Part Four

Ronald Weasley

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"And I don't know where you went when you left me but

Says here in the water you must be gone now

I can tell somehow

One hand on the trigger of telephone

Wondering when the call comes

Where you say it's alright

You got your heart right

We share the sadness

Split screen sadness

All you need is love is a lie cause

We had love but we still said goodbye

Now we're tired, battered fighters

And it stings when it's nobody's fault

Cause there's nothing to blame at the drop of your name

It's only the air you took and the breath you left

Maybe I'll sleep inside my coat

And wait on the porch 'til you come back home

Oh, right

I can't find a flight

So ill check the weather wherever you are

Cause I wanna know if you can see the starts tonight

It might be my only right

We share the sadness

Split screen sadness

And I know it was me who called it over but

I still wish you'd fought me 'til your dying day

Don't let me get away

Cause I can't wait to figure out what's wrong with me

So I can say this is the way that I used to be

There's no substitute for time

Or for the sadness

Split screen sadness

We share the sadness"

'Split Screen Sadness' John Mayer

*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~

Ron Weasley stood hesitantly and stiffly in the center of a massive crowd of people.  He hesitantly loosened his tie , wishing he hadn't of chosen the piece of fabric as a part of his attire. He whirled around the room, his eyes scanning the occupants of the room. This was his twenty-seventh birthday, and on the outside, he looked to be bringing in the new age quite fine.

His lavish three story villa in the British countryside. His fleet of sophisticated convertibles, and sedans. The well manicured yard with its neatly placed  fountains and flower gardens, trees, rosebushes, and shrubs. His new job as Head of the Department of Games and Sports, the youngest head in all the Ministry's history.  His Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons, who were well on their way to participating in the World Quidditch Cup.  From an outsiders view, for a man who rose up out of poverty, into a successful, rich, and powerful figure in the Britain's wizarding community; his life was amazing.

However, on the inside, Ron almost felt a sense of dread. The more successful he got, the more he realized people were beginning to expect of him, and the less fun he had. He no longer looked at life in the funny lighthearted way that he did before. Without Hermione, everything that once was in vivid technicolor, were now washed over and dulled to a series of monotonous tones of gray. Then what was worse, the only emotions he could feel anymore, were stress and anger. Ron slowly brushed his way past a group of wizards he didn't know. He snorted to himself finding it strange that most of these people at his birthday party strangers. Sometimes he felt like he wanted nothing more than to disappear into the crowd. He scanned around the room again, his eyes locking on Hermione.

She was standing almost on the opposite side of the room, she was wearing long flowing soft periwinkle dress robes, and her hair was loose and flowing about her shoulders. She looked up at him, her brown eyes sparking, before her eyes fell from him again. Ron stared at her, his jaw dropped in awe at her sheer beauty. At that moment he started to feel extremely foolish for going out of his way to avoid her for months. Why was he upset anyway? Was it really her fault for feeling the way she did? Was it her fault that she had enough strength to move on from their relationship? Ron could feel his fingers reach for his tie as he attempting to loosen it again. It was beginning to feel like the tie's man goal was to choke him to death before night's end. He slowly galvanized his sluggish feet into action, as he slowly sauntered across the room to her, trying to smile at her at the same time.

"Hermione." Ron said slowly, attempting to make his voice sound vague.  She stared at him expressionless before placing her hand on his shoulder.

"Harry birthday Ron." She said, her voice barely above a whisper. Ron could feel the smile on his face slowly drone. Had the fool inside of him expected Hermione to create a big scene, uttering her true feelings, denouncing her marriage to Fred, then wrap him in a passionate embrace? Ron could hear a dry laugh escape his lips, he strangely found a sense of humor at his own foolishness.  Of course she had only come because she felt obligated to because it was his birthday, not to save their friendship.

"So." Hermione said brightly, her voice seemed to be trying to spark him into an engaging conversation. He stared at her, feeling a short burst of resentment towards her. He was hoping he could make it through the night perfectly numb, now here she was. Just the sight of her was heartbreaking. Now what was she trying to do? Make it seem that nothing had happened between them just five months prior? Was this her way of trying to forget the fact that her ex-boyfriend was now her brother-in-law?

"How's the World Cup going? It's all the buzz around the office." Hermione said gaily. Ron resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her; this was the first time they had spoken in months, and he was asking her about work? Ron forcefully shoved his hands in the pockets of his robes, suddenly finding the floor more interesting than her beautiful soft face.

