Matryoshka Vignettes
A Thousand Miles
By Jeconais
Author Notes:
Ron Weasley - Mon, August 10th 1998, 11:45am
Everybody makes mistakes. But it takes someone quite special to really screw up. And doing it more than once? Well, that just puts me at the top of the damn tree.
It’s not something that I can say I like — that I look into a mirror, and wonder just who the hell I am these days.
Ronald 'Hated Middle Name’ Weasley — one-time best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived.
One-time. Merlin, how I hate those words. How I wish that they weren’t true. How I wish.
Unlike most people, I can pinpoint the exact moment I made the mistake. The exact moment I agreed to screw up my own life.
He was clever, he played me perfectly, and I sang like a eunuch for him. And what do I have to show for it?
Best friend? Nope.
Girlfriend? Nope.
Sister-as-friend? Barely.
Happiness? Hell no.
Invisibility Cloak worth a bloody fortune? Yes.
And I’d trade that bloody cloak for the things I’ve lost without hesitation. You know, I have fame now, I have something worth more than my parents’ house, and finally, FINALLY, I understand that it’s all bloody useless.
August 14th — four days short of a year ago. That was the date. That was when I signed over my dignity in exchange for a few words of praise.
Life was great. Well, apart from the whole Dumbledore being dead thing. But I was pretty sure that Harry was going to stick with his wild idea about skipping school for the last year and going on a Horcrux hunt.
Now, how does that sound to you? Scary? Stupid? Oh yeah, and so much fun. Harry and I would have been able to persuade Hermione, especially as I couldn’t wait to tell him that we were now dating.
Yeah, I had the most beautiful and smart witch in the country dating me. And man, you wouldn’t believe the curves that are under those robes. Life was good, you know? Sure, there was the whole Harry-not-dating-Ginny-as-he-should routine, but Ginny was going to let loose that famous Weasley temper she inherited from Mum, and hey presto, one happy group later, we’d all be ready to kick some Horcrux arse.
But then Mum called me down into the Library at Grimmauld Place. I thought it was for homework. I’d started it, honestly, but you know, it was summer holidays and me doing homework was about as likely as Nessie signing autographs for the Muggles. And that monster hates publicity. He just wants to spend all day asleep, and the evening swimming around and having fun.
Sounds like a good life to me.
Anyway, I wandered in alone, and blow me down if it wasn’t Albus Dumbledore.
Most people would have said "None other than Albus Dumbledore." Now I know I’m no English expert, hell, if you look at my Potion notes, you could rightfully claim that English is my third or fourth language, but that phrase just seems so wrong to me. It makes my teeth grate.
"You’re dead," I said intelligently, proving once again that I am hero material with my sparkling wit. Ron Weasley, professional stater of the obvious, at your bleeding service.
"Rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated," he said, his eyes twinkling.
"No shit," I replied, and then blushed furiously. I couldn’t believe I’d just sworn in front of the headmaster.
He just laughed softly, in that 'we’re sharing a private joke’ way he always had. It made me smile as well — mainly because I wasn’t going to get bollocked for the swearing. It’s a good job Mum didn’t hear me say that.
He smiled and indicated a table behind him, with some objects on the back. "I have used my death wisely," he said solemnly. "And I have collected most of the Horcruxes."
"Blimey," I whistled, moderating my language a bit. I’ve got to say, I was impressed. Faking your death and pulling this off was a bit of class.
He smiled. "But I am afraid that I must ask for your help, Ron. I need someone I can trust, someone reliable."
Well, my chest inflated so far it was surprising I didn’t hit him. I, me, Ronald 'That Name’ Weasley was being asked for help — and not Harry.
So it was my turn. And boy was I excited.
"As you can see," Dumbledore said. "I’ve got everything under control. I am aware that Harry is contemplating going after the Horcruxes himself, and it is imperative that he does not do that."
"Of course," I agreed, my tongue so far up his backside I was giving Percy a run for his money. "That would be a stupid idea." I conveniently forgot that I’d been thinking that it was going to be fun a few minutes before.
"Harry is going to have another difficult year," he sighed.
I nodded, not having a clue as to why.
"So I must ask that you make things as easy for him as possible, and do not mention your burgeoning relationship with the young Miss Granger."
I blushed — how the hell had he known that? "Of course," I agreed. At the time, it made some sort of sense, and it was for Harry, you know?
He mentioned that Harry was going to be Head Boy, but that it was more an honorary position this year — he wouldn’t really be the Head Boy, and I would actually be the head of the prefects.
