Older Ron Weasley Novels & Stories

Everything else was still finding its way back. The oldest one looked up when I approached. His name was Ronan. He had been inside Cain for thirty one years. Longer than any of the others except my father. He had grey at his temples and eyes that carried the particular quality of someone who had seen a great deal from a vantage point that most wolves never experienced and was still processing the return to ordinary scale. I sat on the ground across from them. "Senna says you have something to tell me," I said. "Something you could not transmit through the channel."

And then I realized he was really the cause of the recent fight with my family. "That bastard..." I seethed as silence descended around me, with my head buried between my legs. "I am not that old though..." I heard Ron's voice and I looked to the side to see him leaning against the wall, his lips raised in a smile. "I am just 27." I pursed my lips, and shot up to my feet, walking away from him. I had no words for him, especially when I heard the words Lynn had said. Could this man be as dangerous as Lynn claimed? A murderer—

Ron shook his head in displeasure before asking “Do you know how much trouble you have caused Grandpa Holston?” “He has aged another 100 years in this month…. Just trying to keep the Holston business afloat.” Ron sighed in helpless frustration as he slumped down on the sofa and continued his banter “If you ask me, you had it coming …. this and whatever more the Burkes and Walters have in store for you… I just feel sorry for Grandpa Holston.” “Are we even friends?” Daniel grumbled in displeasure as he looked at Ron resentfully.

Elowen sent me—said you'd need help after the fire. Ronan. My ex-packmate, grizzled and loyal once, before the curse drove me out. I cracked the door, peering into the mist—there he was, broad-shouldered, beard streaked gray, eyes shadowed under bushy brows. Scars crisscrossed his face from old fights, clothes torn like he'd fought his way here. Relief hit, mixed with wariness; the pack hadn't forgotten me?

Granny Atherton took a napkin and gracefully wiped the red wine stains on the corner of her mouth, then stared at Draco coldly. "Your grandson is turning twenty-eight this year, right?" Draco nodded excitedly as Granny Atherton was willing to speak to him. "Yes, he's about the same age as Edwin." However, Granny Atherton's next sentence instantly shattered Draco's mood.

“And as expected, Ron lost his sanity at the sight of it. He knew his subjects had done it. He turned the pack upside down, searching for the culprits and eventually…the people gave him a response.” “He was found dead the same night his Luna died. Claw marks all over him. It was a treasonous murder, but no one said a thing,” Elder Owen turned to me as he continued. “I'd hate to have to turn my back on you, Hagan.” His cold voice rang endlessly in my head. --- Back to the present: “It’s been three years now and I still don't know how to get them out of my head. Every time I spotted Ever publicly, they returned and each time they did, it got louder than the last.”

However, everything was futile in the face of absolute strength. Bam! Elder Salo, who could not be bothered with them, simply struck them with his palm. The Monroe family members fell to the ground, unable to get up again. “You.” Elder Salo casually pointed to an old man and said coldly, “Go inform your lady to bring that Moonshade boy back as soon as possible. Otherwise, the Monroe family will be wiped out.” The old man was the steward who had watched Quincey grow up. He had a different last name before, but after being accepted into the Monroes, he changed his name to Ronan Monroe.

"Well, you know me. I have a knack for perfect timing, and since my father is still breathing down my neck about 'industrial training' and 'learning the family trade,' I figured where better to learn than at the feet of the new COO?" I chuckle, shaking my head. Ronan is the son of an influential Southern Elder, a man with enough status to make even Alpha Rhydian sit up straight, yet Ronan treats life like a giant playground. I found out from Lyra. He was cunning once—manipulative, even—but we’d danced that dance few months ago. Now, he’s just the friend who knows too many of my secrets.

The chair squeaked in protest as he adjusted his weight. " I wasn't gone long, Ron.” “Felt like you were. Hannah and I have been itching to tell you the good news." He grinned widely, revealing shockingly white teeth. “Yeah. Congratulations. I'm sure you'll both make good parents." I held back a wince. Eight years ago I would've chewed glass before I said those words out loud. Ron has gone out of his way to make my life hell while in high school. He couldn't do much to Zayne as the Alpha's son, but I wasn't beta then so I was fair game and so was every other boy in class. Simply because he was bigger than us.

I felt the testosterone heavy in the air and it was suffocating. To lighten the mood, I forced a chuckle and said, "What has never happened before will eventually happen someday." He shrugged. "Is this your birthday?" I asked Ronan, since Damian was staying quiet. What was wrong with him? Oh goddess, this man — I was sure he had a personality disorder. Ronan shook his head. "No, Lady Evelyn, it is not my birthday. I don't even remember when my birthday comes. I am 140 years old, I think — not confirmed," he said casually.