I see the boys- men, now- tell him what a hero he is. How he saved the day against impossible odds. I see them rush past me to reach him and shake his hand. I see them boast of knowing him, and of having known him before the war- while people I've known since childhood take a moment to remember me. I see grown men take off their hats when they speak to him, and treat him like an elder statesmen. Never mind that I was right by his side the whole time- never mind that I helped him and believed in him and trusted him when no one else did. Never mind that without my help, he probably would have been the Boy-Who-Died halfway through his first year at school. I see all this, and I smile.

I see the girls flock to him, telling him how handsome and charming he is. I see them argue over him, fight over him, and drool over him. I see them give him presents (ugly stuff, mostly) and bat their eyes at him. Even Loony Lovegood had a crush on him once- I think, I'm not sure. Meanwhile, I grow a full foot over the summer and begin putting on muscle and no one notices. Well, almost no one- Hermione notches and I suppose that's enough. But still, every girl notices him. I remember how everyone assumed for a time that he and Hermione would be together- the hero and the beautiful honor student. I see, now, how everyone assumes she was rejected in favor of Ginny- and that she settled for the sidekick instead. I see all this and I smile,

I see my parents fuss over him as though he were their only child. I hear my mother praise him to the skies and worry about him when he's with the muggles. I see the annual ritual; I bring her my report cards, she looks them over and straight away asks me how he did that year. Does he look healthy? Are those horrid muggles feeding him enough? She tells me what a fine young man he's grown up to be and that I could learn from him. She was proud enough of my OWLS, but I thought she'd burst when she saw his. I remember how when I'd been poisoned all she could talk about was how lucky I was to be his friend- even as I lay there.

I see how my father lights up when he walks into the room- he can't wait to start talking to him about air-o-plans or elematers or whatever. I once tried to read a muggle magazine to help him with a problem- Popular Mechanisms I think it was. Boring stuff, and hard, but I wanted to help him fix the toaster. He listened politely, then said he thought he'd ask someone with a little more experience for help. I see the way that my brothers treat him. They rib him like he was one of us, but never prank him the way they do me. They've never given him acid pops, or turned his pillow into a spider, or even magiced his underpants away. They give him free stuff and all the advice he wants, while I get a one knut discount and a reading list when I ask them.

I see my sister gaze at him with worship in her eyes- I still remember how she used to toddle around after me and imitate everything I did. Her first word was 'Ron' but now all she has for me is insults. I see all this, and I smile.

I see how our teachers treated him. They pay him special attention, and rarely punish him when he breaks the rules. I see how quickly he understands the classwork (when he bothers to listen) and how Hermione has to go over every lesson and lecture with me before I get it. I saw how Dumbledore used to call him into his office for chats every so often, how they were more like father and son than anything else. I barely spoke a dozen words to the man in six years. I see all this and I smile.

I see how exciting his life is- as though he were the focus of the entire world.

I smile through the pain, the jealousy, the hurt and the loneliness. I smile because of all the dull classes we spent playing hangman. I smile because of all the less-epic adventures we shared- sneaking out to Hogsmead, the first time we got drunk, our first hangovers, learning to dance, and so many others. I smile because despite the attention, he often feels alone if me and Hermione aren't there. I smile because sometimes I see him looking at me with love in his eyes- not romantic love, obviously, but the love I saw between Fred and George. I smile because whether he ever says it or not, he needs me. I smile because I know he'd die if he knew how badly all this hurt me sometimes- he'd either kill himself or die of guilt and shame.

I never say this, I don't have to anymore then Fred had to tell George he loved him. It was simply understood.

I smile because, in the end, Harry Potter is my best friend, my brother in all but blood, and I could never ever hate him.

A/N

It's always struck me that Ron got the short end of the stick in life. He is completely in Harry's shadow- that wouldn't be so bad if it didn't extend to his family. I can't recall a time when the Weasley's paid more attention to Ron than to Harry- and I can't imagine that wouldn't \have an effect. You can even see it, when the Horcrux plays on that bitterness to try to get him to attack Harry. So here's my explanation for why things haven't gone sour between the 'dream team'.