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Author: Jenadamson Story: Solace Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: WIP Reviews: 29 Words: 24,578
Chapter 5: Ron "Do you think he's okay back there by himself?" Ron looks over at Hermione. Her cheeks still hold a bit of blush in them. He likes her best this way - when she lets her guard down a little. It makes her look happier. "I'm sure he is, Hermione. But...if it'll make you feel better...." Ron turns to look behind him, still keeping Hermione's hand clutched in his. "Harry, mate, c'mon! You're walking so slowly." Beside him, Hermione turns around. Ron is delighted to see her eyes hold a sparkle of mischief. "Yeah, c'mon Harry, let's go!" She gestures with the hand that is clutched in Ron's, causing his to move with it - the movement sends delicious shivers all through him. Ron smiles widely as he hears Hermione offer, "You can hold my other hand if you want...." Seeing the laughter on Harry's face causes Ron's smile to grow to an impossible size. Wanting to keep it there as long as possible, he asks, "You want to hold my hand, then?" He holds his hand out for Harry, feeling Hermione shake beside him. Harry makes a very rude gesture - one that Ron is secretly proud of, if only because it causes Hermione to shriek like a banshee. "I'm fine, you two. Don't worry. I'm just a little behind you." Ron watches Hermione as she turns her head, checking to see if there are any hidden perils on the way to the Shrieking Shack. "You sure?" she asks. "Yeah, I'm sure," answers Harry. Ron senses Hermione's discomfort; she's gearing up to demand that Harry walk with them. She's probably preparing to put him in between the two of them, just to keep an eye on him. But Ron doesn't want to let go of her hand, and Harry is clearly enjoying a moment's peace -something he never seems to get anymore; the bloody professors were always keeping an eye on him, following him around as if they were afraid You-Know-Who was going to show up during Flitwick's Charms lesson. "All right, Harry," Ron says, cutting Hermione off just before she says something all motherly and concerned. "Just be careful," he adds, perhaps because Hermione squeezes his hand a little too hard. He glances around. Even in the daylight, with the sun bouncing brightly off the new-fallen snow, there are shadows he doesn't like. An unpleasant chill makes him shiver slightly. It causes him to add, "And don't fall too far behind, 'kay?" which raises a flush of heat beneath his freckles. When in the name of Merlin did he start telling Harry what to do? Harry doesn't look as if he minds though. He smiles again, all ease and comfort, making Ron forget a chill had even swept through him only moments before. "G'ahead!" Harry yells up to them. "I'm okay." Ron lets his eyes sweep around the outskirts of Hogsmeade again, finally coming to rest on Harry, where they linger on his lightning-shaped scar. It's been so long since he's thought about what that scar actually stood for. Even amidst a war in which Harry is likely to play the biggest part - due entirely to that scar - Ron doesn't often let himself think about what it might truly mean to Harry. He wants suddenly to tell him something...something meaningful. "I love you" seems inappropriate - he does love him, of course, and he knows Harry feels the same, but it's not the sort of thing you say to your best mate. He considers just saying that: you're my best mate. But Harry knows that already. Ron stands there, looking down at his friend, when Harry catches his eye and gives another wide, easy smile; one that he returns. In the end, he feels Hermione tugging on his hand, urging him to keep walking, and so he does, saying nothing. He wishes he would have, though. "So, then," his mum said, glancing around where a group of children were scattered in a semi-circle around her feet. "You-Know-Who disappeared. Nobody knows exactly why, but they do know that something in little Harry Potter couldn't be touched by the wickedness of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. And now he has a scar...." She brought her hand up and drew a zigzag line down Ron's forehead. "Right here." "Wow," breathed Ron. The scar was always his favourite part. It was certainly cool that Harry Potter had made You-Know-Who vanish, but the best part was that he got a lighting-shaped scar on his head. Ron thought he probably showed it to everyone, wore it like a badge of honour - kind of like the time he, Ron, fell off of his broom and broke his arm. His knee had a scar that he wouldn't let his mum heal properly; the twins and Charlie had said it was really cool. If you looked at it from the right angle it sort of looked like a frog. "I just don't see how it's possible that a baby defeated the most powerful wizard ever," said Percy in a superior tone, his eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "You-Know-Who killed lots of people. Why couldn't he kill a little baby?" "Who cares?" said George, rather