"You know how much I love you, right?"
"Of course, how could I not know?"
Ron smiled, "I just wanted to make sure you knew."
Draco looked down, suddenly serious, "Promise me you'll never leave intentionally."
"Of course, I'd never do that but you have to promise me the same thing, I don't know what I would do with out you…" Ron trailed off, looking at the wall behind the blonde.
There was a short moment of silence, neither of the boys knowing what to say. But neither of them had to, for they needn't say anything. Ron then pressed his lips against Draco's, he enforced no pressure, it was just a loving kiss. He pulled away and frowned.
"I have to go, it's getting late and I can't have Harry and Hermione come looking for me. I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it," he responded, a smile playing at his attractive face, "I really should be going, too."
They shared one last kiss and left the room, going they're separate ways down the hallway. Draco turned the corner then stopped, leaning against the stone wall, he gazed down sadly at his right forearm. Dreading what was to come. If only he could get away from it, he would be so, so grateful…
But, alas, young Draco could not escape his fate, because if he tried he would get himself either seriously hurt or killed.
Because no one, and I repeat, no one turns down the Dark Mark.
It was the day after the war had ended; a whole two years after Ron had lost the only he ever cared for. He had helped Harry finally kill Voldemort. He was now 18 and one would think that he would be happy that everyone he cared for was safe, yes? —But wait, not everyone he cared for was alive.
The day Draco was to receive the Dark Mark, he had tried to turn away from it, and the helpless boy had just gotten the words out of his mouth when Voldemort came rushing up to him, furious at his actions.
He had yelled at him for being so foolish, but Draco stood there, mustering up every last bit of courage he had, keeping a straight face as Voldemort murdered him mercilessly.
Right in front of his father, but what was Lucius to do? He surely couldn't question the man's actions, which would leave him just like his son, dead and limp. So he just stood there, staring at his dead son. His glanced at Voldemort who was walking away from the body like he had done nothing but squashed an ant.
When Ron received this news, he lost it. He didn't try and hide it because it wouldn't matter if everyone found out now. He fell to the floor, a sobbing wreck. He didn't eat for the next two days, barely slept; he couldn't. Because every time he had finished crying, he would sit down and just stare off in to space. Then start crying again.
Of course, when Harry and Hermione and his family found out, at first they were shocked, then they felt immense sympathy for Ronald. Not one of them knew what it was like to lose the only person would you die for. The only person you loved so much it hurt.
Because, when that person is lost, that hurt the person feels it intensified tenfold, causing said person to fall into a deep depression that some cannot get out of. Sometimes, that depression causes the person to just drop-dead just like the one they lost.
But of course, Ron did not let this depression take over. He recovered quite well and is now living his life as best he can. And so, this is where we watch Ron as he walks down an empty sidewalk in London. The cold autumn air biting at his face
But you see, Ron would never make it to his flat, because there was someone watching this young man walk. This innocent eighteen-year-old man walk to his warm home, this person had other things planned. And it was Ronald's great misfortune that he happened to not have his wand. To not have his best form of defense, his quickest way to rid of the iron-like grip that was now on his arms.
Ron let out a shout, but was cut short because he then felt one hand reach up to cover his mouth. He was then dragged off to a dark alleyway, shoved to the ground and bound. His mouth was covered by duct tape and his hands and ankles tied together with a strong rope. The stranger leaned over Ron, a malicious look in his eyes.
"Oh my. Oh My. I've got a lot to eat before the normal people come out. Oh yes I do."
Ron's eyes widened in fear and shock. His eyebrows stitched together. The man then took out a knife and cut open Ron's jumper and shirt. The cold air brushing up against his pale, freckled chest, the man ran a dirty hand down it, obviously feeling the muscle that showed.
The man then took the sharp end of the knife and cut deep into Ron's abdomen, the blood pouring out on to the asphalt. Ron gave a muffled cry of pain; his head lolling to the side and he tightly shut his eyes, willing the tears not to fall.
"You can cry, boy. You might as well let out all your feelings because you wont be here much longer." He gave a n evil sounding cackle and then spread apart the cut to reveal about half an inch of Ron's inside, the man then, holding the cut open with one hand, shoved the knife in and gave a slow, painful twist.
Ron gasped sharply through his nose. Tears leaking through his shut eyes, his hands formed into to tight fists. The man then turn the knife upward, cutting through more flesh, causing a huge gash to appear.
He then dropped the knife and tightly gripped a piece of the flesh, short nails digging into Ron's inside, and he pulled viciously and ripped the huge piece off, the held up to his nose and inhaled, he smiled and took a small bite.
He ate it and then he sighed in pleasure as Ron lied there, starting to suffocate, his vision becoming blurry as rapidly slipped in and out of consciousness.
Tell me, reader; do you know what it's like to be eaten alive? Lets' hope not. Let's just hope that you did not feels pain thousands of times worse than you could imagine. That you did not have to watch as a stranger ate your insides.
Because it is one of the most awful experiences ever, even though I have never been through anything like this, I am simply saying what I imagine it to be like.
But as I was saying, poor Ron lay there, slowly dying. Giving out feeble cries of agony as he was eaten alive by a sick, sick man. The man finished, the only left of Ron was his head, the bones and veins. His body lying in his blood, the mans clothes stained from the messy task he had just completed.
The man sat there, leaning back on his haunches. His wiped at his mouth and burped, his head shooting the side when he saw a flash of light and a voice saying: "Hey! Is anyone out here?"
The man quickly got up and ran off, deserting the body for the person to find. The young woman walked up and gasped loudly when her flashlight landed upon the mutilated body. She dropped the flashlight and ran off, going to find a pay phone.
She informed the police of the body she had found and then she went back, standing by Ron, facing away from it. A few minutes later she heard sirens and saw flashing lights.
It is now October 15, two days after Ron's body was found. Here we see Harry Potter sitting at his kitchen table, waiting for the grogginess to pass when he see the headline "DEATH BY MUGGLE" in bold black letters on his issue of the Daily Prophet.
His eyebrows stitch together as he picks it up, a picture of Arthur Weasley standing before the Ministry, on the verge of tears, announcing his son's death. Confused, Harry read the article.
On October 13, the body of Ronald Weasley, son of the Arthur Weasley, minister of magic, was found in an alleyway in London. It seems as if a muggle cannibal ate him alive. Many are shocked by this occurrence. No other information has been provided so far, but more is expected.
Harry did not finish it, because he had started crying uncontrollably, clutching the edge of the table for support, his hand clasped over his mouth as he tried not to fall down.
He then heard a pop and saw Hermione, eyes red as she closed the distance between them and embraced him in a tight hug. They stood like for a few minutes, just crying and crying.
The loss of a loved one is very hard to endure, because it is like you are losing a part of yourself, a part of yourself that you very attached to. Losing a loved one is like a young child losing a favorite stuffed animal that cannot be replaced.
So, let me end my tragic tale here, with me saying that as everyone that cared about Draco, everyone that cared for Ron, mourned until they could no more, they moved on.
And I personally think moving on from something oh so sad is showing some impressive strength.