Ron panted, glancing behind him every so often to ensure that he really wasn't being followed. He couldn't believe his luck. He knew that Snatchers were stupid, but were they that stupid? Stan Shunpike. Ron snorted to himself. Hadn't Harry seen Stan with the Death Eaters the night Mad-Eye had died? Surely the Snatchers should know him. Was it a trick? Did they really know who he was? Were they just following him so he could lead them to Harry?
Because he was going back. Of course he was going back. It wasn't exactly the first time the three had had an argument in the last few months; how could you expect them not to? Three hormonal teenagers cooped up in a tent with no contact with the outside world, with the horcrux which made them even more short with each other, and with a seemingly impossible task looming over them, which the survival of the world as they knew it depended on. Of course they would argue, and of course he was going back. Harry and Hermione knew that. Didn't they?
Ron was getting breathless. Bloody woods, they all look the same, he thought angrily, as he continued ploughing past gnarled tree after gnarled tree. A sudden realisation came over him. How would he find the place again? Hermione's enchantments were bound to be flawless. But he and Harry were always able to get back in after they'd been out hunting, he reasoned. There must be a clever loophole in them so that they could get back if they wanted. Ron racked his brains, wishing that he could be as clever as Hermione and understand how her mind worked.
Ron stopped. This was definitely the place. Definitely. He recognised the tree. He'd kicked it in anger after he left. There was a dent in the ground. It was definitely the place.
But no tent. Nothing.
Ron took deep breaths, trying very hard not to panic. He stumbled around with his arms out in front of him - even if the tent had a Disillusionment Charm on it, that couldn't stop it from being solid. Even whatever other clever enchantments Hermione had on it must have solid barriers. But he found nothing.
"Harry?" he called out tentatively. "Hermione?" They'd heard noises from outside the tent before - they must be able to hear him. "It's me, it's Ron."
Nothing happened. He called out again, a little louder. "Hermione?"
Maybe they're still mad at me, he thought. "I'm really sorry. Can I please come back?"
Still nothing. That was odd. Ron hated apologising. Harry and Hermione knew that. So surely, if they'd heard him, they'd know that he really, really was sorry. Maybe they're so mad they've left, said a tiny voice in his head. He shook the thought off.
Harry wouldn't leave him. Out of everything he had done in his life, Harry had never abandoned him. Ron had abandoned Harry (he guiltily remembered the Triwizard incident and thought sadly how childish and insignificant it seemed now) but never the other way round. Never ever. Harry knew Ron better than anyone in the world, and he knew that Ron often acted before thinking, and often changed his mind quickly. Harry would know better than to leave so quickly. Wouldn't he?
And Hermione. Oh, Hermione. Ron had a lot of regrets to do with her, and wished he had handled things better over the years. He had thought he'd been better recently, with the book and everything, and they hadn't been bickering as much as usual in the last few weeks. Well, of course they'd bickered, they always did, but not seriously.
He loved her. He didn't know when he'd realised, but now he thought about it he knew it had been for as long as he could remember. There was just something about her - something about that exasperated look she saved just for him, something about her wild bushy hair that he longed to touch one day (although in their current relationship that would be a bit strange, so he always had to restrain himself), something about the sight of her curled up in an armchair by the fire re-reading Hogwarts: A History for the hundredth time. And that something made him want to take her in his arms, to kiss her, to do any number of unmentionable things to her, to want to crush any other man that got near her. Even his best friend. Anger pulsed through his veins at the thought of Harry and Hermione in the tent, alone together, having intelligent conversations beyond his understanding (was that why she didn't want him?), smiling, laughing, hugging, kissing...
"Hermione? Hermione!" he called out, more desperate for the minute, at the top of his voice. "Hermione, I love you! I've always loved you and I don't care who hears it! Please, take me back! I'll do anything! Hermione! HERMIONE!"
Still no movement. They must have gone. They'd lost faith in him. She'd lost faith in him.
"Hermione," he began, in a final attempt. "Please. I understand if you're angry at me, I understand if you don't feel the same way, but I'm telling the truth. I love you, and I'm begging you, if you're listening, just give me a sign. Just give me a sign, and if you don't want me, I'll go. That's all I ask."
Ron's ears almost pricked up in anticipation. But, as he had expected, nothing happened. She'd given up on him.
Ron collapsed at the bottom of the wizened tree trunk, staring unseeing into the distance, thinking of only one person. He drew the Put-Outer, which had become like a comfort blanket these past few months, from his pocket, and began absently flicking it on and off as he whimpered, "Hermione... Hermione... Hermione..." like a mantra.
He could almost have sworn he heard a little whimper of "Ron?" back. He dismissed it as his imagination.
A/N: This is my second entry for lowi's Title Challenge on HPFC. It would be hard not to write something ultra-depressing with this title, so I apologise, but I hope you liked it anyway! Set during Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, when Ron leaves Harry and Hermione to hunt for the Horcruxes by themselves.
Disclaimer: All of this belongs to my queen, J.K. Rowling. Sad, but true.
Please drop me a review and tell me what you think. It only takes a second and it would be very much appreciated. :) Constructive criticism definitely welcome, especially since I've never written anything like this before.