"Just quit it 'Mione." Ron said, his voice low. Hermione looked up at him, her eyes slightly widening in surprise. Ron scoffed, did he actually expect him to swallow all of his resentment in the first ten minutes of conversation? Ron could feel himself lock eyes with Hermione. Much to his surprise, her eyes were dry, however her face held a piteous look. She licked her lips before speaking.

"I've already lost Harry, I can't afford to lose you too. Don't make me make this choice." She whispered, she places her hand upon his chest, an action she did often in the past to beckon him to lean forward. Ron could sense his eyes slightly go red as he leaned forward, she smiled wearily at him before brushing her lips softer across his nose tenderly before pulling away. She stared at him one hard time before shaking her head, and turning on her heel and disappearing into the crowd of strangers. Ron stared at her as she left before momentarily cursing at himself for making her upset. He could feel the eyes of everyone at the party on him, big eager eyes, locked on him, ready, intent on pouncing. Why did he feel like there was a big target drawn on his forehead now that he was a Head?

Ron slowly began to make his way through the partygoers, with an occasional pat on the shoulder, kiss on the cheek, or a handshake before he finally ,made it out of the crowded formal sitting room and into the foyer. He was unsure of where he was going, but his feet were leading him listlessly to an unknown location. He slowly sauntered up the spiraling oak staircase, and made a series of turns before reaching his destination. He stepped into the empty library on the other side of the villa, he sighed loudly as he plopped down on a chair and put his face in his hands. He rarely sat in the library of his own house, the room was too expansive for him. Immediately after purchasing the villa, he soon realized how alone he was. So he would often avoid all of the large extravagant rooms, and huddle himself into the smallest rooms of the manor, the only cure to his loneliness. His heart could not bear the stress and pain anymore. Ron lazily sat back in his chair, drifting in and out of random thoughts when he heard the door slam and the door lock with a soft click.

"Ron…" someone whispered. Ron set up intently in his chair, trying to find who had uttered his name and ruined his moment of silence. His eyes drifted around the large library until his attention finally rested on the three silhouettes by the door. Ron slowly rose to his feet and walked closer as the obscure figures finally became clear. Ron could feel his face contort into a scowl of utter frustration, then he could feel his heart skip a beat, and his mind began to whirl. Before him stood a muddy Harry, a befuddled George, and a strange looking auburn haired man, who's face, much to his dismay, Ron had never  quite forgotten.

"Who the hell is that?" Ron asked, his voice slightly coming out high pitched. He knew perfectly well who it was that stood between his brother and his best friend, but the fact that he had important people in the villa from the Ministry, including the Minster of Magic, made him hope that he was sadly mistaken.

"He tried to get away!" George exclaimed in a slightly boisterous tone, as if he was still upset that the captive had attempted to escape.  The auburn man, who's arms were twisted together as if they were bounded by the magic of not one, but ten wizards, let out a small snort.

"It's Malfoy." Harry said in a slightly mollifying tone. Ron stood before them, as the situation suddenly ebbed from bad to worse.

"Malfoy… in my house… now." Were the only words that a shell shocked Ron could utter. Not only had the Elite captured Malfoy without the Ministry's permission, Kingsley Shacklebolt was completely unaware of the Elite's plan, better yet, he was unaware of the existence of the Elite. Ron knew, he'd be joining Harry in the search for a new job if Malfoy was discovered in his home.

"I…" Harry's voice trailed off, his hand was firmly gripped around Malfoy's bicep. Ron's eyes suddenly fell on a silent Malfoy. He had gained more weight, and his face was slightly less pointer then it had been ten years prior. He no longer held his snotty and debonair attitude, for the first time, Ron could actually sense his fear. It was palpable, collecting, condensing and dripping off of his body in lumps. He was terrified. Ron bit his lip hesitantly as he remembered the look of dread in Draco's eyes the day he had confronted him in the corridor at Hogwarts. He held that same look of fear. However, the question that fascinated Ron was, what was he afraid of?

"We don't have any place to hold him where the Ministry wouldn't find him." George finished for Harry. Ron quickly flashed his brother a scornful look, he almost had forgotten that his brother was there.  Ron shoved his hands in the pockets of his royal blue dress robes, as the foolishness of the comment began to sink in.

"I am a Ministry official!" Ron snapped, he noticed almost identical looks of slight agony on Harry and George's faces, and a look of surprise on Malfoy's face. "Do you lot understand the mess I'll have to clean up if they find him in my house?"

Harry and George exchanged weary looks with each other. "There's no other place for us to keep him. He'll try to run away again if…" George stammered. Ron shook his head, and pulled his hands out from his pockets. He put one hand on his check, which was blazing hot. He lowered his head, he knew perfectly well that he could easily hide Malfoy in numerous places in the villa, without the chance of him easily escaping.

