A/N: I apologize, I would have updated yesterday, but I was totally unable
to put two thoughts together, let alone write. This chapter was not one I
had intended to write, and I will be writing the one that follows directly
after I finish this. So, if this isn't to your taste, just wait and
there'll be another in a few hours. The rest of this should flow easily,
because I got my act together and sketched out the rest of the story. While
it's vague, it now has a distinct direction. BUT I would really like to
hear any ideas you guys have. I've gotten nothing but great advice.
Wonapalei: Here's the deal. Your plot bunnies came over whilst mine were having a party. Now I have a plot bunny COLONY on my hands. Get your behind over here and help me cage these things before I go insane! I agree with you though, and rest assured, he will be suitably humbled before this story is over, although it maybe at the very end. I really hope you like this because this chapter is most certainly yours as much as mine.
LadyLilyPotter: I shall contrive ;o) I'm glad you like it!
Ravenfrog: He will, but, not yet...
Volion: I'm not really into the whole declarations of love thing either, more the practical, everyday kind of love. Hate doll shops. Eugh. Scary places. What's next you ask? I'm going to kill off Harry, and Draco is going to have a fling with McGonagall before settling on Sir Nicholas, Hermione goes serial killer, Sam turns into an elf, and Ron becomes the new Dark Lord. Only Peter Pettigrew can save the world....
JumpyPUNKyMonkey: Dobby Rocks! I love Dobby, and when that bit popped into my head I HAD to put it in :o) Me? Cheap romance novels? Never...
Sabrith Alastar: Thank you, you do wonders for my ego.
Fierysoulgirl: Thank you muchly.
Thanks bunches, and love you all lots.
His feet were cold, in fact, his body registered that the temperature of the room was unpleasantly frigid. That, though, was to be expected this season, and he made no attempt to remedy the situation. The day itself was dreary. The falling snow obscured most anything he would have seen had he been looking out the window, as he was wont to do, but today was different.
For the past ten years he been reclusive, and Harry had refused to leave him alone. Every month he would receive a monstrously thick letter with updates on all those people Ron had loved; pictures of his daughter, updates on his wife, the mundane events in Harry's own life, and Ron had never once replied. He would admit to himself, though, that the reason he had never replied was because he came so close to saying yes, every time he picked up a quill and set it to parchment. Since his return to the wizarding world he had received no word, and the only answer to his attempt at reconciliation were the shards of broken glass that had made a home in his waste bin.
He had not meant to stay gone ten years. It had not been his plan, when he apparated from his home that night. All he had wanted were a few moments to think, but they were all over him. Hermione hysterically happy he was alive, Harry beaten with guilt because of his condition, Dumbledore consoling him by saying that, with work and muggle medicine, he would walk again someday. Overwhelmed and unthinking he had stayed long enough to collect the reparations from the ministry for his injuries and services to humanity, and fled his home for solace and obscurity in the muggle world.
Thinking had turned into brooding, and brooding to a deep depression. Ron had found his misery a wonderful partner through the years. It had kept his mind occupied, kept him from feeling the pain of actual recovery, kept him safe from the odd stares of those others who would never understand. Losing his life, he had told himself many times in the past decade, would have been preferred to this ignominy.
All that had changed with Harry's last letter to him. He had felt indignant at first, but soon had come to realize something. He had made a great sacrifice, given his mobility, and pieces of his sanity to a cause. Many enjoyed the fruits of his labor, and he had decided that he deserved happiness, just like everyone else. Happiness, though, had always been found with those people he had repudiated more times than we cared to count. So, he had decided to send an overture to the one person he had not consciously scorned, and those who had professed to love him so many times in the past had made sure she never saw it.
Anger had masked hurt, just as misery had been front for fear, and now he could look at the box sitting precariously in his too small waste bin, with a kind of cold calculation. There had been something fishy, he knew, about the scene he had witnessed in Hogsmeade that day a week before Christmas, but he had not been able to place his finger on precisely what made that vignette stand so vividly in his mind. Oh, he knew that most of it had to do with Malfoy. He had always been bitter towards him, even before that fateful night, and that day had only deepened his loathing because Malfoy had not only indirectly taken away his ability to walk, but he was also able to freely converse with Ron's wife and daughter.
Now, as he gazed down at the latest addition of the Daily Prophet that sat on his lap, everything was clear. He had been reluctant to force himself back into their lives, but now he had no reservations. Their care and concern had been a farce. They had waited just long enough to assuage their guilt over his predicament, and then gone on to show their true colors. Now Ron knew that if he wanted to wrest what was rightfully his from the clutches of these interlopers he would have to take drastic measures. He had been waiting ten years for confirmation of his suspicions, it had never made sense to him that Malfoy had been cleared of all charges, but now it did. Everything was oh so clear, as he reread the engagement announcement of one Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.
