Being a Hero stinks sometimes

(A/N: In honor of Ron's Birthday tomorrow, I present this small gift to the reading community. A friend asked for a Ron-centric story, making him a Hero, with some action and little fluff or lemons. So, I give you this and hope it's appreciated. – D.G.)

Ron opened his eyes, seeing the white of the ceiling in front of him. The ceiling had water stains, making a bad collage with the pinprick holes in the fire retardant tiles. The bright fluorescent lights of the room hurt.

A beeping noise was above his head. My head? That's what's hurting.

He blinked, and the pain intensified. The nerves in his body slowly awoke, radiating from his neck downward. He groaned in slowly growing agony. His head hurting was the least of his problems.

He blinked again, and a set of soft blue eyes looked down at him. "Mr. Weasley? Are you waking up?"

"Bloody Hell," he croaked.

"You've been through a lot. Don't speak too much yet. Let's get you some ice to wet your lips."

The medi-witch put a small spoonful of ice chips to his lips, letting the cold course through his face. He saw the concern on her face, hidden behind the stoic professionalism. "What?"

"I can't say yet, but you're awake. That's a great start. I'll get a healer in here in a minute to tell you what's going on."

"Hermione?" Blimey, I sound like a toad.

"Your wife?"

Ron blinked, nodding his head very gently. Blimey, that hurts!

"She's out in the lobby with the healer. I'll get him in a second. But first things first, are you hurting?"

Ron nodded gently again. Each movement threatened to make his head go off like a firework.

"Then we'll get you some potions to make it better shortly. Try not to move until I get back."

I won't if I can help it. Ron settled back into the pillow, falling asleep once again.

Ron stood in the shaded corner of the lot, watching the warehouse bustle with activity. The extension ears were in place, listening for that one voice that the Aurors were hunting. Avery eluded the Aurors for four years before an informant ratted him out. Harry never said who tipped him off, but Harry also said that his source in the matter was impeccable. Not surprising, since Harry was, and always would be, The Boy who lived. It took another two years of tracking his movements back to Blackpool and a Muggle narcotics trafficking ring to get him snarled up. They had people in place, inside and out, waiting to bust him once and for all and put him away.

Harry was hiding in the other corner, disillusioned. He was watching the men come and go from the warehouse at the other door. Harry had the lead, but Ron planned everything out on the mission. Few in the office knew since they had caught the mole six months earlier. Roberts approved it; Jones signed off on it; Williamson was in the planning too, and Smith was the second MLS team leader. That was the extent of the planning base. Too many leaks too many prior times allowed him to escape the long arm of justice.

They would have to be quick and careful, along with a team of obliterators for the Muggles were involved. Between the narcotics, which would be a life sentence for the Muggles, and for Avery and the other wizard he was working with, a lifetime in Azkaban since he was there the day of the Battle. Kingsley signed his warrant personally, the week afterward. Witnesses said that Avery was responsible for the stairwell collapse, severely injuring Lavender Brown who was further mauled by Fenrir Greyback.

Archibald Brown, her father, demanded the warrant for his daughter's tormentor – and thanked Ron at the anniversary celebration for helping exact vengeance on the other bastard who hurt his precious girl. The tears on his face that day were from anger and frustration. He vowed to bring justice for her tormentor and those killed that day. One paid the price, and he hunted for years for the other.

Now, the ruddy bastard was in his sight, standing next to the window, directing the others inside. Their mole was relaying the information to them, was inside loading boxes onto the lorry, almost ready for delivery. Their pre-arranged signal: the closing of the lift door to the truck.

The Mole dropped the door, and the Aurors apparated inside the building. "MLS! Drop your wands!"

Many a man tried to scramble away, finding the exits sealed. Spells flew across the room from the cornered men, trying to fight their way out of the room. Avery was vicious, injuring Aurors left and right. Within seconds, the MLS team was down, along with most of the smugglers. Whatever Avery did knock almost everyone down.

"Give it up Avery. Two additional teams of Aurors have the building surrounded and sealed. You're not getting out of here."

"I'm not going back to Azkaban. Neither of us is!"