dismissively, as he usually was with Percy. "The point is," agreed Fred, "that he did do it." "Well, it doesn't seem very likely, is all." "It's because he's special," Ron announced quickly. He could see Ginny nodding her head in agreement, her hair shimmering down her back. "Harry Potter has something that...that no one has, probably...." Ron trailed off when he noticed everyone's eyes trained upon him. "Yes," said Percy, "but what? What makes him so special?" Ron glanced around at his siblings, the group who were too young to attend Hogwarts. All were watching him expectantly, as if he somehow had the answer as to why You-Know-Who couldn't hurt Harry Potter. Ginny's face was the most curious. She looked at him with open trust, and there was a slight hint of wistfulness behind her eyes, but she seemed to genuinely believe Ron knew what he was talking about, as she always seemed to think. Only Percy looked truly skeptical. Ron peered up at his mum. She smiled at him and gave a slight nod of her head, as if she too thought him capable of this knowledge. He looked at Percy again and felt himself scowl. "It's because he's good," Ron said simply. "He's awesome," added Fred. Ron watched Ginny stand from her spot on the floor next to him and climb onto their mum's lap. At five, she was the only Weasley child who still had no problem cuddling up with their mum. "No," he said to Fred. "I don't mean he's cool or anything...I mean he's good. Just something in him is...good." Ron gave a little growl of frustration. This wasn't coming out right. "Well, clearly, he's good," agreed Percy (although Ron thought he saw a faint frown on his face). "But why is he good?" Ron gave a frustrated humph. "He just is, Perce. It's like that the sky is blue. Harry Potter is just good." "Like a Unicorn," Ginny announced happily from their mum's lap. "Yeah," said Ron, excited. "Like a Unicorn. He was born that way. Like the inside of him is un...unto...." "Untouchable..." his mum offered. "Mmm hmm." Ron nodded. "Untouchable. So, it didn't matter that You-Know-Who tried to kill him, because there was something in him that You-Know-Who couldn't hurt." "All right," said Percy. "What was inside of him that You-Know-Who couldn't hurt, then?" "I dunno," Ron told him. "I don't think it matters, either. What does matter is that whatever is inside of him, saved him. It...it saved everyone, right?" Ron looked to his mum for confirmation. "You-Know-Who killed loads of people. He probably would've hurt lots more, too. But he can't now, because Harry saved everyone. Maybe...maybe he was supposed to save everyone." Ron watched his mum nod at him again. Her eyes looked curiously bright, and he watched her pull Ginny more firmly onto her lap. Ron looked back at Percy, who was watching him with a curious expression. "D' you mean destiny?" Percy asked, cocking his head slightly to the right. "I don't know...." "Destiny, Ron," said his mum, "is something one is born to do." Ron thought for a moment. "Yeah," he finally agreed, nodding his head. "I mean it was destiny. Harry Potter was born to save us." Heading further away from the village, Ron turns from Harry and walks away. He glances over at his girlfriend, studying her in the shimmering winter light as they walk toward the shack. "What are you looking at?" Hermione asks him, a wispy smile playing around her lips. Ron grins at her. "Not a thing," he says, although he continues to stare. She has a small scattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, shadows of what appear when she spends time in the sun. Ron can't decide what he likes more, her smooth skin of the winter or her sun-kissed freckles of the summer. He thinks perhaps it's lovely that she has both. Hermione rolls her eyes heavenward and presses her lips together, as though to keep from smiling widely. "Well, stop it," she demands, even as her cheeks heat up. Ron squeezes her hand. "Stop what?" Hermione laughs. "Stop staring at me." "Why?" She huffs. "Ron," she whines. "Hermione," He affects her tone, laughing when she sighs dramatically. "It makes me nervous," she tells him. "Does it?" He watches her nod. "Well, it shouldn't. You're beautiful." "You're the only one that thinks so," Hermione informs him. The two slow down slightly. Ron can't seem to take his eyes off of her; he feels a shiver of pleasure every time she smiles, or her eyes flash bright at him. It's still an amazing thing to him, to know that Hermione is his girlfriend - that she loves him, as she told him for the first time just a few weeks ago. "I'm not the only one that thinks you're beautiful, Hermione." She looks at him skeptically. "Krum...." Ron scowls slightly at the name. "He thought you were pretty." "So two whole people. Wow." "Harry thinks you're pretty, too. He told me so." "Harry." Hermione rolls her eyes again. "He's my best friend. Of course he says I'm pretty." "No. He told me I was really lucky to have you, y'know? Said you were pretty, and you're obviously a genius...." Ron laughs when