Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or any of the Harry Potter characters mentioned in this story. They all are property of J.K. Rowling. These are all fictional events based off the books. I also do not own the lyrics used in this story, 'Fix You' by Coldplay.

Approximately sixteen years ago, the (what is considered) most powerful dark wizard of all time approached a small, ordinary house holding not-so-ordinary people in a place called Godric's Hollow. He was not welcomed in the house; Tom Marvolo Riddle was not welcomed anywhere much in these times, but he entered anyway. There was a man, with wire rimmed glasses and uncontrollable, wild black hair, and a woman, with shoulder length red hair and piercing green eyes. She cradled a tiny baby in her arms, with a tuft of black hair visible over the corner of his blanket, evidently coming from his father.

When the couple saw pale man, who lacked a nose and had blood red eyes which stared at them menacingly, they knew he did not have good news at all for them. Actually, he wasn't there to say much of anything at all. Just to kill, really. He raised a stick made of wood, a phoenix feather in the core (which came from the very bird of the only man he ever feared - reaching the emotion of fear was quite a feat in itself for Tom Riddle) and pointed it at the two.

"So, this is where you two have been," Tom spoke in a clear, high voice. He smiled with no happiness at all while his finger tips played with his wand. "I'll guess I'll give you guys a few minutes before I kill both of you." Tom sat down in a nearby armchair, coolly watching the two, saying nothing more.

"Take Harry, and hide. Please, just do that," the man whispered to his wife, who instinctively held her child closer to her body.

"But, James, what about-"

"Lily, I don't care, I need you guys safe. Take Harry, and protect yourselves. Harry can live without a father, but not without a mother. Leave for your own safety," James said through gritted teeth, as Tom looked at their exchange, smirking and not saying a word.

Lily said nothing, looking at nothing but James's face as tears filled her eyes, and moved suddenly forward to place a frantic kiss on his lips. It was quick and chaste, and she pulled back as soon as James placed his palm on her cheek and mouthed the words trust me.

"Well, that was sweet and all, but I'm afraid you're out of time, James and Lily Potter," Tom stood up, flashing his wand once more. James automatically moved in front of Lily as Tom stared down at them on the ground. The baby in Lily's arms rustled in his sleep; Lily made a soothing noise into the bundle.

"Expelliarmus!" James said suddenly, attempting to throw tom off, but they didn't call him one of the most powerful wizards for nothing. He expertly reflected the spell and laughed idly at James's attempt. James knew it would have been no good, but buying any amount of time would have been nice.

"Silly, silly James. Do you really think a simple disarming charm would have been enough to stop me?" Tom said, and flicked his wand, a wordless incantation forming in his head and causing the lamp on James's right to burst into pieces. Lily shielded Harry's face and her own as glass shards rained down on them.

"You can have me, but leave my family alone, Voldemort," James said, getting to his feet, wand at ready, preparing himself to take on Lord Voldemort, and he already knew that he would not come out of this alive. He was walking into his death, but would die with valiance, and for his family, not for himself.

"As fine and dandy as that would be and make you entirely happy, I'm afraid that will not happen tonight. No more Potters will walk the streets of the Wizarding world. Your son...well, I need him to be gone. I'm sure you are confused as to why I would rid of him at such a young age, but alas, he must be killed. I won't explain since you will be gone in a little while anyway. You will go too," Voldemort motioned to Lily, "and then that shall be three less people to stand in my way of becoming the greatest wizard of all time." Voldemort didn't let his eyes stray from James's blue pair as he gave his soliloquy. James felt his hand tighten around his wand, knuckles turning white, ready to strike as a snake would hunt its prey.

James looked around his living room, looking for something that could help him create a good enough distraction for his wife and child to escape, anything and everything that could possibly do something. His eyes landed on a bunch of picture frames on a shelf near Voldemort's head. A bitter voice in his head reminded him he'd never see the people in the moving pictures ever again, but he pushed it away and raised his wand before he could even process it.

"Expulso!" James shouted, pointing his wand at all of the frames, which simultaneously exploded.

"What-" Voldemort started to say, but James had the two second window free to him.

"Petrificus Totalus!" James shot at Voldemort, rendering him motionless. He turned to Lily, who had now stood up and was effectively hiding behind her husband.

"Now! Go! I love you, Lily. I love you," James said, and he was aware it was his last time he would say those words, and the very thought threatened to crush him. Lily's mouth moved around silent words, making a strange gasping sound like a fish out of water.

