Author's Note: I have noticed that a lot of people are having trouble
getting their quotations marks and apostrophes to show up correctly. I am
also having this problem. Hmmm, well, I hope it gets resolved pretty soon.
For the time being, little stars (ahhh, I have no idea what they are
called) will replace the quotation marks and apostrophes. I know that it is
annoying, but please bear with me.
Chapter One
All These Thoughts
Harry stared down at Ron*s pale face. *You never wore a suit in your entire life,* Harry thought, as if Ron could hear him. It was almost funny to see Ron lying there so stiffly, dressed up in a tuxedo with his hair neatly parted. Almost.
Harry sighed. At least the bullet wound was well concealed. He touched his childhood friend*s hand, then walked to the other side of the room to offer his condolences to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Mr. Weasley nodded his thanks and shook Harry*s hand without really looking at him, and Mrs. Weasley hugged him tightly, grieved beyond tears.
More mourners started to arrive. Many of them were Harry*s classmates from his Hogwarts days. Usually they would have flocked towards Harry, pestering him with questions about his brave defeat of Voldemort, but today they hardly seemed to notice him. The tone in the air was one of sadness, but also of regret, regret that they had lost touch with Ron, as Harry himself had.
The room was growing warm because of the amount of bodies that were being crammed into the tiny space. Harry decided to get some fresh air, so he went out the back door and leaned against the wall. There were so many thoughts flying through his mind that he was giving himself a headache.
It was almost as hot outside as it was in the tiny room. Harry looked up at the sky and was disgusted to see that it was a lovely shade of blue, cloudless, and that the sun was bathing everything in golden light. It didn*t seem right that the day before Ron*s funeral should be beautiful. It should be pouring rain, and the sky should be a dreary grey.
Harry wondered if Hermione would show up. They*d dated for a bit after they graduated, but things didn*t work out between them. *Because I had to be the big hero,* Harry thought bitterly. Slicing a person in half, even the most evil wizard of all time, changed a man, and Hermione had a front row seat to his transformation. Harry didn*t blame her when she told him she wanted to end their relationship, but that didn*t stop him from kicking himself for it ever since. He wondered what she would do if she saw him. *Probably just ignore me,* Harry said aloud. The pain he*d felt right after Hermione dumped him came rushing back. In truth, it had never really left.
Harry sank down to the ground and watched as a bird alighted on the tree in front of him. He tried to remember what Hermione had looked like, not the day she left, but the day of their graduation. She had been so happy then, they all had, and her happiness made her lovely. She glowed with an inner radiance and Harry couldn*t take his eyes off her. She had given a speech for being class valedictorian, but what she talked about in her speech Harry couldn*t say. He didn*t remember the words she spoke, but he remembered the way she smiled, and how he had thought that at that moment she was more beautiful than anything he had ever seen.
After the ceremony, Harry, Ron and Hermione had gone to The Three Broomsticks and ordered butter beers and talked for hours. Ron and Hermione had been so full of life then. They were both so excited about the future and all its possibilities, possibilities that only Harry seemed to be dreading.
Harry and Hermione were going to stay with the Weasley*s that night. Mr. Weasley arrived to take them back to the Burrow, and they had all stood up to follow him out when Harry had touched Hermione*s hand and asked to speak to her in private for a moment. She had given him a curious look, but she agreed. Harry steered her towards the back door, and Ron had grinned at him and given him the thumbs-up sign.
It was there, behind The Three Broomsticks, that Harry had told Hermione how he had loved her ever since he saved her life in their sixth year. He was shocked when she said that she felt the same way. And it was there, behind the bar, that he had kissed her for the first time. He remembered how she had trembled when he leaned towards her, but that she had returned his kiss warmly.
And Harry remembered how he had confided all of this to Ron later that night when they were both pretending to be asleep. Then Harry had said the thing that had been on his mind all the way back to the Burrow, ever since he kissed Hermione: *Are you okay with this? I mean, for a while I thought you fancied her.*
Ron had been laying on his back on his bed across from Harry*s trundle. He stared up at the ceiling for a long time before he finally turned towards Harry and said, *She likes you, mate. She picked you.*
Harry felt a tear rolling down his cheek, but he didn*t bother to wipe it away. Ron was always so damn noble. He had made Harry feel like crap sometimes. When Harry had told Ron that Ron laughed and chucked at pillow at Harry, and they didn*t bring up the topic for the rest of the night, for the rest of their friendship.
