Title: Unworthy

Disclaimer: J. is the rightful owner of Harry Potter and all associated characters. I just filch them occasionally and I always put them back where I found them.

Warnings: A couple of swear words.

Rating: PG? T? Nothing in here other than the swear words. And angst. Loads of angst.

Pairing: Ron/Hermione

Word Count: 2,983 (including lyrics)

Summary: Ron is reflecting on the events of The Deathly Hallows and the emotional turmoil he went through after having abandoned Harry and Hermione. This is his journey to forgiving himself.

A/N: This is an entry for the 2nd round of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. The beginning is lifted from The Deathly Hallows; hence it is in italics.

"Call me a name,

Kill me with words,

Forget about me,

It's what I deserve."

All Time Low - Jasey Rae

"After you left," Harry said in a low voice. "She cried for a week. Probably longer, only she didn't want me to see. There were loads of nights when we never even spoke to each other. With you gone..."

"She's like my sister," he went on. "I love her like a sister and I reckon that she feels the same way about me. It's always been like that. I thought you knew."

"I'm sorry," I said in a thick voice. "I'm sorry I left. I know I was a …"

I had no words. There were no words to describe what I'd done; what I was for having done it. I was utterly ashamed. Standing in the forest surrounded by snow and trees, shivering in the wet and the cold; I felt the heat of shame flood me, into the very marrow of my bones. I wondered vaguely if I would ever be free of it again.

Harry was kind. Harry, standing there running his fingers through his already messy black hair, and looking at me so earnestly with those damn expressive green eyes behind those ugly glasses, trying to tell me I'd made up for it. That by saving him and killing the Horcrux I'd redeemed myself, but that only made it worse – Harry being nice to me. Forgiving me, so easily. After I'd left. After I abandoned him and the girl I loved when they needed me, when things were dark.

When we got back to camp, Hermione greeted me as I should have expected; with curses and fists. Crying, screaming, she seemed half out of her mind. I was caught off guard, though I shouldn't have been; just because Harry did the unthinkable and forgave me without a thought, didn't mean Hermione would. And I had no right to expect otherwise.

She came flying at me, frizzy brown hair billowing about her face, red spots standing out on her cheeks, brown eyes blazing with fury.

"You complete arse, Ronald Weasley!"

I know I am.

I lifted my arms to defend myself instinctively, flinching under her blows, but made no move to stop her.

"You come crawling back here after weeks and weeks and – oh, where's my wand?"

I know. Go on; curse me. I know I deserve it.

It was all because of me. Because of the pain I'd caused her. I wanted to cry.

I didn't, though. I'm a full grown wizard, and I have my pride. I could take what I deserved like a man.

Harry threw up a shield charm between us, and she shrieked and railed at him before turning her attention back to me.

"I came running after you! I called you! I begged you to come back!" She looked like she was on the verge of madness. Or tears. Maybe both.

"I know, Hermione, I'm sorry, I'm really – "

"Oh, you're sorry!" She laughed, a demented, crazy sound that made me fear for her sanity. I looked at Harry, but he only shrugged as if to say, "What am I supposed to do?"

She continued to scream at me, and all my insecurity, my fears and doubts, guilt and shame, rose up and filled my throat with bile, and I couldn't stay silent. I reached my breaking point, and without thinking I began to fight back. Started screaming out my feelings; my desperate hopes for forgiveness.

I told them about the Snatchers, and about pretending to be Stan Shunpike. I told them about the deluminator and my version of meeting up with Harry again.

Eventually Hermione was persuaded to accept me. She still shot me dirty looks and refused to speak to me, but she wasn't trying to hex me anymore. I supposed that was a good thing.

I sat in the shade of the tent, watching Hermione and Harry bustle around, preparing for the night. I felt utterly useless, despite having slain the locket Horcrux. I lay down to sleep, but knew it would be pointless.

My guilt was eating me alive.

I deserved everything Hermione could throw at me. Every punch. Every nasty word. I ran a hand through my short-cropped red hair, a bad habit I'd picked up from Harry.

You're a failure, Ronald Weasley, I told myself. You're a disgrace.

I let my disgust with myself take over and wallowed in self-hatred for the rest of the night.

The next day or so I was almost bipolar in my mood shifts.

I allowed myself to be cheerful with Harry; to forget, just for a while, that I was scum. We exchanged stories, and I listened with bated breath to Harry's tales. I warned Harry about the Taboo on Voldemort's name. I told him all about the free radio program called Potterwatch I thought he should listen to.

When I was around Hermione, though… I was subdued and quiet. My heart ached, and I was fully aware of my many shortcomings. I was desperately aware of what I'd done, at every moment. Desperately aware of how much I'd hurt her.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, my love.

I thought there was nothing I wouldn't do to make it up to her. If such a thing were even possible. I wondered if we would ever go back to the way we were once. Let alone become more than that.