"I love you too, James," she managed, and turned to run up the stairs to Harry's nursery. Once she arrived she heard the roar of fury from Voldemort as his body binds were broken. She could makes out incoherent yelling from James as he obviously tried to conjure more hexes.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Lily's heart stopped at the same time Harry cried out, almost sensing that part of him just left this earth. Lily rocked him as an abrupt sob hit her, for she had not felt the tears welling in her eyes, but instead felt the sinking weight in her chest once the worst of the Unforgivable Curses had been used against her love, her only love, the one she had made a child with and would not get the chance to do so again.

She ran across the room to Harry's crib, blue and white with his favourite stuffed animal, a teddy bear that was Lily's when she was young, brown and worn down with an eye missing, named Fuzzy. It reminded her of the first time she had presented the toy to Harry, who took it in his chubby fists and promptly bit down on its ear and made a squeal of delight, which made Lily smile fondly.

"Mummy loves you, Harry. So does...so does Daddy. We both love you," she said, placing a delicate kiss to his smooth forehead, and putting him safely inside of the crib. He looked up at her with green eyes that mirrored hers, but they did not hold understanding of the situation at hand, for he was too young to understand really anything at all. the heavy footfalls coming up the steps told her she had no where to go but to stand in front of the crib and protect her baby for as long as she could.

The door was kicked open, and the shadow of Voldemort was high on the walls, his black robes rustling evilly around his ankles. He looked at Lily and gave that same smile again, the one with no life and didn't reach his eyes, but instead filled lily with that same sense of dread she experienced when he first waltzed into their house and slapped it on his face.

"You can have me. Just not Harry. Stay away from my son. I will never let you kill my child if I'm still alive," Lily said defensively. She knew these were probably her last words; her wand was somewhere downstairs, forgotten when she picked up Harry five minutes before Voldemort had come; she was going to take him off to bed. She cursed herself for letting her guard down, but really, who would have expected this?

"That can be arranged. I was planning on making you watch your own child die, but I don't like to make these things complicated, so I'll just get rid of you first. That way, the rest of my job will be quite easy. Avada Kedavra!" Lily closed her eyes, bracing for impact, and then simply felt nothing at all.

Harry James Potter did not die that night. What saved him was his mother's love, which Voldemort will never know it's one of the greatest powers against the Dark Arts. Many know the tale of Harry Potter. Forced to be brought up by his Muggle aunt and uncle, he didn't know he was a wizard until the age of eleven, when his Hogwarts letters started coming for him. His aunt and uncle could stop the post, but they could not stop the half-giant Rubeus Hagrid from busting down their door and informing Harry of his wizard power. Hagrid tied together the lose ends of how all these things happened that Harry could never explain yet always got in trouble for, such as the glass coming out of the window to a snake exhibit at the zoo, but it magically appeared once Dudley was on the other side.

Boarding the Hogwarts express, he met his red haired and blue eyed friend Ronald Weasley, who could eat his way through the entire lunch cart if he were given the chance, and also met the brilliant and intelligent Hermione Granger. The three had a rocky start, but were brought together as an infamous trio before their first year at Hogwarts ended.

Now, times were different. especially now; the Wizarding world found itself in the midst of the second war, Voldemort seeking Harry once more, to fulfill the prophecy he alluded to all those years ago when he killed Harry's parents. The war wasn't pretty and emotionally and physically draining, to say the least. Lives are lost, battles are fought, and people do things they wouldn't do under normal circumstances, but also evokes the adrenaline to give people the courage to do something they've never done before.

Like for instance, Hermione Granger kissing Ron Weasley.

Some say it was the moment, some say it was because they didn't know if they would live through this war, some say because they're just bloody crazy. But everyone present, Harry included, knew otherwise. Hermione and Ron liked each other from the first day on the Hogwarts express, when Hermione informed Ron of the spot of dirt on the side of his nose, before leaving the car with her smart nose in the air. Being eleven years old and ignorant, they may have not known it at the time, but that was certainly when something started.

And all this time has passed, and Hermione practically knocked Ron over rushing to lock lips with him. It took Ron a surprised second before his mind started screaming respond, you prat! and he kissed back, with all passion that he could possibly muster. His mind went off somewhere in the clouds, and he almost made a move to pinch his arm in case he actually was dreaming. He heard Harry say something he couldn't quite make out (ha, make out, the irony), and then his voice came louder and he said something about how if they didn't stop he would conjure some ice cold water and throw it on top of them.

