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Ron glared at the paper in front of him and downed another glass of Firewhisky.

One. Two. Three. He had counted earlier.

One. The first, a large Barn Owl, had gone to Lucy. She'd taken her letter, fed the owl a treat and walked away, pride in her every step.

Two. The second was a small Burrowing Owl, and it had held out its leg to Louis. He'd smiled and ripped the letter open, squealing with joy as his father wrapped his arms around his waist.

Three. The third- and last- letter was carried by a Snowy Owl. With 'Miss L. L. Potter' written on it in Deputy Headmistress Padma Patil's distinctive writing. Ginny had taken it for the little princess, because she couldn't do anything for herself.

But she could go to Hogwarts.

Ron swore loudly, banging his glass on the table and reaching for his wand to refill it.

One. Two. Three.

There was a soft knock on the door of his study.

"Go away!"

She opened the door anyway, flooding the dark room with light.

"I said, GO AWAY!" He roared, jumping from the armchair, his wand held high.

"Go to sleep, honey." Hermione walked toward him slowly.

"Oh." He looked down. "I thought, you were, you know, Hugo." He whispered the last word. One. Two. Three.

Anger flashed across Hermione's face. "Go to sleep, honey." She repeated. "I'll fill out the form."

This time, it was Ron's face where raged shone through. "Damn the form! Incendio!" he shouted, pointing his still-raised wand at the paper on the table behind him.

"Ron!"

It sizzled, burned out. To Ron, the silence before she spoke again seemed to last forever. One. Two. Three.

Her voice was very small and overwhelmed. "That was the key to his dreams."

Ron stumbled out of the room, ignoring her.

"He doesn't belong in our world anymore." Hermione said. He could hear the tears he couldn't see, but he kept going, down the hall to the living room.

"We have to let him be who he is. We have to accept him however he was given to us." The voice at his elbow pleaded.

He shrugged. What did he care?

"He wanted to go to that music school."

He turned the corner.

She followed. "That is what he's chosen as his future."

Ron paused before the short flight of steps leading up to their bedroom. "He has no future," he growled. "He's a worthless Squib!"

He turned and couldn't help but count the stairs as he went up them. One. Two. Three.

A/N: I love Ron, really, but sometimes we need to manipulate characters we love into being people we hate.