Disclaimer: I own the plot.
A/N: I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I've had to work everyday this week, and I've had cross-country practice for multiple hours each day. I took way too much unneeded Aderol, the pill hit me as pure speed, and I didn't sleep for three days straight. I'm writing this at 4:30 AM because the speed won't let me go to sleep. Please accept the shitiness of this chapter. If you have any suggestions for the plot itself, please let me know. I still love you guys for reading, and I wish I could be more productive. Thanks for staying with the story, and props to all my wonderful reviewers. Thanks again.
The sun taunted Ron's eyelids, begging him to wake up. Under the covers, Ron shifted his foot, wishing that he would never have to rise from the comfy, cushiony bed that he was sunken into.
Ron was exhausted. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. He sniffed and felt his foot twitch. Ron reached up to scratch his nose as he felt the warmth of the blazing sun on his cheeks.
The sun always seemed to find Ron. He had never been too fond of the light. It made his freckles stand out and seemed to demand happiness and pastel- colored clothing. The daylight enjoyed seeping through everything, including closed walls and windows, trying to locate him. And it always did. Ron could never hide from the one thing that really reminded him of how he used to be. He hated anything that brought back his memories of being careless and free.
He sighed, realizing that he couldn't go back to sleep. With no trouble, he opened his eyes.
'I guess I'm not that tired,' Ron thought. He exhaled deeply as he sat up. Ron flexed his fingers as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
A fast and simple image flashed through his mind. The image turned Ron's stomach, and it instantly made him furious.
The image was that of his father.
Ron would think of his father regularly. He hated doing it, but it was inevitable. It was impossible to erase his father's still lingering memory. Ron's stomach switched into a clenching mode, like it usually did, and he had a sudden urge to find Draco Malfoy.
And kill him.
Killing Draco Malfoy was the closest thing Ron could get to revenge. Draco had Lucius Malfoy's blood, and although Lucius was long dead, he had still killed Arthur Weasley.
It was one of those long, lost, terrible nights. The hours of darkness were dark, stormy, and full of deathly hate. There had been a battle. The Dark Lord was on a rampage of murder, and his Death Eaters were everywhere.
Ron hadn't seen the slaughter. He had just seen the blood and the body.
Ron saw Lucius Malfoy hovering above the corpse with a nine-inch blade in his right hand. The blade was rusted and entirely covered in more blood. Lucius' hands were soaked in it as well. He looked lethal and utterly insane. Lucius' eyes were a piercing blue color. He had made eye contact with Ron straight on. How dare he: stare down Ronald Weasley after butchering his father.
Ron saw his father on the ground, slumped lifelessly, soaking in his own blood. The color of the blood was vivid in Ron's memory. It was scarlet- colored, dark enough to almost seem black. It had made Ron vomit when he saw the scene. It still made him vomit when he remembered it...
After the situation had fully registered in his mind, Ron had become conscious of the fact that he had to kill Lucius. Quickly and painfully.
Ron had stepped a foot closer when Lucius fled. Ron began chasing after the murderous man, and he nearly caught him. Lucius' black cloak was floating in Ron's fingertips. He was so close.
Instantly, a cloaked figure approached from somewhere to the left of Ron. Ron somehow knew what was going to happen.
It all happened very fast. Ron just heard a mumbled curse, saw the staff of a brown-colored wand, and noticed a bright, green light.
Lucius Malfoy was on the ground, dead, in less than a second.
Ron had nearly tripped over the carcass. He looked around quickly. The masked shape had escaped. Ron also noticed that the thing had taken the sword that Lucius had been carrying.
Ron stood there, amidst smells of blood and abhorrence. Smoke encircled him, and he felt his eyes tear. Other than that, he was pulsing with a calm anger that he couldn't control.
Ron was left with nothing more than Lucius' unmoving body and a prolonged, vanished reminiscence of a man named Mr. Weasley.
A/N: I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I've had to work everyday this week, and I've had cross-country practice for multiple hours each day. I took way too much unneeded Aderol, the pill hit me as pure speed, and I didn't sleep for three days straight. I'm writing this at 4:30 AM because the speed won't let me go to sleep. Please accept the shitiness of this chapter. If you have any suggestions for the plot itself, please let me know. I still love you guys for reading, and I wish I could be more productive. Thanks for staying with the story, and props to all my wonderful reviewers. Thanks again.
The sun taunted Ron's eyelids, begging him to wake up. Under the covers, Ron shifted his foot, wishing that he would never have to rise from the comfy, cushiony bed that he was sunken into.
Ron was exhausted. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. He sniffed and felt his foot twitch. Ron reached up to scratch his nose as he felt the warmth of the blazing sun on his cheeks.
The sun always seemed to find Ron. He had never been too fond of the light. It made his freckles stand out and seemed to demand happiness and pastel- colored clothing. The daylight enjoyed seeping through everything, including closed walls and windows, trying to locate him. And it always did. Ron could never hide from the one thing that really reminded him of how he used to be. He hated anything that brought back his memories of being careless and free.
He sighed, realizing that he couldn't go back to sleep. With no trouble, he opened his eyes.
'I guess I'm not that tired,' Ron thought. He exhaled deeply as he sat up. Ron flexed his fingers as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
A fast and simple image flashed through his mind. The image turned Ron's stomach, and it instantly made him furious.
The image was that of his father.
Ron would think of his father regularly. He hated doing it, but it was inevitable. It was impossible to erase his father's still lingering memory. Ron's stomach switched into a clenching mode, like it usually did, and he had a sudden urge to find Draco Malfoy.
And kill him.
Killing Draco Malfoy was the closest thing Ron could get to revenge. Draco had Lucius Malfoy's blood, and although Lucius was long dead, he had still killed Arthur Weasley.
It was one of those long, lost, terrible nights. The hours of darkness were dark, stormy, and full of deathly hate. There had been a battle. The Dark Lord was on a rampage of murder, and his Death Eaters were everywhere.
Ron hadn't seen the slaughter. He had just seen the blood and the body.
Ron saw Lucius Malfoy hovering above the corpse with a nine-inch blade in his right hand. The blade was rusted and entirely covered in more blood. Lucius' hands were soaked in it as well. He looked lethal and utterly insane. Lucius' eyes were a piercing blue color. He had made eye contact with Ron straight on. How dare he: stare down Ronald Weasley after butchering his father.
Ron saw his father on the ground, slumped lifelessly, soaking in his own blood. The color of the blood was vivid in Ron's memory. It was scarlet- colored, dark enough to almost seem black. It had made Ron vomit when he saw the scene. It still made him vomit when he remembered it...
After the situation had fully registered in his mind, Ron had become conscious of the fact that he had to kill Lucius. Quickly and painfully.
Ron had stepped a foot closer when Lucius fled. Ron began chasing after the murderous man, and he nearly caught him. Lucius' black cloak was floating in Ron's fingertips. He was so close.
Instantly, a cloaked figure approached from somewhere to the left of Ron. Ron somehow knew what was going to happen.
It all happened very fast. Ron just heard a mumbled curse, saw the staff of a brown-colored wand, and noticed a bright, green light.
Lucius Malfoy was on the ground, dead, in less than a second.
Ron had nearly tripped over the carcass. He looked around quickly. The masked shape had escaped. Ron also noticed that the thing had taken the sword that Lucius had been carrying.
Ron stood there, amidst smells of blood and abhorrence. Smoke encircled him, and he felt his eyes tear. Other than that, he was pulsing with a calm anger that he couldn't control.
Ron was left with nothing more than Lucius' unmoving body and a prolonged, vanished reminiscence of a man named Mr. Weasley.