Ron pulled back reluctantly, immediately put his hand in Hermione's, and looked from his two friends (well, maybe one was more than a friend now...) and said let's do this. They went back out into the battle, five of the seven Horcruxes destroyed, ready to fight, no matter the risk.

And this is where our story begins.

-

"Stupefy!" Ron yelled, pointing his wand at a Death Eater coming straight for him. The man took the spell and fell to the ground, and somewhere off to his left he heard Hermione yell the same stunning charm at another person. He smiled a little her voice, then ducked to shield himself from a streak of yellow light, and while he wondered what in the bloody hell that spell could possibly have been (because he never saw yellow, before, okay) he had to jump out of the way of a Confundus curse and this whole thing was just a huge mess.

It also didn't help that he still had that feeling like he was floating ten thousand feet about the ground; it impaired his reflexes a tad. Considering he almost just got his head blasted off by a stray exploding curse. He was glad for the distraction, weirdly, because it was taking his mind off of who could be alive right now and who wasn't, and who might not be alive by the time this was all over.

He walked backwards, looking in all directions, wand at ready and not daring to let his guard down when he came back to back with Neville Longbottom, just as another Death Eater escaped the clutches of Remus Lupin and was now striking up a fight with Neville. Neville (impressively) just about reducto'd his opponent's leg off. Out of his peripheral, Ron saw Luna Lovegood struggling with her own enemy, and Ron decided to help her out by disarming him for her. She looked taken aback for a split second, and then finished him off. She then stared confused in Ron's direction, and spotted him when he gave her a small wave.

"Thank you, Ron!" Luna said, and was gone from Ron's vision before he could say no problem. He gulped and heard Neville shout another spell behind him; it was funny how Neville had been so awkward for the past six years but could prevail in the second biggest battle in wizard history.

"When do you think this will be over?" Neville said nervously over his shoulder, and the catch in his voice was the only indication he wasn't as brave as he was appearing to be right now.

"Merlin's beard, who even knows," Ron responded, looking around the room at the matches going on, good vs. bad, and he thought vaguely about where Harry was, and if there was a swarm of Death Eaters all wanting to take him back to Voldemort, and if he needed to go, you know, help Harry when someone called his name from a distance. It was Hermione, running in his direction, turning once to shoot a spell at another Death Eater. A white cloud appeared where the man who was attempting to attack her once was. He almost laughed, even though the situation wasn't all that funny.

The closer she got and the more defined her features got, especially her face, which was oddly tear streaked, the farther what felt like a cold block of ice slid deeper into his stomach. Now, granted Hermione cried a lot, at happy and sad things (which he just did not understand - what do you have to be crying about if you're happy? girls are just so weird) but this time, it just felt different. Hermione knows how to put her game face on and fight when necessary, so for her to have dropped her defenses and broke down in the middle of this raging war could not mean good news.

"Ron, Ron! Ron! Ron!" Hermione shouted, her tone desperate and pleading, and when she reached him she threw her arms around him and took deep, heaving breaths. He startled, putting his arms around her a little late and trying to find his voice.

"Hermione, what - come on, so we don't get blasted to smithereens," Ron broke the embrace and grabbed her hand, running away from the chaos and quickly finding an abandoned classroom, which looked like a bomb had exploded in it with the black board barely attached to the wall, chairs overturned and quills, ink and parchment strewn everywhere, but still could serve as an adequate hiding place while Ron extracted an answer from Hermione.

"Please, calm down. What is the matter, Hermione? What happened?" He had turned a chair upright and led her to it to sit down, before he got a chair for himself and sat down next to her. She wrapped her arms around herself, making struggling sounds like holding back sobs, and babbled incoherently.

"Sh, it's okay, just tell me what happened. I can't fix it if I don't know what's wrong," Ron said, putting his arm around her shaking shoulders. She closed her eyes, taking in a soothing breath, steadying herself. She opened her mouth, closed it as if deciding not to say anything at all and opened it against. Ron watched anxiously, heart beginning to pound in his chest and feeling slightly queasy, he sat on the edge of his seat, urging her silently with his eyes.

"Fred's dead."

It was like that feeling a Muggle would get at the fair, the ride that usually resembles a pirate ship or something along those lines, when you swing up to the top and your stomach drops to your ankles from the zero g, and you think for a second you're going to fall out when you come rushing back down and the other side of the boat is left to squeal and scream at the same sensation. Only this time, that feeling at the top of the ride was all Ron could feel right now and magnified tenfold. A quick numbness spreading through his limbs, fogging his brain, cutting off his senses. He felt himself sway and put a hand out to grip onto Hermione's arm as the room sort of spun around him.

