Lover of the Light

One Small Step Forward

Lover of the Light

Chapter Seven: One Small Step Forward

He'd been sitting there for a while, not really processing much. He just remembered the pounding of his heart—the way it mixed and tangled with strings of utter hatred and pure fury against the world.

It started with a thought, just a tiny one at that. He'd been putting on his shoes quietly, after he'd awaken uncharacteristically early and before his other roommates, when he noticed that he had accidentally put on maroon-colored socks. And that's how he'd been blinded by resentment and venom. Hand-me-down, maroon-colored, ripped-at-the-toe socks that once belonged to Fred.

He had to race out of the dormitory before he destroyed it; before that monster inside of him could come out and just create a bigger mess. He had gone on rampages before, had kicked and broken so many things that he was starting to think himself crazy. But he just couldn't contain that monster most of the time, and when that happened, nothing was safe. He hated everything and everyone in those moments. The world, the people he loved in it, blurred out and he could only focus on the flash of memory that watched his brother crumble down to the floor during battle. It was agonizing for him, physically and mentally, having to remember Fred as cold and dead instead of what he'd been...

The war had indeed left its affects on people, he knew that; knew of their pain, too. He knew that many people had lost people important to them, but it had hit him a lot worse than anyone expected or than he'd been letting on. He had seen so many horrible things from such a young age that the war had just been the tipping point. The war had brought out the worst in him, and it seemed like Life had found a way to make him pay for those dark thoughts and unloyal actions.

Despite feeling so angry all the time, he also saw so many things around him. He was becoming more aware of people and their behaviors. And he saw the way people began to put distance between him: in classrooms, in the common room, or when he walked down the corridors. He was scaring them and he knew that it was justified. He was scaring himself. If that monster that lived off his nightmares didn't die soon, if he didn't learn to move on, he knew something bad was going to happen. And it almost always did...

It started off as breaking things when he couldn't contain his emotions, his frustration and hatred whenever he heard whisperings or he passed the memorial of the deceased in the room of trophies. But then it escalated—it turned to uncontrolled spasms and lashes. He had point his wand at Hermione that day he'd let her go; and he didn't want to lower it, even after a second of realizing that it was her. He had then shoved her, pushed her against a table when she got too close. And a night not too long ago, he shoved Ginny to the ground when she had been scolding him about something that he can't even remember.

That's when he knew he needed to try to get over his grief. He tossed his sister on the ground like trash, like she was the enemy. He had contemplated on whipping out his wand too, giving her a good scare, giving her a good hex to get her to piss off—but who does that? Ginny was his little sister and he loved her. He didn't want to hurt her. For fuck sakes, his brothers—Fred especially, if he were still alive—would've butchered him in an instant if he ever did so. But the thing was that he was hurting her by just grieving and losing himself in that misery.

He just needed something. He just needed a wake up call, something grand and luminous to shake up his life; to make him see through the fog that was plaguing his mind.

"Do you mind?"

Waving away that fog that was clouding his head, Ron blinked and came back to the focus. As such, his senses reactivated and he found that his ears had perked up with chatter, clanking of plates, scraping of knives and forks, owls hooting; his mouth had been chewing on something crunchy and sweet, toast with jam; and his sight had been taken over by the golden light of the sun streaming through the windows of the Great Hall and by a pair of blue eyes.