Ron Weasley sat at the edge of the tent—the shelter that the golden trio had begun to call home after months of living inside of it. He was tired of their travels, and weary of being kept in the dark about everything. Dumbledore had kept them from falling into the dark, but he hadn't shown them how to make it disappear completely. Dumbledore was a buoy in the ocean, but he never taught them how to swim before he left them. Now the trio was frantically trying to swim, but drowning.
Outside the tent, in front of Ron, the gentle first snowflakes of an early winter swirled to the ground. To him, each one seemed the same, identical even. Every flake was cold and lost—like him—as they flew to the ground, swept this way and that by the errant winds. They glistened in the dying sunlight with sparkles of anticipation. They waited anxiously to find their place in the world, to be a part of the shimmering blankets of white that covered the hard ground. He reached out his hand and let one silver snowflake land on his finger. He brought it closer to his sky blue eyes so he could see it better, and squished it. Between his thumb and forefinger, he smushed it and let the warmth of his hands melt the snow. He stared at the now-melted water droplet that rested on his thumb now. He shivered, and brushed his hand clean on his jacket.
Ron pulled his knees to his chest. Why couldn't being a hero be easy? He always thought that the feeling of being better than his siblings was the only thing he ever wanted in life, and now he wasn't so sure. If being the best meant feeling this lost all of the time, so afraid . . . how did the rest of the world do it? He had always envied Harry his popularity and fame, but again, he was unsure if he needed it anymore. All he wanted was to escape into a world where everyone loved him, and happiness was abundant.
Behind him, he heard Harry's voice raise. "Mione! I think we've found it! This is what Professor Dumbledore wanted us to find. I'm sure of it." Ron glanced behind him to find Hermione and Harry embracing each other in a warm hug.
He wanted to share in their warmth. He wanted to feel a part of something. And he was sitting on the edge of the tent, halfway out the door to a winter wonderland and he wondered if they would miss him if he left. What if he just . . . melted away like the snowflake that had disappeared in his palm. A glance into the woods proved that the snowflake wasn't missed at all—all of the trees were covered in white, there wasn't one place that seemed to be lacking of the frozen crystals that dotted the world.
Ron reached behind him for Harry's invisibility cloak and threw it over his shoulders. Silently, he stood up and walked stealthily towards his two best friends huddled beside the blue fire that Hermione had created. They didn't notice it when he was standing beside them, they were too preoccupied with discussing their latest discovery—which they had not felt the need to share with Ron yet. They didn't notice it when he silently removed the cloak from around him—even though his shadow stood beside them. Hermione and Harry continued conversing in whispers, and Ron eventually began to disregard the words his friends were speaking.
His eyes were transfixed on the blue flames—they looked so cold. They looked like he felt. They appeared underappreciated, and expendable. Harry and Hermione didn't really need the little warmth that they provided; the fire was small and useless. They could easily be discarded and a larger, warmer fire be placed in its stead.
He held the silvery silk fabric of the invisibility cloak in his hands and looked with sadness at his best friends—the friends for whom he would run through fire, swim through ice and endure tireless months of wandering.
He never felt this invisible when he had the cloak on. At least, when he was buried under the cloak, he knew why no one looked twice at him, they couldn't see him. But now, as Hermione rested her curly-haired head on Harry's shoulder, he wondered why they did not remember him. They were sitting on a cream-colored couch together, and Ron shyly walked over to them and sat down on the left side of the couch, more than a foot between him and Hermione. He sat straight, and awkwardly rested his arm on the armrest beside him. Neither Harry nor Hermione acknowledged his arrival; they both remained content resting on top of one another. Ron felt as invisible as a wrackspurt hidden in Luna's imagination. Something no one cares about, and takes advantage of when he can. He felt forgotten and alone.
With a sigh, he stood up, and left the couch and the chill of the blue flames. As he walked, he heard Harry call to him. "Hey mate. Ron, would you mind giving us your ideas on our revelation? We're a bit lost without you."