Well, I think I heard Ginny yell in pain as my ego crushed her from forty feet away.
And so, with a few more requests from him, I was on my way. De facto Head Boy, Captain of the Quidditch team, and, oh yeah, best friend of Harry Potter.
I walked upstairs. Hermione had arrived, and I heard her telling Ginny that maybe making him jealous would be a good idea. Well, by 'heard’, I mean I used an Extendable Ear, but that’s not really important.
That seemed like a great idea. Why? Because it would take time. If Harry and Ginny got back together immediately, they’d just go off on their own — my sister would follow Harry through hell and high water, not that I can blame her, I feel that way myself most of the time.
So I joined them, and I encouraged her.
I betrayed her.
After Hermione talked to Dumbledore, and talked to me about keeping our relationship a secret, I agreed.
I betrayed her as well.
And then when Harry saw Dumbledore, and he seemed a little down, and he asked me to go with him, I said no.
And I really fucking betrayed him.
A triple-play in the space of day. Yay me, what a fucking hero I was. So wrapped up in the shit Dumbledore had told me that I didn’t even realise what I was doing. Why? Because I was the hero, the indispensable man for a change.
But things didn’t go according to plan. Rather than Harry being worried about Ginny making him jealous, he just shook his head and turned away. I thought he was hiding it.
Then we went back to school, and everything was as planned. McGonagall was a good Headmistress, working with Dumbledore in the background. Ginny persuaded Seamus to help her, and Hermione and I were having excitement in the broom cupboards. As honorary Head Boy, Harry was told he didn’t have to do prefect patrols, or even come to some of the more boring meetings, so we got the chance to go off for private time together before and after those boring meetings.
Sneaking behind my best friend’s back, and enjoying it. How heroic. How absolutely bloody stupid. I mean, come on, this is Harry 'If I don’t like the rules I’ll bypass them completely’ Potter. Harry Potter with the Marauders Map. Can you fucking believe I forgot he had that map?
Sneaking? I should have cast a spell to write 'Ron’s trying to shag Hermione in the 3rd floor Broom Cupboard,’ in letters of fire on the lake.
And it was about then that Harry started to disappear.
Dumbledore called me to the office, and asked me to find out where he was going. And I tried, I really did, but it was like Hogwarts herself was hiding him from me. I even tried to find out if he was seeing anyone else, and the only person he could be seeing was Daphne Greengrass.
I laughed. Daphne Greengrass? Hell no. No one in the school would have a chance of getting near her. She was going to marry someone incredibly rich, incredibly good looking, incredibly powerful, and incredibly brave — they’d need the bravery just to approach her.
Anyone with more than three brain cells would have realised that Harry ticked all those boxes. Well, maybe not the good looking one; he doesn’t do anything for me, despite those rumours Malfoy started about us being a trio in more than one way.
So I was stumped.
But then Harry came to me.
"Hey Ron," he said, his eyes alight again, and I realised that I hadn’t seen that fire for quite some time.
"What’s up?" I asked him. "Fancy a game of chess?"
"Nah," he laughed. "I’ve had enough of having my arse kicked to last me a lifetime. I wanted to ask you something. How do you fancy coming with me to deal with Nagini and Voldemort?"
"Dumbledore has that under control," I said, disappearing up Dumbledore’s backside.
"Please, Ron," he said. "We’ve been friends for ages. Let’s go and finish this. I can’t wait any more."
He was begging, not in the standard way, but his eyes were pleading with me. And I betrayed him again.
I waffled, I quoted Dumbledore. I vanished further into Dumbledore’s nether regions.
"Here," he said. "Look after this for me," as he handed me his cloak. He looked at me, and his eyes were so sad. "Thanks," he said simply. "For everything."
And those were the last words he said to me.
To his betrayer.
He knew. He didn’t blame me for it. I’d chosen to be Dumbledore’s sheep. And that was it.
The next thing I remember was Hermione, crying, saying that Harry was dead.
I called her a liar. Harry wasn’t dead. I’d been protecting him for the past few months. I was a hero.
"I’m not bloody lying, Ron," Hermione screamed. "He went off and killed Nagini and Voldemort."
I knew she wasn’t lying then, because Hermione, swear? Not bloody likely. "But..." I said.
She looked at me, and the words died in my throat.
And that was the start.
Even when Hermione and I were together, sneaking off in private — Harry’s presence had always been between us, and I thought that it was a little weird, and kinda in the way. I was wrong.
