The Love Of Another

CHAPTER THREE

After Fred and George’s “brotherly visit” and Hermione’s wonderful friendship letter, Ron wandered back and forth between the small confines of his bedroom, in circles, fuming over the latest drama that had unfolded itself right in front of his eyes. Slowly, his anger faded and the Weasley mind wandered off onto happenings in the past.

The fire trickled and cracked gently in the grate in the Gryffindor common room. Harry sat on one side of Ron while Hermione sat on the other side, both of them scratched away on some homework assignment that one of the classes had been assigned. In the middle of the line sat Ron, who busied himself with an essay for History of Magic on The Battle of Harmalow. Hermione coughed quietly, and Harry looked up, and checked his watch. It was only seven o’clock in the evening, but the common room was almost deserted. Many of the students were out enjoying themselves in the nice weather, with their free time.

“I think I’m going to head to bed early tonight,” Harry announced quietly from where we was sitting. Ron nodded his understanding and quickly crossed out an error on his essay. Hermione stood up, and Ron watched her with his peripheral vision. She quietly gave Harry a gentle hug, and replaced herself right beside Ron once more.

Smiling, she answered, “Alright then. Good night, Harry. I’ll see you at Breakfast tomorrow,” and she waved pleasantly as he cleared away his books, quills, and parchment in his shoulder bag. Ron muttered a goodbye, and Harry waved. Soon, he disappeared up the stairs, and a few seconds later a door opened and closed. The room was silent again, other than the purring of Crookshanks in the comfy chairs, and the scratch of quills.

Ten minutes passed and Ron and Hermione had said nothing to each other, other than the occasional fact check as Ron clarified that his essay wasn’t a total bomb. She let out a high pitched yawn, and stretched her arms up into the air.

“It’s been a rather long day,” she sighed quietly before picking up her neat roll of parchment, and Advanced Book Of Spells. She replaced them in her bag, “I’m going to head to bed too. I can’t stay awake much longer,” Hermione continued, standing up and without another glance to Ron she headed straight up the stairs, and into the dormitory.

Seconds ticked into minutes, which also ticked by into an hour. To Ron, it felt like a life time. He scratched out, corrected, and finally finished the rather long and pointless essay. He hastily shoved his books and parchment into his bag, shakily stood, and headed towards the dorms to drop off his stuff, and hurry down to the Great Hall, hoping to run into Fred and George and purchase some of their snack box products off of them.

Up the winding stone stairs he went, occasionally taking a glance out of the window that would sometimes appear on the wall. He found himself in the hallway towards the boys’ dorms and he went down it until he found the door marked “Fifth Years.” He cracked the door, and went in in silence.

Instead of the normal snoring that was issued from his dorm mates, the sound of giggling and a little moaning greeted him, and stopped him in his tracks. The sight of his two best friends deeply kissing fondling each other naked on Harry’s bed made his heart stop right in his chest. Ron dropped his school bag on the floor, and it thumped loudly. The two on the bed froze in their tracks. Hermione cried out and tried to cover her face in the pillow. Harry jumped up and tried to run to Ron, but it was too late.

Grief stricken, Ron backed away from the open door and stumbled down a few steps before the realization that he was about to fall. He tried to gracefully turn, but ended up sliding down the rest of the way, he banged his head against the door before ripping it open and trying to get out of the common room. He soon pushed his way out of the portrait hole, and out of sight.

Up in the dormitories, Harry tried to thrust his robes on while calm Hermione who was whimpering on the bed nearby, “I need to find Ron… and talk to him,” he muttered to himself as he tried to straighten his hair, but only ended up making it worse than normal.

“Oh really, and say what? ’I’m sorry Ron, Hermione and I are having a relationship, and we have been right under your nose? We just didn’t want to tell you.’ Come off it, Harry. There isn’t anything you can say to him.” Hermione answered sarcastically, ripping the sheets off her waist and pulled on her own clothing.

“It’s better than just leaving him!” Harry snapped and he left the room, leaving an angry feeling to dwell inside of Hermione’s gut. She let out a cry, and collapsed on the four poster bed that Harry slept in.

Running through the common room, then corridor after corridor was something Harry spent the last few minutes doing. He passed the occasional student, but he was almost alone. He racked his brain for all the possible places he might be. After searching a few, it hit him. He knew where he was at.

He pushed himself down the stairs as quietly as his balance would permit him, and he ran across the entrance hall, pushed open the doors, and bolted outside. He jogged down the steps, and down a path towards the lake. Faintly, he saw the silhouette of a guy standing by the water’s edge. He slowed down to an inching walk, and began to approach. When he was only a few feet away, he began to speak.

“Ron, we need to talk…”

Nausea coursed through Ron’s body while he blindly stumbled, step after step, towards his bed, which was the closest thing in the area. He felt lightheaded, all the world was crashing down onto his shoulders, making him feel as if he were to collapse at any given moment. Each breath way a labor in itself as he finally met with the orange comforter on his bed. He lay for a moment, trying to breath slowly and not explode. He took in the scent of himself, his head swam in thoughts and anxiety.