Ron was unsure of what to do; were they really lost without him? "Harry, are you really lost? You have Hermione, the brightest witch of her age. Surely you can figure it out on your own. You don't need me." But inside, Ron wanted nothing more than for Harry to tell him how valuable he was to him.
Harry thought about what he should do for a moment, and then gently laid the sleeping Hermione on the couch. He carefully stood up and stood next to the red-haired boy who was still looking wistfully at the exit of the tent. They wouldn't miss him, would they? Ron felt a warm arm around his shoulders and looked to his left to see Harry looking at him with a worried expression. Ron didn't want Harry to worry, so he shrugged Harry's arm off of his back and walked to his dark blue sleeping bag on the floor.
Harry followed his best friend, waiting for the right moment to speak. He watched as Ron laid down on his bed and copied him, laying on his own green 'bed'. Harry counted to ten in his head, giving Ron time to compose his thoughts, and then he spoke softly, in a whisper. "Ron, don't you think for a minute that we could last a day without you here. You are what makes us smile when we feel like crying. You are indispensable. No one I know is more loyal, more forgiving, more truthful than you, my best friend Ron Weasely. Since the moment we met on the train, and you made me smile with the first words you said, I knew I could never let you go. You're the guy I want to have smiling with me when I get married, the person to tell me what a fool I am. You are the man I want to know fifty years from now, as we converse over tea and cookies about our children and grandchildren. You, Ron, are the friend I know everything about, and the only one who knows everything about me. I wouldn't trade that for all of the brains in the world. Because in the end, I need someone who I can trust, someone who will always stand by me. I need you Ron, and no one else can fill your shoes. Your feet are rather large . . . "
Harry had closed his eyes while he was talking, remembering everything Ron did for him, and how seldom he ever thanked him for being there. So he was startled when he felt Ron's arms around him in a man-hug. Harry sat up, and the two teenagers sat with their arms around one another.
Ron began to laugh shakily. "Yeah," he chuckled. "You have some big feet too, I'd be just as lost without you as well. I would miss, well, everything that we uhhh. I guess I think that I well, I need . . . "
Harry pulled away grinning. "If you didn't like Hermione," Ron blushed at that, "and I didn't like Ginny, I would kiss you to make my point. So pretend that I did. And I'll just say that I know exactly what you mean to say and I always have known it. It's the reason we have been friends for so long and we'll always make up after each fight we have. I understand you Ron, and that's another reason I can't let you go."
Ron smiled back. "Thanks mate. I needed to hear that." Ron jumped back to his sleeping bag and scooted into the covers.
Harry silently cast nox upon his wandlight. "Anytime Ron, I'll always be there for you. Whenever you need me."
"Yeah," Ron whispered back. "I'll be there for you too you know, however I can."
"And you always are."
"Right. Always."
"Forever."
"Until we die."
"Which better not be soon . . . I hope not."
"Yeah, 'cause I still need you."
"I know Ron, I kn-"
"What are you two knuckleheads whispering about?" Hermione whispered in an annoyed whisper.
The two in question both turned in their heads to face her voice and cowered at her figure, standing imposingly above them in the dim light. "Nothing!" said the boys together, both smiling in the darkness. Ron added, "We were just discussing quidditch tactics, that move that Marlow Albenstein did with the quaffle last Saturday was just amazing. He-"
Hermione interrupted, "Alright, I don't want to know. But we had best get some rest tonight if we expect to learn something new tomorrow."
"Goodnight Mione, sweet dreams Harry," Ron whispered into the darkness.
"Hopefully they'll be pleasant tonight. I love you Ron. Love you too Mione. A guy couldn't ask for two better friends."
"Thanks Harry," said one of them, or perhaps both of them, and the three fell into a deep sleep, their love keeping them together throughout the troublesome times that would soon befall upon them.
They would remain in each other's hearts long after the war was over and all was well. They'd be with each other forever.