Hermione beams at him, amused at how she still loves to hear about her over-large intelligence. "He said you were great." "We-ell," Hermione agrees. "You are quite lucky to have me." Ron stops and turns to face her fully, pulling her other hand into his grip. He watches her lips drop open slightly. "Yes," he says, "I am quite lucky." "Harry, mate, there's something I need to tell you." Ron wiped his damp hands on his robes. This was almost more terrifying than working up the courage to kiss Hermione. Almost. Harry looked engrossed in the book Hermione had given him for his birthday that summer, The Encyclopedia of Defence Spells for the Earnest and Slightly Paranoid Student. He hadn't even looked up when Ron had walked into the dormitory. Instead, he kept his eyes trained on the text, his tongue peaking out slightly as it did when he was concentrating hard; a habit Ron doubted he was even aware of. "Hmm," said Harry, still not looking up from the book. Ron sighed. "I need you to put that book away, first." "What?" Harry glanced up, his eyes glazed over slightly. "Oh, right. Sorry." He closed the book and placed it on the bed next to him, turning back around to face Ron. "What is it? You all right?" "Yeah, yeah, course. I'm fine." Ron sucked in a deep breath, not entirely certain how to proceed and internally cursing Hermione for making him do this alone. "It's just...there's something I need to tell you...." Harry's eyebrows came together. "What is it, Ron?" Ron sat himself down on his wrinkled, red quilt, so that he was facing his best mate. He drew in another deep breath, trying to steady himself. "Ron?" Harry asked, starting to sound panicky. "Okay, well, y'know how you've been going to bed...and I generally stay up later - since we've been back...?" "Yeah," said Harry, looking decidedly bemused. "Well, it's not just - I mean, I haven't been...." He paused. "Hermione's been staying awake with me, to...to study and things." "Oh." A flicker of something passed through Harry's eyes. Ron felt his heart speed up in his chest. "The thing is, Harry, I really like her." Harry's eyes took on a curious gleam. Ron watched the side of his face twitch. "I like her, too." Ron felt his heart plummet. "You like Hermione?" "Of course I do," Harry said. He pressed his lips into a thin line. "She's my best friend." "I'm not your best friend?" Ron demanded. Harry huffed loudly, shooting him an exasperated look. "You know what I mean. Of course you're my best mate. Hermione's my girl best friend." "Oh. Okay. You're...you're my best mate, too," Ron assured him, just in case he was worried. When Harry looked blankly at him, he continued. "But, no, I mean, yeah, I like Hermione. She's one of my best friends, too. But the thing is...she's not just my friend anymore." Something flickered in Harry's eyes again. Ron watched as his jet-black eyebrows rose. "She's not?" "No." Ron paused, looking Harry directly in the eye. "She's my girlfriend," he said solemnly. "Your girlfriend," Harry repeated slowly. "Yeah." Ron stood from his spot on the bed and began to pace. "The thing is, Harry...." He glanced over at the boy still sitting down with a mild curious expression on his face. "I really like her. I mean I like her like her. I have for a while now, too. I just never imagined that she'd -." He stopped again, feeling a smile grow on his face. "But she likes me, too. She told me last night that she thought I was handsome." Ron felt his chest puff out a little. "And she thinks I'm smart, and really funny - she told me...." He glanced at Harry, who was staring at him in open amusement. Ron shook himself slightly. "But that's not the point. The point is, that we're going out." He screwed up his face, trying to remember everything that Hermione had told him to say to Harry earlier in the day. " But I...well we, actually, want you to know that this won't change anything. You're still our best friend and nothing is ever going to change that. We won't leave for long hours of time to...to snog or anything...." "I don't need to hear about you two snogging," Harry interrupted. Ron looked over at him again to find Harry laughing out right. "What's so funny?" Ron asked, feeling slightly put out. Harry shook his head. "Nothing. It's just, did Hermione tell you to say that?" Ron grinned sheepishly. "Yeah." He sat back down. "You could tell?" Harry smiled. "I won't tell on you, though." "Are you...I mean...you're okay with this, right?" "Course," said Harry, matter-of-factly. Ron felt a weight leave his chest. "Hermione thought you'd feel weird about it." Harry looked to think about it for a moment. He shook his head again. "No, I...I mean, I guess it'll be weird at first, seeing you two hold hands and things, but really, I'm fine with it. Are you going to fight less?" he asked rather hopefully. "We don't fight that much!" Ron exclaimed. Harry snorted. "We don't!" "Okay, Ron," Harry said sarcastically. He grew serious. "Just...just - you know...be good to her an' all." Ron watched Harry grow