"He, I - what, what?" Ron found forming actual sentences beyond him right now; it was like reverting to the mental capability of a two year old. Hermione looked at his face, which was pale and lost, stifled another sob and exhaled a breath she wasn't aware she was holding.

"Ron, I - it happened before anyone even knew it what was going on. He was fighting with Thicknesse, and definitely had the upper hand so no one was helping him, when Fenrir Greyback, he - he shot Fred from behind. It was a cowardly and unfair thing to do; you don't attack a wizard with its back turned. And George, oh Ron, George was the first one to his side. And I - I can't, I have never seen anyone so miserable, Ron. His best friend, his partner in crime, his twin brother was just...just gone. In a matter of a few seconds. I can't begin to imagine what that feels like. But Percy came too, and they both decided it was best to bring him to the Great Hall where they have been keeping all...all...all the injured. And your father, he had to go tell your mum, and I...oh, George looked so lost, so lifeless. And I came, I came to tell you," Hermione finished, wiping her eyes with the back of her wrist.

Ron stared, the ability to speak robbed from him. Like Fred. It's almost as if he wasn't able to do everything Fred couldn't do now; he couldn't speak, he couldn't see, his vision still foggy at the edges, he couldn't feel for the numb that his body cast over him to prevent him from feeling, when that's all he wanted to do right now. He wanted to feel. He felt empty, like part of him was missing now. All of the Weasley children were not incredibly close with each other because of the age differences and attitudes, but they all had their moments. He remembered that time when he was younger, and Fred went up to him, pinched his nose and said got your nose, while showing him his thumb between his pointer and middle finger, and Ron actually believed him and freaked out. It was little things like that that made all the difference. Knowing they wouldn't happen now made the new hole in Ron's chest throb with something he couldn't identify, but he was grateful to be able to feel something again.

So much for being able to fix it.

"We have to go the great hall, please, Hermione. I need to...I need to be with them right now," Ron spoke quietly, trying to keep his voice as clear as possible. Hermione nodded, and there was a world of understanding in her eyes that made Ron feel like breaking at the seams, right there in that moment. The thought of her being able to comprehend how he was feeling now...he couldn't help himself; he leaned forward and kissed her, softly and with brevity, and put his forehead against hers.

"Thank you, so much," Ron said. She nodded, maybe even blushing slightly, and stood up to lead him to the great hall. Fortunately they reached it without any trouble.

Inside the great hall, the warm, welcoming feeling of a place to socialize and enjoy a hot meal had vanished and it was replaced by tension, angst, and the sick smell of blood, as the injured were healed and the dead were mourned. Ron immediately spotted his mother, for he looked at her for seventeen years of his life and could point her out in a crowd by the Weasley signature of orange hair. She was hunched over a bed, which inevitably had Fred on top of it. George sat beside her, and Ron saw Molly Weasley had a palm on George's back, running her hand up and down his green sweater, a typical mother's attempt to pacify her child. Ginny and Arthur Weasley stood, visible, on the other side of the bed, Arthur with an arm around Ginny, whose face was bright red and splotched. Bill and Percy were no where to be found; probably off fighting the battle that was still raging.

Ron and Hermione arrived at the foot of the bed, hand in hand, Ron feeling slightly weak at the knees. Molly looked up and saw her son, and just about knocked George over in her rush to get up and hug him. Molly wrapped her arms around Ron, and he melted into her comforting touch, and felt the rushing sensation tears pushing at his eyelids. One thing Ron knew about himself is that he doesn't cry often, but when he does, he cries. It's as if his body makes up for not crying for long periods of time.

"Mum..." Ron said faintly, and clung to her like he did that time when he was five and fell off of his broomstick and scraped his knee. Hermione had said he has the 'emotional range of a teaspoon', and Hermione is usually never wrong, so why was he suddenly capable of feeling so much? How did a blissful numb sensation change into powerful misery that almost physically hurt?

There wasn't a lot to say, and Mrs. Weasley was making the shoulder of Ron's shirt wet, and the only thing Ron wanted to do right now was lock himself up in a room and not be near anyone for about three days. He couldn't stand seeing everyone like this, he couldn't stand this sense of sadness clogging his chest, and on top of that there was a fight right outside the walls of the very room he was in right now that was taking more victims, claiming more lives, leaving more families with less members.

Mrs. Weasley pulled back from the embrace and looked at her son with damp eyes, Ron looked at anywhere besides her face to not risk letting his emotions overcome him. His parents had too much stress on them already, and sympathetic touches just aided the process of coming apart completely, and he liked to avoid that. He tried to give his mother a watery smile, and the look of empathy he received was just about too much to handle.

