Lavender and Crimson

Prologue: His Tears

Even if I told you that I was drowning, I certainly know you would not lend me your hand. I learnt to write to you in happier days, And every letter was a piece I chipped. From off my heart, a fragment newly clipped. From the mosaic of life; its blues and grays, Its throbbing reds, I gave to earn your praise. To make a pavement for your feet I stripped my soul for you to walk upon, and slipped, Beneath your steps to soften all your ways. But now my letters are like blossoms pale. We strew upon a grave with hopeless tears. I ask no recompense, I shall not fail. Although you do not heed; the long, sad years...Still pass, and still I scatter flowers frail, and whisper words of love which no one hears...

I loved you, but another captured your heart.

          The smile on his face faded into nothingness, a ghost of the past...wiped out. His utter stillness held the eerie quality of time being suspended. Under the dim blue lights, his face was a mask. A mask of a haunting azure color. His eyes, usually bright blue -- were dim. He watched the scene across the room, seeming indifferent. His eyes suddenly would glisten with some sort of indecipherable emotion. "I'm glad you're happy." The austere tone brooked no real evasion. With that his hand slipped from the stone wall, and back down at his side. He stood in the shadows, a mere reflection of his former self. Ronald Weasley had given up.

          He had always been captured by Hermione Granger. Her style, her actions, the way her temper flared. She had a fire that nobody could possibly rival, or tame. She was amazing, brilliant, bright eyed. Yet she had chosen his best friend over him. The emerald-eyed living hero. She had taken the other path upon reaching the forked road. Ron could only remain mute, as he watched her, under the dim lights, smiling and in his arms. Look at him also! How captured he was by her. It was lit in his sparkling eyes, the couple looked remarkably wonderful together. Ron's eyes were shadowed in envy, and grief. That could've been him. However, it wasn't.

The Ball had raged on for hours that night, couples taking in their own solitude as they danced without a care in the world. Just plainly enjoying each other's company. Except one, though. Ron had slipped out of the Great Hall an hour ago, when the pressure had become too much. He drifted away from the music, until all he could hear was the silence of the night. Ron took in his sanctuary outside the Castle, amid the grounded trails. He sighed, and allowed a passing wind to ruffle fiery hair. He lifted a hand, drawing comfort as the wind slipped from his fingertips. It made him feel like his emotions were being carried off, away, disappearing into the glittering moonbeams the new moon had blessed upon tree tops and grassy terrain.

Why?

How?

When?

          Hadn't they made their feelings bluntly clear for each other in fourth year? Hadn't it been enough for her? Ron couldn't be too angry with her. It was her emotions, her dealings. Not his. He couldn't control her. As for Harry, Ron would admit to being enraged the first time he had found out. Yet his best friend was in love.... How could be stay angry? It just wasn't right. Storming off in a jealous rage? He hadn't done that, but he had managed to get away. Just to be alone for a while.

We have our friendship... that I'll always treasure.