awkward. "She's...I mean Hermione's a...bit bossy, and I know I snap at her sometimes, but she's really pretty great." Ron smiled. "Yeah, she is...." Harry was laughing at him again. "But, if anyone should be with her, it's you, mate." "You think so?" "I know so," Harry said. Ron gives a small groan of frustration when Hermione pulls her lips away. "Harry," she says to him, blushing prettily. "No, I'm Ron," he says, winking at her. Hermione laughs. "Harry's watching us." "Oh, Harry doesn't care." He raises his voice slightly, "Do you, mate?" Ron glances over, expecting to see the same look of resigned amusement Harry always wears when Ron kisses Hermione in front of him, and he feels his stomach drop. Harry is not there. "Harry!" he calls out. Out of the corner of his eye he watches Hermione turn to where Harry should be. In a matter of moments, he sees a whole world of emotion flicker through her eyes: surprise, guilt and finally panic. "Harry," she yells shrilly, "that's not funny! Get out here. Now!" Ron feels his insides slowly hollowing out. He glances quickly from side to side, eyes scanning the landscape desperately. "Ron?" He feels Hermione tugging on his arm and looks down at her. Already, he can see her eyes filling with frustrated tears. "Where is he? Oh, my goodness, where is he?" "I dunno, Hermione...." "He has to be around somewhere. He can't be gone." Hermione is shaking her head from side to side. Her chest underneath her school robes is moving very fast. She appears to be having trouble taking in a steady breath of air. "Ron, what are we going to do? Where is he?" Ron makes a quick decision. He grasps Hermione's hands in his own, hoping to steady her. He feels her hands tremble slightly, and can see tears clinging to her dark lashes. "You are going to go into the village and find a professor. Or an Auror." He watches Hermione nod her head and take a deep breath. She looks calmer already, as if all she needed was to be given a direction with which to go. "But don't talk to the Auror unless you know them." The two of them begin walking toward the village. Hermione's hand is still tightly clasped in Ron's. They stop at the beginning of the main road. "If it's Tonks or Moody, let them know, otherwise, find someone you know. Just because they're an Auror, it doesn't mean they're on our side, okay?" The further they walk away from the Shrieking Shack, the more disconcerted Ron feels. He brushes the feeling aside, however, and continues into the village with Hermione. "I'm going t' start looking in shops. Maybe he just went to find Ginny and Neville." He can see the doubt in Hermione's eyes, and tries to ingest more confidence into his voice. "It'll be okay," he tells her. "Harry...he's probably just sick of us snogging and didn't want to bother us...." Hermione doesn't even try to acknowledge that this is probably not true. She looks at Ron, and he watches her take another deep breath. "Okay. I'll go try to find someone." She starts to pull away and head toward the Three Broomsticks. Ron is reluctant to let her go. He tugs on Hermione's arm, turning her back toward him. He leans forward quickly to brush his lips along hers, and feels her take in a shaky breath. "I love you," he murmurs. "Everything'll be all right, 'kay?" She nods and swallows harshly. "I love you too," she whispers. "Good luck." Ron watches her walk away. He quickly moves toward the village, his pace becoming faster as he realizes he's not quite sure how long Harry has been missing. To his left, he sees Hermione rush into the Three Broomsticks. He comes to a halt at the entrance of a robe shop and glances in. Harry isn't there. He continues on, his hands beginning to shake as there is no sign of messy, raven hair in any of the shops. After disappearing into a long row of shops, one after another - none that hold Harry - Ron storms out of Zonko's, yelling behind him to Neville that he can't find Harry. He doesn't wait for the boy's reply. He glances down the street and sees the Shrieking Shack silhouetted against the bright, blue horizon. Behind it, the sun is already setting, and the shack stands highlighted, looking more ominous than Ron had ever thought it did. Following an instinct he wishes he had listened to ten minutes ago, he rushes back toward the shack. His feet seem to move almost of their own accord. He feels bile rise up in his throat at the idea of rushing into the shack alone, but even stopping to explain to Hermione, who he sees gesturing wildly to a pink-haired Tonks outside the pub, will take much too long. Instead, he rushes toward the spot he and Hermione had just come from, confident that the Aurors and professors he sees Apparating into the village will follow him. Once near the shack, he hears a scream that shakes him to the core. His heart begins to pound erratically. Please let him be okay, he prays. Please.... Behind him, he can hear voices shouting at him to stop. But it's too late. He already knows what he must do. Pulling out his wand, Ron