Written for Competition Time: Weasley is our king!
Written by: sekdaniels
Team: Pride of Portree
Position: Beater 1
Word Count: 766
A/N: I had received some really surprising comments regarding a story I wrote earlier in the competition in which I suggested that Ron and Hermione were unhappy together as a couple. Some readers took this as a slight to Ron or even as my inability to picture Ron as more than just some bumbling Fourth Year; I was stunned. I was considering that story from Hermione's perspective, but had not realized how the many fans of Ron might see his portrayal.
As always, I learn from my mistakes.
This competition seemed like a great opportunity to show that I see him is more than a two-dimensional oaf; he is an essential part of the Golden Trio.
Undone
He woke facedown in a small pool of liquid he hoped was water. He lifted his head slowly, eyes closed. His entire body still felt as if it were spinning; twisting. He gasped for breath and took in a lung-full of icy air. His eyes popped open.
He'd landed a mile or so away from his former family home, somewhere in dense bogs that surrounded the Weasley residence and acted as a natural barrier. Ron sat up and pushed the long mop of red hair and the mud it had accumulated back off his face.
Silence was all that greeted him.
The burned-out husk of his home was barely discernable at this distance. Dark and quiet, it was almost like a black hole in space. Not visible to the naked eye; only detectable by virtue of its affect on its surroundings. It was a blank on the horizon that would have stood out plainly had he arrived during the day; but now, here — it was hardly more than smudge in the panorama of stars and reeds and moonlight.
Then again, maybe Ron would have missed it anyway, what with his head spinning the way it was. He could not seem to get it to stop.
He laid back down, mud be damned, and gazed up into the night sky. It was certainly too cold to be out here for long, wet and dirty as he was, but he was certain if he tried to walk toward the abandoned dwelling right now, he would just end up falling down again.
So, he stayed. He found Orion and calmly put his mind to identifying the stars of his belt, his sword, his shield…
Now, down and to the left should be Canis Major and Sirius…
His eyes began to find their focus, as the throbbing in his head slowly dissipated. He no longer felt as if his insides were still whirling violently inside him. It was as extreme a reaction as he had ever had to Apparating.
Apparating? APPARATING!
"Harry! HARRY? HERMIONE?!" Ron jumped up, digging his hands into the mud as he struggled to his feet, all the while peering into the darkness and hoping to see movement. He whirled in one direction and then the next, looking for a sign that anyone else was there.
"Hermione! Harry! PLEASE! ANSWER ME!"
If he had been still, the only reply he would have heard in return was the rustling of the reeds against each other and the occasional cricket. As it was, he could barely hear his own voice — it seemed to die almost as soon as it left his lips, absorbed by the dense vegetation around him — and the incessant sucking noises of his trainers as he pulled them in and out of the mire.
"HERMIONE! Harry! Hermione...no...no, no, no…" Ron fell to his knees. It was all coming back.
The terrible heaviness he felt every time he wore the locket. The way it ate at him, at his pride and confidence. It felt like someone was squeezing the air out of his lungs. Every moment that passed, a lifetime of pain and uncertainty. He felt hopeless in those moments he shared the burden of the horcrux with his friends; he was crumbling under its weight. Those moments felt like an eternity.
Ron grabbed his head; it was an agony of fire. Rage blinded him in those last minutes they were all together. Jealousy and anger and resentment. His best friend, Harry Potter, a celebrity in his own right for nothing more than existing! And Hermione Granger, his best girl; brilliant and lovely and caring. But there he was, being left out, left behind — watching as they laughed and made fun of him. He couldn't stand it. Not one. More. Minute.
And he ended up here, a sodden mess of mud and tears at a home that had been left behind, just like he was. Alone. He had abandoned them; not the other way around. If he'd thought his world was disintegrating before, the utter desolation of his decision confirmed that he could not have been more wrong.
Ron looked back up into the night sky. Orion winked down, unmoving. The universe was sullenly silent in the wake of his despair. What was done could not be undone, and it was all the same to the stars.
There was no time for regret now. He could only do what he always had; pick himself up and persevere. The only other choice was to lay back down to die, and Ronald Bilius Weasley didn't give up that easily.