I hear the angels talkin' talkin' talkin',
now I'm a dead man walking walking walking.
I hear the angels talkin' talkin' talkin'
Now I'm a dead man.
He glares at the pair walking infront of him, the locket feeling as though it weighs a hundred pounds on his neck.
He notices that she glances back at him, worry coating her expression before the other one put a hand on her should in a reassuring gesture. She smiles kindly and pats his hand before facing forward once again.
Away from him and towards the other one, The Chosen One, hoever harmless the touch the voice took advatage of it. That touch was for the other, therfore against him.
"She's better with him then with him," the cruel sounding voice rand throughout Ron's every thought. "What could you offer that he could not giver her tenfold?"
He beilieved it to be true.
He was stupid, poor, stubborn. and on the other hand was smart, kind, powerful, talented, and would soon be the Auror everyone looked up could anyone as sane and intelligent as Hermione choose plain ol' Ron over the Boy-Who-Lived?
His own mother favored Harry over him.
His fists clenched and his theeth grounded together in anger, not at Hermione or Harry but at himself.
He should be as smart as Bill, as determined as Percy, as clever as the twins, and as kind as Ginny.
What Weasley trait ran thorugh his blood? A temper that has hurt thoes dear to him since he was 11?
He would always be second place. To his brothers, to his sister, and to Harry.
And if Harry was trying to take away Hermione, the only person that has never compared him to anyone and has seen him as himself with his faults and stood by him...
He was already a dead man walking.