She'll never look at me. I ruined every chance I ever had with her. I threw it all away before I even had it.

I did my best to convince her to forgive me. Not because I deserved it, but because I'm a coward who can't handle being ostracized by the woman he loves. No matter how much I deserved it.

I was no Harry. I couldn't be noble and self-sacrificing. I wanted her, even if I didn't deserve her. Knowing this only served to remind me of how inadequate I was. How ignoble.

I spoke up in agreement with everything she said. She seemed to be warming to me, just a little bit. I agreed with her plan to go along to see Luna Lovegood's father. I really did think it wasn't a bad idea; at least it was a change of pace. And as I told Harry; all's fair in love and war.

Besides, Hermione was the smart one, and her ideas were almost always good. Therefore, seeing Xenophilius Lovegood had to be a good idea.

How wrong we were.

He betrayed us; tried to hand us over to Voldemort. He tried to explain, as if that made it alright.

"Please," he begged. "They have my daughter, my Luna!"

As sorry as we felt for him, there was no way we were letting ourselves be caught. It was a near thing, though. The death eaters were almost on top of us when we got away.

Hermione blew up the Lovegood's house. Damn, I love that girl. A genius, that one. Too good for the likes of me.

But I had to keep trying. See, no matter how inadequate I was, something inside me wouldn't let me give up. I had to keep trying; pushing, fighting.

Just give up. You'll never be good enough; never deserve her, my subconscious whispered to me.

It was like I was at war with myself. Part of me wanted the abuse back; the curses and the fury she poured out on me when I first came back. To be punished for all that I'm not, all that I've done. Because I knew it was all I deserved.

Part of me wanted to be forgiven, and be loved in spite of everything. Maybe it was wrong, but that part of me was growing stronger than the other. So I went with it. I fought, strove for acceptance; forgiveness, and held on to the hope of love.

Harry became obsessed with the Deathly Hallows; the story Xenophilius told us. Hermione thought it was nonsense. I thought there might be something to it, but there was no way I was going to oppose Hermione.

Sorry mate. I'm letting you down again. But all's fair in love and war.

We listened to Potterwatch. It put us in better spirits; we all got to laugh a bit. Then Harry started in about the Hallows again, about the Elder Wand. We started getting upset and arguing, all three of us. Hermione and Harry were really going at it.

"Come on, Hermione, why are you so determined not to admit it? Vol–"

"Harry, no!"

"–demort's after the Elder Wand!"

Just like that, the Snatchers came for us.

It was a short struggle. They outnumbered us, were faster, stronger, better prepared. They took our wands and tied us up. My nose was broken in the tussle. Hermione had the foresight before her wand was taken to cast a jinx on Harry that made his face swell up like a balloon, making him almost unrecognizable. Dean and a goblin named Griphook were with them, trussed up just like we were. They grilled us and I did my best to talk our way out of the mess we were in.

Maybe… If I can just find the right words… Maybe I won't be so worthless after all.

My attempts proved useless. Then it was Harry's turn to talk, and he almost had them convinced to let us go when they recognised Hermione. They figured it out.

It's the end. The end of everything.

They recognised Harry; shoved his glasses back on his face and crowed in delight. Shocked and amazed that they had done it; they had captured Harry Potter.

They took us to Malfoy Manor. The Malfoys were excited, shouting over the delight of having captured Harry Potter. They tried to get Draco Malfoy, the little ferret, to identify us. He refused to identify Harry, repeating that he couldn't be sure, and only said "Maybe," and "It could be," about me and Hermione. It gave us a delay that saved us, because Bellatrix Lestrange came in before they called Voldemort, and after seeing the Sword of Gryffindor she refused to let Lucius Malfoy summon him.

"Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback," ordered Narcissa. Bellatrix's words, her promises that Voldemort would kill them all if they summoned him now had frightened her and her family into submission.

"Wait! All except... Except for the Mudblood." It was Bellatrix again. She was giving Hermione this hungry look and it terrified me.

"No!" I screamed, desperate, panicking. Every fiber of my being was frantic, agonizing to save her. I would have given anything for them to take me instead. "You can have me, keep me!"

I went out of my mind as they took us to the cellar and locked us up. Screaming her name, over and over; my world dissolved to that one thing, that one fact; that Hermione must be safe. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else was important. Only that; she must not be harmed.

Luna was there, and Mr. Ollivander. It didn't matter. All that mattered was getting free; getting to Hermione. I tried to apparate without a wand. Harry tried to use his broken wand. Nothing worked. I used my deluminator to give us light, and Harry screamed for help at a piece of mirror that fell from his pocket.

Maybe I'm not the only one who's gone round the bend.

Hermione ended up being tortured. Her screams pierced me to my very core. She was put under Cruciatus, and I lost my mind again in the reverberation of her agonized screams. I shrieked her name again. Again and again, I did the only thing I could do, and called out to her, so she might hear me and know that I was there, desperate to trade places with her and spare her. All I could give her was my voice.

