Penance
A/N: Heh. The file name on my computer is Penance [envy. Say it aloud. Terrible pun, neh?
Chapter 2: Envy//Ron
The Mirror of Erised had not merely shown Ron his deepest desires. Even then, as an ingenuous eleven year-old, he knew that not only did he want to be like his brothers; he envied them with a jealousy that consumed every part of him.
Bill was perfect, the eldest son. He had been Head Boy, but he was a heartthrob as well as an intellectual. He was athletic, adventurous- all of the qualities Ron wanted epitomized into one mortal being.
Charlie was an outdoorsman, afraid of nothing, even when a Swedish Shortsnout was chasing him around, nearly burning all of the skin off of his back. He was rustic, brave, and took pride in his independence. Ron envied his freedom.
Percy was the smartest of all of them- the pompous Head Boy who Ron had never truly liked. Before he had broken his mother's heart, Ron had envied the way his parents looked at their third eldest, and hugged him tightly when the awards and the recognition flooded in from all sides.
Fred and George were the heart and soul of the family; as the resident pranksters, they kept a smile on at least one person's face at all times. They always seemed to get all of the girls, they oozed confidence and glamour and wit. Their shop was the most popular in Diagon Alley, and was making them richer than any of the Weasley's could have dreamed. Ron was even jealous (though he was loathe to admit it) when Fred had died; George had mourned him for months, and Ron wished someone would love him as George had loved his twin, his other half.
Sometimes, Ron thought that he was most jealous of Ginny, the consummate baby of the family, his mother's only daughter. She had found love before him, had been the beauty of the family. Now, she had stolen his best friend. He envied the time she spent with Harry, the time that was taken away from him and Hermione. Yes, he had given his consent, but he wouldn't have if he had known that Harry would be spending less time with those who loved him most.
And then there was Harry. The Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the man who had all of the best qualities of his elder brothers rolled into a reluctantly famous package. He had always been most jealous of Harry Potter.
He had been so their first year, when Harry was picked for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
He had been so in their fourth year, when a Death Eater had placed Harry's name into that goblet and Harry was entered into the Triwizard Tournament. He had thought it a ploy for Harry to gather even more fame about him; jealousy had made him irrational, had made him forget that his best friend never sought out the attention that was thrown at him every minute of every day.
He was jealous of him even when Harry needed him most. He had walked out on the two people dearest to him, utterly convinced that the girl he loved had chosen the one he envied with every fiber of his being. The fragment of Voldemort's soul had displayed his jealousy to its finest degree, how he was always second best to Harry Potter.
Now, however, Ron was jealous of no one but himself, as the woman he loved floated down the aisle, her brown hair curling gently around her shoulders. Harry stood beside him as Ron's best man, his emerald green eyes showing only joy, and not a trace of envy.