A/N : I haven't written a one shot in a while and feel a bit rusty, but this one popped up in my head during the summer and I couldn't not write it. Thanks to ImNotSpeakingToYou for the support and honest thoughts ;) And thank you MsBinns for read proofing and commenting this. Everyone go read and/or reread Australia, she finished it yesterday and it's 45 chapters of Romione perfection. *cheers*

Ron is a twelve year old knight when he breaks his arm.

It gets mended in the infirmary, but he doesn't remember it. He only recalls waking up, the sun high in the sky and a huge pile of sweets on his bedside table. A few days later he notices he has a scar under his left elbow. He isn't sure where it comes from but he doesn't ask for it to be fixed.

He decides he likes it. It shows that he is not just the sixth boy before the girl, that he's more than hand-me-downs and red hair.

Plus, he thinks it's wicked

…

He remembers feeling like he lost control as the brains attacked him. He couldn't do anything. That scared him.

He figures that if he had been fully in control of his actions as everything else was happening he would probably had gotten himself killed. Ginny - his little sister - fighting next to him, Death Eaters attacking a group of teenagers, them infiltrating the Ministry, Hermione cursed and unconscious, Sirius…

Yeah, he would have lost it.

So when he looks at the criss crossed scars on his arms, he recalls how it feels to lose control, how he hated it. And as he runs his hands on his uneven skin,

he promises himself to never lose control again.

And to try not to get himself killed.

…

His broken arm scar, strangely enough, mends perfectly with the intricate swirls left by the brains, but even blinded, he'd still locate his first scar.

He's observing his body in the mirror, lanky arms and skinny chest. His arms are already marked more than any teenager his age should ever be.

It's barely nine and the summer heat is already oppressive. His shirt in his hand, he debates putting it on.

"Oh. S- sorry, I- I did- didn't mean t- to…," Hermione's in his bedroom doorway, bright red and stuttering more than he remembers her capable of. It's adorable.

His face feels hot and he wonders how it can even be warmer in his room when there's a heatwave going on outside.

She doesn't look away though and he can see her mind racing - and his heart - observing his scars. Does it make him damaged goods? Or does it make him valiant?

He puffs his chest, deciding on the later for now - he goes back and forth, - and she huffs and turns around, apologising once more and mumbling something about breakfast.

He puts his shirt on, the fabric sticks to him like a second skin. He closes his eyes, recalling Hermione's gaze and the pinkness of her cheeks. It's hard to breathe.

...

He lays awake in his four poster bed that night.

He had his first kiss. Well, his first snog really, 'cause that amount of tongue was more than just an innocent kiss. He chuckles, yes, that was fun! Lavender wouldn't have been his first choice, but he figures she's a pretty decent human being so he doesn't mind. Plus she seems really into him. He smiles.

But then he frowns as he remembers Hermione's face when she saw them trying to sneak in the empty classroom. She was livid. Or maybe he was.

And the birds.

Those crazy birds.

He can still feel his arms sting from their attack.

He figures he'll have scars. Probably earned them too. He fucked up.

...

He doesn't really see the scars he got from his splinching after they escape the Ministry until he gets to Bill and Fleur's.

Until after he left.

He splinched a fingernail too now, but he's fairly certain he won't get a scar on his body. Just his ego. His upper arm and shoulder, though, are a mess. Hermione tried her best to mend them, but there's only so much you can do on the run. And he knows he'll keep those scars as long as he'll live.

Bill notices them and makes him remove his shirt to take a closer look. His brother hisses when he sees the state of his arms. Ron is beginning to have quite a collection…

"You got something to say?" he defiantly asks his older brother.

Bill only whispers his name worriedly.

"We have to stop him. No matter what," Ron clenches his jaw. I have to find them. Help them. He closes his eyes, angry tears burning his eyelids. He'll never forgive himself if something happens to Harry and Hermione… Bile rises in his throat. He lost control.

"Right now, you need to rest," Bill hands him some ointment Fleur made. "For your arms, it'll help your smoothing your skin. Won't remove the scars though."

Ron shrugs. Having scars is the last of his worries. He doubts he'll sleep tonight.

…

He's nineteen and under the covers of his girlfriend's bed.

Hermione traces his scars, all of them. Slowly. Delicately. Quietly.

He feels her silent apology through every one of her caresses. Even for the ones she didn't make.

"I used to want a scar," he speaks softly, "I thought it'd make me brave and important, like Harry's and his crazy cool lightning bolt scar." His hands fly in the air, accompanying his words.

She listens, eyes wide open and staring into his, mapping his skin - his scars - still.

"And now?"

He shrugs. His hand finds the worst of her scars, the one mangled on her left forearm. He still can't look at it without wanting to punch the nearest wall.

Her body tenses above his, a reflex she can't quite shake away yet.

And now?

Scars make you brave and important yes, but they never fade. They are reminders of dark days, of losing control.

"Now, I think I need to be careful with what I wish for," he states seriously. But then he smiles. He may have twirls and crossroads scarring his arms, but others have weirdly shaped misfortunes and he supposes his are not so bad. He grins, "and I think Harry's scar looks ridiculous."

She laughs and his body awakens beneath her.

…

His brother's death is a scar he'll bear all his life.

Even if it didn't leave any trace on his body. It damaged his soul.

He no longer has five older brothers. Only four and Fred.

Fred who will forever be twenty. Ron has trouble grasping how he can be older than his older brother. He understands how, but it just feels so wrong when he's been the younger brother all his life to suddenly be older than one of them. The day he realises it - that he's older than Fred will ever be - the pain is almost unbearable.

He learns that all scars aren't marred skin.

...

He goes through a phase, two years after he joins the Aurors, where he scrubs his body over and over, trying to make the scars disappear. He has new ones, tokens from missions too dangerous for a twenty-one year old.

There was once a time he thought they made him valliant rather than damaged good. But on somber days, when the Auror missions never seem to end and the cruelty of the attacks are too much to bear, he leans on the latter.

He closes his eyes and pictures his family in his head. All damaged.

He thinks of his parents, and how they lost too many family members to wars. He pictures Bill, attacked by Greyback and now forever disfigured. Ron recalls when he first talked to Charlie after the battle and when he saw his hands, burned and cracked. He had thought it was from the previous night, but had been oddly relieved when Charlie had informed him they were just from taking care of dragons. The guilt in his eyes though, Charlie wore like an apology. From being away for so long. Then there's George, who is missing an ear. And a twin. And no one will ever fully grasps what that's like. Percy doesn't have any physical scars, but ever since the war, something dark shifted within him, like he will never fully forgive himself. No matter what anyone else says. Ron remembers Ginny's first year at Hogwarts, half of it spent possessed by Voldemort. He only got a glimpse of what that was like, and realises only now that it's bound to have left deep marks within his sister's mind. Next, he thinks of Harry, and his ridiculous lightning bolt shaped scar and how he has more ghosts than any of them will ever have. And finally, there's Hermione. She has more scars than he ever wanted to count, all over her body. He once cataloged them all within the intimacy of their bed.

One night, she finds him under the shower, skin pink and raw, and broken.

They talk and cry. Nothing is like what he pictured his life would be when he was an eleven years old boy riding a train and eating too many sweets with his newly found best friend.

He decides to quit his job and go fully work with George at the joke shop.

He doesn't want any more scars.

…

Vrrrrrrr. Brrrrrrrr! No Rosie stop! You cheated!

"What are you doing?" Ron mumbles. Hugo and Rose apparently found a way to come up on his bed without waking him. Until now.

He feels the wheels of a toy car rolling on his arm.

"No Hugo! You can't drive here, it's the dragon's cave! He'll attack you!" Rose tuts, exactly like her mother and Ron grins.

"But I wanna fight dwagon!" Hugo bounces on the bed next to him, toy wand at the ready, staging a pretend battle with an invisible dragon. Rose aligns the little cars along the criss crossed marks on his arm. Ron wonders where Hermione is when he hears a brutal clatter in the kitchen.

"You okay?" He yells as the kids momentary stop their play and look at him in surprise.

She replies that she's fine and he's pretty sure a couple curse words that he hopes the kids didn't hear. Hugo, seemly oblivious, points his wand on the swirling skin of his shoulder but Rose scowls quietly. He winks at her.

Apparently now, his scars are tracks left on his body for his children to use to race cars and imagine wizards fighting dragons. He likes it.

Hugo thinks they're wicked. He tells his son to be careful with what he wishes for.