A/N: This is my entry into the QLFC Season 6, Round 12. Beater 1 for Pride of Portree. The theme this week was a character study on Ron Weasley. I had to write about Ron's relationship with a teacher at Hogwarts. My optional prompts were: (object) book, (quote) If you carry joy in your heart you can heal any moment. - Carlos Santana, and (song) Pure Imagination - Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

W/C: 1,899

Beta love to my fellow Pride teammates: Le soleil brille pas pour toi and Story Please!

This could fit nicely into canon during the Trio's sixth year.

Summary: Ron has a run in with Professor Trelawney one night and it changes his life forever.

The Third Prophecy

"Oh, Ron," Lavender moaned into his ear as he slipped his hands beneath her shirt. He almost couldn't believe she was letting him get beneath her clothes. She never had before.

"Lav," Ron groaned back against the warm, smooth skin of her neck. Her stomach was taut and firm as Ron inched his hands higher.

"...you'll see into your imagination…"

Lavender stiffened. "What was that?"

"It's nothing," Ron insisted, pressing a kiss to her lips and backing her further against the wall. "Nobody comes this way, and Trelawney never leaves her tower." In the few weeks, since they'd started dating, they had found that one of the most deserted places in the school was the north tower, just below the entrance to Trelawney's classroom.

"...the world of my creation. What we'll see will defy explanation. If you want to view paradise…"

This time Ron heard the hauntingly eerie singing too. "Shite, I think you're right; someone's coming." The singing was so low, it was hard to tell whether it was a man or a woman. Ron hoped it wasn't Snape. He couldn't afford to get caught by him. "Here." Ron led Lavender down a few steps to where a tapestry covered the wall. He pulled it aside to reveal a narrow passageway. "Lets out near the Charms corridor," Ron explained as he ushered Lavender inside.

"...to compare with pure imagination…" The singing was much closer now. Lavender seemed unsure, but Ron gave her a bit of a shove to get her inside the corridor. Her blonde curls flew behind her as Ron pushed her forward.

"Ron!"

"Go!" he hissed. "I'll be right behind you. And keep your wand light low!"

Lavender nodded shakily, looking uncertain, and Ron glanced over his shoulder to see a figure traipsing up the stairs in the darkness. Ron turned back around to find Lavender halfway down the corridor already; she was making the first turn when a hand landed on his shoulder. He dropped the tapestry quickly and whirled around. He hoped whoever it was didn't know about the secret passageway.

"Mr. Weasley?" Trelawney sounded drunk as she peered at him through the thick lenses of her glasses. Her watery blue eyes bugged at him and Ron shrank back from her.

"Oh, er, hello Professor. I was just go—"

"What are you doing up here at this hour?" Trelawney asked, speaking over him. She swayed slightly and Ron reached out a hand to grasp her elbow lest she take a tumble down the stairs. That was the last thing Ron needed—being blamed for a professor's injury, or worse, death. In the small scuffle that ensued, Trelawney dropped the book she'd been holding. Ron hadn't even noticed it, but the thud that echoed up and down the staircase startled him.

They both stared at each other for a moment and Ron could smell the sherry on Trelawney's breath. She seemed steady enough for the moment, so he bent down to pick up her book. It was a copy of Unfogging the Future. He went to hand it back to her when she suddenly stiffened.

Ron darted a hand out to steady her elbow once more and her eyes bugged further out of her head. Glancing around, Ron found that they were quite alone and his heart began to beat faster. Something was wrong with Trelawney. He needed to get help, but he couldn't leave her here on the spiral steps. He'd have to take her with him. He'd just made the decision when she began to speak. Her voice was low and guttural, like nothing he'd ever heard before.

"The florid one will betray you. If you carry joy in your heart you can heal any moment. The messenger will be your joyful savior… but only if you give up the flower. Death comes your way if the flower prevails. Following the messenger is the only way to save… your… life… heal… your soul… ensure your joy…"

"Er, Professor?" Ron asked when it seemed as if she were done speaking. He had no idea what just happened.

Professor Trelawney coughed for a few moments, spraying spittle that Ron just barely managed to avoid. She still seemed quite unsteady on her feet. Drunk, as Ron had first suspected. It made him wonder if she was usually drunk. He'd never given much thought to any of his professors' personal lives, but suddenly the thought of lonely Professor Trelawney going through life as a drunk made him sad.

"Perhaps I should help you to your chambers," Ron offered, trying to lead her up the half-dozen steps to the top of the tower.

"Mr. Weasley? What on earth are you doing here, out of bed this late?" She glanced down at her wrist and tapped its skin, as if she were tapping the face of a watch that wasn't there, and glared down at it blearily.

"I think you should go to bed, Professor," Ron said quietly. "I'm sorry if I startled you, but you seem quite unsteady on your feet."

Trelawney peered at him suspiciously for a moment before her face cleared. "Yes, yes. Quite right you are, Weasley. Come, help me up the stairs."