The barrels Harry and Ron were hiding behind levitated out of the way, giving them a second to scramble from their place before the explosion occurred.

They were covered in soot and hot plastic on their combat robes, barely avoiding the scalding material.

"Harry!"

"What!"

"Keep me shielded."

"Are you mad?"

Ron grinned. "Quite possibly. Blame Hermione for it."

"What are you going to do?"

Ron schooled his features. "Knight to C7."

Harry blanched in understanding. "Ron, no."

"Just get my arse out of here before Hermione finds out I did this."

"You're barking!"

"I owe Hermione and Mr. Brown for this. Just save me when I pull this off."

Harry nodded, obviously unhappy about what was going to happen. "If you don't live through this, I'm going to kill you, Ron!"

Ron flashed Harry a grin before turning back to the combatants they were facing. "If I don't – tell Hermione I love her."

"I'll save your arse just so I don't have to tell her!"

"Fair enough!"

Ron gripped his wand, focusing on the spot between the other two on the other side of the lorry, and spun. Five seconds later, Harry stood up from his hiding place, and blasted the truck tires, throwing the lorry onto the side, and on their hiding place.

Ron opened his eyes again, and there stood Harry. Worry etched his face like a bad carving, and the bruises under his eyes betrayed his exhaustion and concern. "You stupid bugger. Don't do that to me again."

Ron tried to smile through the pain. "Did it work?"

Harry nodded. "It did. Avery's in the cells at the Ministry and his associate is dead. You were a lucky bastard, you know."

"Why?" Ron whispered.

"The other wizard was Dolohov."

"Merlin's baggiest pants!"

"He hid in the Muggle world in Eastern Europe, hiding in plain sight, using muggle products to change his features just a touch. Not much, but just enough to hide. The only reason we know it's him is because of the wand. Ollivander identified it."

Ron settled his head back into the pillows. He started shaking, but hid his hand back under the covers, pressing his ragged nails into his leg.

"And I've been told by Roberts that you're lucky you still have your bollocks. He'd never approve that tactic. Other than cursing your name worse than your wife, it worked to perfection."

"It sure did!" bellowed the Minister walking into the room with two more Aurors in tow. "I don't know where you got that idea Weasley but it was brilliant. Bloody stupid of you to risk it, but it worked."

Ron looked at Harry, staring at him into silence. No one besides them knew that he already used the tactic once before with the same effect. Well, no one besides his wife, and she'd never tell.

"You're going to be on the front page of the Prophet in the morning and the recipient of the Order of Merlin first class once again. The ceremony for it will be in a couple of weeks. You've earned it, Weasley."

Ron blushed in the bed. "I wasn't thinking about being a hero sir. It's my job and it worked." He cleared his throat yet again. "I don't need another medal, sir. I was doing it to honor a promise."

"Nonsense. Harry told us everything, so you are in need of recognition. Those two were the last on the most wanted list from the War. You are a hero in more ways than we can count."

Williamson walked up, gently grasping his Ron's hand. He slipped a pendant in his palm. "That pendant was my Mum's. Dolohov killed her when they were hunting me that year. That maniac left a calling card for me on her body. He wasn't merciful, trying to torture her for information. I vowed that whoever took that maniac out would have her pendant in honor of her. Thank you for giving her justice."

Auror Williamson walked to the other side of the private ward, trying to take a moment to recover. Even in the brotherhood, it was hard to show the emotions that overflowed from time to time.

Auror Taylor walked up, looking hard at Ron's bruised face. He struggled for a second, finding the words to share his memory.

"Avery tortured my Muggle girlfriend before leaving her broken in our flat. I found her and got her to the hospital. She lived but never forgave me for leaving her a target. I can tell her now that she can sleep in peace now that the monster is in prison. Thanks, Weasley!"

Auror Taylor turned and went to the front door of the Auror ward, watching the hallway since he was still on duty. Williamson turned around, nodded to the minister, and slipped out of the room.

"So you think you're not a hero, Weasley?"

Ron looked at Harry, who gave him a nod and a huge grin as his answer. "No, sir. I was just doing my job and protecting the rest of the team. Those two bastards were going to escape, and I didn't want that to happen."

