Burn My Sins Away (2/5)
Disclaimer located in Part One
He spent his days wandering away from cities, away from everything. He burned and peeled and burned again. Days melted away under the searing blue sky. He walked and walked and wondered sometimes, vaguely, if African wizards flew, if they played quidditch on brooms or soared away alone on any slight puff of air. He would close his eyes and feel the wind brush against his face and imagine himself floating free above the world, never tiring, never needing to come down. He was always surprised, somehow, to open his eyes and find himself with his feet planted deep in the mud.
There were mundane dangers as he trudged aimlessly across untrodden lands but he found that he enjoyed dealing with the scorpions and the snakes and the spiders, with repelling mosquitos and sanitizing water. There was nothing personal about these dangers, nothing overtly malevolent only nature doing what nature did and Ron could respect that - even understand it in a way. At least they had a reason for hating him.
For the most part he avoided villages, avoided people, but one day he spent ages watching aid workers digging a well near some nameless village deep in the bush. He sat and watched as they dug down into the dark earth, faces glowing with sweat and exertion. He was enthralled with the rhythm of their work, the easy way that they talked and laughed and argued, comfortable with each other and pleased the work they were doing. He couldn't tear his eyes away.
At the end of the day he saw one man stop and look up at him, eyes shielded against the glare of the pregnant red sun. He smiled and waved and Ron's heart skipped a beat, his loneliness a sudden, sharp pain. He rose and went down, his fear of what he would find swallowed up in his desperation to be seen.
He spent the night with the aid workers, eating their food and silently drinking in their camaraderie and conversation. He caught a glimpse of Luna's knotted hair in the flip of a woman's hair and an echo of Dean's smile in the man sitting beside him. The conversation flowed around him, the strange peaks and valleys of a language he didn't know more comforting then alien. He closed his eyes and leaned back, hearing Fred's laugh across the room and Parvati giggle in response.
He laid down that night surrounded by a chorus of breaths and snores and dreamt of Hermione's long, soft hair matted with blood. He was gone the next morning before dawn.
TBC