Useless. Utterly useless, I told myself. You're completely useless.

Then Dobby came. Dobby, the free elf. He freed us, saved us. I took a wand from Wormtail, and won Bellatrix's. Harry won the ferret's wand, as well as taking back the two I'd won and we left.

Dobby died, caught in the chest by a knife Bellatrix threw just as he disapparated.

Harry wept.

He dug a grave without magic and buried the elf.

We stayed at Shell cottage a while, making our plans. We were going to break into Gringotts; which is crazy – insane to be exact. But we were going to do it. To find a Horcrux. At least we had the help of a goblin.

While we stayed at Shell cottage, I had time to think. To think, and to talk to Bill. We'd never really been close, being so far apart in age; but I needed to talk to someone, and I couldn't bring myself to bare my soul, my weaknesses, to Hermione. Harry already had enough on his plate.

So I talked to Bill. I told him how I deserved to be punished, to be hated. I told him how weak I was, how inadequate. I tried not to cry.

He spoke in a gruff voice. "You know that's not true, right?"

I started to pull away; I'd thought he'd understand. He stopped me with a hand on my arm.

"Little Brother," he said softly. "You screwed up. You did something you shouldn't have. But we all make mistakes, and if you let it eat you alive and focus on that instead of the things you've done right; well, that's an even bigger mistake. I want you to sit down, and I'm not letting you go until you tell me five things you've done right since you came back."

I hesitated.

"I mean it," Bill said, his hand tightening on my arm. I sat down and stared at his earring, the fang swaying lightly as he moved.

"I saved Harry," I said. "He was drowning and I saved him."

Bill nodded. "Isn't Harry's life important?"

I started. "Of course!"

"Then why are you acting like it's not? Like what you did is bigger than Harry's life?" When he put it that way, it did seem a little… wrong.

"Go on," said Bill.

"I destroyed the –" I paused. "Something we needed destroyed. To help defeat Voldemort."

Bill nodded, a glint in his eye. "And isn't defeating Voldemort important?"

I nodded, rolling my eyes a little.

"Is it more important than what you did?"

I nodded again, sheepish, knowing where this was going. But having him lay it out for me like this… it was helping.

"Then don't think like it doesn't matter." He smiled at me. "And…?" he probed.

"I warned Harry and Hermione about the Snatchers and the Taboo. And showed them Potterwatch."

"Were those things important?"

"Well the Taboo, yeah. Potterwatch just gave us some entertainment when we really needed it; but it wasn't that important."

"I think it is," interjected Bill. "So that's four things, things that matter; three of them life or death scenarios, I think. One more."

"I…" I thought. "I disarmed Bellatrix Lestrange. At Malfoy Manor."

Bill whistled. "That's no small feat, Little Brother," he said admiringly. He peered at me and ticked off his fingers. "You saved Harry's life, first, then you destroyed something to help defeat Voldemort, you warned your friends about the Taboo, introduced them a radio program designed to give hope, and you disarmed a very powerful and evil witch. Those are no small things." He looked at me and he looked… proud?

"I'm so proud of you, Little Brother," he said softly. "You've done more to help in this war than I have, or anyone else I know. I'm proud to know you, and so proud to call you my brother."

He put his arms around me and held me while I cried.

A lot more happened, and we won the war in the end, but that's not really what this story is about.

See, I struggled with feeling inadequate all my life. I always felt that whatever I did, it wasn't good enough. Then when I screwed up, I felt that I deserved to never be forgiven. That I deserved punishment. Insults and fisticuffs.

That I deserved to be left behind, just like I had left them.

I overcompensated sometimes. Acted bigger than I felt, bigger than I was. It was the only thing I could do to keep from going to pieces.

Bill showed me different. We talked for hours, and he really got through to me. Slowly, over time, I began to see myself as worthwhile. I began to recognise that I was more than I had thought I was.

I became more.

And Hermione… Well, we were running to find the last Horcrux and Tonks and Ginny were running to go fight, when I remembered something. I shouted that we needed to free the house elves, let them get to safety. That we couldn't order them to die for us.

We don't want any more Dobbies.

Without warning, Hermione threw herself at me and kissed me. Me. I couldn't believe it. Still can't.

But it's real. It's real and she's mine now. We were married two years ago and now we have you.

Yes, you.

Our little daughter, Rose.

I wrote this because I don't ever want you to go through what I did – and I'm not just talking about the war. We made sure of that when Uncle Harry killed old Snake-Face.

I wrote this because I wanted you to know, no matter how unworthy you ever feel, that you can always be redeemed. If I could, so can you. That you can find love, even when you feel unlovable.

I love you, Rosie, and I'll always be proud of you. Don't ever forget it.

Love,

Dad