George had been silent this entire time, letting soundless tears slide down his cheeks, while he stared down the face of his deceased brother. It took Ron a second to notice that George was holding Fred's hand, which must have been ice cold by now. Ron felt like he was drowning; there wasn't enough oxygen in the room to get into his lungs and it made him gasp with the effort to breathe. He had never lost someone close to him like this. Of course, there was Dumbledore's funeral last year, and it made him fairly emotional, but that was different. It was sad because Dumbledore was so loved and to know that he was gone hurt everyone who ever attended Hogwarts in his time, as headmaster and as a student. He and Dumbledore were never personal, that was for sure, and there was something about attending a funeral that made everyone a bit fragile. The feeling that had over come him now was so foreign that he felt like his body should be producing antibodies against it.

For the first time since he got there, he took a good look at Fred's body. Fred had been wearing a blue sweater that day, which was now torn and singed, and jeans that were darkened with soot. His arms were straight at his sides, which was so unusual for him that it made Ron squirm a little. Seeing Fred sitting still and not hearing him laugh was just bizarre. The light, cheery laugh of Fred Weasley was something Ron was accustomed to by now, and the silence was suffocating him.

He hugged Ginny, who held him a little longer than necessary, and his dad rubbed his shoulder. Hermione embraced Ginny as well; them being friends and being there for each other was important. Ginny never really had another girl to talk to growing up, just her six older brothers, and Hermione never had a girl to talk to for her lack of siblings, and when the two found each other it was the easiest friendship Ron had ever witnessed. They started talking and immediately hit it off, and years later they still managed to stay up to all hours in the common room to talk about all that girl junk that Ron would never be able to follow.

Molly sat back down, mopping at her face with a lace handkerchief, making a poor attempt to try and pull herself back together. Arthur turned away at the sound of his wife's loud sniffing, stuffing a fist in his mouth and Ron realized that his father didn't want to break in front of his children, one of them was now lost but the others needed him to be a rock right now. Arthur's pain was Ron's pain; he'd never seen his dad look this vulnerable.

"I...can't stay here," Ron mumbled, turned on his heel and ran to the opposite end of the Great Hall, to an abandoned room that was mildly dark and dusty. He leaned against a stone wall, letting his head fall back, when something inside of him snapped. All of his resolve and restraint was no more, and he let out a sob that swelled in his throat before he could think twice about stopping it, its force leaving his chest heaving. His cries echoed in the dismal room, it was the only sound filling his ears right now, so loud that he didn't hear Hermione run in after him.

"Oh, Ron," Hermione said inaudibly, before walking over to him and pulling him close to her. he grasped her tightly, bending his head a tad to bury his face in her shoulder, letting out heartbreaking cries that made Hermione want to trade places with him in order for him not have to endure this; all this pain and misfortune.

She held him for what seemed like forever, not daring to let go until he was ready for her to. Finally he pulled back, sniffing madly, tears still leaking out of his eyes but at least he could breathe sort of normally again. She sighed at the hand that squeezed her heart, reaching up to wipe Ron's face with the pads of her thumbs.

"I wish I could fix it. I really could. I don't like seeing you like this. It hurts too much," Hermione whispered, leaving her hand on his cheek. He closed his eyes for a moment and leaned into the touch, her cool hand welcomed on his warm face.

"But I promise," Hermione continued, mustering a small smile, "that I will never leave your side. I'm always here for you, Ron. You know that."

For an insane second Ron was reminded of a song he once heard on the radio by a Muggle band (he had heard it while shopping for new Muggle clothing), a song with a soothing melody that said something like tears stream, down your face, and I will try to fix you, and it was strangely fitting right now. He held back a laugh at the randomness of the thought.

"You're bloody brilliant, you know that, right?" and for the third time in his life, he kissed Hermione Granger. Neither was sure how long it lasted or when it would end, but it never really mattered. When they pulled away, Hermione looked up into his red rimmed eyes, and for the first time in days had a genuine smile upon her face, one that reached her eyes.

"What, what are you playing at?" Ron asked, offering her a grin back. She just shook her head.

"Always the tone of surprise, huh?" Hermione said, placing her hand in his, and they walked out of the room ready take whatever the battle would bring them.

A/N: So this was my first attempt at writing for the Harry Potter fandom. It was quite different; I tried to incorporate the British dialect as well as I possibly could. Hope you enjoyed!