Title: Loyalty
Rating: PG
Summary: A glimpse into Ron's mind one night in the Common Room
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author(ess): bluefuzzyelf
Word Count: 508
Ron Weasley, youngest son of a brood of six boys and one girl, stared into the fire, worrying darkly about his life. His best friend was currently upstairs, sleeping, probably being plagued by unnatural dreams, and it was not the first time Ron had left the dormitory during the night.
His pale, freckled face was lit by the flickering flames and gave his eyes a murky glow. The bright blue, so like Dumbledore's, was shaded, and no one noticed. Ron was used to it. In a large family, you got used to being overlooked. Being the best friend of the famous Harry Potter, you got used to it. Didn't mean you had to like it.
Ron never considered backing out. There was the time in fourth year, when he was estranged from Harry, when he had thought he could be noticed for himself. He had been miserable. Hermione had talked to him, or tried. He had gotten his wish. She was paying attention, saw the broken looks in his eyes, but it was at a price he didn't want to pay. He realized that no matter what, Harry was his best friend. He held as much love for the small, skinny savior as his did for his own brothers, and he wasn't about to let that go over a stupid envy.
He wondered if anyone ever really noticed Harry either. Maybe they were the two invisible people, albeit in different ways. People didn't see Harry because they didn't want to. They didn't see Ron because they were blinded by the light Harry exuded. It exhausted Harry, and Ron was always there to pick him back up when he fell.
Hermione noticed them, when it suited her. She was too buried in her books, to afraid and at the same time too sure in the victory. There were times when she broke out of her self--imposed prison of disbelief and she saw them. Her brown eyes would fill with understanding before she hid behind her mind again. Ron wished he could have the luxury, but if he did, Harry would be alone, and Harry couldn't be alone. If Harry was alone, he would break.
Ron knew where he would be in the war, and he knew where Harry would try to put him. He was no general, despite his chess skills. He had problems with anger management. He was not one to stay behind while everyone he ever cared about marched onto the battlefield to their deaths. He would be their versatile player, their black knight. Ron Weasley was needed. The knowledge brought him some small comfort.
Ron stood up, pale skin glittering in the Common Room and walked upstairs to his dorm. Harry was thrashing, and Ron gently shook him awake and held him as the boy sobbed from fear and pain and anger. When Harry was done, he caught Ron's hand and thanked him. Ron just smiled and went to bed.
Harry would never have to fear that ron wouldn't be there, because Ron was always there.