At The Seams
by EMPG22HoPe
I cannot sleep without the lights on
It's like I'm broken when you are gone
It was like having his soul ripped into seven pieces ;
Every rip, instead of murder, coincides with Hermione's cries as she begged and keened from above. Ron, who had been heaving, could not stop crying out her name as if hoping that if he said it louder, said it enough to make his voice hoarse, that she would stop hurting. But it seemed that every time he tried to break himself open for her name, the more piercing and gut-wrenching the sound came from whatever was happening above.
For a moment, he felt as if it had been his fault.
"HERMIONE!" Ron bellowed, struggling to pull himself free from the binds he'd been tied onto next to Harry and the others. His cry was livid, clear but resonating with anguish. "HERMIONE!"
Ron could hear Harry's distinct voice, and whether or not Harry was telling him to shut up or telling him a new plan—he couldn't keep his head. He always knew how to act under pressure. That was a contribution he was meant to be proud of. While Harry and Hermione were furtive in distress, running around like headless chickens at times, Ron had to be the median, the in between. Now, he couldn't be anything but one of those headless chickens—only he was flapping his wings uselessly now and screaming himself hoarse, worst than he has ever been.
He did, however, shut up when he saw Luna and Ollivander in the same cellar he and the other prisoners had been subjected in. But even as he tried to keep a firm voice, he grunted ever so slightly to hold himself back for calling out to Hermione.
Only when he heard her scream again did he finally call for her once more, as if his panic would give her some comfort–idiotically knowing it wouldn't.
"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!"
He sounded like a broken record going on and on. He wished they had taken him instead. He had begged the Malfoys to just take him, not her, anyone but her. Flashes of disturbing visions came to him as to what Hermione might be going through. Was she being tortured by the Cruciatus curse? Or something else? Something more sinister? Something more dark… He could only pray to every old wizard looking down that he won't have to see the flash of a green light from atop the stairs or hear those two dreadful words.
Hot tears streamed down his cheeks now, hearing Luna's pleading voice only as background noise to what little he could hear from Hermione above.
"We found it—we found it—-PLEASE!" begged Hermione, a scream so ear-splitting came from her that Ron could have almost felt the rusty nail dig into his flesh as he struggled in his binds. Good, he thought. He deserved to be in just as much pain as Hermione, even worse than what she was going through.
Ron sobbed hysterically, and attempted to make sense of what was happening as another round of screams came. Everything was still a blur as lights illuminated the dim cellar. Had it been him that caused that with his deluminator? He couldn't remember over the sound of Bellatrix's accusation came, mentioning the use of a knife…
It was his fault. All his fault. If he had just been stronger, physically… if he had just had a weapon with him that could have stopped it… if he could just have that Elder Wand… if he could just have anything to could save her…
Each cry felt like a dagger to his heart, consuming him in as much immense pain–the Cruciatus curse looked like child's play compared to the kind of pain he was subjected to.
As soon as Ron was free from his binds, he stepped into the middle of the room to try to apparate; closed his eyes in desperation.
I need to get to Hermione… Hermione… HERMIONE…
Until Luna told him it was pointless, just as pointless as everything he's been doing. He tried to wrack his brain for something intelligible, but only managed to go to the wall nearest the cellar's door and start pounding on it helplessly; as if it would break under his immensely desperate force. He tried to think what Hermione would do, but he simply couldn't think it. He wasn't as strong as her, as powerful or gifted as her, as emotionally stable as her…
Ron tried to listen in to what little he could hear of the conversation above. The sword of Gryffindor… a vault… the goblin… Draco to fetch them…
His eyes shot open. It was as if some inner force had told him to snap out of it. The sword… they couldn't have the sword… Before he could even whip around to speak to Harry, Draco's voice echoed the space of the cellar.
Obediently, knowing how he hadn't much of a choice–he lined up with the rest of the prisoners, clicking his deluminator as the lights it provided earlier sped back. When he saw the white-faced Slytherin enter the cellar, he could almost hear–though likely delusional and desperate as he was now–Hermione's soft voice in the deluminator like it did last.
Ron… Ronald…
Hermione always knew when it was pointless to fight back. But his fists clenched as Draco took hold of the goblin and started dragging him out of the cellar. He didn't mind brawling into a good muggle fight, but as soon as Draco had disappeared–there was a loud crack just as Ron clicked his deluminator to bring back the lights.
Ron's surprise at the appearance of Dobby made him say the elf's name one too many octaves high, but was half way suppressed by Harry's strike in his arm. Realizing his mistake, he kept his mouth shut, feeling himself drowning further and further into the midst of his many mistakes already. He couldn't save Hermione and now he was risking the lives of everyone else because of him and his impulsiveness.
Ronald Weasley was starting to think he couldn't do anything right.
Throughout everything that happened in the cell, he could only think clearly when he mentioned Bill and Fleur's Shell Cottage–the safe haven so close, and yet so far away. They still needed Hermione. Her screams have died, and he thought the worst of the worst of Hermione's dead, lifeless body–her eyes wide open staring into oblivion…
Ron… Ronald… came Hermione's voice from his deluminator once more, as if to tell him she was still alive. He held onto that bit of hope, that tiny ball of light inside of him that was Hermione–her smile, her eyes, her toothy laugh, her nosy way of telling him off…
Ron… Ronald…
There was little time left. He had to keep a clear head if he wanted to save her. He feared what he might see, what she might look like–but anything of her was better than completely nothing.
Ron… Ronald…
"I'm coming, Hermione," He whispered hoarsely to himself, a promise he willed himself for her. "I'm coming."
Prompt(s):
Fanfiction Writing Month: 1,186 words
Dragon Breeding Club: Swedish Short-Snout – Evie
Insane House Challenge
Word Count - 1100 words
365 Prompts Challenge
120. Era – Trio
Writing Club – June
4. Kristoff - Write about the Weasleys (any of them) (Disney Challenge: Characters)
16. That now are bursting at the seams (Lyric Alley)
7. Christine Chapel — (word) overlooked (Lo's Lowdown: Character Based Prompts)
[Summer] Seasonal Challenges
International Panic Day: Write about somebody having a panic attack (Days of the Year)
Foxglove - (word) Heart (Seasonal Flowers)
2. Hamilton - alt, write about someone who won't give up (Shay's Musical Challenge)
Ron Weasley and Impulsive (Gryffindor Themed Prompts: Characters - Easy and Traits)
Word Count: 1,186 words
Character(s): Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood, Dobby, Ollivander, Griphook, Hermione
AN: I always wondered how Ron felt at that time when Hermione was being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange. I imagine it can't have been easy for him. He was practically hysterical the whole time! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little snippet.
Please R&R. :')
EMPG22HoPe