Author's Note: Well, I'm extremely sorry it has taken me this long to update. I can't claim much excuse except for having been busy, but that's not always the best of excuses. I have hopes of not taking so long for the next bit. In the meantime, I hope that those still interested enjoy this chapter..
chapter 49: AFFLICTION - boundaries already crossed ..
"Thank you."

Ron opened his eyes. The room was dark and all he could see were vague shadows. He shifted a little, experimentally, only to find that absolutely everything hurt. "For what?" he finally rasped out. His throat was dry and the cut in his lip throbbed in time with his heartbeat.

"For stopping me. I was afraid you wouldn't, that you'd just let me kill you." Draco shifted a little then, too, and Ron felt him wince as one arm slid to wrap around Ron's waist. Left unspoken was the memory of how Ron's uncle had died, surrendering to violence and death without protest.

Ron closed his eyes and breathed in deeply before replying. "Me too."

They lay together in the silence that followed, each lost in their own thoughts. The darkness was draped thick and heavy over the room, and the air was still. It was as though the world had stopped.

"It will never stop, will it?"

"No." Choosing to ignore the pain that flared anew, yet aware of the sensation of bare skin sliding over bare skin, Ron turn in Draco's arms so that he was facing the other boy in the dark. "What happened?"

"I don't know." The puff of Draco's breath was warm on Ron's face and he closed his eyes. He felt so tired.

"Do you think she had anything to do with it?"

"I don't know. I wouldn't be surprised, but I don't know how......" Draco seemed to move hesitantly, and then a soft kiss was placed on Ron's lips. "Thank you for not leaving me."

"I couldn't leave you."

"Because of your duty."

"You know it's more than that."

The chill was seeping into Ron's bones, and he couldn't stop the shudder that passed through him then. Draco sat up, taking the remaining warmth with him and spreading the cold over the whole of Ron's body. "I know." It was said very quietly, but in the stillness of the room Ron could not mistake it. "I think I know why she didn't want you to forget".Ron shuffled slowly up the stairs to Gryffindor tower as he thought about what Malfoy had told him about old magic, about blood rites and spells imprinted and strengthened with repetition. According to the book Draco had found, a lot of the old spells were created in layers and found their power not only in the power of the caster but also in the number of repetitions they were put through, like adding another strand to a rope to make it stronger. That was one reason why Draco had to taste Ron's blood every day, not just when the demon was strongest and trying to break free; each day's sacrifice was a reflection of the original sacrifice that created the spell and bound the demon to the Malfoy line. It was also part of why the demon remained bound before the next Malfoy in line had to take up the burden of it. All of the years and centuries of blood tithe kept the demon imprisoned until the next Malfoy took up the responsibility. When that time came was often dependent upon the demon's strength and its struggles to be free of its bonds.

While that was interesting enough in its own right, it really didn't have much bearing on what was going on with Ginny. However, both the bonds that held the demon and the spells that Ginny was working were old magic, and with the way that old magic depended on repetition to keep it strong, certain things were beginning to come clear. Usually the spell's repetition didn't have to be an exact replica of the original spell or enchantment, but just had to represent it somehow. That was why Ginny didn't want him to forget it. His memory of her spell was symbolically re-enacting it, and every time he found himself remembering portions of that bloody night, or seemed to see it playing out before him as it had with his visions that day, the spell was reinforced, made stronger and more permanent. Of course, Ginny could be doing the same thing and remembering it herself, but with more than one person involved, it was that much more effective. And this was all blood magic. Malfoy had mentioned blood magic as well, how it could be used to tie a person to the magic, how it could draw on the strength of another by that connection of blood. Blood was something fundamental, and the use of it held a power all its own.