Harry closed his eyes, wondering what would have happened if he had backed off. He and Hermione obviously weren*t meant to be together. Maybe Ron and Hermione were. Maybe he had unintentionally screwed up his best friend*s life. The thought that he might have made Ron miserable gave Harry a sick feeling inside.
He remembered the bullet wound that was hidden by the suit. The Ministry was still trying to decide if Ron*s case was a homicide. Being shot was not a normal way for a wizard to go. They suspected that someone had broken into Ron*s apartment. He hadn*t been living in a pristine little town, after all. Quite the contrary. The Muggle police were conducting their own investigation, and they said someone had probably broken in, thinking the apartment was empty, and when they realized Ron was home they shot him. But they still weren*t sure. Harry vowed that if Ron*s death was ruled as a homicide he would personally see to it that the bastard who killed Ron died a slow and painful death.
It could have been suicide, though Harry had no idea where Ron would get a pistol, or how he would know how to shoot it. Either way Harry knew he was to blame. If it was suicide, if Ron had taken his own life, it was because Harry had robbed him of true love. If it was a homicide, it wouldn*t have happened if Ron hadn*t been living in that awful city. He only lived there because there was no where else he could afford to live. His life had gone down the tubes ever since he*d left Hogwarts, and Harry knew that if Hermione had been with Ron she wouldn*t have let him live that way. She wouldn*t have let him, but he, Harry, had.
Harry buried his face in his hands. He knew it was cliche, but he thought about how truly unfair life is. Ron didn*t deserve to die so young. Ron deserved to be happy, but he really had very little happiness in his life. Even when they were at Hogwarts and were the best of friends and had fun together, Harry couldn*t help but feel that others thought of Ron as his sidekick, if he at times thought of Ron as such. And Ron didn*t deserve that.
Harry wept and didn*t care if someone saw him. He wept for everything that went wrong for Ron and had gone wrong in his own life. He wept for good times long gone, lost friendships, shattered dreams and for the fact that the sun was shining.
Chapter One
All These Thoughts
Harry stared down at Ron*s pale face. *You never wore a suit in your entire life,* Harry thought, as if Ron could hear him. It was almost funny to see Ron lying there so stiffly, dressed up in a tuxedo with his hair neatly parted. Almost.
Harry sighed. At least the bullet wound was well concealed. He touched his childhood friend*s hand, then walked to the other side of the room to offer his condolences to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Mr. Weasley nodded his thanks and shook Harry*s hand without really looking at him, and Mrs. Weasley hugged him tightly, grieved beyond tears.
More mourners started to arrive. Many of them were Harry*s classmates from his Hogwarts days. Usually they would have flocked towards Harry, pestering him with questions about his brave defeat of Voldemort, but today they hardly seemed to notice him. The tone in the air was one of sadness, but also of regret, regret that they had lost touch with Ron, as Harry himself had.
The room was growing warm because of the amount of bodies that were being crammed into the tiny space. Harry decided to get some fresh air, so he went out the back door and leaned against the wall. There were so many thoughts flying through his mind that he was giving himself a headache.
It was almost as hot outside as it was in the tiny room. Harry looked up at the sky and was disgusted to see that it was a lovely shade of blue, cloudless, and that the sun was bathing everything in golden light. It didn*t seem right that the day before Ron*s funeral should be beautiful. It should be pouring rain, and the sky should be a dreary grey.
Harry wondered if Hermione would show up. They*d dated for a bit after they graduated, but things didn*t work out between them. *Because I had to be the big hero,* Harry thought bitterly. Slicing a person in half, even the most evil wizard of all time, changed a man, and Hermione had a front row seat to his transformation. Harry didn*t blame her when she told him she wanted to end their relationship, but that didn*t stop him from kicking himself for it ever since. He wondered what she would do if she saw him. *Probably just ignore me,* Harry said aloud. The pain he*d felt right after Hermione dumped him came rushing back. In truth, it had never really left.
