weep for yourself, my man,
you'll never be what is in your heart
It was another night spent alone in a tent, out in the middle of nowhere. It was another night full of silent prayers that went unanswered and eyes full of pain and depression. It was another night that Ron Weasley had come to question his life and choices. His blue eyes traced the lines in the ceiling of the tents as his thoughts wandered to comparisons of him and Harry.
Who would Hermione pick, if given the chance? A snort almost escaped him. Why would she pick him? He was too annoying, too much of a prat, too loud, too dumb. Ron was either not enough or too much.
Harry had just experienced enough pain to be wise. Harry was just smart enough to be called average. Harry was just brave enough to not be called cowardly. Harry was just confident enough to be looked up to.
Ron didn't want to be so useless and jealous. He wanted to be sure of himself, he wanted to know for a fact that Hermione was attracted to him.
It was too easy for everyone else to advise being yourself. How can he be himself when he didn't know where that Ron was? Maybe he was lost in the pages of the tragedies he's lived through.
weep little lion man,
you're not as brave as you were at the start
At the beginning, he was as brave as Harry and Hermione. He stood with them and didn't doubt himself or anyone else. He knew who was good and pure and who needed to be put in Azkaban. It was simple, so goddamn simple it made his chest ache now.
Did it change or did he? Did his bravery fade, did his insecurities corrupt his virtues? The cold silver of the locket suddenly caught his attention and he pulled it over his shirt, staring at the stone in deep thought.
rate yourself and rape yourself,
take all the courage you have left,
waste it on fixing all the problems you made in your own head
Maybe he did change. Maybe, somewhere down the line, somewhere in between chambers and werewolves and all the deaths, maybe something snapped. It would explain how utterly pathetic he was acting. Whining for food, not helping with research, snapping at everyone. He was acutely aware of it all and he wanted to change, really he did, but it was difficult when he didn't know what to change into.
He sat up when he heard a conversation between Harry and Hermione. The locket felt warmer as he peered in to see Hermione gazing at Harry with excitement and joy. When was the last time she had looked at him like that? At least Third Year, if not earlier than that.
He shook his head and mustered up the courage to confront them. He was tired of not knowing how they felt about each other. He was tired of wondering what Harry's plans were. He was tired of his heart racing as he listened to the radio.
Ron was just so tired.
but it was not your fault but mine,
and it was your heart on the line
I really fucked it up this time,
didn't I my dear?
He stormed away from the tent, thoughts racing. They were dissolving and reappearing. He couldn't think, all he felt was anger and hurt and jealousy and god, why did he have to love her? If he was Kissed by a Dementor, things would be easier. No emotions, no memories, no thoughts.
Nothing but surreal numbness.
He was shaking as he stumbled through the forest, muttering curse words and their names over and over. Finally, after about half an hour of walking off his fury, Ron leaned against a tree and staring up at the night sky.
"Merlin.. What have I done?" He asked himself quietly, feeling a lump form in his throat. He was so stupid. Hermione didn't deserve that. Neither did Harry. They probably thought it was their fault he had gone off.
It wasn't. It was his. That damn locket. Why didn't he comply with Hermione and take it off? Why didn't he just listen to someone else for a change?
What did he have to lose by inducing that fight? Nothing. He didn't have the weight of the world on his shoulders. He didn't love someone so unstable so dearly. Harry needed support. Hermione needed him.
Gods, he really fucked things up. Worse than he had ever done before. He balled his hands into fists and punched the closest tree near him, cursing to himself.
"Well, well, well." Snatchers. He cursed some more.
If he got out of this alive, he swore to kiss Hermione like it was the end of the world.
tremble for yourself, my man,
you know that you have seen this all before
Ron watched the lights of green fly around the castle as he gripped his wand tighter. So much death was happening. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Colin Creevey fall to Dolohov. The older man's eyes lit up with cruel delight and he whooped in victory as he began to battle a distraught Cho Chang.
His eyes closed briefly as he followed Harry through the chaos. He should be strong. Besides, how many battles has he been in now? Three? How many deaths has he seen? Far too many.
He opened the blue orbs and took in Hermione's determined expression, tense body stance and powerful look in her eyes. How could he ever deserve her? Here she was, not even close to breaking down and he surely looked a mess.
tremble little lion man,
you'll never settle any of your score
"No – no – no!" someone was shouting. "No! Fred! No!" Ron stood up shakily and immediately looked to Hermione, exhaling unsteadily when he saw her get up with a little effort. She was okay. But then who was..?
