One Winter's Night
--/--
"You going to move, mate, or d'you want to forfeit now?"
Harry blinked, looking up suddenly as if he'd just noticed Ron was there. "Oh, um, yeah," he said, quickly moving a pawn without really paying attention to where it was going.
Ron barely glanced at the board before saying, "Knight to B4." Harry reached across the table to slide the white piece to Ron's specified place. "Check."
Harry glared up at Ron's portrait with a sigh. "Fine, fine, I forfeit, then. Five years gone and you're still beating me at chess."
Ron grinned. "You're not that good, mate."
"Thanks," Harry said vaguely, his eyes already drifting away from Ron to the burning fireplace across the room.
"Harry - " Ron began slowly, but Harry cut him off.
"I don't want to talk tonight, Ron, I'm sorry," he said, standing up and running a hand through his black mop of hair. He crossed the cozy den, his trainers making little noise on the plush carpet. Draco would chastise me for wearing them on this floor, he began to think, but then quickly pushed that thought out of his mind.
Harry stood at the far end of the room morosely, his back to Ron's portrait, staring into the fire. From a frame atop the mantelpiece, a smiling blond man and an enthusiastic brunet waved happily.
Harry hadn't had the heart to take the picture down.
"Harry, stop it," snapped Ron from the other end of the room. Harry whirled around, surprised by the sudden sound. "He left because he thought you didn't want him anymore, don't you know that?"
"I'm not going to go where I'm not wanted. He's the one who left," Harry replied.
Ron snorted. "Merlin, you're thick!"
Harry might have laughed at the irony of that once.
Ron bit his lip. "Look, Harry - at least you're alive. So...live, right?" When Harry didn't reply, Ron sighed, shook his head, and strolled out of his frame - probably to go visit his other portrait at the Burrow.
Harry slowly turned back to the fire. He glanced at the picture one more time, and he suddenly knew.
It's not worth giving up.
Perhaps the damage was irreparable, perhaps the ending wouldn't be a happy one - but he had to try.
With sudden fierce, Gryffindor determination, he picked up a handful of green Floo powder from a pot at the side of the fireplace and tossed it into the flames before giving himself a chance to think. "Malfoy Manor," he said clearly, and with a deep breath, he stepped into the fire.