Ginny had a feeling that Ron had gotten worse. Ever since she found out about his reaction to Malfoy, the only living female Weasley suspected that there was more to Ron’s state of being than just grief. Though no one would fully recover from Molly’s passing, each Weasley member had come to grips with it. That is to say all but Ron.

Classes were out and it was dinnertime. This Friday was marked with sunshine and looming clouds. It hadn’t rained but any casual viewer had noticed that it should have. The clouds rained on everyone’s parade, so to speak. The clouds overshadowed the happiness that Ginny was to feel, seeing as how her family was coming and they would finally settle what happened to Ron and how to fix him again. She missed her big brother. They all did.

Albus entered the room, Ron flanking him, taking special care to hide in his shadow. Ron was happy, deep down somewhere. Seeing his family, together again was supposedly a joyous occasion. But his damned shame and fear bubbled to the surface and he wished he was back in class or in the Tower or in the Hospital Wing or with Draco...anything but here had to be better. He was way too afraid to sit down and tell.

The Headmaster had told him why he was here. He told him that he needed to discuss with his family what had happened to him. The school charter dictated that the headmaster or mistress must alert the family if a student had admitted to or been suspect to harming themselves. In this particular case Albus waited on the alert because he understood that Ron must have been uncomfortable with himself and others. Because of that, he decided to wait until he had found comfort in something...someone else. If Albus’ intuition was correct, and he hoped it wasn’t, then he would figure out the culprit soon.

“Hey Ronny-boy.” Bill smiled as he moved away from his leaning position against the mantle.

Ron meekly smiled back. He was bracing himself against the inevitable touching that was to come. He despised this lacking feeling of self-worth that flooded throughout him. He hated feeling unworthy of being in their presence and yet they didn’t deserve to be near him either. Only Ginny could be by his side...she was the only one he could trust. She wasn’t like him. She was female. That was her only good quality. If she hugged him, he would respond...if only slightly.

The rest of them could rot because his...rapist...was someone he thought he could trust no matter what. He was obviously so wrong. What was to say if any of them wouldn’t do the same thing to him sooner or later?

Bill stood in front of Ron whose shadow, whose barrier, had moved to the side. He tensed as Bill embraced him, tightly. Ron calmly counted backwards from 100. His calm state decreased once the hug lasted past number ninety-nine. His pulse began to race as Charlie followed suit, arm around his shoulder.

Ron squealed slightly in protest, aimed more to himself, hoping he would shut up and relax. But that didn’t seem to happen. Percy sauntered over to him, hugging him as well.

He was enclosed. He never noticed the twins or Ginny or his father coming to complete the family circle. All he could grasp was the darkness that settled around him. The youngest male Weasley was trapped...just like that day during summer. Suddenly, a whiff of someone’s cologne triggered a memory. He was mentally catapulted to that horrid day. Never had he felt those moments pound into him so rapidly before. It could only be compared with shuttling through with a Portkey.

87...86...85...84...83...82...

It was worse as they remained around him – touching him. The filth of that man, of those actions seemed to burn on his skin. Ron’s chest caved in as he stopped his breathing momentarily; shoulders hunched themselves. He didn’t want them near. His skin crawled.

Anxiety...that’s all it could be. Dumbledore recognized Ron’s symptoms and asked them to all return to their seats. Ron was obviously shaken.

All the Weasley, minus Ron, all thought he was being emotional, which had to be a good thing.

“I brought you all here to discuss Ron and the problems he has been having.”

Ron could feel every eye focus on him. He remained near the door. He could easily escape to the real world that was his old life. He could just run to Gryffindor Tower. He could take classes again and try and forget all about his ordeals. Everything could go back to normal.

“Problems?” Arthur turned to Dumbledore who was now standing near the fireplace. “He’s had more?”

Dumbledore leaned his head down, shifting his eyesight over his glasses and towards Ron. “Ron here has be under extreme stress, depression and, from what I can decipher just by his appearance, despair. I truly believe that you all should now know what he’s been through here at Hogwarts and at home.”

“What do you mean?” Charlie questioned, not having moved from Ron’s side.

