A/N: Hi. This is a new thing for me- a genuine attempt for a multi-chapter story. I find most of the stories here entertaining at most (and by no means am I generalizing- some of the stories I've read here are truly amazing). They feel like the fan who wrote them is trying to fulfill a fantasy that they had about a certain pairing or a powerful Harry (for example). I want to explore more than this- the wonderful characters that J. K. Rowling has left for us to reflect upon, the endless universe she has created. This is my attempt at a more 'mature' (for lack of a better word) Harry Potter fan fiction.

So far I only wrote this chapter (the first one), but I hope that my passion for this story won't fade and that many more chapters will come. I thank you for checking this out, and I'll be even more grateful if you'll leave a review. I really hope you'll enjoy reading this, it took me over a week to finish (just one chapter).

Enjoy.

Oh, and I don't own any of the characters, world, spells or any Harry Potter based content. I wouldn't know what to do with them if I had.

Pushing An Elephant

Chapter 1:

It was common consensus that since the end of the War, changes in the wizarding community of Britain were mostly positive. With the ministry completely disbanded and reassembled, corrupt free, new laws were put through, old ones reinstated and the everyday wizard or witch watched the world they once knew be rebuilt out of the ashes of the world they feared, and that existed for a little over a year. The losses were tremendous, of course. Countless funerals and many more mourners had somewhat slowed the progression of this old-new world, and if not for the overwhelming sensation of hope that drifted around in every magical household in the country, no one would have been surprised if Britain remained broken. There was serious talk of migration, in the first few days after the final battle. Patriarchs of more "traditional" families contacted relatives abroad, who were almost untouched by the disasters of the Second Wizarding War. Households left for a more promising future, at a less advanced forum of seemingly liberal countries. Families like the Parkinson's immigrated to the United States of America in hope of escaping the accusations they were charged with, but they found only resentment and xenophobic neighborhoods of old fashioned magic folk who cared less about the War and more about remaining alienated from the outside world, that including other magic communities not US based. Therefore applications regarding returning to Britain recently flooded the desks of Ministry of Magic employees. For the most part, though, wizarding families remained patriotic and were eager to rebuild their world with farfetched hopes of a magic utopia.

The changes were substantial. All records of family bloodlines and blood purity were destroyed, mainly as a public act symbolizing the end of the "Magic is Might" policy and forced propaganda against muggles and muggle born. In truth a record of muggle families who had some interaction with the magical crowd, whether through magical children or magical parents (in the case of squibs) or a magical person who married a muggle had to be kept, for security purposes. But this wasn't public knowledge, and so far no complaints have been filed regarding that issue. Other than that, people have been feeling safe enough to get out of the house, and the world literally became more colorful thanks to the dementor banishments. With the many trials of surviving Death Eaters and war criminals, who were very publically held, the population of magical Britain began healing itself in a fast pace.

Much of that was thanks to the so called "war heroes" that the public so much adored these days. Almost all of the reforms that were taking place were influenced by the new Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. After three consecutive Ministers who weren't very successful to say the least (according to the public) almost every new rule or policy Minister Shacklebolt has come up with has been greeted with very positive reception. Among other contributors were the new headmistress of the Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, Minerva McGonagall who insisted on returning the educational laws to their previous and reliable state and Arthur Weasley, the new head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Being a close personal friend of the recently instated Minister definitely hasn't harmed his chances of being promoted, but Minister Shacklebolt swore that Arthur was the best man for the job. And although he desperately missed fixing biting doorknobs and swearing toilets, Arthur admitted that he could do a lot with this job, and he has.

The younger generation hasn't been as productive, but was vastly more popular. To say that some of the recently of age wizards and witches were celebrities wouldn't be far from the truth. Some of them have exploited this, to be sure, juicing out every last bit of popularity from their short lived "hero" status. People like the Patil twins, Cho Chang and Seamus Finnigan went to every party, agreed to any interview request and turned down many job offers, in favor of another date with the kinkiest groupie. Others like Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom didn't quite suffer from their public appearances, but they also didn't forget the cost at which they achieved said fame.

While most of the younger survivors of the war returned to Hogwarts for their final year, some of this crowd actually decided to accept their adulthood and be of use. Lee Jordan, for example, decided to take his stint as an underground radio news program presenter called "Potterwatch" in full swing and become a professional radio presenter, earning the magic radio stations long lost popularity. Angelina Johnson became an advocate of "Remember: the Second Wizarding War Documentation Organization", an attempt to put the war and its aftermath into words and an organized historical document.

