Disclaimer: All intellectual & physical property of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling & Warner Bros.
You realize something is wrong when you hear Ron use that voice. You know it isn't really him, and even though he's saying things that are true – sort of – he's twisting them into something dark, something that isn't right. And you've seen them fight before and you wonder if this time you'll be able to stop them before it gets out of hand. But you can't, and you realize almost a second too late that you have to protect them from themselves and you cast the Protego. And you wonder fleetingly if this is what it must be like to have children – to love someone so dearly but watch them make awful mistakes – mistakes that hurt you as much as they hurt the ones you also love. And you see Harry's face, and you know something is broken. And then you realize Ron is asking you to come with him, but you can't. You can't because you know that what you all are doing is bigger than yourselves, and it's important that you stay. And you also know that if you go, Harry has no chance of succeeding. It's not conceit, you tell yourself, it's true. And then you see with sudden horror that Ron has misinterpreted that for something else. And before you can undo the charm, he's gone. And you run into the rain and you scream for him. And you scream and scream into the darkness, not caring who hears you, or if you're found, because in those few seconds, you've lost someone you dearly love. And not just lost him, but he's gone without realizing how much you truly love him. And you have no idea if you'll ever get a chance to right that wrong.
And you trudge back into the tent, not really seeing, just wishing that once – just once – that the two men you love most in the world (besides your own father) would stop making things harder than they have to be and dragging you with them through the trenches. And of course, thinking of your father makes you think of your mother – and the jumbled images go 'round in circles as you cry yourself to sleep.
The next day, you wake up numb, hoping against hope that last night was just an awful dream. But when you see the empty bunk, you know it wasn't. And you look sideways at Harry and know he's thinking the same things you are (you've had years of practice reading his face), but for different reasons. How long can we stay here? Maybe he'll come back before we have to leave. And you're sure you have thoughts going through your mind that Harry doesn't. Because men – especially these two – don't think like you do. You rack your brains to find anything that you've done to make Ron think you had other feelings for Harry. And when Harry is somewhere else – when his mind is far away from the forest clearing – you stare into his eyes, you search his face for anything that you've missed. You're beyond sure that Harry has no feelings like that for you – it took him years to figure Ginny out when you saw it from miles away. If he had felt that way about you, it would have been as easy to read as a neon billboard. But have you done something? Implied? Misstepped? You know others find him attractive – the emerald eyes, the youthful body that has grown from scrawny into toned from years of Quidditch and fighting – but it's only in appreciation, the way a mother must feel about her child: that he is truly beautiful.
But it's nothing compared to the glittering sapphires that dance when Ron smiles. Nothing compared to the fiery hair that matches his temper. Nothing compared to the blush that rises in his cheeks when he's done something wrong. Or terribly right, for a change. How could he think you would prefer your brother – for all intents and purposes – to him? Because that's what Harry is – a brother. And you are so tired of the fight, but you exchange a glance with Harry and you realize that you have to be strong enough for the both of you. Again. Because in the end, you know he will have to give so much more than you. And you are fully aware that you may lose him – forever. And to think that you will have to lose them both…the tears leak from your eyes as you clasp Harry's hand and sweep the woods one final time before you turn and disappear – the pressure from the Apparition is nothing compared to the grief pressing on your heart.