Running over all of this again in his mind, Ron slowed on his way up the tower and came to a stop about five steps from the top. He felt such overwhelming sadness pouring over him, and he leaned his head against the cold tower wall, wishing that he could just let the stone swallow him up and take him away from having to deal with such...darkness. He thought about the visions he'd been having, everything dark and horrible playing itself out in front of his eyes, adding another layer to the blackness that his sister was wrapping around herself. He felt so alone at that moment, knowing what his sister had done and how she had betrayed him into aiding her, knowing that his friends would think him crazy if he accused her of such a thing, how they would insist it was Malfoy manipulating him and deceiving him when he knew the truth was much, much worse. Ginny had always been the personification of goodness in his family, always the one that everyone loved unreservedly and wanted to care for, the one who was supposed to love them all in return. What had happened to her? Had she even existed in the first place, or was the Ginny they knew some wonderful, terrible lie?

Turning away from the wall, Ron made his way up the last steps and started down the hall toward the portrait of the Fat Lady, doing his best to ignore the aches that seemed to encompass the whole of his body. Sleep would be welcome, not the least for the oblivion it would bring, but he couldn't say whether he'd be able to get out of bed in the morning.

"Where have you been, Ron?"

Stepping through the portrait hole, Ron was confronted once again with the sound of Hermione's voice, as well as with a very strong sense of dejavu. This time when he turned toward the couch in front of the fire, he found that Harry was awake as well, rather than passed out from Hermione's charm and snoring.

"Merlin, Hermione. What time is it?" He didn't have the energy to give a start of surprise at their presence, but he did his best to look mundane and tired. Tired, at least, was certainly not a problem.

"Four in the morning. Now, come sit down, Ron." Hermione's voice remained stern and her face impassive. Harry's face was also expressionless, but with a hard edge to it, and he watched Ron with a close intensity that Ron found more than a bit unsettling. Knowing that he wasn't going to get any sleep until he listened to them, Ron turned and made his way slowly to the chair opposite the couch.

Ron winced as he lowered himself into the chair, the pain that flashed over him reminding him of that evening, of sharp teeth and raw emotion, of hot breath and hungry need. He put a knuckle to his forehead, forcing the memory from him. Now was not the time to remember such things. Lowering his hand, he looked up and directly into the faces of his friends. "What is it this time?"

At his question, Harry gave a small, disbelieving snort and looked down at the floor. Hermione glanced at Harry for a moment, before turning back to Ron. Her hands twisted in her lap and her mouth worked uncertainly for a second before she finally said, "I've found something in the library you need to know, but first...I think..."

"It was Dean this time, Ron," Harry cut in abruptly, looking back up at Ron with anger showing clearly in his eyes. "Ginny found him."

Ron felt cold wash over him at the words. "What do you mean?" His voice came out in barely a whisper, and even as he said it he was rearranging Harry's words in his head. Ginny hurt Dean this time.

"You bloody well know what I mean." Harry slammed his fist against the arm of the couch and spoke harshly from between clenched teeth. "He was barely alive when we got to him. The room was practically painted in his blood and YOUR SISTER had to see it. She hasn't spoken a word since we got him out of there. She wouldn't leave the infirmary, not until we were sure he would live. We still don't know when, or if, he'll wake."

As Harry's words went on, describing the horror of it in minute detail, Ron found himself ignoring the pain in his body and simply curling in on himself. His knees drew up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them as he squeezed his eyes shut tight, trying to block out the memories and the images that Harry was drawing in his mind of what had befallen Dean. He wanted to scream at his friend to stop, to tell him that reliving the scene was only adding power to it, but he found he couldn't speak, not while Harry's words hammered down on him, each one reminding him of his own guilt, of his own powerlessness in the situation.

Finally Harry stopped, pausing for a moment and looking at Ron critically. "It does no good to hide from it, Ron. Sooner or later you're going to have to face what's going on. Hermione, tell him."

There was a pause before Hermione spoke in which Ron moved not a muscle, wishing that everything that had happened that year was just some horrible nightmare and he could wake up soon. "Ron?" Hermione's hand landed on his shoulder, catching a bruise, and Ron flinched and unfolded quickly from his fetal position, lifting his head and looking Hermione square in the eye, his face stony. Wishing wouldn't erase what had happened. He said nothing though, and after a moment of hesitation, Hermione withdrew her hand from his shoulder and began.