Ronald Weasley was the only one of the incredibly famous "Potter Trio" who publically announced his plans for the future. While he definitely enjoyed the sudden popularity and fame, he also did not let it distract him from his reality. The sudden loss of his brother Fred almost broke his family apart, and although he mourned him every day he also had some good things going on for him. His (very public) relationship with Hermione Granger was still in its diapers, but he felt that it'll grow into big boy toilets and eventually diapers again, many years later. Hermione appreciated the thought but scolded him for comparing their relationship to bathroom related progression. Nevertheless she said it was "romantic, for you, Ronald." He was going to miss her greatly when she returned to Hogwarts in September. He would have gone with her, if only to ease her mind about having an educated boyfriend, but very fortunately for him, he was to begin auror training around the same time. His sister received a full scholarship from the Hollyhead Harpies for her final year at Hogwarts, and she was going to play at least one season for the team as a reserve chaser. His father was promoted and his brother Bill was expecting a child soon. "Too much good news for my liking," he said to Hermione one day. "Something not so great is about to happen, I reckon." When Hermione chided him for being bitter he shrugged and said that just because the war is over, that doesn't mean that his bad luck ended as well.

Being right had never been so dissatisfying, Ron reflected sadly one August morning. Sitting at the kitchen table at The Burrow for far too long already, he thought that postponing this any longer wouldn't do him any good. He downed the rest of his pumpkin juice and stood up, walking over to his mother at the sink. He cleared his throat, suddenly anxious at the task at hand.

"Mum? Thanks for breakfast. I'm going."

She turned around and gave him a look. An angry one, though it vanished quickly. He knew that she had somewhat blamed him for what happened. "Alright, sweetheart. Tell him we said hi. And that we worry about him and we'll visit soon."

Ron nodded, bending over to kiss her cheek. She kissed him back half-heartedly and waved him away. He walked over to the door just when his father entered the small kitchen, hurriedly stuffing food into his mouth while trying to tie his tie. Ron looked at him for a moment. He knew that his father had been incredibly busy since his promotion, and it began showing. His shirt was half tucked into his pants when he came to the door, noticing Ron.

"Ron. Good morning. Good luck today. You have everything?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah, I got everything." Arthur patted his arm, passing him and beginning to leave. "Dad, remind me again how I get there? I didn't quite get it…"

Arthur turned without stopping, walking backwards. "It's all written down, simple as can be. Just follow the directions and you'll be fine."

Nodding again, Ron couldn't help but feel that he's alone in this, at least for now. His father was almost gone when Ron remembered. "Dad, Your shirt," he shouted. Arthur Weasley gave him the thumbs up and disapparated, tucking in his shirt.

Ron started walking towards the fence marking the house's apparition point, when he turned around again. "Almost forgot," he mumbled irritably. He entered the kitchen. His mother was wiping her hands, looking just as messy as he felt. "Mum, do I need an umbrella?"

His mum looked at him in surprise, and then looked out of the window. "Of course not. It's the sunniest day all summer; you'll just carry it around."

Ron looked at her and then at the umbrella rack next to the door. "Right. Okay. Bye," he said quickly. Molly already seemed to forget he was there and she left the kitchen, frowning to herself. Ron waited a few seconds to affirm that she wasn't returning. Then he left the house, after quickly grabbing the first umbrella he saw. Black, he noticed when he looked at it.

Finding St. Mungo's wasn't as difficult as Ron thought. After apparating to London, Ron followed the instructions his father wrote for him and even though he had to ask a few passersby he found the hospital quickly enough; to his disappointment. He still dreaded talking to Harry. Pushing away the thought until the last moment, Ron instead looked at the building in front of him. The red bricked department store still looked as dingy and abandoned as he once saw it; the display window showing the old doll that serviced as a doorbell of sorts was cracked. Decoration changes probably, Ron thought. He approached the window, looking left and right for any muggle who might suspect his motives. No muggle seemed to notice him though, all of them hurrying to work probably. Clutching his black umbrella, he started towards the doll.

"Erm… Excuse me?" He said to the doll, feeling silly. He knew it would work though, so he waited. After a few seconds the doll blinked. "Right… I need to visit Harry Potter."