Unhurriedly, his senses began to return to him, his breathing slowed down to normal, and all awareness of the world around him came again to him just as his senses had done. He parted his eyelids cautiously, fearful of the sun beaming down from the panes of the window and blinding him once more, and searing his fragile eyes. The sun didn’t come, but shadow was in it’s place, casted by his chicken like mother, who was worriedly bustling around over him.

Grunting and sulkily Ron tried to sit up. The memories of the flash back flooded over him, and almost caused him to fall again. He kept his head as he swung his legs over the side of his bed, and rubbed his eyes. Molly scurried over and placed her cool, work worn hands across his forehead, checking for feverish symptoms.

“You feel rather normal,” she noted as she tilted his chin up to look into his eyes for signs of bloodshot. “I heard you cry from the kitchen and I ran up to see if you were alright, what happened Ron?” she inquisitively pushed as she waved her wand and a cup of warm tea appeared.

He coughed as he took a mouthful of the tea she had conjured for him. It was rather strong, and bitter tasting. He held his breath and downed the entire teacup in own gulp, then he returned his cup to Molly. “It’s alright mum,” Ron lied, feeling his insides twist. “I just had a nasty dream.”

Molly didn’t look totally convinced, but dismissed her suspicious feelings as she stood up, “Are you hungry? Dinner is ready,” Molly said quietly, casting several glances up and down at her youngest son for signs of pain.

Almost unnoticeably, Ron shook his head from right to left, “I don’t think I’m very hungry right now,” he muttered quietly, laying down once more. “Now that you mention it, I’m not feeling too well,” he continued, snuggling his heavy head into the soft feather pillow.

“I’m just going to take a nap.”

Biting her lip, Molly frowned. “Alright, if you’re sure,” she whispered quietly, trying not to disturb him. “If you’re hungry later, send for me. I’ll bring you some soup.” Molly placed a kiss on his forehead, and tiptoed from the room, shutting the door behind him.

Aftermath of a house fire was similar to how Ron was feeling at the precise moment. Inside, he burned of anger towards his friends. On the outside, he felt cold, and forlorn. After several minutes of uneasy twisting and turning beneath his sheets, he fell into a restless, and hopeless slumber….

Whether or not Ron was dreaming, he couldn’t distinguish, but he heard hopeless cries as a storm moved in to the area. Thunder and lightning battled against each other, occasionally a spring of hail would join the relentless fight alongside the pouring rain. A high pitched scream broke through the strong storm’s fury and reached Ron’s ears.

Bolting up to a sitting position, he squinted in the darkness. The cry seemed right in front of him, but now it seemed so faint. He crawled out of bed, slipping on the sheets that had some how wrapped around him. He went to the window and looked down across the summer worn grass; a struggle was going on down below.

At first instinct, Ron thought it was Ginny and their father. He turned and sprinted from the room as quickly as his feet would permit him. He was down the stairs in record time, passing room after silent room. After he had passed his parents room, they poked their head out to question to commotion.

“Ron, what’s-”

“Someone is being beaten up outside!” Ron shouted, jumping the last set of stairs and leaving his parents in a stance of stupor. He spun around and grabbed someone’s wand off of the table in front of the door and thrusted it open. Light spilled onto the scene, and the sight of two people bloodily fighting while a third was attempting to restrain them.

Springing into action, Ron jumped off of the steps and tried to pull the body of the man whom Ron didn’t recognize off of who ever he was fighting with; it was a girl.

“Ron! Don’t!” Arthur cried as he hurried down the steps while the man landed a swift kick to the girl on the ground, marinating in the muddy water. Arthur shoved his son aside, and pulled out his wand.

“Stupefy!” Ron’s dad shouted, a jet of red light sprung from the end of his wand and the mountain like man froze mid-kick, and fell to the ground. He splashed water on the surrounding spectators. Mr. Weasley looked down to the man who was easily twice the size of him, mostly muscle. The darkness prevented Ron from figuring out who the girl was; the other person who had been trying to fight the full grown man off was attempting to calm the girl on the floor. As quickly as he had woken up, Ron was hit with the reality of who was being nearly beaten to death on his front lawn.

All breath was drawn from Ron’s lungs as he fell beside the girl, “Stace…” he whispered quietly. “Dad, light your wand.” His father obeyed and the pale light illuminated the battered, bruised, and bloody face of their new neighbor. “Who is he?”

The light casted down to the person beside Stace, it was her brother. “It’s our father,” he said simply. His voice was just as sullen and sulky as it always is. Arthur remained silent, keeping his wand’s light on the scene. “An abusive fellow, he is. This isn’t unnatural for him to beat on her.”

