continued to stream down her cheeks. "If we're going to get through this war-" He looked around at the rest of his family, his backbone, the best thing he's got. "If we're going to get through this, we're going to get through it together. All of us. As a family."

It was in that moment, as his sister continued to cry into his shoulder and his mum shot him a grateful smile and his brother George slipped a hand into his, that Ron realized that how true those words were. He didn't need to be the savior of the wizarding world or a million N.E.W.T.S. All he needed was his family. In that moment, he was never more proud to be "just another Weasley".

November 16, 1936

When Hermione had first laid eyes on Harry Potter, she didn't think he was anything special. No, there was absolutely nothing remarkable about the 11 year old boy, other than his scar, but you couldn't really see it under all that unruly hair. Of course she had heard about all of the hubbub over him; she devoured all the books on wizarding history and life she could get her hands on the week following her acceptance to Hogwarts. Looking at him from across the platform of 9 3/4, he didn't strike her as the savior of the wizarding world type. But what did she know? She had just been plain old Hermione Granger, daughter of two dentists, bookworm, and friendless loser.

She kept her eye on Harry Potter, however, determined to figure out what about him was so special. In classes he didn't seem to be particularly powerful. In fact, Hermione had thought smugly, she had been better than him in all of their classes! Of course she tried to help him and Ron, his friend, but they were so mean about all her nice little tips. She really shouldn't have bothered. But then she had gotten herself mixed up with that troll and Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, of all people, had stepped in to save her. She thought they hated her, that they wouldn't care if she vanished after all of the horrid things they had said about her, but as she watched Ron and Harry attempt to battle the troll for her-for her-she realized what it was that made Harry and Ron so special. It was the same thing that the rest of the world had seen, what Professor Snape had detested, and what made Hermione realize there was more to being a hero than flashy capes and a nifty catchphrase: it was being brave to the point of stupidity and putting the greater good above oneself.

Harry had been putting everyone above himself for years. He's never been properly taken care of, a fact that made Hermione's heart ache each time she thought about it. Those days were done, however, because Hermione Granger was capable, she was brave, and she was going to fix everything. She would keep Fred from dying, she would keep Harry's parents alive to properly love him, and everyone would have the lives they deserved.

"I know you." She heard from the direction of the other side of the room. Her head snapped up, breaking her from her reverie. Hermione was quick to recognize the dusty floor and the sight of the boy eying her was enough testament to her second failed attempt to get to the correct time. She internally cursed and resisted the urge to pound the floor in frustration. "I thought I had dreamed you." The young Tom Riddle Jr. continued, ignorant to the battle the young woman was waging in her head. "But of course I didn't. I don't dream."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione sniffed, feigning calm. She toyed with the idea of obliviating him, or perhaps even killing him. They stared at each other in silent assessment. Did Hermione have it in her to kill a young Lord Voldemort? She struggled to even her breathing. The thought of killing a child, regardless of the child's potential, didn't sit well with her. No, stopping Dumbledore from bringing Tom to Hogwarts will be the best course of action. It was best to avoid as much death as possible.

Almost as if he read her mind, he spoke again. "I felt a connection to you the last time you came. At first I thought it was because you were my mum, but that can't possibly be true now that I think about it; you're very young." He smiled at her and Hermione felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. "It's because you're special, like me. The other kids," His voice became rough and she suddenly felt on edge. Would he freeze her again, like the last time? "The other kids tease me and taunt me and tell stories about me, but I know better. I know it's because they're scared of me. I can make them hurt." He whispered. His eyes bored into her skull. "And if you leave me again, I'll make you hurt too."

Having had enough, Hermione gritted her teeth and casted a non-verbal stunner at him. Working quickly, she casted her runes. As she drew her last rune, she felt the magical energy in the room shift. Her head snapped up as she realized with sinking horror that the child before her had broken her stunner with nothing more than a shrug of his shoulders. What was he?

Fear and apprehension messing with her focus, she threw herself through her portal without another glance at the silent boy she should have killed.