Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I never said I did. I also don't own the lyrics. Those belong to the band Matchbox 20, I'm just borrowing them for the night.

Summery: Ron looks back on what he let go and how it changed his life. Inspired by the song 'The Difference' by Matchbox 20 but is not a songfic. Not really a ship fic but has some DM/HG as an undertone. Doesn't follow HBP.

Dancing on the Boulevard

He remembered the first time he saw her, bushy haired, buck toothed, and snobbish. On some level he had known just how wonderful she was then. Of course it would take him nearly seven years before he would ever admit that he liked her. The night he did, oh god, that was a night he wouldn't be forgetting anytime this life.

They had been out by the Black Lake, trying to escape the bustling castle. She was wearing that beautiful silvery dress that brought out the amber color of her eyes, and staring at her in the moonlight he knew he was in love. It had just happened, they moved closer and lips met. He was almost certain he had seen fireworks that night.

They had danced the rest of the night away under that moon. He had held her close, memorizing the feel of her in his arms. He took in every detail, even down to the way the wind had gently blown her slightly tamed hair across her cheek. He could still see the way her dress sparkled like diamonds as he twirled her in an old fashioned waltz. She was beautiful, she was his and that was all that mattered that night. There were no guarantees in those days. He honestly hadn't known if that would be their last chance to be like that.

The next morning was filled with stolen glances and shy smiles. They grew closer over the following months, filling the dangerous time with what happiness they could find in one another. There were other nights by the lake, dancing and sharing chaste words of love.

Then it happened. War couldn't stay away forever, he had known that, he had only wished it would have stayed away a bit longer. A 'bombing', or at least that's what the muggles called it, had killed twenty people in a train station. Her parents had been two of them.

She pulled away from him after that. Stepping back into the anti social bookworm she had been when they had first come to Hogwarts. He found out why later. She wasn't content with justice anymore, she wanted revenge. Months spent pouring over books, and spells, learning everything she could to make them pay.

They said goodbye at the lake, a final dance, just a month after that. He hadn't pleaded with her to stay, he honestly didn't think she would have listened, and by the light of morning she was gone, leaving him with nothing but a memory. He later heard from the twins that she had joined the Order. Harry's letter a few months after that had conformed it. She was gone, vanished into the night to take on the war by herself.

He finished his schooling quietly after that. The Auror academy had accepted him, and he had gone off to start his career without a glance backwards. The next three years were grueling, the training intense and the hours long. At the end of it however, he was ready to stand up and fight. He had spent too many years staying behind, training, and learning while his friends were off fighting for not only their lives but the lives of countless others.

No amount of training had prepared him for the battle field, though. The death was unimaginable and at times he doubted he would escape with his sanity intact. He had carried the bodies of friends, colleges and former class mates off the fields when the fighting was done. He had seen those he thought to be on their side laying dead in Death Eater robes, dark marks fading as their body grew cold. It was horrible, and frightening, knowing what people were capable of doing to each other.

No matter the damage he had managed to survive till the end of the war. Four years after finishing his training, and nearly eight since he had left Hogwarts, he stood proud knowing that the greatest evil of his lifetime was dead, never to return. The ministry awarded him for his efforts at a lavish ceremony months later. That had been the first time he had seen Harry for the better part of a decade. He had a daughter, barely two months old. It had been somewhat surreal to think of Harry as a father. He didn't know who the mother was but he knew that who ever she was she had to love Harry more then anything else. He knew Harry well enough to know he wouldn't settle for anything but.

He hadn't seen her. It had been nearly three years since any information about her had slipped his way. He didn't know were she was but he knew she was alive. Her name hadn't been read off with the honored deceased. He didn't ask anyone, he barely spoke during any of the ceremonies he was forced to attend. Harry had sent him an invitation to a reunion of sorts. He had declined as graciously as possible. The war had changed him in more ways then he would ever be willing to admit, and one of those ways was his social behavior. There was a time when he would have liked nothing more then to be the center of attention, but those days had long since passed. He found he much preferred solitude, and ironically books, to large crowds and parties.

The years after the war passed slowly, almost too slowly. All his siblings had married, even Ginny who had sworn she would marry no one but Harry. He was very grateful that Neville had managed to calm some of his sisters more dramatic attitudes. After that came the births. He began to hate going to the Burrow for the Holidays simply because it seemed as though some member of the very expanded Weasely family was always pregnant. It lead to too many looks from his mother. He knew she was worried about him, but he honestly couldn't stand another Boxing Day with her not so subtle hints about 'amiable' young witches she just happened to meet at the Alley.

So he was content to spend his days alone, at least in till McGonagall decided that wasn't good enough and offered him a job teaching at Hogwarts. How she thought he was certified to teach anyone was beyond him but he had accepted it and took up his new position as Flying Instructor and Quidditch referee. That is how he came to be here, meandering about Diagon Alley on a rather hot August afternoon. McGonagall had insisted that he decide on which books would be needed for the recently added Quidditch classes. He personally thought it was a waist of time. Just hand Beaters clubs, the Keeper the Quaffle, and hope the Seeker had good eye sight. There was no since in making it difficult.

