A.N. WHERE ARE MY BAMF RON WEASLEY FICS?

WHERE ARE MY GOOD FRIEND RON WEASLEY FICS?

WHERE ARE MY FEMALE RON WEASLEY FICS?

WHERE IS MY RON WEASLEY APPRECIATION??

VERONICA ROBERTENE WEASLEY = FEM! RON WEASLEY

(Robertene -It means 'She who is known for her fame and birth') 

A.N. Fem! Harry for this one-shot and Hermoine is at the library trying to find a way to dissuade herself from the ludicrous theory that her best friend -practically her younger sister-, Harleen Potter is a Hocrux.

This is before they go onto their Hocrux run.

Veronica Robertene Weasley (Ron, to her friends and family) is sixteen when she finally snaps when that complete and utter twat Draco Malfoy insults her best friend in front of her face.

Ron is sixteen and her best friends are Hermione and Harry (Harleen Jamie Potter) are fifteen and they're all skinny but Harry is even skinnier than Ron, and shorter too. 

Ron is thirteen and Harry is too and Ron has never seen Harry not be skinny and small and outrageously unaware of both of these facts.

Harry is the first friend Ron has ever had. 

She's also the best friend Ron has ever had.

So they're sixteen and they're walking through the empty hall after a Quidditch practice with Fred and George to go and head down to the library to check up on Hermione, and Harry is saying something about being famished and wondering if there will be any Pumpkin Pasties.

And then Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson are walking by and Draco leans over and sneers to his friend, "A blood traitor and a half-blood once again dirties our halls."

Harry tensed at hearing Malfoy's voice and she begins to curl into herself to make herself smaller like she always does when Malfoy speak.

But Ron intertwines their hands together and smiles at the green-eyed girl, trying to provide her comfort, and she only relaxes when Harry gives a small smile back.

"Piss off Malfoy," Harleen says without turning to look at the pale boy, only keeping her eyes on Ron.

"And who do you think you're talking back to halfbreed orphan?" Malfoy bites back, before laughing along with Parkinson.

Ron Weasley closes her eyes and a dragon opens them.

Ron is only sixteen but Ron also has five older brothers who play sports and like to roughhouse and a precocious little sister so she knows how to pack a decent punch.

Draco Malfoy does not have five older brothers and a little sister who can kick like the dickens, because he rockets back from Ron's boney fist onto the stone floor below him and lands on his arse.

Pansy Parkinson shrieks, Ron thinks he hears Fred- or maybe George- swear so loud their Mum probably heard it, and Harry shouts "Ron! What the-"

"Take that back," Ron snarls, large teeth protruding from her mouth, claws taking the place of her nails and golden fire replacing her blue eyes.

She's only sixteen but she feels this rage inside of her.

It's never been there before but it's here now and it's hot and painful and it's flooding her throat.

She feels that if she doesn't let it all out at Draco Malfoy right now the anger might just burn her up from the inside.

Draco Malfoy thinks he knows everything, but he doesn't. 

Malfoy and Parkinson and all the rest think they know Harry because they heard stories about her when they were young. 

They think there's nothing left to figure out about Harry Potter; they think that she's an open book or an insect caught and spread out for them to poke and prod at. 

But Ron knows things they could never know- would never want to know. 

Yeah, Harry is the Girl Who Lived, the one who defeated the Dark Lord when she was one and when she was eleven, and she's the girl who can talk to snakes and always seems to be at the centre of whatever trouble is brewing. 

But Harry Potter is only sixteen, and Ron has seen the darkness she's lived in for those sixteen years.

Harry is only sixteen, but Ron has seen the bruises and the ribs that stick out too far under her skin. 

Ron is only sixteen, but she knows that when Harry says things are "awful" at the Dursley, she doesn't mean that they won't let her practice Quidditch, or that they won't let her get a dog or some banal problem that people like Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson think are the worst things in the world.

Ron was twelve in the summer when her best friend dropped off the face of the earth and Ron kept sending her letter after letter, hoping that this one would get to her, she was just busy, nothing bad has happened. 

Ron is only twelve, but when she finally got up the courage to explain what was happening to her older brothers (she'd been trying not to cry and may have been hyperventilating in her panic because for once the twins seemed less focused on embarrassing her and more focused on calming her down) 

Ron saw the bars on the window and her best friend's gaunt, shadowed face looking back at her through the moonlight. 

Like hell was she ever again going to let one more person make Harry feel hopeless again.

Especially, she thinks, glaring savagely down at the pale boy clutching his bloody nose, some blood supremacist jerk like Malfoy.

"Say something like that again, and I swear you'll end up in the Hospital Wing," Ron grinds out and Malfoy turns a faintly alarming shade of red.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Weasley," he said trying to get back his bravado. "Unless you're a bit politer, you'll go the same way as your parents. Fat and ugly, living in a house that's falling apart."

Everything goes red.

Ron can't hear or feel anything, but when she comes back to herself she does know that she leapt on Malfoy at some point and just started hitting and clawing and punching.

Hands are wrapping around her waist and someone is cutting off her airflow trying to pull her back by the collar of her robes. 

She's making a kind of horrible snarling sound, trying to yank herself away from the hands and stay on top of Malfoy and make him bleed.

Finally, three pairs of hands rip her away from the Slytherin, and Pansy Parkinson collapses to her knees beside Ernie.

Ron doesn't know how long the red had blinded her, but it looks like he's made Malfoy a mangled mess with claw marks on his cheek and his nose in a bent position and blood filling his mouth and Ron feels satisfied.

A dark feeling hisses within her, 'Good. Make him bleed. Harleen is ours. And no one gets to harm what's ours.

"Ron!"

Okay, now she feels bad looking at tear-filled eyes of Harleen.

But not for long since Harleen flings herself and wraps her arms around Ron.

Harry has been conspicuously silent for a long time. 

Ron knows that never bodes well.

"You didn't have to do that, Ron," she mutters, scuffing her feet along the stones on the floor. "It was fine really; it's not anything I haven't heard before."

"That's why I had to do it, Harry," Ron answers, feeling too tired entirely for this conversation.

 "Look, mate," Ron sighs, going to run her hand through her hair. 

Harry stops her because, oh yeah, her knuckles are bleeding. "Look, they just can't get away with this- this saying stuff like that about you all the time stuff. I know you're taking the high road and whatnot, but that doesn't mean I have to."

Harry opens her mouth at that, but Ron shakes her head. "No, listen. You shouldn't have to deal with that, Harry. And you gotta know that- that you don't have to fight alone. Hermione and I are here for you."

Before Harleen can reply, Ron turns to look at Draco who's being pampered by Parkinson and states darkly, "You hear that Malfoy? I'm done taking the high road. So if you think you can insult Harleen, Hermione or any other student in this school, then you got another thing coming for you."