 "Fine." Ron said, his voice slightly over a grumble. George and Harry both flashed him ridiculously wide smiles, but they both kept both their hands on a motionless Malfoy.

"Where are we going to keep him?" Harry asked, his voice seemed slightly clouded as he looked over at Malfoy, who's head was still studying the parquet floor of the library. From downstairs, Ron could slightly hear the four piece string quartet go into a waltz.

"There's an extra room on the third floor. But, we should keep him in here for tonight. We can't risk him being seen." Ron said slowly. Harry and George both nodded in agreement, as they slowly dragged a complacent Malfoy towards the rear of the library. They silently removed their wands from their robes and muttered several incantations binding Malfoy to a column, silently concealed by a tall walnut bookcase. Ron watched them intently as they finished up, and brushed off their tattered robes before turning to face Ron.

"Harry, there's some dress robes you can borrow in the bureau upstairs." Ron instructed, hiding his obvious command under a subtle suggestion. Harry smiled at him for the first time in nearly a  week. Degrading Malfoy must have brought it about, Ron could feel his mind quip. He was unsure why he was sending Harry away, but he realized he could no longer alienate his brother and Hermione anymore. Even though Percy's mean and selfish behavior years ago had affected him, he could feel himself slowly grow away from his family. On most days, he felt that he was almost becoming another Percy Weasley. Yes, Hermione was once in a lifetime, but she was gone and ready to spend her lifetime with George. Ron would not always have his good job, he may not always have his good fortune, ownership of a winning Quidditch franchise, and he definitely will not always have the money. In the end, his family was all he could count on. Ron could feel his face blush slightly as he stared at his brother, his lips stumbling to utter the words his mind just moved  through.

"I was wrong…" Ron's voice trailed off, he suddenly could feel Malfoy's presence in the room. He sat at the base of the column, eyes blank, but deadest on him. Ron's mind suddenly abandoned the long heartfelt apology and speech about how he felt when Hermione refused to forgive him for blowing up at her. He also abandoned addressing the issue of the words they had shared at the wedding. George stared at him, waiting for him to speak. "I'm sorry." Ron muttered, wishing nothing more than Malfoy to stop staring at them.

"Really, it's alright Ron." George smiled at him, the light from the blazing fire slightly illuminating his face. "But, I'm not the one who really deserves the apology." His voice trailed off. Big misty blue eyes, slightly graying as if throwing a piece of sheer silver linen over them, continued to stare at Ron. Stop it! His mind wanted to scream. His eyes almost seemed prying, crushing his mind open like a nutcracker. Ron quickly turned his attention to his brother, his words slowly relaying to him as if there was a twenty second delay between them. He could feel his eyes roll, expecting George to linger into a speech on respecting Hermione, and her decision and snuff him out for hurting her feelings. However George looked at him, placing a hand on his shoulder rather solemnly.

"You're the one who should be receiving an apology." The older man gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Ron bowed his head, Malfoy's eyes felt like they were burning a hole into his soul. The younger man could feel his mouth go dry a bit, and his dry tongue slowly wet his lips.

"Going back to your party birthday boy?" he asked, his voice was returning to his cheerful tone. Just his voice seemingly warmed Ron's saddened heart for a few moments.

"No, I've had enough of it." Ron paused as George removed his hand from his shoulder. "I'll stay up here, you can go back downstairs. Your wife would probably want to know where you've been the past two days." Ron could feel himself wince as he stumbled over the world wife. He had managed to make it through three months without acknowledging the fact that George was married to Hermione. It almost seemed surreal, however he didn't want to utter Hermione's name in the presence of Malfoy. He knew it would be disastrously, not only for him, but for Hermione, it hurt him just to think of her reaction if she knew Malfoy was still alive. Memories of their relationship and Sam's death, which Hermione only spoke of once, on a breezy balmy June night seven years prior. The pain in her voice was enough to make Ron love and admire her for remaining so strong, even after all she had been through. He also had to make sure that Hermione did not know that Malfoy was here, because she would be compelled by his presence, and by guilt to tell George the truth about her relationship with Malfoy. She had candidly told Ron, that he was the only soul, besides Malfoy, that knew the entire truth. Ron could feel tears stinging to come out of the corner of his deep brown eyes as he remembered the night. It was the week before her wedding to George. Ron immediately began to contemplate the fact that Hermione may  told George after their wedding.  The freckled faced man quickly dismissed the thought, he always wanted to have a 'special' connection with Hermione. He couldn't bear the fact that Hermione would open herself up to George, or any other soul, besides him. It hurt more that maybe she had.