Turning near Flourish and Blotts he caught a glimpse of familiar chestnut colored hair. For a moment he thought he was hallucinating, after all it had been many years since he spoke anyone he knew from Hogwarts. As he turned to look in the direction, however, he was greeted by the sight of a women of about thirty standing near the entrance to the shop. Her dark hair was pulled back and she wore everyday robes. There was nothing out of place about her, except for her amber shaded eyes and a large tabby that was poking his head out of her bag. It was her.

For a moment he had almost forgotten how to breath. After nearly fifteen years with out a word about her she was standing right in front of him. Taking a step towards her he felt his hand shake, it was almost as though he were a teenager again, trying to get up the nerve to ask her to dance. Stopping a few steps away he let a single word escape his lips, "Hermione?"

The women turned to look at him and her eyes widened. A hand flew to her mouth as she looked him up and down. "Ron?" she asked unsteadily. At his nod she rushed forward and took him into a hug. "It's been over a decade! Harry said he tried to owl you when I came out of hiding but you wouldn't reply!" Her words sunk in slowly and he found himself feeling even more depressed. She had been in hiding? That was why he hadn't heard from or about her during most of the war? "Oh, Ron! So much has happened! I don't know where to begin!" She was laughing and crying at the same time as she pulled away.

Before he could even utter a word in response a squeal sounded from just inside the shop door. "Mum! Mum! Look what I've got! It's the latest book by Aunt Tonks! It was the last copy! It's on the required reading list for DADA class this year." a young female voice spoke quickly. Looking in the general area of the door he say a girl no older then twelve, with long dirty blond hair and wide amber eyes, hurrying towards them. Her arms were laden with school supplies and more books then required for Hogwarts. Hermione smiled at the girl and took some of the things from her arms. "Papa was complaining the entire time like you said he would. Kept saying that he 'never paid such an ungodly amount' for a course book when he went to Hogwarts."

Hermione merely laughed and turned back towards him. "Ron, I'd like you to meet my daughter, Adhara, Ara for short." She added the last part quickly when the girl cast her a very unpleasant look. Apparently she was very displeased with being named after a star. With those thoughts running through his mind it took him a moment to grasp what else she had said. This girl, Ara, was her daughter. She had moved, on started a family.

That knowledge set a dead weight in his chest but the two people in front of him didn't seem to notice. "Ara, this is Ron Weasely. We attended Hogwarts together, along with Uncle Harry." Hermione had continued on, all the while looking at her daughters purchases.

The girl turned towards him with something akin to hero worship in her eyes. "You're Professor Weasely?" she asked in a quiet voice. Not being able to muster the energy to verbally respond he nodded him head, "Mum! It's Professor Weasely! He's the flying Professor Avery was telling me all about!" Her mother looked between her and him as if she was trying to remember something but nodded just the same. The girl continued to rattle on about Quidditch and all that she had learned from her father and Uncle Harry.

"Mia?" a deep masculine voice called from behind them. Steeling he hoped he was wrong about who's voice it was. Turning only conformed his worst fears, standing behind him was none other then Draco Malfoy.

"Papa!" Ara shouted and quickly rushed to his side. "Come meet Professor Weasely! He teaches flying at Hogwarts." Malfoy didn't seem to protest much as he was pulled forward.

"Weasely."

"Malfoy."

Ara stared between them for a moment before breaking out into a large smile. "Good. You know each other already." Seemingly satisfied for the moment she turned her full attention on her father. "Papa, can we go look at the racing brooms, please? Mum's being a meany and says that I can't." A pouting look crossed her face and Malfoy sighed.

Turning his gaze towards Hermione he looked her dead in the eyes. "What? You're the one who promised, not me. You deal with this mess on your own." she said sternly, but there was a gentle playfulness in her eyes. Another look passed between them again and Malfoy let out another sigh while Hermione smiled. "Ron, it was wonderful seeing you again. You should really stop by the manor sometime for tea. Harry and Luna will be there this Sunday, can you make it? Good. We'll see you then." Stepping forward she gave him a hug and a kiss on the check.

"Weasely."

"Malfoy."

"Bye Professor Weasely!" Ara shouted back to him as they walked away. Staring at the family leaving he wondered if he had momentarily stepped into a parallel universe. There, walking away from him, had been everything he ever knew he wanted.

It truly made him think as he walked back towards his flat, if fate had perhaps had a different idea of what he needed. As he turned the corner a piece of a muggle song ran through his head. "'And for all you know, this could be the difference between what you need and what you wanna be.'" Whistling to himself he made his was home, wondering were life would take him now that he knew who he wanted to be.

fins.

AN: Please review or flame, at this point I just want feed back. Thanks.