rushes into the shack, moving quickly down the narrow passageway and practically flying down the dark staircase into the room from where he can hear two voices - which he recognizes as Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy - shouting out a curse. The whole shack is shaking under the force of Harry's scream. The sound causes Ron's ears to ring; although, it is out of a pure hatred boiling through him, like nothing he has ever felt before, rather than from the deafening noise of Harry's scream. Banging open the door, Ron aims his wand at the two Death Eaters, yelling out "Accio wands," in a clear, controlled voice. He looks over to see tears streaking Harry's face; he feels as if someone has punched him in the stomach. Above him, Ron hears the floor creak. Feeling relief sweep through him, he yells, "Professor! He's down here! Someone hurry." He keeps his wand, clutched tightly in his damp grip, trained on the two figures in front of him, kicking their wands behind him, toward a corner of the room. Slowly, he moves his gaze around the room, feeling a sense of heightened panic when he sees Peter Pettigrew smiling coldly at him from the opposite corner. He feels his heart leap into his throat, and he's quite certain all of the blood has left his face. "You," is all he's able to spit out, feeling his voice shake with emotion. Ron tries to grip his wand tighter, but it is growing slippery in his hand. "Hello, Ron," Pettigrew says to him. Ron longs to tell him to shut it. He wants to yell out Pettigrew's betrayal, but his throat seems to have closed up. He keeps his eyes pinned on the wand in his former pet's hand, watching as if in slow motion, as the small, grotesque man brings his wand to the ready, aiming it directly at Ron. He prepares to throw out a shield charm when Pettigrew yells out, "Accio...." Overhead, more footsteps can be heard, distracting Pettigrew. "Hurry!" Ron cries out again. "Please." "You fool." The harsh voice makes him whip his head around. Lestrange is talking to Pettigrew. "Do it now. Master will not forgive you if we mess this up again." Pettigrew's wand is still aimed at Ron, but deep within himself, Ron knows that he is not who they are meant to hurt. Steeling himself, Ron moves forward. This is it. He feels it with every pore of his body. He watches Harry's face - seeing a resignation in it that makes him sad. He will not let his friend die this way. Ron knows that Harry is far too important. He knew it even at eleven. "Are you really Harry Potter?" The unassuming boy nodded his head. Ron felt a quiet sort of excitement speed through him. "And have you really got - you know...." The boy with the funny glasses pushed up his fringe of hair with a skinny hand. "So that's where You-Know-Who - ?" "Yes," he said, "but I can't remember." He was not at all what Ron had expected. He was far too skinny; his clothes didn't fit him well; his smile, while excited, didn't quite reach his eyes. But he was quick to defend Ron; he looked just as bewildered by the know-it-all girl who came into their compartment as Ron had felt; and he seemed to have no problem sharing his array of sweets with Ron. He was cool, actually, and quite funny. Somewhere in Ron's eleven-year-old body, he felt a tug, a pull toward this boy. This boy, whom his parents had told him stories about since he could remember. This boy who defeated the darkest wizard ever. This boy who laughs, and looks terrified and brave. This boy who was the best friend he ever had, within hours of meeting. This boy was somebody special, and he seemed to think Ron was, as well. ~*~ He stood on the chessboard, shouting out orders to Hermione, Harry and the rest of the black, life-size chess pieces. More and more of those pieces fell, smashed to the grown by their opposing team. Ron watched it all, feeling like the commander of a ship. "Yes..." he said, staring at the queen who was standing if front of him, as if waiting for his move. "It's the only way...I've got to be taken." He wasn't entirely aware he had spoken out loud until he heard both Hermione and Harry shout, "NO!" at the same time. Ron felt his patience seep away. They were losing precious time, and it was Harry - as they all knew - who had to go on. It was Harry who must face whatever dangers were in the next rooms. "That's chess!" he snapped at them, feeling only slightly guilty when he saw Hermione's bottom lip tremble. "You've got to make some sacrifices! I take one step forward and she'll take me - that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!" "But -." "Do you want to stop Snape or not?" he demanded. "Ron -." "Look, if you don't hurry up, he'll already have the stone!" Ron paused for a moment, feeling himself shake a little. He drew in a steadying breath. "Ready?" He felt his face set. "Here I go - now, don't hang around once you've won." He took a determined step forward, and saw the white queen take aim at him. The blow was swift, only a sharp moment of pain before blackness encased him. ~*~ He