Harry sank down to the ground and watched as a bird alighted on the tree in front of him. He tried to remember what Hermione had looked like, not the day she left, but the day of their graduation. She had been so happy then, they all had, and her happiness made her lovely. She glowed with an inner radiance and Harry couldn*t take his eyes off her. She had given a speech for being class valedictorian, but what she talked about in her speech Harry couldn*t say. He didn*t remember the words she spoke, but he remembered the way she smiled, and how he had thought that at that moment she was more beautiful than anything he had ever seen.
After the ceremony, Harry, Ron and Hermione had gone to The Three Broomsticks and ordered butter beers and talked for hours. Ron and Hermione had been so full of life then. They were both so excited about the future and all its possibilities, possibilities that only Harry seemed to be dreading.
Harry and Hermione were going to stay with the Weasley*s that night. Mr. Weasley arrived to take them back to the Burrow, and they had all stood up to follow him out when Harry had touched Hermione*s hand and asked to speak to her in private for a moment. She had given him a curious look, but she agreed. Harry steered her towards the back door, and Ron had grinned at him and given him the thumbs-up sign.
It was there, behind The Three Broomsticks, that Harry had told Hermione how he had loved her ever since he saved her life in their sixth year. He was shocked when she said that she felt the same way. And it was there, behind the bar, that he had kissed her for the first time. He remembered how she had trembled when he leaned towards her, but that she had returned his kiss warmly.
And Harry remembered how he had confided all of this to Ron later that night when they were both pretending to be asleep. Then Harry had said the thing that had been on his mind all the way back to the Burrow, ever since he kissed Hermione: *Are you okay with this? I mean, for a while I thought you fancied her.*
Ron had been laying on his back on his bed across from Harry*s trundle. He stared up at the ceiling for a long time before he finally turned towards Harry and said, *She likes you, mate. She picked you.*
Harry felt a tear rolling down his cheek, but he didn*t bother to wipe it away. Ron was always so damn noble. He had made Harry feel like crap sometimes. When Harry had told Ron that Ron laughed and chucked at pillow at Harry, and they didn*t bring up the topic for the rest of the night, for the rest of their friendship.
Harry closed his eyes, wondering what would have happened if he had backed off. He and Hermione obviously weren*t meant to be together. Maybe Ron and Hermione were. Maybe he had unintentionally screwed up his best friend*s life. The thought that he might have made Ron miserable gave Harry a sick feeling inside.
He remembered the bullet wound that was hidden by the suit. The Ministry was still trying to decide if Ron*s case was a homicide. Being shot was not a normal way for a wizard to go. They suspected that someone had broken into Ron*s apartment. He hadn*t been living in a pristine little town, after all. Quite the contrary. The Muggle police were conducting their own investigation, and they said someone had probably broken in, thinking the apartment was empty, and when they realized Ron was home they shot him. But they still weren*t sure. Harry vowed that if Ron*s death was ruled as a homicide he would personally see to it that the bastard who killed Ron died a slow and painful death.
It could have been suicide, though Harry had no idea where Ron would get a pistol, or how he would know how to shoot it. Either way Harry knew he was to blame. If it was suicide, if Ron had taken his own life, it was because Harry had robbed him of true love. If it was a homicide, it wouldn*t have happened if Ron hadn*t been living in that awful city. He only lived there because there was no where else he could afford to live. His life had gone down the tubes ever since he*d left Hogwarts, and Harry knew that if Hermione had been with Ron she wouldn*t have let him live that way. She wouldn*t have let him, but he, Harry, had.
Harry buried his face in his hands. He knew it was cliche, but he thought about how truly unfair life is. Ron didn*t deserve to die so young. Ron deserved to be happy, but he really had very little happiness in his life. Even when they were at Hogwarts and were the best of friends and had fun together, Harry couldn*t help but feel that others thought of Ron as his sidekick, if he at times thought of Ron as such. And Ron didn*t deserve that.
Harry wept and didn*t care if someone saw him. He wept for everything that went wrong for Ron and had gone wrong in his own life. He wept for good times long gone, lost friendships, shattered dreams and for the fact that the sun was shining.