The doll blinked twice and waved him in. "Welcome to Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Have a pleasant day." Ron thought it sounded bored. He walked through the glass and shook his head. He had always hated that kind of magical barriers. The barrier at platform 9 and 3/4 refusing his attempt to pass in his second year still hasn't escaped his memory. Opening his eyes, he saw the reception area of St. Mungo's. The place hasn't changed as much in the last few months than it had since his father was admitted there. The benches weren't as crowded and the nurse directing patients to the right floor still sat at the reception desk, reading a magazine. A sign with a description about every floor's field still dangled above her head and she pointed at it when the occasional victim of some hex or jinx approached her. Ron cringed when he remembered how unsympathetic she was when they visited his father for the first time. He looked away.

The walls, those were what changed. High as they were, the graffiti reached the ceiling and covered some of it. When the war reached its peak and new victims arrived every hour, people started writing on the walls. Murals of beloved faces lost to the Death Eaters, with eyes closed or mouths open with a silent cry covered the wall in front of him. He spotted the one Luna drew, for Colin. Looking away, he saw the verses, the words describing what it's like to lose a loved one. Some stood out more than the others. "TOOK THREE WITH HER" was written in large capital letters, next to "We'll see you soon, L". Both weren't signed. He lowered his head. Ron couldn't find the one Harry wrote. It was most likely covered, probably by people who mistook it for a Death Eater motto, like Harry had.

Walking away, he skipped the receptionist and went straight to the stairs. He climbed to the second floor and once again recalled Christmas 1995. Looking through some of the doors, he didn't find Harry. Growing slightly annoyed by this, he looked through the second to last door. When Harry wasn't there he turned to the last one, and then froze. Realizing what he was about to face overwhelmed him and he needed to sit down. He didn't know what to expect. Was Harry going to be awake? Was he bandaged? Ron had already seen him bandaged plenty of times, but now it felt different. It took him a few moments before he collected himself. He wiped his brow and his armpits and looked through the small window, fearing what he might see.

He didn't see anything strange. The room wasn't very large, but it was obviously more luxurious than the rest. The floor was covered with a sun bleached carpet and there was a small closet at the corner and a desk with Harry's glasses on it near the bed. The window was slightly larger and sunlight flooded the room through it. The bed was the same as the others, and his best friend sat in it, staring at the wall in front of him. Ron swallowed. Harry wore hospital pajamas, but even through the white shirt sleeves Ron could still see the restraints shackling Harry to the bed. He tugged on them, apparently out of habit because he was still staring at the wall, but not quite seeing it. Ron studied his face; shady eyes from lack of sleep and hollow cheeks painfully reminded Ron of the months the three of them spent in the tent, running from everyone and chasing everything. Even more difficult to remember was how he left them. He pushed the thought back, once again telling himself that they had forgiven him. A movement from Harry snapped his attention back and he saw him trying to scratch his cheek; the movement was very awkward because of the handcuffs and it seemed to pull Harry out of the reverie he was in. Groaning, he brought his head down to his hand and scratched furiously at his stubbled face. Ron's heart started racing. Now or never, he thought.

Pushing the door and expecting it to open, Ron fully collided against it before realizing it was locked. The loud thump made Harry look and Ron felt his ears turning red, his heart beating faster. Harry looked surprised, then amused and then annoyed at the sight of him. He mouthed something to Ron which he didn't understand. "What? I can't hear you."

Raising his voice, Harry answered. "Just Alohamora it."

"Oh." He pulled out his wand and tapped the knob, murmuring the incantation. The door clicked and he pushed it. He shuffled inside the room awkwardly, closing the door behind him and leaning his umbrella next to it. Turning to Harry, he realized he had no idea what to say. Harry had though.

"They lock the door magically because they're afraid that I might do something stupid if I somehow get out of these." He rattled his handcuffs.

"Oh" was the only word Ron could muster. He lifted his gaze from the floor and looked at Harry. He stared at him from his bed, his look expectant. Feeling that he had to say something, he asked "couldn't you just Alohamora it yourself?"

Harry raised his eyebrows at him. "If I had the luxury of a wand I could. But they took it when I got here."

