|Ron Weasley (oz_keeper) wrote in snark_n_bark,|
@ 2008-11-02 08:40:00
|Entry tags:||complete, leila, ron|
I can see clearly now
Characters: Ron and Leila
Summary: Hallowe'en at St Mungo's, father and daughter reconnect
Ron felt the rush of a breeze over his face when the door to his hospital room opened smiled as best he could; he hated being stuck at St Mungo's. He’d fought them at first, of course, saying repeatedly that he didn’t need anything but a hot bath and a few lemon biscuits.
But then he’d stood up, or tried to, and collapsed again in a heap at their feet. His memory had conjured up an image of Harry’s boneless arm after their second year match against Slytherin and thought that was a fair comparison – only Ron felt that image resembled his entire body, not just his arms.
He gave up the fight entirely when he realised that he couldn’t even keep his eyelids up long enough to protest.
Thankfully, the Zach the Prat had decreed that there was nothing physically wrong with him, save exhaustion and further scaring to both of his forearms. The man, Grindelwald, had left no lingering traces of himself behind.
No physical ones, Ron amended. He’d left plenty of emotional ones for Ron to mop up.
Occasionally, he was overcome with an almost overpowering urge to find wherever Grindelwald had been buried – just for the sheer pleasure of digging him up and beating the bones to dust with the shovel. He felt he deserved that much at least for the fear he’d seen in Leila’s eyes. For making him break so many promises. Promises to Leila, promises to Hermione, promises to Harry.
He remembered when Harry’d brought Leila to see him, not long after he’d been thoroughly poked and prodded by Zach the Prat. As much as he’d longed to see her, he’d also been afraid of it.
His daughter, he knew, saw a lot more than others. He wouldn’t let her see that man in his eyes again if he could help it. And she hadn’t. Tentative as she’d been when Harry brought her to him, tentative and clinging to Harry’s neck, it had only taken her a moment’s glance before she was scrabbling out of Harry’s arms and into his.
“Da! Your mon’ter gone!” She’d declared it happily, clapping her little hands and burrowing into his arms.
He only wished the other bridges could be repaired, the other broken promises atoned for as quickly. Not that he thought Leila had recovered completely from his dark time as someone else, but they were at least on the right track.
But now, his daughter was here, dressed in her fairy costume, complete with fluttering wings, and ready to trick or treat around the ward with him. He knew the Leaky was holding their usual party tonight, but he also knew that would exhaust him within minutes.
Next year, he promised himself. Next year he’d take her to the pub and show her off. He’d charm her fairy wings to carry her a foot or so above the ground, or levitate her over the other party-goers, anything to make up for the staid way they’d be spending the holiday this year.
And for the weeks leading up to it.
He still didn’t know how to make up for everything else. For what he’d put them through. His mother. Harry. Hermione. He only hoped that they could forgive him. In time.