One-Shot for the Quidditch League FanFiction Competition.
Team: Ballycastle Bats
Position: Chaser 3
(SETTING) St. Mungo's
(WORD) Coated
(CREATURE) Dragon
(PAIRING) Ron and Hermione (Romione)
WARNINGS: Mental Illness; Attempted suicide
Fallen Dragon
The night air was cold and damp. A light patter of rain fell from the sky, the star's and moon hidden beneath the grey clouds. Thunder boomed in the distance.
He waited, silently counting in his head. One mississippi, two missisippi, three missisippi- the dark room was lit by the forked lightning, soon followed by the clap of thunder.
A thin layer of frost coated the window, rain dripping down the glass, leaving tear stain-like track's in the frost behind them, much like the tear stain's that had once stained his own face- but now he had cried his so much, he seemed bone dry. There were no more tear's there to escape his eye's.
The dragon soared through the night sky, the cresent moon shinning bright, the star's twinkling like a thousand winking eye's.
It's bright red scale's gleamed in the faint light, it's blue eye's shinning in the dark. It was flying over a sparkling blue ocean. No land could be seen.
The dragon was at peace. It was calm and happy. There was nothing there to hurt him. Nothing there to break him.
But then thick, black cloud's covered the moon and star's happy, twinkling light's. The dragon stopped flying, hovering in place, his giant, red wing's beating to keep him airborn.
And then it happened.
A forked tounge of white lightning came from the black clouds and thunder boomed so loudly he felt as if his eardrum's might bleed. The lightning's tip zipped across the sky, lighting the night and the dark ocean below him- and it hit him.
Blinding pain spread through his massive body. His ear's ringed painfully- and he was falling. He couldn't move, he was blinded with pain, with panic.
And then he crashed onto land. It was a very small island. A dwarf could reach one end to the other in about half a day. But that wasn't import- for the dragon had heard a sickly-sounding snap!
Pain erupted up his right wing, which was bending at the completley wrong angle. He roared, a jet of fire coming from his throat and lighting the night air around him.
His leg's were scratched and bleeding. He was breathing heavily. The pain was so bad...
And then a giant basilisk appeared, it's pale, sick green scale's shinning merrily. It's red eye's- which, strangley, wasn't killing him- was looking at him mockingly.
It's cruel mouth formed into a victorious grin, it's sharp, deadly posionous teeth showing.
And then it curled it's thick tail around and clutched in it's vice-like grip- was an owl.
It was a barn owl, feather's soft brown and eye's an even softer brown- but they were full of fear.
The dragon began to panic. He had to help the owl. He had to save her.
He tried to get to his feet, but his thick leg's shook from under him. His wing gave another stab of blinding pain and he was flat on his stomach again, breathing heavily, staring at the owl, tear's in his eye's, trying to say how sorry he was, how it should be him and not her-
The basilisk raised it's massive head- the owl began squirming, trying to desperatley escape from the giant snake- the basilisk lunged, fang's beared-
Ron sat up straight in his bed, sweat sticking his red hair to his forehead.
He waited a few moment's, trying to catch his breath. After he did, Ron sighed and pushed the white cover's aside, climbing out of the bed.
Ron walked over to the window and looked up at the lightning lighting the sky, listening to the thunder. The lightning reminded him of his best friend, Harry. He missed him. He was probably out there, training to become an Auror, something he had so wanted to do together, all three of them...
He closed his eye's, as his heart gave a painful stab. It had been the same dream again. Always the same dream. And he could never save the owl. He just couldn't... because he was weak. It's his fault the basilisk got the owl. Just like it was his fault Voldemort got Hermione...
Ron sighed again, tear's forming at the corner of his eye's. They had said it wasn't his fault. His parents, his siblings, Harry, Neville, Luna, the Healers... but it was. No one could say it wasn't. Because, god dammit, it was!
His anger began to rise again- anger at himself.
That's why he had been put here, in this hell they called a hospital. Because he'd been so, so mad... and he'd tried to kill himself. With a kitchen knife.
But then Harry had walked in on him. And he'd tried to run and had accidently cut the boy, right to the bone. It had taken Harry, Kingsley, his dad, a leg-locker jinx and a stupefy to take him out. Then he'd woken up in St. Mungo's.
That was a year ago.
He'd been given therapy, where he refused to talk or acknowledge the women that sat across from him with her clipboard, and had been kept away from anything and everything sharp. They even made sure his nail's weren't sharp.
Harry would visit at least four time's a week. Ron wasn't mad at him. Just at himself.
They would talk and joke as if they were back in their school day's, but it was never the same. Not without Hermione...
Ron tore his eye's away from the window. He looked around his dark room. It was a simple room. A white bed with white sheet's and pillows. White walls and a white floor. A white door and a little white bedside table for Healer's to put potions and things on when they came. It was horrible. If only he had kept the door locked.
He sighed and shuffled back towards his bed. He sat on it and laid down, staring at the white ceiling. He told no one of the dream. But he understood it.
Ron had fallen just like the dragon.
And there was no one there to help him back up.