Again.
He was a buffer for us, forcing us both to grow up and be adults.
Take away that buffer, and well, we said some pretty damn awful things to each other. We tried to make up with kissing, but calling someone a cold-hearted bitch doesn’t exactly work as the world’s best chat up line.
But that was after the funeral. Before it, we were all in a daze.
I remember at his funeral, saying a few words, and wishing he was still alive, while realising just how much he would have hated the ceremony. A way to honour him? Not bloody likely.
And then Daphne Greengrass walked in. The Ice Queen. And I didn’t want to believe her. Harry was supposed to be jealous of Ginny, and then get back to her, and I’d’ve done my job.
But that wasn’t the case. He’d thought that Ginny was being childish — and she was, we all were — and he’d gone and found himself someone else.
Daphne Greengrass else.
And that girl is a complete fox. More curves than a Quidditch pitch, a face that makes you want to drop to your knees and thank Merlin that you were male, and an attitude that makes Malfoy look like an incompetent buffoon (which he is).
And she told Harry’s side of things.
And every word slammed into me.
Every word said the same thing: Traitor. Traitor. Traitor.
I remember afterward finding out that Dumbledore had done a Caesar on us. Yes, going out with Hermione was good for one thing. Hermione had done some extra credit on Wizards in Ancient Rome, and I’d read one of her essays.
Divide and Conquer.
He’d arranged for all three of us to, in one way or another, move away from Harry and not give him the support he needed. The result? Dumbledore thought Harry was too smart to go off on his own — and he was.
Dumbledore didn’t think that Harry would simply find someone who else. Someone wouldn’t betray him.
Ron Weasley, clockwork toy. Stroke my ego, and watch me go. Independent thought? Not on my bloody watch.
Hermione started ignoring Dumbledore as much as she could. I agreed with her completely. Dumbledore had been one of the causes, but we had all done our fair share.
And we tore each other apart. Well, and this is where I am uncomfortable now. Ginny and I tore Hermione apart.
It was her idea, right? It’s not that we teamed up; it’s just that Ginny and I are family, so we never attacked each other much, and Hermione was there.
We were dealing with grief, as was she, and we did the one thing that would make Harry disgusted with us, as he watched from wherever true Heroes go when they die.
We turned against our remaining friends.
I left Hogwarts alone. I didn’t give a crap about my exams. I still don’t.
Hermione left Hogwarts alone. She did better than I did, but her heart wasn’t in it.
And rather than comfort her, I’d helped destroy her.
And here I am. Ron Weasley. Arsehole. Betrayer. Alone.
But I’ve had enough of the recriminations now. If there was one thing I knew about Harry, it’s that he would forgive me screwing up, but not if I didn’t change.
So I am changing; I am growing up. I’m not a hero, I never was. I was just a guy lucky enough to be near someone who was truly great, who was willing to sacrifice for others, because it was the right thing to do.
I’ve apologised to Ginny, and apologised properly to Hermione. Not because I thought I could get her back — we both did too much damage to ever get close again, but because it was the right thing to do. It was what Harry would have told me to do.
I think she understood. And in a strange way, I think she misses him even more than I do. When she was an arrogant bookworm with big teeth that I liked to pick on, he was there for her. He was the first person ever to see someone worthwhile inside her, and drag that girl out.
My pain was deep, but nowhere near as deep as the way hers had pierced her soul. For the first time I thought about her grief, not my own, and I felt sorry for her. Like I had, she had made a few bad decisions, but it cut through her even deeper. I lost Harry, my best friend.
Hermione lost Harry, her very best friend, her brother, the one guy she could rely on.
We are becoming friends again, slowly, and me? I am going to live my life how Harry tried to show me. I’m going to be brave, I’m going to try to be hard working and honest, so that when I finally meet up with Harry again, I’ll be able to say sorry, and I’ll be able to meet his eyes, having learnt the lessons that he taught me and lived properly.
I took a few steps downstairs. I picked up some Floo powder, and called a name.
Harry taught me that if you want something, or someone, no matter how far out of your league you think she might be, you have to go for it.
"Ron? I’ll get Parvati..."
"No, wait, I wanted to talk to you."
"To me?"
"Yeah," and I smile. "Do you fancy going out sometime?"
"Me?" she asked again.
"Yeah, you, Padma."
She looks shocked, and then this shy little smile appears. "Maybe."
A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step — Lao Tzu