"Oh," Ron said again, feeling stupid. "Right." He slowly walked a bit further into the room. Harry followed him with his gaze. Ron pulled an ordinary wooden chair from the desk and sat. His friend looked at him, impassive. Ron looked back but couldn't maintain eye contact for long. He felt ashamed, though he was unsure why. Instead he looked at Harry's body, anywhere but his eyes. He looked even worse up close. His hair had grown past his shoulders and it was dirty and slick. The unruly head of hair Harry once had looked more like a bird's nest now. His eyes were gaunt and tired and his overall complexion looked paler. His posture was twisted; he bent forward with his torso but his legs were straight. It looked incredibly uncomfortable.

"Finished with the physical?" He asked, a touch of annoyance in his voice.

Ron jumped and murmured an apology. He picked up something from the desk and twisted it in his fingers for something to do. He had no idea how to say what he was supposed to say. Where to begin? But again, Harry started for him.

"Ron, why are you here?"

"Erm," Ron started, thankful that he wasn't the first to get to business. "You know. To check up on you."

"To check up on me," Harry repeated slowly. "I get it. They thought I had enough from the officials so they sent in a friend to 'check up on me'." He made air quotes. The gesture wasn't as impressive as he intended, with the manacles.

Ron grimaced. He hoped Harry wouldn't realize so quickly. Kingsley had indeed asked Ron to go to Harry himself. He wanted to anyway but kept postponing the visit, and he was actually a bit glad that now he didn't have a choice. "No. I wanted to come myself. Thought you might need a... friend."

The man who had once lied just like that stared at him, not buying it. Ron knew he couldn't fool him and felt stupid for trying. "Alright. Yeah, Kingsley asked me to talk to you. But I swear I did want to come anyway."

Harry remained silent, his green eyes boring into Ron's blue ones. The Weasley felt increasingly uncomfortable. Harry apparently noticed, sighing, he started to talk. "Yeah, I believe you. And I guess I appreciate the thought. But I can't help Kingsley any more than I already have. I've got nothing more to say."

Ron audibly exhaled in relief. His friend warmed up to him. The hard part was over. "That's fine. I really just want to talk to you, Harry."

Harry looked down. "Talk."

"Okay." Ron didn't want to talk about the reason for Harry's admission into Mungo's just yet. "First, before I forget, Hermione said she loves you and she'll come tomorrow and you'll talk. There, now she can't kill me." He chuckled nervously. Harry didn't, but he stared at his hands and Ron could tell that he wasn't indifferent to Hermione's regards. "So that's that. Mum and dad say they're worried about you. And everyone misses you." Ron stopped talking and looked at the thing he was playing with. It was Harry's glasses. He put them down on the table. "I miss you, mate."

Harry nodded and kept quiet. Ron wished he could make him talk. This wasn't easy for the both of them, but it was necessary. After a few minutes without talking, Ron felt the point of the conversation pushing against his tongue, dying to get out. He thought that there isn't a reason to hold it in him anymore. "Harry, why'd you do it?"

His best mate closed his eyes and smiled. A weary smile, Ron knew he waited for that question since he heard Ron hit the door. He didn't answer right away. But when he did, he sounded tired, unsure. "Two suicide attempts in a week are a bit of an overkill, huh?" He snickered at his choice of words.

"Just a bit, yeah." Ron didn't smile. This wasn't funny, not even in a sad way.

"Ron... Will you believe me if I said that I didn't want to hurt any of you?"

Ron blinked, surprised. "Of course, mate. I know you didn't. That's not what this is about."

"What is it about, then?" Harry asked, closing his eyes.

"You," Ron responded simply.

Harry grunted. "Me. Everything's always about me. Isn't it?"

"No. Not everything's about you. But this is."

Silence. Harry pouted, clearly not wanting to say anymore. Ron leaned closer and grabbed Harry's shoulder. He trembled under his touch. "Harry. Come on, mate, it's me." There was no need for further words.

To Ron's amazement, Harry started crying. Slowly at first, whimpers mostly, but then sobbing and finally weeping. Embarrassed, Ron had no idea how to react. He had almost never seen his best friend cry like this. And when he had, when Harry returned from the graveyard or when Dobby died, other people were there to comfort him. Like Ron's mother and Hermione. But now they were alone. So Ron just squeezed his mate's shoulder and waited.

After a few minutes that felt like hours, Harry's cries shortened. Ron let go of him and set back, watching his friend collect himself. He sniffed his nose and tried to wipe his face but couldn't. "Could you please remove these?" He asked quietly. Ron hastily did as he was bid, feeling utterly stupid for not doing that before. Harry thanked him and wiped his face with his thin hands. Ron noticed the bandages that were hidden under the handcuffs so far.

