The young man with a brilliant head of red hair sat down at the booth. It was a little cramped for him, for his was quite a tall bloke. But, given that he was meeting his best friend for nearly eleven years for the first time in a year, he did not mind the cramped space so much. In fact, he thought to himself, that he quite liked the cramped nature of his booth for it kept his legs from bouncing up and down as if he were a crack addict on the precipice of getting a hit after a long absence. The red-headed fellow may be a lot of various qualities, but arguably, he is an intensely loyal sort of fellow. People had been entering and leaving the bar for the past hour. But in this moment, when the door creaked open slowly, the hairs on his neck stood up and he knew his friend had finally arrived. His friend had the appearance of a mild-mannered fellow, shorter than average height, a slender build, and glasses that seemed to perpetually rest slightly askew on the bridge of his nose. In contrast to the features that made him unnoticeable, his friend had green eyes that shone so brightly if caught unaware, could probably produce enough light to lift a person out of a coma; he also bore a scar, faded, and centered in the middle of his forehead most curiously shaped like a lightning bolt. This was Harry Potter. A hero. A killer. A brother-in-law and father of a most wonderful nephew. A best friend that loved without judgement. A man who could love all without limitations. The young red-headed man, Ron, adored this quality of his friend. Ron has always felt that his temper, his jealously, and his lack of confidence damaged his capacity to be good to those he loves. Harry, in contrast, could just ooze goodness without effort. Ron truly admired his friend.

"Well, you're my friend
And can you see
Many times we've been out drinking
Many times we've shared our thoughts"

By the third round of shots, as per usual, their tongues got far looser with their words. Soon they were recounting the losses that they had suffered through in their young lives. They briefly apologized for avoiding each other over the past year. It did not take much of an apology. There was an intuitive understanding that after the events surrounding Hermione's death, it was just too difficult to be in each other presence like that. The two men had a tendency to walk all paths together, be it happy, bright, somber, or dark. Some paths, were better left alone, regardless of having two to tread it. Tonight though, on the anniversary of her death, they wallowed. They dared to tread that painful path. Ron asked questions of life and its purpose. He stated his pain. The pain that the isolation brought forth from a world filled with peers that could not possibly understand the pain he carried. Harry commiserated. Harry understood that pain. However, there was a difference. Harry could always see a reason for tomorrow. He could express the pain of the day, and understand the hurt Ron held. However, Harry was utterly unable to see how that pain could keep a man from desiring the next day. Harry had lived for so long without love, surrounded by hurt, but he learned that eventually it is possible to find a loving family. Ron, did not have the burden of such a childhood and he merely saw the world where his love, his heart, could not stay on Earth for him. She left. Her departure, took his soul in such a way, he could not see the possibility of love and he could not hold a hope for a future of love. Despite this, Ron put on a genuine smile for his best friend and they talked the night away.

"But did you ever, ever notice
The kind of thoughts I got?"

The bar bouncer came over to the two young men and told them that they were closing up. He offered to procure them a cab, but Ron lived near enough to the bar and Harry was good enough to snap himself back home- once he was away from the presence of the non-magical bar. Ron watched his friend walk away for a few minutes, letting the freezing cold air bite at his cheeks and numb the feeling in them. He felt better having spent the evening with Harry, someone who understood the gaping hole that Ron held. He could not however understand the importance of that hole. He understood the existence, but Harry had the tools to build a bridge over the chasm and walk across. Ron did not blame Harry, but he was well aware that Harry could not recognize that Ron did not know how to bridge the chasm that existed.

"Well, you know I have a love
A love for everyone I know
And you know I have a drive
To live, I won't let go"

After the battle of Hogwarts, Harry and Ron had both joined the auror academy. Harry was the one that everyone had expected to rise to the top quickly, to excel and change the world. Much to everyone's surprise, it was Ron that graduated top of the class. It was Ron who consistently displayed compassion to all that he had met. It was Ron that embraced his role of service for his world with a faith that seemingly could not be shaken. Ron always figured, that he managed to outshine Harry at this venture because of a simple reason that it did come easily to Harry. Ron had to work at the skills. Ron had to know he wanted to be better, that he wanted to actively pursue his best life. It was Hermione's death that turned this on within him though. Harry was the top student the first year and a half. Hermione had always inspired Ron, and his love for her gives him his drive. He wanted her to rest easy knowing that he no longer possessed the emotional range of a teaspoon. Ron knew now, just how precious everyone and life truly is, and he knew that for him it took effort to show how much he thought of life and the people in it. He will forever be willing to put forth this effort. If he had made more of and effort with Hermione, perhaps she would still be here.

"But can you see this opposition
Comes rising up sometimes?
That it's dreadful imposition
Comes blacking in my mind"

He slowly stumbles home. The night air still nips at his already numbed cheeks. He does not mind much. The hurt feels good. That's the hard part about trying to live life to the fullest. The effort and exertion it takes to do so. It is unfathomably exhausting. At times, it gets to be overwhelming. He pauses, a negative thought floats across his consciousness. Harry goes home to a wife that loves him. Ron knows that he goes back to a flat lacking in warmth. A place to recharge the physical necessities but offers no respite for the mental woes. He goes back to his home ever so slowly, knowing that all that awaits him is the inevitable struggle he will push through just to muster up enough of himself to share the best with others.