Kingsley stood there, laughing in his bass voice. "Well, son, you've earned a promotion. You're both too valuable now to be on the front lines. It's time to teach the kids coming through now how to be as effective as you are. Besides," Kingsley looked out into the hallway before looking back, "I don't think I can handle your wives again. Worried witches don't make for a pleasant meeting when it comes to you two. Twice before is bad enough."

Both men looked at the Minister in concern. "Sir?"

"Potter, you're being promoted to associate director of the Auror Domestic division, reporting to Jones and Roberts. It's effective next week. You're on leave the rest of this one." Kingsley turned to Ron on the bed, who was sitting up a touch more. "And Weasley, you earned your promotion too. You're going to be teaching at the Auror Academy, starting next term."

"But, sir, I'm only –"

"Nonsense. You've accomplished more in the last few years than I ever did hunting down the demons that were the core of the last war. It's time to bring those same tactics you and Potter here use to make us better, leaner, more efficient, and better adapted. It's time the Auror Corps came into the new Millennium."

Ron lay on the bed, gobsmacked. Promotion? Teaching at the Academy? Stable hours! Seeing Hermione every night! Maybe time to consider -

"Uh, Sir? Speaking of, where is my wife? I thought she'd be here by now."

Harry smiled and stepped aside. Hermione was asleep in the chair behind him, tucked inside Harry's Invisibility cloak and his outer robe. "We've been here a while, Ron, and she's knackered."

"What day is it?"

"Sunday morning. It's been thirty hours. She was sick the first day with worry – and the healer gave her a cheering charm. It wore off quickly, and she insisted on a second one, trying to stay awake until you woke. She missed you when you woke the first time since she was out with the Healer trying to help them out. She crashed about four hours ago and has been asleep since. The healer said that she needs her rest for the next few days since he did two charms on her."

The men looked over at her, watching her sleep. Kingsley turned back first. "You might not say you're a hero, but I can tell you that you are for her. Everyone in this room has seen the way she looks at you. We know. You're also a hero for the other Aurors in the Corps and for me too. Take the promotion and the recognition. Get off the front lines and train the kids coming in. It's not every century that an Order of Merlin first class is awarded to a living recipient. Usually, the second one is awarded posthumously."

The other two Aurors nodded from their posts in the room. The list of dual awardees was only a handful – and only three dual winners were still alive. Two of them were in the room and they were best friends.

"Well, then, since you put it that way, I'll accept the promotion.

"I look like a poncy tit!"

Hermione stood in front of her husband, adjusting the tie he was required to wear for the festivities tonight. She stood there, looking immaculate in her maroon robes. He didn't care that he was wearing the formal Auror robes, or that all of the brass buttons were polished to illuminated finery, or that he was wearing, for once in his life, a pair of cufflinks. Even the shoes he wore were polished to elven standards.

"My husband is a hero, and I want him looking like it. You earned it."

"Being a hero stinks sometimes. I hate this. I rather stay home with you."

"Nonsense. This is part of being a hero, dear. Let others laud you like I do. Let your friends and family celebrate your achievement. Let the world see you as a Hero. Feel the accolades – and the responsibility."

Ron grinned down at his wife while she finished checking his appearance. "Harry said being a Hero isn't as exciting as everyone thinks it is."

Hermione looked away, blushing, before returning to reply. "He's right, you know. Most of the time, it's a plethora of paperwork and a few insane seconds of courage doing the right thing. You know. You've been my hero for years." She stood up on her toes, planting a soft kiss on his clean-shaven cheek. "But I also want to sit there, listening to the people applauding you for doing a terrific job. I want everyone to know that you're a Hero and you're my Hero."

Ron leaned over and put the cane in his hand from the doorway. He was still limping from the worst of his injuries, and would eventually recover, but walking on his rebuilt ankle was tough at the moment. The cast was uncomfortable, and it itched something fierce at times. Dolohov's curse, breaking his ankle was the worst, before the explosion that threw him across the room into the concrete outer wall.

"You really think that? You think everyone will applaud me? No one will laugh?"