"You tried to cut your wrists?" He asked, whispering.

Harry looked at them. "Yeah, the first time. Tried to do it as a muggle would. Didn't work though."

Ron nodded. "Aha. Then they admitted you here?"

"Yes. They didn't quite know how to categorize my injury, so they put me in the second floor. 'Creature induced injuries', like I'm a creature." He laughed bitterly. Again, Ron didn't.

"Who found you?"

"Some muggle. Did it in a lavatory, at King's Cross. Don't know why King's Cross in particular. I felt like doing it there." They were quiet. Ron didn't know how to process this information. When he had heard that Harry tried to kill himself, he was in a bit of a shock. Took him a few days to even ask about the incident, which was strictly confidential. He was told that Harry tried to commit suicide, twice, and that he was in St. Mungo's. Nothing more. Kingsley didn't want the press to know. "The second attempt was here, before they took my wand. I was halfway through Avada Kedavra with my wand pointing at my heart when the healer stunned me. He didn't have to do that, though, I don't think it would have worked anyway."

"Why?"

"I don't have enough resolve, I guess."

Ron cheered up from these words. A little. "So you don't really want to die, then?"

Harry looked him in the eye, considering his best friend. "No. I mean I don't have enough resolve to kill anyone, not just me."

Ron's tiny smile faded. "Oh." He stood up and walked to the window. He felt Harry following him with his eyes. Ron could see most of the street the hospital was in. Muggles passed the entrance all the time and never knew what's there, he thought. He turned around suddenly. "Do you want me to kill you?"

Harry stared at him, his eyebrows furrowed. His mouth hung open and he made a few sounds before sputtering a weak "what?"

"Do you want me to kill you?" He asked again, his tone rising. He realized he was angry with his friend. "I'll do it if you want. Maybe not Avada Kedavra, but a good Reducto to the head will probably do the trick. You won't feel a thing and this story would be over. Everybody wins."

"You want to kill me?"

"Sure, if you want to die that much. It won't be a murder. I'll think of it as a favor for you." He tried really hard to hide the sarcasm and sound serious, but saying these words with a straight face wasn't easy, to say the least. He looked at Harry expectantly. All he saw was his friend's green eyes look at him, with many emotions that he didn't recognize and a few that he did. One of them was hurt, another was anger.

"But I don't want you to do it! How do you think it'll make me feel if I knew that my best friend did that for me?"

Ron did laugh that time. A short, high pitched laugh. "Feel? You won't 'feel' anything. You'd be DEAD!" He hit something and heard it smash against the wall across the room; Harry's glasses.

"I'll be dead in this world, but in the next one I'll be tormented by how I died and who did it and what I didn't accomplish! Like my parents, and Sirius, and Lu-" he stopped himself abruptly and shut up. Ron stared at him. Of course, he thought.

"Is this about them?" He asked, not shouting.

Harry looked at him, his mouth clenched. He took his time before answering with a stiff "what are you talking about?"

"Is this about who you lost? Reuniting with them in the next world?"

"No."

"Harry. Come on." He sat down again and took his friend's hand in a tight grip. "I know you too well, mate."

Harry looked at their hands and sighed. "It's not just that."

"But you do want to be with them, do you?"

"Of course I do, but that's not the main reason I have..."

Ron waited. When Harry didn't continue he prompted him. "What is, then?"

He swallowed. "There's nothing left for me, Ron."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, why am I here? What's left for me to do? Who am I?"

Ron was confused. "You're Harry Potter. I don't understand."

"Harry Potter. That's who I am? That's not a name anymore, that's a symbol. When people say my name they don't think of a person, not anymore, not when it's all done. And when they see me they don't realize that I'm also a human being." He looked at Ron. "Ron, I'm just another damn hero for them."

"You're not another hero. You're THE hero. Harry, they worship you out there. The attention the rest of us have been getting is nothing compared to what they have in store for you."

"I don't want any God damned attention!" He pulled his hand from Ron's grip and looked the other way. "Ron, don't you see? Everything I have ever done, everything I was ever taught was a part of a plan. The reason for my existence was to defeat Him. Ever since he killed my parents."

Ron was lost. This didn't make any sense. He knew Harry disliked attention and he knew about the prophecy. "Okay... Yeah, I know. But that's over now, now you can-"

"Exactly. It's over now. Now the reason that I had to live is over. He's gone, and so is my purpose in life."

