~*Chapter Four*~ - The Dark Mark

                As the fierce winds of winter past and the warm breath of spring melted away the snow, Ron found himself beginning to gleefully enjoy the Daily Prophet's updates on the disappearance of Harry. He found it very amusing that they were searching everywhere, and the entire time he was sleeping across the hall. It was as though he was in on a giant secret, which, in essence, he was. But the mirth was soon to vanish, vanished on a stormy July night.

                The wind howled ominously outside, and lightening flashed jaggedly across the cloudy sky. The rain had not come yet, but it would soon. The tree branches in the forest beyond were thrashing about wildly; Harry was surprised he could hear himself over the raucous din.

                "Hurry up, Ron! The storm's not going to wait for you to stroll dreamily down the path!" Harry called over the relentless wail of the gales, watching as Ron, half-running, half-stumbling, tried to get closer towards the house. So far, he wasn't having much luck. He had gone to the Ministry of Magic earlier that day to receive his Apparition license, and he had just gotten back. He must've been off-course from where he had planned to apparate, because his face was full of surprise and confusion when he showed up in the middle of the road half a mile from the house. Harry was hanging on to the doorframe of Ron's house, his robes billowing with the vociferous winds as he tried to hurry Ron.

                "I'm trying to get there! The wind's not exactly a nice comfortable breeze, you know!" came his muffled voice. Ron's hair was getting blown hopelessly across his face, and his robes were catching so much of the wind it was as though the oncoming storm was planning on giving him broomless flying lessons.

                When Ron finally made it to the doorstep, Harry took a strong hold on his hand and tugged him inside, fighting against the wind. He closed the door behind them with a slam and locked it, heaving a sigh of relief.

                "I thought that wind would be the end of you, Ron! What happened?"

                Ron gave him a sheepish look. "Well, I was a bit off-course…First time apparating and all…"

                Harry smiled when he turned to face Ron; he was indeed a comical sight. His hair was a mess, sticking up in all sorts of interesting directions, while his robes were horribly wrinkled and decorated with a few leaves here and there. On his face was a look of embarrassed discontentment as he tried vainly to straighten out his untidy hair.

                "Your hair looks like mine," Harry quipped, stepping up to him with a smile. Ron scowled a bit.

                "Yeah, but yours is supposed to do that."

                Harry laughed. "How off-course were you? It took you all day to get there and get back."

                "Well…when I got there, the first thing I had to do was go see the Minister of Magic. Lucky me, he's my brother," Ron began with a note of sarcasm in his voice. "And Percy seemed a bit irritated; he looked as though I had interrupted something when I was led into his office. But I filled out some sheet about apparating, was asked to perform it a few times, and then I would be able to go. So I did everything I was told to do, and I did fine. But when I got back to Percy's office, he was looking a bit uncomfortable. After he signed my license, I asked him what was wrong, as I was about to leave. He said nothing really, but I caught him saying "Death Eater" to himself as I apparated. It must've broken my concentration on getting back here, because when I opened my eyes…I was in the middle of the road, half a mile away from here, and Muggles were walking past and looking at me strangely. It was quite embarrassing, especially when a little girl came up to me as I was trying to walk inconspicuously down the road and asked me if I was trick-or-treating. I couldn't risk apparating again in front of all those Muggles, so I was stuck walking down the road with people looking at me, probably because of my robes and that I was carrying a wand…it wasn't the best thing in the world, I can tell you that."

                "Death Eater? Percy mentioned the Death Eaters? Why would he be talking about them?" Harry asked, a look of worry suddenly playing on his features.

                "I'm not sure, I wasn't really able to ask him about it seeing that I was halfway out of the place when I heard him say it. I'm sure it was nothing, Harry, don't worry about it. I mean, he IS the Minister of Magic. But I'm going to go change robes and introduce my hair to a brush." Ron tried to get Harry to smile, but a clouded look had come over his features.

                After changing and attempting to brush his hair out a bit, he went across the hall and stopped in the doorway to take in Harry's form, sitting on the bed with his head down, a look of contemplation on his face. Outside, the rain had begun to pelt against the windows and it had begun to leak in through a tiny crack in the glass. Ron waved his wand at it gently, causing the leak to halt and Harry to look up at him. Ron met his gaze and stepped in, taking a seat beside him on the edge of the bed.

                "Harry, what is it? Are you worried about those Death Eaters? They haven't found you and it's been about 2 and a half years! I don't think that they will find you now. You're safe."

