Lions Breed True Chapter13

Someone asked me to explain the joke Percy sent Ron, so here goes: Ilene and Irene are woman's names. Ilene is pronounced I lean (like lean to one side). A one-legged woman would lean to one side. Japanese (and Chinese) people often have a hard time with the English letter 'L'. They usually pronounce it like 'R'. (The scene from the end of 'A Christmas Story' uses this for fun when the restaurant workers sing 'ra ra ra' instead of 'la la la'.) So a Japanese person would probably pronounce Ilene as Irene.

"Are you certain you're ready for this?"

"Trust me, I'm ready."

"You know what Madame Pomfrey said, you have to take it easy. Honestly Ron, you don't want to end up back in the hospital wing," scolded Hermione.

Ron sighed, "I'm not going to end up back in the hospital wing. I just got out of there, and I was never more relieved to leave a place in my life. I was bored out of my skull."

Hermione grinned, "I know. You even did your homework. You must have been bored."

"Cheeky witch," muttered Ron.

Hermione laughed at him, and Ron grinned. It felt so good to be out of bed and feeling better. Even going to classes and homework was more fun than laying in bed all the time.

And now Ron was doing something he had thought he never would again; walking patrol with Hermione.

It would have been perfect if Ron had never seen that photo of Hermione on her knees in the mud, sobbing.

Ron was all too aware that things needed to be said, but he had no idea where to start, or what to say after he started.

Harry had told Ron to trust his instincts, but Ron's instincts were in a flat out war with cold hard logic.

Ron's instincts were screaming for him to tell her fancied her. Maybe even loved her, if it was possible to fall head-over-heels in love at sixteen.

The strategist in Ron was giving him all sorts of reasons why this would be a terrible idea.

First, right now things couldn't be about Ron and Hermione; everything had to be about Harry. Ron resented it at times, but he knew it wasn't Harry's fault. And the last thing Harry needed was tension between Ron and Hermione.

If he said something and she didn't feel the same way, it would definitely cause tension between them.

Second, and more importantly, Ron simply wasn't good enough for Hermione. She was one of the 'bright, shiny ones', and he wasn't. He had known for the last ten years that he wasn't one of the ones fate favored. His own mother had said so.

Mum was entertaining some of her old school friends. Before they came everyone had to pitch in helping to make the Burrow neat and clean, then Mum had gone into a baking frenzy, making fancy biscuits.

She still had a platter of them cooling on the windowsill when her guests arrived, and Mum had chased all the kids outside to play. The twins had immediately gone about stealing some of the biscuits from the window. Ron had watched enviously, certain that if he tried he would get caught.

Still, he couldn't resist creeping up to the window to try his luck. But before he worked up his nerve to grab one, he heard Mum bragging that Bill was very handsome and smart, and that Charlie was very athletic and popular.

Next she boosted how Percy was so mature and responsible, and how terribly clever and charming the twins were. Ron strained his ears to hear what she said about him, but she skipped on to Ginny.

She said Ginny was like all her older brothers, bright and shiny as newly minted galleons.

The other ladies all commented how happy she must be to finally have a daughter, and Mum agreed, saying how disappointed she had been when her sixth child was another boy.

Then she had laughed and said, "And what a boy! Nothing bright or shiny about that one! I think he's a changeling. I never saw such a clumsy child in my life. He can't walk across the room without tripping over his own two feet."

Ron had slowly backed away from the window, all thoughts of stealing a biscuit forgotten. He fled to find some secluded place where the twins wouldn't catch him crying.

For years Ron tried to figure out why he had to be the one who was a clumsy changeling instead of one of the bright beautiful ones. But in the end it didn't matter so much why, it was simply enough to know he was not one of the favored ones like all of his sibling.

Sometimes he was angry at fate so making him the oaf, but mostly he felt apologetic. He was sorry he ruined his parents and siblings perfect family by being such a reject. He thought it must be hard for his parents to accept and love such a deformity as himself.

Ron had recognized from the the beginning that Harry and Hermione were also favored by fate, and so were bright and shiny. It was enough, it HAD to be enough, that they accepted him as a friend.

If she survived the coming war, Hermione was headed for great things. She was so bright and beautiful and driven there was nothing she couldn't accomplish. The last thing she needed was to be held back by an inferior being like himself.

So he couldn't admit he fancied her. But Ron recognized he needed to say something. He was just unsure what that something was. Some of his internal conflict must have shown on his face though, because Hermione was eying him with concern.

"Are you in pain?" she asked anxiously.

Ron shook his head, "No, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? How are your wounds healing?"

"They're fine, although I think I'll have worse scars than Dad."

Hermione stopped walking and gaped at Ron, "Your dad! You mean he was whipped?"

"Well, yeah. You didn't know?"

"No! No one told me! Why was he whipped?"

"He and Mum were out until almost four in the morning. Dad caused a diversion that let Mum slip away, but he was caught."

Ron shrugged, "At least he was whipped privately. And he went straight to the hospital wing afterward."

"Your mum didn't have to watch? Lucky her," said Hermione bitterly.

This was too good an opening, and Ron was too good a strategist not to take advantage.

"I'm sorry you watched. I mean," Ron fumbled, "I know it wasn't pleasant for anyone." Ron reflected a moment, "Well, probably Malfoy and that lot enjoyed it. But most of the school didn't."

Hermione stared at Ron in disbelief, then laughed hysterically, "Not pleasant! Not pleasant! I can't believe you said that!

"It was brutal! It was one of the worse ordeals I've ever been through in my life, if not the worst. And you call it not pleasant?"

Alright, this wasn't going well. Ron cursed himself under his breath, and tried to figure out where to go from here.

"What do you want me to say?"

"Oh, just call it not pleasant!" and after this remarkable display, Hermione burst into tears.

Alarmed, Ron pulled her into a hug, "Hermione, please stop. Don't cry. I never know what to do when you cry."

Hermione was clutching his robe, shaking with tears, "I...it was horrible! I wanted it to stop! They were hurting you so bad! I couldn't bear it! I hated...I hated it! I kept praying for it to stop! And they just...Filch kept on whipping you! Umbridge enjoyed it! I could see her face! I was so afraid!"

Ron tried to follow this with some difficulty. Luckily, he had grown up with a younger sister and wasn't completely unfamiliar with hysterical girls. Usually it was best to let them cry it out, so he tried patting her on the back and making soothing noises.

To his relief, it seemed to work and Hermione visibly calmed down. She pushed away from him, wiping her eyes, "Sorry. I always seem to cry all over you."

"It's fine. I didn't mean to upset you. I just meant I wasn't the only one who suffered that day."

Hermione looked at him quickly, "No, you weren't." There was an awkward silence, then she asked, "Was there anything else you wanted to say?"

Well, there was. But Ron knew he couldn't say what he wanted, "Um, no. Should there be?"

Hermione looked disappointed, "I guess not. We should finish our rounds."

They quietly finished their patrol, while Ron pondered exactly how he had disappointed Hermione.

A few notes here. For American readers, British biscuits are more like what we would call fancy cookies or crackers. (To Brits, our biscuits are are more like what you would call scones.)

Second, please don't hate Molly too much. Ron didn't hear everything she said. If he had listened to the whole conversation, he would have heard his mother compare him to an adorable puppy who hadn't grown into his paws yet. Then she said she was now happy she had her sixth son, because that was the one who was going to be like her beloved Arthur.

Finally, I've been asked to post the original chapter 4 that showed the whipping from Harry's POV. I truly deleted it, so I would have to rewrite it, but I pretty much remember it so that's possible.

Are there any others who would be interested in this? Please let me know. Thanks again for reading.