“Ginny here could explain.” Dumbledore smiled towards the only surviving female Weasley.

Ginny shifted in here seat. She knew that there would be opposition to her neglect in informing her family of Ron and his progression into the state that he was in now.

“Well, you all know about what happened between him and Malfoy. Well, that wasn’t some out of the normal thing.” She stared at her hands, which were twisting and turning with anxiety. “Ever since last summer, Ron just hasn’t been Ron. We’ve all seen it. At school, he’s faded. He gave up his position on the Gryffindor team. He stopped eating, even though he rarely ate at home. He hasn’t spoken in so long. I’m afraid for him.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone that?” Fred asked. He and George always picked on Ron but he, they, loved him so much. To know that as soon as they were gone, he went through so much, all the while his only sister stood by and let this happen, was an incredulous thought to have. This would never have happened if they were still around. “How could you not tell anyone?”

“I thought he was grieving!” She jumped to her feet.

“Grieving is one thing but for him to just stop eating? That is a serious sign!” Bill chimed in, standing full stature. “He even gave up Quidditch. That is serious for him.”

“It’s not that serious. If you remember well, in his fifth year all he complained about was quitting the team. Why do I have to be put on trial here? Ron is sick. He’s hurting! Stop yelling at me and sit down and shut up. I want to know what is going on as much as you all do. I want my big brother back more than anyone else here does.”

Ron stood idly by as his sister stood up for herself. Inside, he was proud, but that feeling dissipated as it struggled to reach his voice. Personally, he was sick of them talking about him as if he weren’t there but he couldn’t. He was too close. He was right there and it could all end right here, in this room. His eyes penetrated into his soul, tormenting him his violation.

“Calm down.” Dumbledore’s sage voice echoed through the room. “Ron is beyond grieving. He has stepped into self-hatred.”

No, I haven’t, he thought. Dumbledore had no idea. It wasn’t self-hatred. It was protection. If I were scarred, then it would never happen again!

“Ron has began cutting himself.”

The room was dead silent...not for long.

Percy cleared his throat. “He would never harm himself. He couldn’t harm anyone or anything. Why himself?”

“Well, that is for him to tell. Ron...”

Ron’s gaze landed on his Headmaster. He expected him to tell, now? With everyone already riled up? He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He didn’t want to hurt them. All of them had their hand to play. Protection...the only card they could deal. If he told, only evil would come from it. He cared about them too much to tell them they are the reason he was sickened by his reflection, his thoughts, images, emotions that were developing. He told Draco easily. Malfoy had listened and, without breaking a Malfoy demure, he understood. He cared in his own, twisted way. Could his family understand?

Would they care?

Could he do it?

He could not.

Ron panicked. Those eyes bore into him – tempting, daring him to tell. He knew that he would not be able to leave unscathed. None of them would.

Ron shook his head. He struggled to speak. “Th-There’s n-nothing.”

“You speak? Since when?” George inquired.

“A few weeks.” His muttered, head tilted, eyes to the ground.

“I’m glad to hear it. We were so worried.” Ron’s father couldn’t help himself. His son was talking again. He needed to do what Weasleys, what Molly, did best.

“Don’t,” warned Ron. “Don’t.”

“What? What’s going on?” Arthur sunk back into his chair but his eyes never left his son.

“I c-can’t. I want to go back now.”

“You can’t. Ron, you must tell your family what happened.” Dumbledore was torn inside. He wanted to allow Ron to cower in his seclusion in the wing but he wanted the Weasleys to know. He had to. He had made the mistake of coddling Harry; he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

He was forgone. He would not tell. If he did, what would his tormentor do? Only, as he looked into each pair of eyes, he could care less. Something dropped in him. He was done. He was tired. Why should he fight when all he wanted to do was give up? He wanted death and vengeance and peace and quiet. He wanted the visions of that torture, anguish...violation, to end. He was through, so why keep them from it?

He sneered inwardly. They should know his torment. Because of them, he had to endure pain. Everything was stolen from him while they lived happily. Fred and George were horrible to him. They were the reason behind his fear of spiders! Everyone in that family had their place, their shining moments. What did he have? Why should he be known as the victim? He was the boy who took many for the team and didn’t get the attention – appreciation – of it.

