Who: Percy and Ron. What: Meeting up after his angstfest. When: Afternoon. Where: MacArthur Park. Rating: TBD.
He felt wrong. Dirty. Twisted. Almost barbaric. As he walked the streets, he kept his head down, a sudden paranoia leaping it's way into the back of his mind. His blue eyes lifted occasionally, peering off at the faces that he pushed his way past. They all knew. Every last one of them. It was his fault. He was a murderer.
Swallowing hard, Ron paused at the edge of a street and slumped back against the solid brick wall of a hardware store. He closed his eyes and drew in a few steadying breaths. Almost at once, Draco's words flashed their way through his mind.
'Killing that muggle family, torturing me, it was all as a gift for you.'
A sudden wave of sickness drove it's way through his chest and into his stomach. Ron shoved himself away from the wall and bit back the feelings of horror that had suddenly hurled themselves through his system. He couldn't do this. There was just no way that he'd be able to deal with this. It was all so strange and unusual and Ron honestly didn't think that he could handle knowing that, somewhere out there, an entire family was dead. Lifeless bodies, each slumped into some sort of awkward position with a terrified look etched onto their paled faces. The image had haunted him all day. He had a sinking feeling that today wasn't the only one in which he'd see the picture either.
His eyes fell to the ground again, watching as each foot lifted itself from the ground and pulled him along. Eventually his long strides led him to the location in which he'd agreed to meet his brother. He was still a bit wary of him, to be honest, but Ron figured that if there was anyone among his family and friends that would be able to understand anything about being the villain, it was him. Plus, despite his distant stance when it came to Percy, Ron knew that he couldn't deny missing him. It had been far too long since he'd sought out his advice for anything. It was time to mend that, wasn't it? Ron figured he'd be willing to listen, so long as the prat didn't start rambling on about Harry again.
He fell to a halt a few feet away from the entrance and waited. His skin looked terribly pale and he seemed a bit disturbed. But beyond that? Ron appeared to be nothing more than a typical young man, standing on the sidewalk with nothing to do but stare off at the sky that hovered above him. Funny how he was everything but that.