Lament reached over and moved her limp body off of the ground. Ron jumped over and helped support her unconscious body. “He’s beaten her to unconsciousness on several occasions. This time, he might have gone too far.” Lament pulled off his jacket that he had hanging uselessly off of one arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. Arthur kept as quiet as he could, offering his silent help from a few feet away. Together, Ron and Lament managed to stumble the wet girl towards the steps. The rain refused to let up; all of them were drenched inside out. Arthur opened the door, and they got her inside.

Molly was just inside the door, a robe dangling down to her knees. “I was watching from the window, get her into the living room.” Ordered Molly, she hurried out of the room in search of many towels, and medical equipment.

Lament eased his sister down onto the couch, and she assumed the position of an innocent sleeping girl. Mr. Weasley had stealth fully hide his wand in the elastic band of his night shorts. It was too dark to see anything, other than the light that had only lasted for a fraction of a moment; he assumed his muggle neighbor saw nothing. Lament hadn’t said anything about it.

“Is she going to be-”

Lament cut Ron off by answering before hand, “I do not know. She’s had some major beatings before, but never as bad as this.”

“What happened?” Arthur said from the corner. Lament brushed some of the muddy hair from Stace’s face, Ron kneeled beside him as he kept his eyes on the condition of his sister. Molly had returned carrying a brown bottle, towels, a needle with what appeared to be plastic black thread, and fresh clothes that belonged to Ginny.

Biting his lip, he quietly replied; “I do not have the stomach to tell you.” Molly brushed Ron aside and began dabbing as a really deep cut that stretched from around her ear down to her lip. It oozed thick blood down her cheek and onto her clothing.

“Oh…” Arthur replied, shifting his weight nervously. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to intrude into issues that aren’t mine to question.” Lament didn’t answer, but stepped aside as Molly dabbed some of the liquid from the brown bottle. She threaded the needle and pressed the point into the skin gently, but cleanly. The thread surrounded the wound and began to close it, using a stitching method she had seen from the time when her husband was in the hospital from the snake attack.

Pitter pattering came from above, and the small figure of the overall youngest child appeared on the landing, Ginny had awoken from the commotion. Arthur took the chance to seem useful, and dodged up the steps.

“Don’t worry Ginny, go back to bed.” He ordered, pushing her back up the stairs in a fatherly manner whilst disappearing from sight. Her objections could be heard from a few floors above.

Soon, the largest wound on her face was stitched shut. Molly removed Stace’s clothing, and muggle-mended her bruises on her chest. Molly thought she was lucky that nothing was broken. She dressed her in Ginny’s night things.

“She should be fine through the night, you are both welcome to stay as long as needed.” Mrs. Weasley said, giving Lament a comforting smile. “She can sleep down here for now, Ron can fetch her some blankets. You can bunk in his room, if you don’t mind sharing.”

He took a while to answer; “I don’t mind, though I worry of her safety.” He whispered quietly. “Your husband hit him hard, and knocked him though. Though as I’ve seen in many cases, the knocked out do awaken. I do not want my barbaric father barging in here and attacking while I’m sleeping soundly a few floors above.”

Sighing, Ron departed from the room in search of a few blankets and a pillow. The sounds of his mother comforting Lament drifted off to the point of not comprehending the words. He opened a closet door and pulled down two blankets and a pillow. He returned to the living room.

“If you don’t mind, I shall sleep down here tonight.” Lament drew quietly, his voice quiet, and seemingly cold.

“Not at all dear, you can sleep where ever you are most comfortable.” Molly said, grabbing the blankets from Ron’s arms, covering Stace who was involuntarily shivering. She propped her head up on the white pillow. “If you want, you can clean yourself up. There is a bathroom down the hall and on the left.”

He nodded his gratitude, “Thank you ma’am. We are in your utmost debt.” He swiftly walked from the room, and quietly closed the door behind him.

“I still wonder what happened here tonight…”

[…x3…]

Another storm passed, leaving a virgin feeling across the land as everything seemed so much more clean than normal. The night passed without any more uprisingings, and the family plus their two guests fell asleep. No sound came from the brutal man that had attacked his own daughter out of cold blood. It was morning; the orangish yellow sun peered through the curtains of the window, and lit up the decrepit face of Stace.

Her blue eyes opened, the vision of her brother who sat beside her the entire night came into view, she twisted her head around and croaked out a painful good morning to him.

His face light up, and he smiled a smile that only she had ever seen.

“Oh good, you’re awake!

AUTHOR'S CORNER

So this is the second time I've written this chapter because frankly I didn't like the way the story was going if I had left the other chapter up. So I deleted it, and rewrote it. Though much more depressing, I'm liking it. I didn't bother to edit it because I'm running out of battery on my WIRELESS INTERNET LAPTOP! :squeals: I finally got this sucker, and I'm so excited. Though this isn't my computer [my own one actually is broken, and in the shop at the moment.] I'm borrowing this one until then. But I still will have my wireless internet connection!

I also changed the name of the titles simple because I hate the word "Prolouge" [I can't spell it. :P]

I WILL POST THE NEXT CHAPTER AS SOON AS I GET SOME REVIEWS.

Yes, I'm a review whore. :P