Disclaimer:
I don't own Harry Potter, and I make no money from this story. Summary: Ron can't deal with not belonging. Can Malfoy make
him feel like he Written for the Muse Bunny's
Song Inspiration contest ( Warnings:
Language, anorexia, angst
xX.XX.Xx
Ron's eyes flew open, and he swivelled his head
around to look behind himself – there was something on his back,
something moving and beating and whooshing. Wings. He frowned,
wondering why on earth he had wings. Or better yet, why he was
surrounded by fluffy white clouds and a host of other winged people
who glided about with harps and holy faces, faces that were somewhat
familiar to him. He could almost make out Hermione's bushy hair, or
Harry's thick black glasses. "You don't belong here." Ron
turned around sharply, wings getting in the way and making him almost
lose his balance. A hand grabbed his arm, halting his toppling, and
Ron looked gratefully up into his face. Only to see... nothing. Ron
squinted, trying to figure out why he could only see blurry,
insubstantial images. It was like water slipping through his fingers
even when he tried to cup it in his palms. He couldn't focus on the
man's face. "You don't belong here," the man told him
again. The voice was... familiar. Strong, cynical. Ron couldn't place
where he'd heard it before, though. And suddenly, Ron felt
himself being let go. The hand on his arm drew back, and his wings
weren't working. He was no longer floating. He was
falling. "Wait, what?!" Ron exclaimed, panicked, looking
around himself as he went soaring down, past clouds and winged people
and sky. His wings... they weren't moving. They were so heavy, like
two slabs of lead. He turned to look at them, eyes widening when he
did. They were "Help!"
Ron yelled, terror shooting through him as he tore his gaze from his
melting wings, and to what was above him, watching as the clouds and
people grew smaller and smaller. The sun moved out from behind the
clouds, bright and stinging. Ron shielded his eyes with an arm. When
he drew the arm back, he nearly screamed. The clouds! They were on
fire! In fact, the very sky seemed to be on fire, blazing red
and yellow and blue and orange as the clouds erupted into flames,
taking the winged people with them. Ron's breath came faster and
faster as the fire grew ever more distant, no matter how much he
wanted to reach out and douse the fire, save the people. Ron
wished the sun didn't exist. He suddenly much preferred a sunless
sky.
He
was... flying.
xX.XX.Xx
Ron Weasley slumped down at the Gryffindor table, eyes blearily staring at the empty plate in front of him.
"Looks like someone missed out on their beauty sleep last night, eh Ron?" Seamus said, nudging Ron in the ribs with an elbow. Ron grunted and swatted the Irish boy away, feeling bitter over his loss of sleep.
After a strange dream he could barely remember – there was fire involved, or something – he'd found himself unable to go back to sleep, and had spent three hours tossing and turning, before getting up at six in the morning and getting ready. At least he'd had the bathroom to himself.
Ron looked up when he heard someone sit across from him. Harry grinned at him brightly – he was a bit more of a morning person ever since he and Ginny had got together. Something to look forward to, Ron supposed.
Hermione sat on his other side, smiling at him, equally as cheerful. She was always a morning person. Ron didn't really get morning people. Monday morning, double Potions. What was cheerful about that?
But then again, Ron had never really fit in with his friends. Harry was the brave, handsome leader, and Hermione was the clever, pretty bookworm. Ron was just the moody prat who constantly let Harry and Hermione down.
You don't belong here.
Ron frowned, wondering why that sounded so familiar. It was like experiencing deja vu.
"Ron, earth to Ron?" Ron came back to himself, realising that Seamus was waving a hand in his face. Ron grunted in acknowledgement, and Seamus laughed. He always seemed to find Ron an amusing circus show, or something.
"How come you're not shovelling food down your throat like normal?" Seamus asked, and the others turned to see that Ron hadn't even served himself any breakfast. "Finally turned from a pig to a prince?"
Ron stood up sharply, causing the others to look at him questioningly. He grabbed his bag and slung it over a shoulder. "Not hungry," he mumbled, not looking at any of them, and then turned and stalked from the hall, a dark cloud over his head.