No. No. It couldn't be. A loud scream filled with anguish rang into the air and it wasn't until Ron felt sobs rack his body that he knew it was him. He dropped to Fred's body and couldn't stop the crying that overtook him. Why Fred? Why not him? Fred would never have children or see Katie ever again or ever prank Ron again and why did Ron always get so mad at him?
He couldn't breath and trying to take in more air made him cry harder. All those times he got embarrassed by Fred or grumbled about him or sold him out to his mum. Never again would he have the chance to hug him or laugh at his jokes or see his cheeky grin. He squeezed his eyes shut and ran his fingers through his red hair(the same color as Fred's, gods, it hurt so much) and pulled at the strands, sobbing.
They got up and ran off down the hallway but Ron would never forget that look on Fred's face, one Ron had seen so many times in the past 17 years but never thought to appreciate.
And to think he never said he loved him.
your grace is wasted in your face,
your boldness stands alone among the wreck,
learn from your mother or else spend your days biting your own neck
Ron stood beside Neville, battling Fenrir Greybeck. Sweat poured down his forehead and Ron knew for a fact that his fatigue and unbalance was evident on his face. Still he duelled on, fueled by the memory of Greyback looking at Hermione with such lust it still made him sick.
Hermione wasn't a piece of property but she was still Ron's girl and anyone looking at her in that way.. Neville yelled a spell and Fenrir dropped onto his back. They grinned at each other before a shout caught their ears.
"NOT MY DAUGHTER YOU BITCH!"
Ron gaped at his mother in shock. Never before had he seen so angry, so full of hatred and venegance. She and Bellatrix began to duel before Bellatrix began to tease his mother, actually his whole family if he thought about it, about Fred. She called Freddie and white hot rage coursed through his veins because besides Angelina and Katie, no one deserved to call him that but his family. Fred was dead and as far as Ron was concerned, it was her fault.
He watched Bellatrix drop and Voldemort roar in fury.
He looked at his mother in a whole new light as she just stared down Voldemort. All this time, he pegged his mother as a soft caring figure, not a lover. But maybe loss of a family member had suddenly changed her.
Maybe it was time to look up to her again.
but it was not your fault but mine,
and it was your heart on the line,
I really fucked it up this time,
didn't I my dear?
Harry had gone up to bed, mumbling about sandwiches while Hermione and Ron sat down at stairs near the Great Hall, looking at each other. He didn't know what to say, really. They had that kiss, that wonderful kiss full of seven years of longing and love and everything that was them but Ron didn't really know if that was just it for her. Did she feel the sparks, the world fading away to just them?
Ron felt the insecurity creep into his head and he shook his head to himself. Of course she didn't. She was just confused and well, there was a battle going on and she thought she would have died.
"Hermione.. about that kiss," He spoke up, looking at her. She looked up from her wand, eyes questioning. He cleared his throat and paused before looking down at his battered and bloody shoes. "I think.. we should just forget about it." As soon as the words left his mouth, he wanted to take them back. The hazelnut eyes shifted from questioning to disbelief to hurt.
"Ron.. W-why?"
"It was just the heat of the moment... nothing life-changing.. right?" Where were these lies coming from? Why couldn't he shut his mouth? The hurt look was twisting his stomach and making his heart feel like it was being constricted by his ribs.
She stood up and the hurt twisted into anger. "You know, Ronald Weasley, for such a brave hero, you really are a daft moron most of the time!" She shrieked at him, storming away. He watched her go before shaking his head.
Why did he always say the wrong things? It wasn't so difficult if Harry could do it to Ginny or Neville to Luna. The difference was, of course, that they didn't have such insecurities.
He hurt her, badly, might he add. Standing up, he brushed off his pants and stared out into the Great Hall, watching people mourn endlessly. He glanced at George and watched him whisper things to himself as he wiped away tears that would not stop.
No, it could not end like this. He would not end up like he did with Fred and regret ever making these mistakes. He started to walk in the direction Hermione rushed away in.
Ron would never fuck it up again.
He loved her too much.
What a crappy ending, I know. But really, how was I supposed to end it? Sigh. sorry. but review? (: