Author's Note: Another example of when I sit down for 

an hour just to write and then decide not to edit the 

finished product. In the fashion of Love, Hate, Death, 

and a Diary in that way. Less angst, though. :-) This is 

mostly a PWP, as well as my first attempt to really focus 

on Ron as a character. I don't think I quite made it, to 

be honest, but I think that this is an interesting read 

anyway. Read, review, enjoy if it suits you! 

I Have This 

I sit at the board by myself, right in the middle, a game 
with no one else around. Left hand black, right hand 
white, move here, move there. How can I be so good at 
this and so nothing at everything else? 

Pawn to King four, twice. Strong opening move. 

I follow others around. Hermione, so good at magic. 
Why can't I be like her? No. I have this. My brothers, 
standing so tall in my parents eyes that I'm lost in the 
shadow. Even Fred and George overshadow me... no. I 
have this. 

Knights, advance. Bishops, dodge behind. 

And then there's Harry. I follow along, gaining 
recognition that way. I'm Harry Potter's friend. It's like 
he has a light shining all around him, and I manage to 
be lit because I'm standing there with him. I understand 
he doesn't want to be famous. I understand that he's 
the best friend I've ever had. 

Doesn't change the fact that he is and I'm in his shadow 
like I'm in everyone else's. Doesn't change the fact that 
he has both the advantages and disadvantages fame 
gives him. What do I have? This. 

Bishop takes Pawn. Knight takes Bishop. Bishop takes 
Knight. Not on a clock but moving fast. 

I don't want to be famous either, not really. But I want 
people to see me for who I am, not who my brother 
was, or who my brothers are. I want people to see more 
than the redhead kid who hangs out with famous Harry 
Potter or the one who begs for answers from the top 
student in our year. I want to be more than the kid who 
crashed a car into a tree, more than that guy who 
doesn't have a handle on his temper and always starts 
fights. 

I'm different, really. I'm not any of my brothers, God 
forbid I'm my dad. I'm not Harry's lapdog. I'm me, Ron 
Weasley. I suppose it doesn't help that I've got no grand 
talent like Hermione's got, or even fake talent like 
Lockhart or Trelawney. 

I have this, and that's about all. It doesn't help. 

Castle Kings. Queens roam the board, zip zip zap like 
lightning. 

I have enemies. But they are always Harry's first, mine 
second. I make up for it by hating them twice as much 
as he does: twice as fierce, twice everything. I could fill 
books with what I'd like to do with my enemies... and 
none of them would enjoy a second. 

Rook takes Knight. Check, black. Move King. Queen 
takes Knight. Check, black again. 

No, I have one enemy who's more mine than anyone's. I 
thought he was my pet, thought he was... I loved that 
rat! I let him sleep on my bed, and when I thought he'd 
been eaten... I don't want to think about that. 

But he betrayed his friends, led You-Know-Who to 
Harry's parents. He couldn't be any more their murderer 
than if he had killed them with his own spell. And he let 
Sirius Black take the blame. 

He was my pet. Says something, I think, but whether 
it's about me or about him I don't know. 

Queen takes Rook. Check. Move. Check.... 

Now, like in the game, I'm waiting. I can plan, I can 
strategize, I know when to wait and when to strike. 
When to smile and when to frown, when to let the 
enemy know what you're thinking and when to keep 
thoughts close. I can be three steps ahead, or five, or 
seven; I could be two steps behind with a knife if I 
chose. Not literally, you know... what's the word... 
metaphorically. Yeah, that's it. Metaphorically with a 
knife. 

Because I have this. I have the board, and I know the 
pieces. I know the moves. I see the patterns. I can 
wait.... 

Checkmate.