She stepped back, looking him over one last time. "I know they will dear. They were the last of the worst." Hermione stepped back up to her husband, looking at his slowly darkening eyes. "I went and researched while you were still in the hospital, looking back at the record and warrants for Dolohov. He was as bad as the Lestrange Brothers, if not worse."

Hermione's voice caught, and she blinked her eyes for a couple of seconds to regain her composure. "He was responsible for Gideon and Fabian. Kingsley confirmed it for me. The Aurors never caught him, even after the fight at the Ministry the first time."

Ron choked back the bezoar that just lodged in his throat. "That bastard killed my Uncles? He was responsible for them?"

Hermione nodded. "Kingsley confirmed it for me, once I found out. I don't know if you remember, but he was the one who gave me the first scar, the one under the burn."

Ron fingered the satin material on her chest, tracing the outline of the scar under the soft material. The burn from Bellatrix overlapped the curse scar on her chest, but it was still there to his inquisitive eyes. He spent many a moment giving love and attention to that one, and the myriad of more on her diminutive body. "He gave you this one."

Hermione nodded solemnly.

"He killed Remus."

She nodded again, failing to stifle the rogue tear that coursed down her cheek.

"He killed my uncles."

Hermione nodded once again, not saying a word. She saw his vision was elsewhere, looking into memories not his own.

"Ron?"

He looked over her barely tamed hair on her head. He felt everyone's presence even if he couldn't see them standing there with him. He looked back down at his wife, seeing the emotions rolling over her face. "For you, and for them, I'll do it. I owe you and Mum that much."

She smiled, and put another kiss on his other clean-shaven cheek.

"Then let's step out there and let the light shine on you."

"It gives me great pleasure to introduce our last recipient, and the guest of honor this evening. Many of you know the family name, and some know the man I am about to introduce. But let me share with you something from a night that was a nightmare."

Ron looked up at the Minister and realized what he was going to talk about. Mortification rolled across his face. He felt Hermione's hand in his, warm where he was clammy. Out in the crowd, away from the dais, was his family: Each one of them beaming with pride for Ron.

Mum and Dad sat at the front of the table, flanked by Ginny and Harry, with George and Angelina on their right. Audrey, the Weasley family hero, was sitting next to her husband Percy and Bill. Fleur was home, too pregnant to travel for tonight's ceremonies. She also kept the rest of the little ones, what few there were, while the rest could celebrate.

"The morning of the Battle of Hogwarts, I was shoulder to shoulder with Ron Weasley. The fight was spilling into the Great Hall, and it was a nightmare: chaos everywhere and a friend barely knew foe. We were there, directing people as best as you can in such a crisis."

"Out of nowhere came a bundle of black robes. Ron stepped into the path of this fiend, and intercepted none other than Fenrir Greyback."

First, a gasp, then a quiet settled over the crowd. Years later and his name still was the source of nightmares and bedtime stories, to quell rambunctious children before bed.

"I looked over to try and help, and Ron Weasley was on his back, strangling this monster with his bare hands. Inches from being bitten, and here he is, holding a full-grown werewolf away from him."

"I couldn't help because Riddle stepped into the Hall, and I turned to take him on. At the time, no one knew Potter was alive. At that point, it was a fight to the death."

"While I was engaged with Riddle, with the help of Horace Slughorn and Minerva McGonagall – "

Shacklebolt pointed out to the table in the corner, behind the Weasleys, with a reply wave to Horace and Minerva.

"While the three of us were dueling Riddle, Mrs. Hermione Granger Weasley, along with Mrs. Ginevra Weasley Potter and Miss Luna Lovegood were dueling Bellatrix Lestrange." Somehow, the hall grew quieter. She was the other boogieman who haunted the nightmares of quite a few in the room.

Shacklebolt looked down the table at Hermione, seeing her determination and fierce pride for her husband, and the victors on the stage. A look of understanding passed between them.

"All of us were busy fighting for our lives. But in the midst of the chaos, Ron Weasley, along with Neville Longbottom, killed Greyback. Some say that Neville killed him. Other witnesses say that Weasley dispatched him with his bare hands. We'll never know. But the fact that Ron Weasley stepped into the line, protecting my life, meant everything to me. It wasn't what he did in the fight, but that he stepped up and made a choice and a huge difference."

The Minister cleared his throat, taking a second before continuing. "Ron Weasley is the same man now that he was then. He, along with Auror Potter, went into the raid to capture known dark wizard and outstanding fugitive Carlyle Avery. They went in, and within seconds, everything went sideways. The MLS team, along with the smugglers, was down, leaving Aurors Potter and Weasley to take on Avery and his associate. Under tenuous cover, and being inundated by a barrage of offensive spells, Auror Weasley risked his own life to capture the two fiends.

The Minister looked down from the podium to Ron, smiling away. You asked for it, he mouthed.

"Auror Weasley singlehandedly captured Avery, along with his associate. In the process, Auror Weasley was injured, and the one injury he complained about most when he was in the hospital wasn't his broken ankle, or the missing fingernails when he splinched himself escaping. He complained that he slightly burned his chest from the hex, and it made certain things rather uncomfortable."

A chortle echoed through the banquet hall.

"I know we joke, but Auror Weasley didn't know until two days later whom Avery's accomplice was. None of us did. It wasn't until later through wand confirmation that Avery's associate was none other than Anton Dolohov."

The crowd went silent.

"Auror Weasley captured two of the most wanted fugitives on the list and survived the encounter. But we're not awarding him the Order of Merlin, First Class, for the second time, because he caught them. He is being awarded our highest achievement, because by risking his life to capture the fugitives, he singlehandedly saved the life of twelve Aurors and MLS agents, in addition to saving all of the fugitives in the building. In all, he saved about 30 lives in total."

Kingsley took a sip of water from the goblet on the podium, looking serious for a second.

"What I am about to announce hasn't been in the papers, but will go public in the morning. What Auror Weasley didn't know was that Dolohov had a dead man's switch in his hand. It was rigged to blow the entire building. When Auror Weasley engaged the criminals, he destroyed the switch, neutralizing the threat."

One sob broke the dead silence in the room. Shacklebolt looked to his right, and Ron had his head buried in his wife's arms, overloaded with emotion. Kingsley knew he was sobbing, watching his shoulders shaking in his wife's embrace. He stood there a few seconds, letting the crowd watch the hero show his humanity.

The minister reached down and took his water goblet, drinking deeply while giving his Auror time to compose himself.

Ron looked up, his face screwed up with his cup running over with emotions. He looked at his wife, who wiped the salt from his face, taking care of her Hero first.

"Divine or Karma or Providence, we won't question it. We're happy to bestow our highest honor on him, instead of giving his Eulogy."

Kingsley banished the podium, leaving him standing in the middle of the dais open for all to see. "Ladies and Gentlemen, Wizards and Witches, please stand as we honor Auror Ronald Bilius Weasley."

Ron stood up, wobbling on his rebuilt ankle, holding his cane in support on his left, bringing Hermione on his right. She stood at his shoulder, watching with pride, as her husband stood before the Minister

Ron stood there, dressed in his red and black Auror robes

"Auror Weasley, for most conspicuous bravery, daring acts of valor and self-sacrifice, and an extreme devotion to duty in the presence of a vile adversary, we, the Ministry of Magic for Great Britain, award you the Order of Merlin, First class. Congratulations."

Shacklebolt placed the award around his neck, letting the Imperial Purple and gold thread ribbon lay flat against his dress robes. A quick handshake and Ron Weasley turned out to the audience for acceptance.

Within moments, the hall was engulfed in applause, all in celebration of Ron Weasley.

He stole a glance to his right and watched his wife weep with pride. To his left was the Minister, grinning like a kneazle in the Creamery. They mattered, but not in the way he needed affirming.

He looked out through the spotlight and caught the eyes of his best friend, standing at the front of the Weasley table, clapping loudest of all. The rest of the family clapped right alongside him.

Being a Hero isn't as bad as it could be.

(Afterward: This is a one-shot for now, but I eventually will come back and write this as a multi-chapter story. I have too many stories going at the moment to devote more to Ron the Auror. –DG)