A/N: I know this is short, but I think it's more affective alone. The next chapter should be longer, and up in a few hours. Ron's not really an all bad kinda guy, he just has his vices, and while it may seem so I am not really slandering him. He's one of my favorite characters, just trust me, and see where it goes.
Wonapalei: Here's the deal. Your plot bunnies came over whilst mine were having a party. Now I have a plot bunny COLONY on my hands. Get your behind over here and help me cage these things before I go insane! I agree with you though, and rest assured, he will be suitably humbled before this story is over, although it maybe at the very end. I really hope you like this because this chapter is most certainly yours as much as mine.
LadyLilyPotter: I shall contrive ;o) I'm glad you like it!
Ravenfrog: He will, but, not yet...
Volion: I'm not really into the whole declarations of love thing either, more the practical, everyday kind of love. Hate doll shops. Eugh. Scary places. What's next you ask? I'm going to kill off Harry, and Draco is going to have a fling with McGonagall before settling on Sir Nicholas, Hermione goes serial killer, Sam turns into an elf, and Ron becomes the new Dark Lord. Only Peter Pettigrew can save the world....
JumpyPUNKyMonkey: Dobby Rocks! I love Dobby, and when that bit popped into my head I HAD to put it in :o) Me? Cheap romance novels? Never...
Sabrith Alastar: Thank you, you do wonders for my ego.
Fierysoulgirl: Thank you muchly.
Thanks bunches, and love you all lots.
His feet were cold, in fact, his body registered that the temperature of the room was unpleasantly frigid. That, though, was to be expected this season, and he made no attempt to remedy the situation. The day itself was dreary. The falling snow obscured most anything he would have seen had he been looking out the window, as he was wont to do, but today was different.
For the past ten years he been reclusive, and Harry had refused to leave him alone. Every month he would receive a monstrously thick letter with updates on all those people Ron had loved; pictures of his daughter, updates on his wife, the mundane events in Harry's own life, and Ron had never once replied. He would admit to himself, though, that the reason he had never replied was because he came so close to saying yes, every time he picked up a quill and set it to parchment. Since his return to the wizarding world he had received no word, and the only answer to his attempt at reconciliation were the shards of broken glass that had made a home in his waste bin.
He had not meant to stay gone ten years. It had not been his plan, when he apparated from his home that night. All he had wanted were a few moments to think, but they were all over him. Hermione hysterically happy he was alive, Harry beaten with guilt because of his condition, Dumbledore consoling him by saying that, with work and muggle medicine, he would walk again someday. Overwhelmed and unthinking he had stayed long enough to collect the reparations from the ministry for his injuries and services to humanity, and fled his home for solace and obscurity in the muggle world.
Thinking had turned into brooding, and brooding to a deep depression. Ron had found his misery a wonderful partner through the years. It had kept his mind occupied, kept him from feeling the pain of actual recovery, kept him safe from the odd stares of those others who would never understand. Losing his life, he had told himself many times in the past decade, would have been preferred to this ignominy.
All that had changed with Harry's last letter to him. He had felt indignant at first, but soon had come to realize something. He had made a great sacrifice, given his mobility, and pieces of his sanity to a cause. Many enjoyed the fruits of his labor, and he had decided that he deserved happiness, just like everyone else. Happiness, though, had always been found with those people he had repudiated more times than we cared to count. So, he had decided to send an overture to the one person he had not consciously scorned, and those who had professed to love him so many times in the past had made sure she never saw it.
Anger had masked hurt, just as misery had been front for fear, and now he could look at the box sitting precariously in his too small waste bin, with a kind of cold calculation. There had been something fishy, he knew, about the scene he had witnessed in Hogsmeade that day a week before Christmas, but he had not been able to place his finger on precisely what made that vignette stand so vividly in his mind. Oh, he knew that most of it had to do with Malfoy. He had always been bitter towards him, even before that fateful night, and that day had only deepened his loathing because Malfoy had not only indirectly taken away his ability to walk, but he was also able to freely converse with Ron's wife and daughter.
Now, as he gazed down at the latest addition of the Daily Prophet that sat on his lap, everything was clear. He had been reluctant to force himself back into their lives, but now he had no reservations. Their care and concern had been a farce. They had waited just long enough to assuage their guilt over his predicament, and then gone on to show their true colors. Now Ron knew that if he wanted to wrest what was rightfully his from the clutches of these interlopers he would have to take drastic measures. He had been waiting ten years for confirmation of his suspicions, it had never made sense to him that Malfoy had been cleared of all charges, but now it did. Everything was oh so clear, as he reread the engagement announcement of one Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.
A/N: I know this is short, but I think it's more affective alone. The next chapter should be longer, and up in a few hours. Ron's not really an all bad kinda guy, he just has his vices, and while it may seem so I am not really slandering him. He's one of my favorite characters, just trust me, and see where it goes.