"There's something about your curse that your father didn't tell you. Maybe he didn't know about it, it's old, a prophesy from the time the spell was cast and the demon bound. It's a prophesy about how the demon can break free, more than just taking over Malfoy, but really break free." Ron just stared impassively back at her. Why did they have to keep doing this? Why couldn't they see that, remarkable as it was, the situation with him and Draco wasn't the problem, that it was just an aside to what was really going on? He wouldn't be able to convince them, though, so he just let Hermione talk. His eyes wandered over to stare into the dancing flames in the hearth.

"Ron! Are you listening to me?" Hermione hissed and Ron let his eyes drift back to her face. Her eyes were fierce and the set of her mouth determined. "I want you to listen very carefully, Ron. The prophesy gives signs for when the demon can be released. It says this: 'When the blood of the youngest is spilled with the seeds of malice, the spirit imprisoned shall be freed by the one who has no heart. You will know his coming by the darkness that shows itself in day, and by the cursed bodies of the ignorant scarred whose blood is taken to feed him. The breaking of the pair will unleash his power, rewarding the one who makes the choice for betrayal.' " Hermione pronounced the last line and stared at Ron intently.

Before she could say any more, Harry, his face white and twisted with anger, broke in. "Don't you see, Ron? He's going to free the demon to gain power for himself. He's already begun, cutting and bleeding first Blaise Zabini and now Dean, who are ignorant, knowing nothing of your curse or the demon, in order to feed the demon inside of him." Fear and determination flashed in Harry's eyes. "We've got to stop him. Who knows who's next or how many until he's finished. 'Blood of the youngest spilled with the seeds of malice.' Your blood, Ron. He's a heartless monster and soon he will betray you, and all of us, to set the demon free." Silence settled over the room, then, the sound the of the fire crackling loud in the stillness.

"I am already betrayed." The words were barely a whisper, but Ron was hardly aware of saying them. He was frozen in shock as the implications of the prophesy that Hermione had uncovered unfolded in his mind and tears spilled unnoticed down his cheeks as he finally understood the truth. In a way, they were right. It was all linked back to the demon and to the curse that he and Draco were living with. But Harry and Hermione had missed the most important part. The youngest wasn't himself. It was Ginny, and it was she who was trying to free the demon. The first line of the prophesy was unmistakable and Ron suppressed a shudder as he remembered his part in it, only now realizing the full horror of what he had helped to set in motion. "We were so blind."

" 'WE were blind'?" The look on Harry's face turned from dark anger to incredulity. "I'm glad you finally understand what's going on, Ron, but I could have told you all along that Malfoy was evil. I wanted, we wanted," Harry grabbed Hermione's hand as he said this, "to get you to see, but you kept insisting he was innocent. I don't understand, why didn't you see it? How did he deceive you?"

Harry's voice was full of a pleading to understand, of wanting only to do good and help his friend who had been wronged. It sickened Ron. Despite it all, Harry still thought that he knew everything, thought of himself as the hero forced to come and save the poor, helpless ones who were set upon by an evil that somehow only Harry could vanquish. Ron felt a horrible anger building within him, anger at Harry and Hermione for their patronizing, know-it-all ways, at Ginny for using him without a single drop of remorse, at the world for allowing any of this to happen. It was too much, and his anger spilled over. Ron looked up from where his hands were knotting themselves in his lap, allowing the anger to spit from his eyes, willing it to burn as he stared at Harry.

"YOU are still blind," he said in a deadly whisper. "You haven't the faintest idea of what is going on. You think you're the one who's supposed to save the day so you go running around before you even know what the problem is, all the time blinded by what it is that YOU perceive to be evil. You say that I have been deceived, and, in a way, I have, but not so much as you."