Telling would be a slap in the face. While they were all living out their dreams and normalcy, he kept the secret shut tight. Ron was forced to persevere, barely live and function while his family was able to do things, continue to out shine him. Ron even allowed his torment to live his easy life. He should pay. Everyone should pay! They should all know that without Ron, they would be dead, destroyed – wishing they were dead. He wondered what they would do – think – if they knew while they flirted, dated, worked, socialized, bathed, bored, he was being rammed into a wall just so they could be frivolous with their freedom.

“I w-”

That just wasn’t what Ron was about. That was an evil, perverse way of thinking. Malfoy – Draco – would do that, think like that. Why would he stoop to that level?

He was still afraid. He was still so broken

Dumbledore noticed Ron’s conflict. Swishing robes billowing behind, Dumbledore went to Ron, standing in his line of vision. “They would like to know. It is for the best.”

Liquid ice pour down Ron’s head, trickling down his body, seeping into his skin. Electric pain gripped his heart. He would tell...he wouldn’t. What to do? His body was freezing. He didn’t know how to handle the overload. Perhaps it would finally end here. Perhaps he was dying now. It was cold but welcomed.

“Look me in the eyes. Tell me. I need to know. What had happened to you?”

Each Weasley sat on the edge of their seats, literally and figuratively, craning to see Ron, wanting to know how to help their fallen family member.

He should do it. He trusted Dumbledore. He was strong. He could protect him, his family, from harm. This was it. Should he? Shouldn’t he? Keep the secret and their lives in tact? Spit on protection and save himself? Turn the page? Or forever be strung out on that one line that he repeats from lack of focus?

“I was-”

“You can do it.”

All he saw was Albus Dumbledore, his most collected wizarding card, his fearless leader.

“I was raped.”

“I can’t hear you.”

He seemed to shout it, though that was just a normal speaking level. “I was raped. And on more than one occasion. Are you satisfied?”

The room was filled with gasps. “Ron! Are you kidding?” Ginny’s hands covered her mouth.

Dumbledore stepped aside. Ron breath rushed forth. They heard. He told them. He said it. It felt good...did she just?

“Yeah, I’m kidding!” Ron growled. “This was all a ruse. Everything! The starvation, the silence, the scars – everything was a great hoax! I’m sick of hiding this! I’m tired of it.” He stared harshly into the eyes of each family member as if daring them to step towards him, threaten him, dismiss him. “I was forced to withhold this from you so he wouldn’t harm you all. But who cares? No one notices poor ol’ Ron Weasley. He’s not the oldest or the smartest or the funniest or anything. There is nothing here that I can be. You all stole that. I’m forced to be the one to bare all of this so you can live fulfilling lives. Thank you so much! I was violated because he hated me. He hated you all. He blamed me for everything just as I blame you all for this.” Tears streamed down his face. It was all out in the open. He was a dead man.

Ginny tried to apologize. “Ron, I didn’t mean it like-”

“I don’t care. Are we done here, sir?” He looked at Dumbledore.

“Ron, it’s not over. We need to discuss this.”

“Why? I’m going to be killed.” He stared at Percy. “Why are you here? You hate us! I hate you! Get out! Are you happy now?”

“Ron.” Arthur warned albeit begrudgingly. He and Percy were still on the out and out.

“Dad! No! I’m nauseated with seeing him and keeping this secret. I will not go back to it. I will not be quiet. I deserve to speak my mind seeing as how I’ve been protecting this family from him!”

“Who? Who did this? We want to help.”

Why not tell? He went this far? Just tell who did it and go back to his room. He turned to Charlie, anger still boiling inside.

“Not here. I won’t tell you here. May I please leave?” He couldn’t stand the stifling suspicion, regret, and shame that permeated the room. He was through with it all. He just wanted to sleep.

“Do you need an escort?” Dumbledore asked. He was upset. His intuition was correct.

“No, sir.” Ron left immediately. He wanted to wander through the hallways, walk past classrooms and wish he were in the Great Hall. Everyone was in there, he could hear the students, and he wanted to burst in. He wanted to be normal again.

That could never be.

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