"Seamus!" both Hermione and Harry snarled in unison.
A pig. That's what they think of me.
Ron looked down at himself as he stepped out of the Great Hall. He couldn't see anything due to the baggy, slightly-too-big robes, but he could almost imagine what the others saw in him. A fat pig who constantly just ate and ate, barely even stopping to breathe. It was a wonder Ron didn't break his own broom.
Ron wrapped arms around his middle, squeezing tightly, ignoring the people who threw him dirty looks for standing in the doorway.
I am a pig.
xX.XX.Xx
"You sure you're all right, Ron?" Harry asked, looking away from his girlfriend for a moment. He and Ginny had been making eyes at each other all dinner, with Hermione 'tsk'ing every now and then, and Seamus sniggering away. Dean and Neville were used to it.
"Yeah, fine, why?" Ron asked flippantly, even though he didn't feel fine. Hadn't really felt fine for a while, but that had been all been mental, hadn't it? This was physical. He'd not felt so bad in years.
"Well, you're not eating," Harry pointed out, his one molecule of perceptiveness showing itself. Hermione made an interested, confused sound. It seemed Harry had picked up on something even she hadn't. "And you look awful."
"Thanks," Ron said sullenly. Hermione and Ginny shot Harry fierce glares, and Harry edged away from his girlfriend.
"What?" he asked, slightly wary, then turned to Ron. Ron shrugged, bemused himself at the multiple dark looks the girls were sending his mate. 'Bloody mental,' Ron mouthed to Harry. Harry grinned back.
"Ron!" Hermione hissed, having seen the mouthed comment, and smacked Ron upside the head primly. Ron laughed, glad the attention was being diverted from himself. Trust Harry to take notice of the world around him at the one time Ron really didn't want him to.
He wondered how Harry had even picked up on Ron not eating – he was certain he'd been hiding it well. Spelling food from his plate whenever no-one was looking, occasionally forcing down a few mouthfuls when someone was talking to him, expecting him to act in his usual piggish manner.
It wasn't like Ron didn't want to eat, or anything. He wasn't one of those anorexic girls Hermione was always bitching about. He just... he just lost his appetite whenever around food, didn't really know why. He was starving most of the time, curling up into a ball at night and trying to ignore his stomach which felt pulled taught.
It's 'cause I'm such a bloody pig, Ron thought, shaking his head. Any normal, average weight person would be able to go a few days without eating much, wouldn't they? And yet he felt like he was dying, after only a week.
The thought of his sheer obesity had Ron pushing his plate away gently, grimacing. Why he was even beginning to think of this now, he didn't really know. Weight had never bothered him before – he'd shoved down food like there was no tomorrow.
It was just... he'd been feeling so shite for months. Harry was skipping off into the sunset with Ginny, battling Dark Lords and getting showered in love, not that Ron would really want to be in his position, constantly hounded by Voldemort and the Daily Prophet. But sometimes Harry really didn't see how lucky he was.
Even Hermione was off in her own little world with Victor Krum, writing him love letters and visiting him in the holidays. Ron didn't know why he felt so jealous – he saw both Harry and Hermione as siblings, but got so angry whenever they had their own lives. That was what he was resenting, right? That they had people, girlfriends and boyfriends who loved them. And Ron didn't.
Because he was an ugly wassock.
Finally getting sick of Harry and Ginny's loving looks and hand holding, he stood up and shoved his hands into his robe pockets. "Going up to the common room. Gotta get homework done, you know?"
He felt like he was storming off, or something. But he wasn't. He wasn't even walking fast. Didn't really have the energy to walk fast, did he?
Fuck, Ron was feeling really light...
xX.XX.Xx
Ron spent the next few days feeling completely and utterly weightless. His body was disconnected from his mind in a quite unnerving way.
Of course, he also felt quite ill and feverish, and he was constantly tired. Harry had had to bodily drag him out of bed just that morning because Ron refused to wake up.