For a moment Harry only stared at him in shock. Almost he looked as though someone had just informed him that the world was flat after all, or that his parents were really alive and living in the Bahamas. His expression of dismayed confusion, however, quickly turned to a dark frown. "Ron, what are you saying? You're not still defending him, are you? You can't be. Not after what Hermione's found. It's clear..."

"I am saying NOTHING." Ron put a hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was all getting to be too much. Even as he argued with his friends, part of his mind was searching frantically for a way to make it stop, to make Ginny stop. He didn't even know where to begin and the more he thought about it, the more all he could feel was simply very, very helpless. A wave of exhaustion passed over him, draining him of his anger, and he leaned back in his chair, one hand over his eyes. "I'm saying nothing." Sorrow descended upon him and he brought his other hand up to his face, stifling a sob. "I just don't know what to do."

The couch creaked as Hermione got up and Ron heard a step as she crossed over to where he was sitting. Her hand landed lightly on his shoulder and Ron lowered his hands to look over at her, feeling weary. "It'll be alright, Ron. You'll see. We'll figure out what to do." She squeezed his shoulder then, and Ron couldn't keep himself from crying out and flinching away as her thumb dug into the bruise there. "What's wrong? Are you ok?" Hermione's voice suddenly turned sharply solicitous.

"It's just a bruise, Hermione, leave it be." If only they would do just that. Right now, Ron just wanted to go to bed, to escape it all, if only for a little bit. Unfortunately, Harry chose that moment to join back in with his concern.

"That's more than just a bruise, Ron. What happened?" Under the concern in Harry's voice, Ron could hear a tone of suspicion.

"You know what happened, Harry. I got in a fight with Malfoy today, yesterday, whatever. Hermione even saw it. That's all. End of story." He made to get up. This was enough for one night. He was going to bed. However, Harry stood at that moment and pushed Ron back into the chair.

"No, that is not all, Ron." Harry's green eyes looked fiercely into his. "You still haven't told us what that fight was about. What are you hiding now?"

"Nothing Harry. It's none of your concern." Ron couldn't believe this. They really didn't trust him at all. Why couldn't they just let some things be?

"It's not Nothing, Ron." Harry hissed. "You look fine, but you're obviously hurt. What's going on?" Before Ron could protest, Harry had whipped out his wand and pointed it squarely at Ron. "Finite Incantatem."

For a moment there was nothing but a shocked silence as Harry and Hermione saw him without the glamour. Ron could only imagine what he looked like. He could still barely see out of one eye, and was sure that if he smiled his lip would doubtless split again. Of course, there was also the matter of the ragged bite Draco had placed at the base of his neck just that night. He wasn't sure if that showed over his collar or not, though.

"Put it back," he hissed.

This seemed to break spell on Harry, for he lowered his wand and closed his mouth, his eyebrows drawing together in a scowl. "What has he done to you?"

"It's none of your business what he's done to me, Harry." This time Ron did stand, shrugging Hermione's hand off his shoulder and shoving Harry out of the way. He stood a moment, glowering at Harry. "Now put it back."

Harry stared back at him, his nostrils flared and his lips pressed into a thin line. "Why should I? Why should I help you keep hiding from the truth."

"It's not like it's myself I'm hiding it from, is it," Ron yelled. "I still feel it, don't I? Now PUT. IT. BACK."

"NO!"

For several moments both boys stood glaring at each other, fists clenched at their sides. Finally, Hermione's voice broke the silence. "What aren't you telling us, Ron? What else do you know?"

Ron faltered. He remembered again why they were doing this, fighting when they were supposed to be friends. Everything had become so tangled in a web of pain and deception and things left unsaid that he didn't know if they'd ever find their way free.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Saying the words, Ron fled the room up to the dormitory. He missed seeing Harry snarl and kick the couch in frustration, missed Hermione as she calmed Harry and collected up her things, her forehead lined with deep thought and consideration and her lip pinched between her teeth. All he knew as he flung himself into bed was that somehow soon he was going to have to warn Draco. And then they would find a way to stop Ginny, they would. There would be no breaking of this pair, though his sister's betrayal already cut deep.