Chapter Fifty-Nine: Ron Weasley

Ron goes flying. He does some thinking.

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Ronald Weasley left his older brothers and father talking to Lucius bloody Malfoy like they really were all of one family, and made his way to the place where he thought best; the quidditch pitch. He knew he could easily explain away his presence at Hogwarts, saying he'd come to check up on Hermione and had decided because she was resting to fly. It was the kind of thing that if it got about and leaked in the papers would only confirm that last night's buzz in the ballroom had been a mere flash in the pan.

There weren't very many students about. Anyone with any sense was sitting as close as was possible to their Common Room fire. It was a bitterly cold February day. He knew he would be seen as a little mad to be flying in this weather. But, it would also be talked about as typical unfathomable Weasley behaviour.

He found an old Comet in the broomshed and took it out with a wry smile. He remembered when this model had first come out. This even predated Harry's much prized Firebolt.

But the old broom still had some life in it, and when he kicked off into the air it took off with a sweet, tight motion. Ron felt everything that was worrying him fade away as he rose higher and higher into the air. The cold, clear sky was the perfect antidote to the troubles he knew he couldn't outrun for long.

He thought about all that he'd learned since arriving at the ball last night. In less than twenty-four hours, he'd changed. He knew it. This was a moment, as momentous, if not more so than the Final Battle for him personally. That confrontation had brought out his Darkness, this his Light.

The magic that they'd performed had really done a number on Ron. He'd felt it digging talons deep into his psyche as he'd done his best to pour his love for Hermione into his chanting. He'd felt his inner Darkness pulse and grow, the incestuous lust booming in him at the thought that he'd never be able to bed Hermione now, because she truly was beyond him. Their sibling blood-bonds would ensure it.

Ron had felt pleasure in knowing he could claim Malfoy connections now. He'd felt his Dark Covetousness and Greed rise to the fore as he thought about the Malfoys' money, and wondered how he'd fair if he tried to get his hands on their property. He'd felt his hind brain telling him that if Hermione could inherit all that she had as part of her dower settlement, so could he demand a blood price for participating in the binding.

He'd felt every Dark emotion he'd ever had to the fullest and it had only been his mother's arms around him that had held him in place in the chain they'd made around the still form that was Hermione. He'd wanted to bolt from the room, or tear off her clothes and rut with her, or hold the Malfoys to ransom at wand-point and demand payment to continue. All the Dark, despicable thoughts he'd ever had, or was capable of having seemed to him to have been drawn from him and made utterly, pitilessly visible to him as the curse breaking progressed.

He hadn't said anything of this to anyone. How could he? But he knew he'd have to, at least to Bill when all this with Ginny quietened down a little.

Now he felt as though he'd been dipped into a rainbow. He'd been suffused with the Light that had been rained on Hermione because he'd hung on and allowed the magic to take whatever it needed from him. He'd not hidden anything within himself. He'd felt every Dark emotion to the fullest, and then, he'd accepted all of his faults, all of his failings, and still, because of the bonds of friendship and love, he'd stuck to his goal to heal Hermione. It had been an inner battle, and he'd won.

Now, he felt reborn, renewed and different. He knew he'd need to document this; bloody Kingsley and Warrington were always going on about the power of journaling at training sessions.

But he could, for the first time, really see how he'd fallen into a relationship with Lavender purely because she craved his status and made him feel like a big man with a pretty girl on his arm. Yes, Lavender was beautiful, but more, she was smart and ambitious. But he'd not seen the smarts, he'd only used her body and patronised her. He couldn't believe a woman would allow herself to be used that way. Hermione, being Hermione, had ditched his ass and kicked him out of her life when he'd attempted to fit her into a similar box.

But then, he supposed, Lavender had been using him too, to further her career in journalism and gain a foot in the door into society events. They'd been to every ball and gala since the Victory Ball together.

Ron shook his head, and forced himself to begin his decent. He could only hide out in the cold for so long. He'd have to go and get on with things. He'd need to get to the Ministry in a bit. At least because his boss had been involved in the events of last night, and because as a trainee he was on a flexible time plan meant he'd not get raked over the coals for not showing up for work this morning.

He'd have to talk to Lavender. They had to have a heart to heart, and perhaps, well, really, he would have to tell her the truth. That he wasn't in love with her. Not in the way he'd seen the bloody Dungeon Bat love Hermione, or Narcissa bloody Malfoy love the blond ponce Lucius.

A/N: Love it or hate it, please let me know what you think.