"And then I see a darkness
And then I see a darkness
And then I see a darkness
And then I see a darkness
Did you know how much I love you?
Is a hope that somehow you
Can save me from this darkness"

The young red-headed man gets home. Whereas, a few hours earlier he could barely contain his enthusiasm and excitement over seeing his old friend, now he just felt as if he were drugged with a substance that made the world sluggish and murky. His eyelids fought to close. His happiness fought to close much harder then it ever fought to stay. He was just so tired. He kept trying for her. It just at times would become too hard to try anymore. It was her love that kept him afloat. It was her love that actually made things tolerable. He fought for everyday now and overcompensated every step of the way to try and attempt to hide the darkness that shrouded him in its doom. Love for the dead forced upon him a hope for his life to be saved, but love for the dead also landed him in this predicament where he can barely fathom life with light that was not manufactured. Ron tried his hardest tonight. Harry is not going to save him either. The brotherly bond is beautiful, certainly, but the darkness grips tighter.

"Well, I hope that someday, buddy
We have peace in our lives
Together or apart"

Ron gently sets himself down on the rug in front of his fireplace. He has just finished starting the fire and the flames warmed the house with the light being produced illuminating the pictures on the mantle. The three friends, Hermione, Harry, and Ron were featured in all pictures. To Ron, Hermione shined the brightest. The flames seemingly knew who possessed the most good in the pictures and took care to highlight her. Ron could stare at the pictures all day. There was a point when darkness kept away. There was a time when Hermione smiled, and it was genuine. It also happened to be indistinguishable from the fake smile. He peered at his own smiling face. He knew that his smiles were indistinguishable too. No one can see a person that can fake peace well for the turmoil that they are in. It can be hard to see a loved one in the turmoil until you come across their dead body. He just hopes her suffering had ended. Just as he hopes his suffering would end.

"Alone or with our wives
And we can stop our whoring
And pull the smiles inside
And light it up forever
And never go to sleep
My best unbeaten brother
This isn't all I see"

Ron starts to quietly cry as he stares at her beautiful picture. Part of trying to live, was trying to move on, and he hated thinking every woman he preyed upon to fill up that hole. He hated acknowledging how depraved his use of them truly was. That phase lasted a couple of horrendous months. After that, he just kept to himself when it came to love like that. He knew it was not going to be genuine. But, in bringing that all back to himself, Hermione became the predominant thought again. She visited his mind every night. He welcomed her hauntings. He welcomed the exhaustion. The false hope his mind would give him by bringing her form to him. The flames from the fireplace start to die down some. He sees her join him on the floor. He hears Harry's voice call from the kitchen, telling him that they can start the game without him and the snacks are almost done. The cold slowly comes back into Ron's face. He stares off into nothing, just seeing the world of a dream play out around him. Ron is still very much by himself. In the midst of this happy visual of a game night with beloved friends, he knows it will abruptly end. It will be cruelly torn from his world. The darkness takes over his dream, when he remembers that his dream can never again be a reality.

"Oh no, I see a darkness
Oh no, I see a darkness
Oh no, I see a darkness
Oh no, I see a darkness
Did you know how much I love you?
Is a hope that somehow you
Can save me from this darkness"

Ron wishes Harry could not only see the chasm, but that the chasm was there without a way that it could be crossed. He is happy that Harry saw him this past night. That way, Harry could know how much Ron cared for him. How much he had hoped for more because of their friendship. That hope just could not be translated through the pervasive nature of the darkness Ron was perpetually subjected too. He hopes Harry would not blame himself too much as Harry often would do. The dying firelight still perfectly illuminates Hermione. Ron pulls out the knife. He always carries this knife with him. It is the knife that Hermione took to herself. The knife that carved in her arm the title of mudblood. It made him think of the words that he would use with another and just how powerful words are. Tonight, on the anniversary of her death, it holds another purpose. This knife, while it had been used for so much ill in its storied history, it was to save him. People and purpose had failed to save him. This knife, could make up for all the wrongs it had made in its past with one grand finale tonight. He could forget the image of Hermione exsanguinated on this very rug if the knife finally fulfilled a purpose with good intentions. Ron touches the rug. The blood-stained portions still have a unique texture to them, despite the passage of time. He takes the knife to his arm. He pushes it against his wrist. He pulls downwards. The fire flares. The darkness fades. The world is brightly red. Again. Darkness fades. Red consumes. Again. The world spins, but he sees light battling dark, and for once, light is winning. He switches the knife from one hand to the other. The world starts to spin. He leans backwards and lays down on the rug. He starts on the opposite arm. Again. Again. The knife drops. It does not clatter. He closes his eyes. He smiles. Ron opens his eyes. Ron see Hermione across the field at the burrow. It is a beautiful day. The sun is hanging brightly. The rays frame her face. She is angelic. Ron knows that he knows what darkness looks like.
He cannot see it.