Ron nodded, allowing her to thread her arm through his as he guided them up the last few stairs. He dug in his pocket for his wand and with a quick unlocking spell, the trapdoor above their heads opened and let down its ladder.

Just as Ron began to worry about how he was going to get her up it, Trelawney released his arm and began to crawl up the ladder to her classroom herself.

"Er, goodnight then," Ron said quietly, watching her go. She waved her hand behind her, which Ron took as a release. He didn't leave, though he did back down a few stairs out of her line of sight. He felt oddly responsible for her now and wanted to be sure she made it up to her classroom safely. Once he heard the trapdoor close with a bang, Ron let out a sigh of relief and began puzzling over the strange encounter.

Had her guttural words been a prophecy? He tried to think back to what Harry had told them about the prophecy she had spouted in third year. Had he mentioned the deep voice? The staring off into space? Ron couldn't remember; that had been almost three years ago now. And if it was a prophecy, what did it mean? Some parts of it were a little obvious: 'flower' was clearly a euphemism for Lavender. But who was the messenger? Harry? No, that didn't make sense. He was romantically involved with Lavender. Harry didn't really do that for him.

Ron had been so deep in thought, he'd reached the Gryffindor common room without realizing it. He whispered the password to the Fat Lady, who swung the portrait door open without waking up. Ron breathed a sigh of relief. He'd been fortunate to not get caught. And hopefully, Trelawney was drunk enough that she wouldn't even remember the encounter in the morning.

"Won-Won!" came a whisper-shout from across the common room. Ron winced at the noise and suddenly found his arms full of Lavender.

"I was so worried! Who was it? Did you get points off? Detention? Oh, my poor, brave Won-Won, saving me!" Lavender fluttered her eyelashes at him. Not twenty minutes ago, Ron would have puffed up with pride at the idea of Lavender fawning over him. But now? After hearing what he was coming to believe was really a prophecy, he wondered if staying with Lavender really would kill him.

Lavender tried to kiss him, but Ron gently moved her aside. "Not now," he muttered. He needed to figure out what the prophecy meant. Lavender pouted and Ron shrugged at her. "I'm tired; I'm going to go to bed. I'll see you in the morning, alright?"

"Fine," Lavender snapped and, with a swish of her robes, turned away to stalk up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. He heard her door slam and winced again as the noise echoed down the staircase and into the empty common room.

Ron took the steps two at a time to his own dormitory and dug out his copy of Unfogging the Future. He turned to the chapter on prophecies to see what it had to say and found the chapter scant on details of what it looked like when someone was speaking a prophecy. It just talked about interpreting them. Which, to be fair, Ron felt like he needed to do too, but first, he wanted confirmation on whether what he heard was actually a prophecy and not just drunken ramblings. He vowed to speak with Harry in the morning.

The following day, Ron grabbed Harry before he went to breakfast and waited until their dorm emptied out.

"Ron, I'm hungry. And you always want to go to breakfast first," Harry complained as he watched Neville leave with a wave.

"I know, but something weird happened last night and, well… I'm hoping you can help me figure it out."

Harry nodded and gestured for him to go on.

"So I ran into Trelawney, and I think she gave me a prophecy."

"Really? About me? What did she say?"

Ron laughed. "That's just it, mate. I think it was about me!"

Harry looked taken aback for a moment, then repeated his question. "What did she say? What did she sound like?"

"Her voice was so low, I could barely understand her. But she went on about flowers and messengers and joy. And I think she was warning me off Lavender and onto someone else, but I can't figure out who."

"Sounds like a prophecy, alright," Harry agreed. "She won't remember giving it, so no use asking her. Did you say messengers? And flowers? Do you remember everything she said or just bits of it?"

"Let me think," Ron said. He closed his eyes as he thought about the encounter on the stairs. "Something about how the flowery one will betray me. Then a bit about joy in my heart will heal anything. Then the messenger will be my joyful savior or something. But I have to give up the flower. And death if I don't. Following the messenger will save my life, heal my soul, ensure joy. I think that's it.

"I thought maybe it was you; the 'following' bit sounded like following you around to make sure you aren't killed," Ron joked.

"Well, Harry doesn't mean messenger."

"I sort of thought maybe it was a play on words, like a herald," Ron suggested.

Harry shook his head. "I don't think so. Harry means something like estate ruler or something."

"Huh," Ron grunted as Harry looked deep in thought about something.

"But you know where Hermione is originated from?" Harry asked.

"Er, Oxfordshire?" Ron suggested.

Harry rolled his eyes. "No, her name. Hermione, from Hermes, the messenger god in Greek mythology."

"Hermione means messenger?" Ron asked. He felt the blood drain from his face. "Did Trelawney just predict that being with Lavender would lead to my death, but Hermione is my savior?"

"I think she did, mate," Harry said with a grin. He clapped Ron on the shoulder and left him standing slack-jawed in the dormitory. Ron was speechless. Gobsmacked, almost. He had no idea what to do next.