stood there, looking manic and frightening, Ron's wand trained directly on Harry. Ron watched Sirius Black move about the room, his eyes alight with madness. He would not hurt Harry. Ron wouldn't let him. He might not know the meaning of friendship. But Ron did. He knew it meant dying for his friends, and he was prepared to do it. The pain in his leg was dizzying. He heard another sickening crack as he moved to stand next to Harry. "If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill us too," he told the grown man standing in front of him. He clutched desperately to Harry, thinking he would vomit any moment now or pass out from the pain. "Lie down," Sirius Black told him. "You will damage that leg even more." Ron ignored him. "Did you hear me?" he practically wheezed. If he let go of Harry, he knew he would collapse. "You'll have to kill all three of us!" ~*~ "They're gone!" someone shouted. "Who's gone?" he heard another voice yell out. "Potter and Diggory," the first voice answered. Next to him, Ron felt Hermione stiffen. Without thinking about it, he grabbed for her hand, and held it tightly clasped in his own. It was agony. The professors weren't allowing the students to move from the stands. They couldn't see into the maze, and had been relying on the magically enhanced voice of Ludo Bagman to keep them informed about the goings on in the contest. Ron had felt a deep throb of fear when it was announced the Krum had used an Unforgivable. The little bugger had been alone with Hermione how many times? But his heart had thumped proudly when he heard it was Harry who had stopped him, and Harry who was near the cup. But now, Harry was gone, and so was Diggory. Was this part of the tournament? Looking at the panicked faces of the professors (and Hermione - who probably knew just as much about the tournament) gave him his answer. They waited impatiently, side by side, for word of Harry. Ron could hear Hermione mumbling every once in awhile. On his other side, Ginny sat, looking drawn and pale; she was leaning against George, who held her hand clasped in his. Finally, after what felt like hours, there was a frenzy of movement near the maze. Professor Dumbledore was sprinting to where two bodies were attached together. Ron recognized one of them as Harry and the other as Cedric. It was impossible to tell who held onto whom. Voices began floating up to him. "He's dead! He's dead!" Someone started to cry. "Who's dead?" Fred asked, starting to stand up. When no one answered, Ron too stood up, pulling Hermione to her feet by their clasped hands. "Who's dead?" he demanded harshly. He could feel his throat start to grow thick with tears. Beside him, Hermione began to shake. "Diggory's dead," another voice answered, sounding tearful. "It's Cedric. Not Harry." Ron felt a throb of relief unlike anything he'd ever experienced course through him. He didn't even bother with feeling guilty about it. He turned to Hermione, watching her eyes swim with tears. "It's not Harry," he told her, watching relief and guilt war for first place on her face. "It's not Harry. C'mon, let's go see if we can get to him." Ron pulled Hermione along behind him, knocking people out of the way. Running toward the maze, he watched Professor Dumbledore lift Harry and set him on his feet. Harry looked like death; his face was pale; he was bleeding; he appeared to be trembling from head to toe. Before Ron could force his way through the crowd, Harry had turned and was being led away toward the castle with Moody. Next to him, two adults he didn't recognize were talking. "He said You-Know-Who's back," the lady said, looking fearful. "Said he killed that other boy." Ron heard Hermione gasp. Her hand squeezed his tightly. Ron felt his heart fall into his stomach. You-Know-Who was back? How in the bloody hell had Harry...? But it wasn't too surprising that Harry had survived. Harry always survived. Ron knew when he was six that Harry had to survive...that Harry had something in him that made him special. He knew it at eleven, and at twelve. He knew it at fourteen and fifteen. And he knows it now. He can hear Harry yelling out to him. Through a fog, he can hear Pettigrew calling out a curse. But he's unafraid. He's giving the wizarding world their only chance of survival. He's making sure Hermione is safe, so that she can go on reading her monstrous books. He's making sure Ginny can continue to have her awesome faith in the world, and that Fred and George can continue to make the world laugh; so that his mum can continue to cook amazing meals and Charlie can continue to eat them as if he were a starving man. He's making it possible for his dad to smile in the mornings, and for Bill to get married, and so that Percy can properly make up with their family. He's making it possible for Harry to survive. The beam of light hits him square in the chest. But it doesn't hurt. When everything goes black, Ron has a smile held tightly in his heart.
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