                Harry shook his head. "I'm not so sure, Ron. I haven't heard anything about the Death Eaters since I fled my home…but now, your brother mentions them. They could be waiting out there, waiting for the right time to come and take me. Trust me, they'll come for me first. It's not like them to take two victims at once…they'll want you and Hermione to suffer first before they get you. I'm their primary target…"

                At this, Harry looked up at Ron with a determined yet fearful look in his green eyes. The lightening flashed outside, casting a momentary flash of light upon his firm countenance. Ron regarded that expression for a few moments, trying to think of something relevant to say in response, but no words came to him. He gently put a hand on Harry's shoulder and ran his other hand over his warm face, brushing a few strands of ebony black hair from his eyes. His fingertips lightly brushed the scar upon his forehead, and he recoiled slightly, not sure if contact would harm the marred skin.

                Harry caught his hand as it tried to pull back and stopped his movements, catching Ron's cobalt eyes with his own piercing gaze. His grasp was gentle, not truly strong, and he kept his hold, lowering Ron's hand a bit to get a clearer gaze. He took a breath, thoughts of the Death Eaters put aside at the moment, thought not out of mind. Right now, he was determined to keep his mind focused on that which had kept him alive.

                "I love you, Ron…" It had been unspoken for months, but it was unspoken knowledge, both knew of this undeclared attraction, but it was an understood, it didn't need speaking. Harry exhaled gently, waiting for a response, and smiled lightly, the flash of light from outside revealing the calm and joyous expression on Ron's face.  But Ron made no verbal response. Just as Harry was about to speak again, Ron quickly stifled the words with a fierce kiss, conveying his response quite clearly. During the ardent caress, he wrapped his arms about Harry, pulling him into a warm embrace as the dark-haired young man leaned backwards against the soft pillows below.

                Harry complied, all other thoughts save Ron fleeing from his troubled mind. If this were to be his last night living, then he vowed to himself that he would spend it here in his beloved's arms.

                It was the morning's light that stirred Ron from an otherwise fit sleep. A smile stretched across his boyish face as he moved slightly, reaching for where Harry had laid. His eyes flashed open with unsure curiosity when he found that it was empty, Harry's pillow cold. He sat straight up, hastily rubbing the last dregs of sleep from his blue eyes. He shivered quickly at the sudden onslaught of chill air as it hit his bare shoulders. Taking a breath, he threw off the blankets, cursed at the cool air, and grabbed for his discarded robes, pulling them on as quick as humanly possible.

                Disgruntled, he rushed through his house, stumbling a bit on the hem of his wrinkled robes as he went. He thought that perhaps he was getting breakfast or taking a shower or something of the like, but he was nowhere to be found. On a final thought, Ron ran out into the warm July morning, looking around for any sight of Harry out near the forest. The grass was wet underneath his feet, as well as muddy from the night's vicious storm. At the very end of his yard, he saw a few pairs of footprints on the mud, leading from and back into the forest. They vanished as they hit the grass, but they were noticeable enough that they were visible from the back door. His heart beating slightly faster, Ron turned back to his house; he needed to get some fresh clothes on. But when he turned, his heart leapt into his throat. Fear seized him, and he found himself unable to move from the horrid spectacle before him. It was the most terrifying thing a wizard can behold…

                The Dark Mark, symbol of Voldemort and his most devout followers, was emblazoned with great pomp and victory upon the white wall of his home. The skull and snake were also one of the vilest things, and to see it upon his own home was repulsing. Ron had only seen the Mark one other time, he had been fourteen, and he and his family had taken Harry to the World Quidditch Cup. The Death Eaters had been there as well, and had used Harry's wand to shoot it up in the sky during their horrid Muggle hunt. But never had it been so close than now.

                "No…he was right…they've come…I don't have the time to lose. I made him a promise, and I won't break it!" His mind made up, he took off for the door of his house, the image of the Dark Mark freshly imprinted upon his mind. If those Death Eaters wanted Harry, they'd have to get through him first. He didn't care how powerful they might be, he and Hermione were going to go get him. He knew he couldn't tackle them alone; it would take wits as well. And there was one person who had plenty of that at the ready.

                He quickly ran into his room and threw off his dirty robes, reaching for new ones, along with clothes to go underneath them. He pulled them on without abandon and yanked on his shoes. Ron also managed to pull a comb through his untidy hair, then threw it down and jumped up. He raced into the main room of his home, grabbed his wand, and stood still, concentrating on getting to Hermione's house. He only hoped that he would get there successfully and would not have to run down the street to get to her place. He didn't have the time for that in the least. Harry's life was at stake.

            "I'm on my way, Harry. Just hang on."

~*Chapter Five Coming Soon!*~