Outside Looking In: A companion to Filmstrips
By flourishes
A/N Even though this piece parallels its companion, you should probably read Filmstrips first, since it's a good deal heavier on the detail. Outside Looking In can stand on its own, but any questions that may arise through reading it will likely be answered if you read Filmstrips.
She was fine. I know she was. I saw her. The whole morning had been a blur, but there was one face all morning that was crystal clear, that I had been able to focus on. I saw every expression that flitted through her eyes and the tenseness in her jaw. She was defiant, she was angry, she was strong. I drew my strength from her steady presence. The fear I was feeling vanished when I met her brown eyes across the expanse of the Great Hall. The sounds of clashing wizards were emanating from the entrance, drawing ever closer. Still I looked, and she was my anchor. It was only when the Death Eaters arrival was heralded by a sudden blast of spells that I looked away. For three seconds I panned the expanse of the Great Hall, seeing where I would be needed most. Three seconds passed before I glanced back to find her gone, the doorway behind which she had taken shelter no more than a heap of crumbled stones. Oh, I thought, she's stuck behind them. It'll be awhile before she manages to get back. That's good, then she's safe…And I thought no longer, throwing myself into the fray before me, two words echoing in my head. "She's safe, she's safe, she's safe…"
* * *
It feels like it has been days, but in reality only a few hours have passed. I am grimy, covered in soot, and my robes have been ripped to shreds. There are bodies lying prone in the corridors of Hogwarts, their blood pooling in the crevices between the stones. There are others who have been hit by so many spells they are crumpled into heaps, but we are victorious. They have been driven back, and Hogwarts is once again safe. Through the momentary jubilation, the time before we count our losses and mourn our dead, a trickle of fear runs down my spine, raising the hairs on my neck. I haven't seen her since, since…the archway had collapsed in a shower of dust and a cloud of smoke. I break away from the small crowd that has gathered in the Great Hall, where we are checking ourselves for injuries and reversing spells, the releasing of tension culminating in a quasi-celebration as the dead and wounded are being tended to by medi-wizards and witches in the corners. I turn, frantically, searching for a glimpse of her petite form, a glimmer of her hair, the flash of her smile, and there is nothing.
Ginny, the brilliance of her smile contrasting sharply with her grubby face, comes sprinting up to me, throwing her arms around me. The knot of fear in my chest loosens slightly. I hug her back, hoping, wishing, that when Ginny lets go she will be standing behind her, triumph and sorrow mingling in the depths of her eyes. When Ginny draws back, the space behind her is empty, almost as large as the void forming in my heart. Maybe, I think, Ginny has seen her. I ask, hesitantly.
"Gin…have you seen…have you seen…"
I can't get the words out. I look away, trying, trying to gain control over the emotions that threaten to spill over the dam that is my face. My sister watches me struggle, comprehension clear upon her face. Her eyes, just minutes ago brimming with joy at the discovery of another brother safe, grow wide and fearful.
"No, oh Ron, no…"
I nod, tremors rippling through my body. I raise my hand, cover my face.
"I don't know, not for certain, but I haven't seen her… and she would have found me by now if, if…"
My shoulders heave and I whirl. I will find her. I have to. She is my anchor. Without her, I'd be cast adrift in a sea of emptiness. Ginny follows my steps, eyes looking in every corner, through every doorway. We make our way through the myriad of passages, searching, looking, finding nothing, the drifting smoke making our eyes sting. I realize suddenly that we are almost too where I had last seen her. She had been standing at the entrance to the Great Hall that nearest Gryffindor Tower, the entrance that was just around the bend. I freeze. I hear something, echoing, a small sound, magnified many times against the backdrop of the stones. It is a sound that I have heard echoing before, through the endless rows of library books, through the silence and hiss of simmering cauldrons in potions. It is the steady ticking of a muggle watch, the watch that usually adorns the graceful arch of a dainty wrist, the watch that she had refused to let me enchant to prevent that infernal "tick-tock".
The pressure on my chest increases. Not once since she received it have I ever seen her without the silver watch on her wrist. Maybe she dropped it. Yes, that has to be the explanation. But yet…if she had just dropped her watch, she would have found me. I am frozen, not wanting to turn the corner, the steady tick still echoing throughout my head. Ginny is watching, a quizzical expression lurking beneath that of concern. I sigh brokenly.
"Listen…her watch, you can here it ticking."
She strains her ears, shakes her head. It must be my paranoia, my preoccupation with finding her. I turn the corner. And I remember a quote that she had read to me once, from a Muggle author named "Dockens" or Dickens or somewhat. She had read it to me in the dark days right after Voldemort had risen again, and a fragment ran through my head as I took in the tableau before me.
"…it was the spring of hope and it was the winter of despair…"
At the time I didn't understand how it could be both things at once. But as my eyes traveled over the ruins and crumbled stones that had once constituted an archway, I understood perfectly. For the thin ray of watery sunshine that was shining through a crack on the wall was reflecting off of a face of a watch that was at once familiar. The sight of that watch was the spring of hope, but the realization that followed was the winter of despair. At first glance it had appeared that the watch had just fallen and landed among the stones. Ginny's shriek of horror jolted me out of the reverie I had been in, recalling the three seconds in which I had lost sight of her. I looked, willing the sight before me to vanish. It didn't. The watch was still attached to Hermione's arm.
A/N Hope you all enjoyed my portrayal of Ron, I had a bit of trouble with his viewpoint…since I'm not male. Thanks much to my betas, tmj and eleclyn starmaker…they must have read this draft at least twenty times…so thanks for putting up with me! Comments, criticisms, or general pats on the back, they're all welcome.