Keep dreaming about the sea, he thought, shaking his head. All his dreams seemed to involve him floating on a large body of dark, dark water, the night's sky looming above him. There was no sun, only the stars and the moon.
Hermione had once told them that life was a shore less sea. Ron hadn't really got it, and neither had Harry, although it was intended to cheer him up after Umbridge had banned him from Quidditch. She'd gone on to explain that there were no limitations in life.
Ron remembered her words as he drifted down to Potions, Hermione on one side of him and Harry on her other. She was scolding him about homework and Harry was trying to come up with an excuse as to why he hadn't done it – an excuse that didn't involve his tongue down Ginny's throat.
He sort of felt like he had no limitations. He was light as air, wasn't he? Losing weight by the minute – just that morning a quick spell had told him that he'd lost nearly a stone since the week before. That was something to be proud of. Maybe he wouldn't appear so piggish to the others, if he stopped being so fat.
"Look what the cat dragged in."
Harry broke off from a stuttered excuse to groan and, together, the three turned around to face Malfoy and his lackeys.
Malfoy stood there, looking smug as ever, arms folded across his chest. Ron noted, with some resentment, that he wasn't fat. In fact, he was pretty attractive, for a smarmy ferret.
More attractive than Ron, at any rate.
"Malfoy," Harry spat out. Their encounters with Malfoy were the same as ever – frequent, short and full of insults.
"My, you're looking peaky, Weasel. Poor family not providing enough food?" Malfoy shot at Ron, who merely glared at him gloomily, not really wanting to reply. He lost weight, but he still looked crap?
"Lay off, Malfoy," Harry spoke up in Ron's defence, and Malfoy and Harry started a bickering match, with Hermione rolling her eyes, and Ron drifting off into space, wondering how he could achieve attractiveness.
"Fuck off, Potter!" Malfoy snarled after a particularly biting insult from Harry. He stormed past the trio, lackeys following, bumping into Ron's unusually bony shoulder as he did.
Malfoy paused suddenly, a look of curiousness crossing his face. Ron frowned, wondering why Malfoy had stopped, and his hand flew down to his wand. Was Malfoy planning to hex him? Was Ron really awake enough to even attempt to stop him?
Malfoy raised an eyebrow at Ron then, shaking his head, stalked away. Ron turned to watch him enter the Potion's classroom, a look of puzzlement on his face. Hermione and Harry's expressions echoed his confusion.
"Barmy, that one," Ron said, shrugging it off.
xX.XX.Xx
"Ow, Malfoy!" Ron snarled, clutching his side protectively. They were paired together in Potions, surprise surprise. Malfoy had taken the opportunity to poke and prod him until Ron wanted to rip off all his fingers and chuck them into their rapidly deteriorating potion.
"Sorry, Weasel," Malfoy said sarcastically. In one swift movement, he then reached out and grabbed Ron's upper arm, wrapping a strong, unyielding hand around it. Ron tried futilely to tug the hand away as Malfoy squeezed lightly, assessing him.
"What the hell are you doing?" Ron hissed, not really wanting to draw attention to them. It was embarrassing enough being felt up by Malfoy, no need to get the whole class in on it. Malfoy would probably claim Ron had Imperio'd him, anyway.
"So, what's with the rapid weight loss?" Malfoy asked conversationally. Ron gasped and ripped his arm away from Malfoy with sudden strength. Malfoy looked slightly surprised at the reaction, then grinned, looking quite wolfish. "Ooh, did I hit a nerve?"
"What would you know, Ferret?" Ron mumbled, feeling his ears burning bright red – he just hoped the blush didn't spread to the rest of his face. Because it was a touchy subject, and he didn't want Malfoy knowing more than he apparently already did.
"Surely Potty and the mudblood don't condone this," Malfoy continued, tone mock-disappointed in Ron's two best friends. Ron clenched his jaw and returned to dicing some newt's tail, chops getting more and more sporadic. "Anorexia's not healthy – what counts is that you're beautiful on the inside."