"Thanks Ronnikins!" George's deep yet warming voice snapped Ron out of his thoughts.

"Welcome." Ron mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets, his eyes still on the motionless, mud covered Draco Malfoy in the corner of the library. George beamed at him, appearing almost ecstatic that they were back on speaking terms again, before turning towards the door of the library and leaving.

Finally, Ron thought to himself as he turned to Malfoy. He slowly approached the auburn-haired man, who was now awkwardly slumped on the column. Ron eyes darted around the room, trying to avoid major eye contact with Malfoy. He stared at him for seemed like an eternity before Malfoy finally spoke.

"Never would I expected the tables to turn." He muttered. Ron looked down at him, unsure of what to say or think. All he could feel was an almost sickening, yet unadulterated feeling of clout and control. He was no longer Weasel, he stood towering over his childhood foe and bully. He was no longer the tormented; so why did he feel so guilty? Ron attempted to swallow the now rising lump in his throat.

"If you're going to be staying here, we're going to have to make a few mutual agreements." Ron said slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. Draco's faded eyes no longer rested on him, his eyes were now locked intently on the fire. Ron could see the reflection of the fires' embers in the deep cobalt blue of his irises.

"I don't want to keep you bound up like that, I really want to help Malfoy." Ron continued, he paused as if waiting for Draco to respond. But the man did not.

"Before, I would have doubted if I could trust you. But I know, I can trust you, eh?"

Silence.

"I know everything about you now Malfoy. You aren't the pompous prat you were in Hogwarts, so maybe we can see eye to eye on this. I can keep you out of the hands of the Ministry. You know they are the ones that would lock you up and throw away the key?" Ron knelt down, so he could be at eye level with Malfoy. He still avoided his gaze, his eyes now locked onto the chandelier.

"They think you killed  Sam Austin." Ron said slowly. Draco's face did not even flash just a glimmer of emotion. Ron stared at him, and opened his mouth to speak again, but Draco surprised him, by opening his mouth and speaking.

"I might as well have." Draco muttered. Ron stared at him, his voice sounded groggy, and low, and his accent was almost close to American; his eyes finally on him. Ron slowly rose to his feet, his heart instantly catching in his chest. He felt a small pang of guilt for dredging up  a subject such as Sam, but he felt it was necessary to make Draco aware of the contempt that most wizarding folk held towards him. Ron slowly sauntered over to the a plush chair in the middle of the library; assuming that Draco would say nothing more. However, ten minutes into the dead silence, Draco's voice emerged again, almost catching Ron off guard.

"Does she know I'm here?" his voice shook slightly, as if it belonged to the body of a terrified five year old boy. Ron turned to him, unable to make out any of his features in the darkness.

"No." Ron replied solemnly. He cleared his throat, as he attempted to dig out from within the right words to say to Draco. Should he hint that she moved on? Should he tell the truth? Should he sugarcoat it? Should he lie and say that she's out of town? Ron  wet his lips again, "She won't and can't know you're here. You're here to help us, then we'll send you back to New York. No damage done." Ron whispered, his words were more to reassure himself than to reassure Draco.

"No damage done?" Draco's voice ask, the tremulous quality of it slowly smoothing and steadying out. He almost sounded identical to what he sounded like ten years prior. "I can't go a day without thinking of her. If…" his voice trailed off before he cleared his throat and spoke again. "If you're hear to help me Weasley. Why can't you arrange something? Just the thought of her is looming over me, it's all I can think about. You've got to let me." His voice was now faltering. Ron closed his eyes, wishing nothing more than for Malfoy to stop, for it sounded like he was going to burst into tears. "Just let me see her… I don't have to speak with her."

Ron buried his face in his hands, unsure of what to say to the man sitting feet away from him. He knew perfectly well what it felt like to feel that slightly wistful feeling in the pit of your stomach, and he could even fathom the depth of the love that Draco must hold for Hermione. Then again, he thought of all the damage that would be done if they were to see each other. Things may spiral and explode out of control before Ron would even have a chance to blink. He had to say something, for he could hear Draco's heavy breathing, was he crying?  Ron, his mind racing, and his heart, for the first time in years, genuinely going out to someone besides himself.

"My department at the Ministry is organizing the World Quidditch cup in a few weeks. She'll be there. I promise." Ron whispered, but after he whispered the words, I promise, it was too late. For the words were already uttered, and Malfoy was fully expecting for him to deliver. Ron buried his head in his hands, wishing once again for the ability to disappear indefinately.