A/N: Very short drabble here on Ron's thoughts. I don't own HP.
Hope
It was hard. It was really hard.
It was nearly impossible to keep believing that they'd win the war when they didn't find anything and they didn't know where to look either; to keep believing when they were all in a constant loop of morose thoughts and grim smiles; to keep believing when things looked so dire.
But then, when he left, he recalled the hope in their eyes. The way her hand would find his if he got too angry or too morbid, the way she held on to him a second longer when she greeted him with his morning hug.
He remembered Harry's dreams late at night, when he woke up screaming and scared Ron's wits away from him. And he would get down off his bunk he would talk to his best friend and calm him down.
He always thought he was useless, Harry's sidekick and the comic relief of their little trio. Hermione was the brains, Harry the brawn... That left Ron as... What? The joke? He didn't like that.
He was the heart, he realised, because he did provide the lighter moments for them. And with him gone... What was going to happen to Harry and Hermione?
And immediately he was sorry for leaving. Because if she could continue hoping, despite all the negatives surrounding them, then he could too.
He would walk over mountains barefoot for just a tiny speck of hope that lit her eyes.
He would swim naked in an icy pool for just a smile in Harry's eyes. Heavens knew Harry had had it tough enough in his short life.
He would do what they wanted, as long as they asked, because he was the heart.
Ron heard his voice, much later when he was staying at Bill's. They were talking about him! But how... Ah, Dumbledore. Of course. He probably knew Ron was going to run away and would need a way back.
Ron packed his things, pressed a button, and walked into the blue light.
. . .