Ron very nearly stabbed Malfoy in the eye with the chopping knife, but managed to hold himself back. He threw a vicious glare at Malfoy and lifted the chopping board to the cauldron, scraping the decimated newt into the concoction.
Malfoy was grinning, obviously quite delighted. He knew exactly what was going on, it seemed. Ron wished he was better at hiding things.
"It doesn't matter if you can't fit into that size eight wedding dress on the big day, I'm sure Potter'll still love you, twenty stone or not."
The bell rang. Ron sighed in relief and quickly grabbed his bag, ready to just run right out of the Potions classroom, whether or not he'd later face Snape's wrath.
A hand wrapping around his wrist, however, stopped him from his aim. He was tugged back and around, until he was looking down into Malfoy's surprisingly serious face.
"Don't be such a girl, Weasel. Surely even an idiot like you can see you're not exactly fat."
Ron stared at him, confused and quite lost. Why was Malfoy saying that? Was he... was he reassuring him? Was this some lead up to a massive joke or something to make Ron feel even more like shit?
"Right," Ron said, tone dubious, and tugged his wrist out of Malfoy's grip. Malfoy sneered, turning back to the Potion to bottle it up. Ron decided it was worth trying to make an escape while he still had the chance, before the whole of Slytherin house jumped out from under desks to point and laugh.
"Not that I care, or anything," Malfoy called after him. Ron stopped for a moment, before shaking his head, and continuing on his way.
Right. Of course. Malfoy wouldn't give a rat's arse about an ugly, poor git like Ron Weasley.
Not that Ron wanted him to.
xX.XX.Xx
He
was floating. Ron opened his eyes to see where on earth he
was. It was weird, he felt weird. Weightless, even. He was
upright, but not standing on anything. He looked around himself,
trying to work out what was going on, and then realised – he was
underwater. Water swayed around him, looking too thick, too
dark. He looked up, tilting his head back, to see the night's sky
above the surface of the water. Maybe he should try and break the
surface. Surely he would need to breathe at some point? But he
didn't Ron's eyes slid closed as the
peacefulness continued. The sea felt like a blanket over him,
comforting him. Taking away the shaky sickness he was constantly
subjected to because he just didn't want to eat – but not because
he was anorexic, or anything. Ron's eyes snapped open. The
moment that thought had sprang to mind, it seemed like a dam had
broken. His lungs began to burn, cry out for oxygen, his eyes watered
from the sting of the sea water. He started trying to swim
upwards, move his arms to give him momentum – he needed air! He
felt like he was dying! But his limbs were too heavy to move,
and just weighed him down. He eventually gave up even kicking his
feet and just fell still, suspended in water, feeling his lack of
oxygen make it's way to his brain. He was as light as air, floating
there, breathlessly. He wanted to wake up.
xX.XX.Xx
"Ron, eat," Hermione said quietly, piling food onto Ron's plate. Ron, head pillowed in his arms, watched tiredly as more and more Shepard's Pie was added to the already quite large pile. He used to love Shepard's Pie.
He looked away, feeling rather ill, in a stomach-gnawing sort of way, even as his stomach rumbled with hunger. Hermione sighed irritably, and Harry ran a hand through his hair, stressed, nervous. They'd ambushed Ron earlier on and dragged him off to the end of the table, so it was just the three of them.
"Why are you doing this?" Hermione asked quietly, across from him. Harry was sat next to Ron, and hadn't looked at him once. That was what Harry did when stressed – refused to make eye contact with anyone.
"I'm not 'doing' anything," Ron said, slightly more angrier than necessary. But wouldn't they just get off his case?
He supposed that was an oxymoron in and of itself. He often wished he could be included in their little group, be someone they really cared about. And now, he was completely rejecting their care. He didn't want their care.
He couldn't eat now. That would ruin everything! He'd been keeping to a strict diet of making sure he ate pretty much nothing. Scoffing himself on Shepard's Pie would destroy everything - he'd end up fat again!
They'd stopped calling him a pig. Stopped making jokes about his shovelling down food. But it seemed they were never satisfied.
"Is it us?" Harry suddenly asked, voice strained. Ron sat up straight, looking at his friend. Harry's expression was dark, pained. Ron bit his lip, feeling guilty. He was so bloody self-centred sometimes. "Are you doing this because of... us?"
Ron shook his head even before Harry finished the question. "'Course not. Stop acting like I'm some pissin' over-sensitive girl – I'm not doing anything. Just don't feel hungry." Neither Harry nor Hermione looked like they believed it.
Hermione suddenly began digging around in her bag, looking quite frantic and excited. Ron and Harry shared an amused look, and Ron felt warm inside. He'd missed those knowing looks over Hermione's eccentricity – they'd been missing the past few weeks, with Ginny, and Ron's sudden withdrawal.
He missed so much about his friends.
"Here!" Hermione exclaimed proudly, thrusting a book down onto the table. Ron laughed despite himself. "It's to help, a self-help book."
"Trust you," Ron said fondly. Hermione scowled at him, and then Harry when he began laughing. But they honestly couldn't help it – Hermione was the same as ever, always looking to books for the answer.
"He doesn't need a book, mudblood," Malfoy's all to familiar voice cut in. Ron and Harry turned to glare at Malfoy, who loomed over them. Malfoy was smirking, coldly amused.
Ron sighed, not entirely certain he could deal with the blonde on top of everything.
"Bugger off, Malfoy," Harry snapped. Ron turned back around to stare at the table, not wanting to get into a fight. All the energy and happiness he'd previously felt melted away, reminding him of exactly how awful he was feeling.
"Shove over, Scarhead," Malfoy suddenly commanded. Harry let out an indignant yelp of surprise as he was pushed away from Ron, and Malfoy settled in between the two, body pressing close to Ron's. Ron's eyes widened, and he turned to look at Malfoy disbelievingly.
Malfoy pulled out his wand, vanishing all the Sheapard's Pie on his plate, and then set down what had previously been in his hand – a piece of toast. That was it, a simple piece of slightly browned toast. There wasn't even any butter.
"Eat it," Malfoy ordered curtly. Ron stared at him disbelievingly, as did Harry and Hermione. Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure even you can do that."
Ron's gaze slowly turned to the toast in question. It sat there innocently, plainly. His stomach growled. "... Erm," Ron said, not entirely certain how to deal with the situation. Malfoy acting like he cared.
"Oh, stop acting like a hormonal thirteen year old girl who just got dumped for being slightly chubby! You're a fully grown bloke who should know better than to think he's fat," Malfoy snarled quite menacingly. Ron only barely resisted the urge to cringe away from his enemy.
"Well..." Ron turned again to look at the toast. "... I like it with butter."
Malfoy sighed long-sufferingly and grabbed the butter dish and a knife. He then proceeded to butter the toast, much to the trio's surprise. Ron didn't even know why he'd said that – he honestly hadn't expected Malfoy to butter his toast.
"Now, eat," Malfoy commanded again. Ron hesitantly reached out and picked up the toast, expecting it to bite him. In the background, Harry was protesting, saying that Malfoy had put some curse on the toast. But, one look at Malfoy's irritated, impatient expression, and Ron just knew that Malfoy wasn't out to poison him.
Ron bit into the toast.
Malfoy's expression relaxed minutely as Ron chewed and then swallowed the small mouthful.
Fuck if that didn't feel good, he thought as the toast slid down to his stomach. He knew it was probably about to deliver a serious kick to the stomach, followed swiftly by nausea, but it had felt great to just eat.
"I'm gonna get fat again," Ron mumbled around another mouthful of toast, feeling remorseful and disgusted with himself for throwing away everything he'd worked for. Malfoy sighed, hitting Ron upside the head.
"You were never fat to begin with, lanky git."
Harry took that moment to snap something about Malfoy being a feretty git, probably feeling slightly bitter that Malfoy had managed to talk Ron into eating, a task he'd failed at. Malfoy turned to snap something back, and Ron took that opportunity to leave, toast in hand.
xX.XX.Xx
"Weasley!" Ron, halfway to the Gryffindor tower, turned to see Malfoy stalking up to him, looking quite pissed off. "Why did you just leave?"
Ron blinked, taken aback. Malfoy's sudden transformation from being the bane of Ron's existence, to his 'saviour' was completely unexpected, and it was only now that Ron was realising the strangeness of the whole experience. Was Malfoy up to something?
"Oh, well..." Ron stuttered out, not entirely certain what to answer with. Malfoy rolled his eyes, coming to a stop in front of Ron.
"Don't just walk away from me again. No one walks away from a Malfoy," Malfoy said loftily, nose high in the air. Ron's mouth twitched in a smile – that was more like it.
"I'll make sure to keep that in mind," he said, wondering if he could just leave already, before Malfoy could reveal his hideous plot to sell Harry out to Voldemort via Ron, or something of the sort. He didn't want to know, couldn't know if Malfoy was just using him.
I just... want him to like me, he realised, quite surprised with the revelation. He hated Malfoy with a passion, probably more than Harry or Hermione ever had. But suddenly, he was stuck with wanting Malfoy to like him, to be his friend.
"Why... why are you doing this?" he suddenly asked, even though he really didn't want to know the answer. You idiot! Malfoy looked slightly taken aback by the question, as if it were completely obvious. Maybe it was. Maybe Ron was just stupid on top of being fat.
"Because you really don't look good anorexic," Malfoy told him bluntly. Ron scowled, opening his mouth to protest that.
"I'm not ano-" he was cut off. By Malfoy's mouth.
...Oh.
xX.XX.Xx
He
was... flying. Ron's eyes flew open and he swivelled his head
around to look behind himself – there was something on his back,
something moving and beating and whooshing. Wings. He frowned,
wondering why on earth he had wings. Or better yet, why he was
surrounded by fluffy white clouds and a host of other winged people
who glided about with harps and holy faces, faces that were somewhat
familiar to him. He could almost make out Hermione's bushy hair, or
Harry's thick black glasses. "You don't belong here." Ron
turned around sharply, wings getting in the way and making him almost
lose his balance. A hand grabbed his arm, halting his toppling, and
Ron looked gratefully up into the man's face. Only to see... Malfoy. Ron looked at Malfoy's face, sneering, derisive, as usual.
Malfoy rolled his eyes, as if Ron were particularly slow, and
repeated his previous statement. "You don't belong here." Ron
felt hurt. Really, really hurt. But didn't have time to muse on that
as he felt Malfoy's grip on his arm loosening. Malfoy's hand
withdrew, and Ron's eyes opened wide as he felt himself...
falling. "What?" he gasped out, horrified, as he began to
sail downwards. He frantically tried using his wings to keep himself
up – they'd worked so well before. But they weren't working any
more. They felt heavy, useless. He groaned, looking behind him at the
wings, only to find them, well, "This
is so familiar," he murmured, deja vu striking him. He turned back
to look upwards as he fell past the clouds, past the people, eyes
searching frantically for Malfoy, for a familiar face. Maybe Malfoy
would reassure him he The sun emerged
from a cloud, and Ron watched as the sky was set ablaze in a mirage
of light, clouds bursting into red flames. There were cries as the
winged people were caught in the fire. Ron reached up, wanting to
help them, help the people who'd looked like his friends. Suddenly,
strong arms caught his falling form. Ron gasped loudly, the gasp
getting caught halfway in his throat and turning into a strangled
exclamation. There was a laugh, and then lips were pressed against
his neck. "Look," Malfoy murmured, arms tightening around
Ron. He looked away from Malfoy, back to the clouds, only to see dark
figures emerging from the flames. It was the people, wings carrying
them to freedom, away from the fire. "You belong in a much
better place." And Ron felt like he was underwater again as
he stopped falling, held in Malfoy's arms, caught by his worst enemy.
Above him was the sea and the night as it fought away the burning,
stinging sun, the fire. Everything was waves and stars.
xX.XX.Xx