Understanding overwhelmed him; Ron sat there quietly in shock. He never knew that his best friend could be that morose and morbid. Flabbergasted, he stared at his friend. Harry stared back. "Are you mental?" Ron finally asked.

Harry looked nonplussed. "Excuse me?"

"Are you absolutely insane?" He leaned forward and slapped Harry's face, hard. "Listen to yourself, you idiot! You stupid, stupid boy!" He laughed. Harry stared at him, wide eyed, his hand touching his cheek. "Your purpose in life! You've gotta be joking. Your purpose in life wasn't to defeat Voldemort. Even I can see that. That was just an obstacle, something you had to go through before you can start living your life. That's not what defines you. Harry, now is when you get to define yourself, when you decide what your purpose in life really is."

He stopped talking, suddenly running out of words. Realizing he had struck his friend and having no idea where that speech had come from, Ron stood up and leaned against the wall sheepishly. He stared at his shoes. Harry didn't respond, and that gave Ron time to think. He could understand in a certain way what his friend must be feeling. The entire wizarding world looked up at him in admiration; the man who defeated the single most powerful and evil wizard of all time. But Ron knew, as Harry did, that Harry did not defeat him alone and that a lot of it was luck and actually Dumbledore's doing. They called him "the Boy Who Lived Twice" nowadays. Ron knew from what Harry told him after the battle, that "the Boy Who Lived Twice" only wanted to forget both times. That dying was the single most devastating moment in his best friend's life (and the irony wasn't wasted on any who were told). That was as far as Harry was willing to tell any of them, but guessing the rest wasn't hard. He felt pressured by his awesome achievement. People expected equally great things from him in the future, and he wasn't sure that he could (or maybe didn't want to) deliver. The war engulfed his entire life and everything he knew had something to do with it. Ron could actually see why he thought that his life was over.

Feeling that he had to keep talking, Ron thought about other ways to convince his friend. One major reason occurred to him. "Think about us, Harry. You told me that you didn't want to hurt any of us, and I believe you. But think about how you'll be hurting yourself, your soul if you do this. Think about the people in your life; Hermione and me for a start. We have been with you the entire time, for almost seven years now. How do you think you'll do without us?" The Weasley looked at his friend. He lay down at one point; Ron didn't notice. He had his hands on his face. Ron continued. "I think she and I could live without you, if we had to. We have each other. But I don't think you could live, or not live for that matter without the both of us. We're almost a super organism, coalesced together. Take two thirds out and the last one collapses." He paused, again, letting his words sink in. Harry was groaning. He looked like he was developing a headache. Ron found himself pitying him. "Do you want other examples?" He asked quietly.

"Yes." This wasn't the answer Ron was expecting. He thought Harry would jump on the possibility of choice and make him shut up. "I really want you to convince me Ron. It'll be easier if I choose to live because I think I should than any other reason."

"Good. I have plenty." Ron pursed his lips and thought. He didn't know how Harry would react to his mentioning the two most important people who Harry would miss. Ron tried one. "Teddy." Just at the sound of his godson's name, Harry winced. "Harry, you're going to want to be a part of his life. He'll need a father figure. Andromeda is great with him and mum helps her all the time but they're both women. And the only man who slightly qualifies for the task of stepping into Remus's shoes is you."

Harry sat back up. He glared determinedly at his hands. "I'm scared of him, Ron. I don't know the first thing about being a parent, or even substituting one. I never had parents and Sirius, as much as I loved him, wasn't a very successful role model. I'm afraid I'll screw up. It's best for everyone that I won't get too close to him."

"That's just you being a coward, which you most definitely aren't. You're just going to have to jump in and take that chance."

Harry turned his eyes on Ron. He pondered what was said for a few seconds and smiled weakly. "Yeah, I guess you're right, about that." Ron smiled too. Could he be getting to him? "More," Harry ordered.

Ron started to pace the room. The old carpet beneath his feet muffled his footsteps but the dim sound helped him focus. "You have to find your own reasons, mate. Like I said; this is your time. That's your show, from now on. I can't always be there to give you the enthusiasm you need so you could get out of bed each morning. That's your job."

Harry smiled again. "When exactly did you get so smart, Ron? You sound like Hermione."

"Don't know, honestly. Maybe she's rubbing off on me. Or maybe I couldn't be the childish prick this time. You took that part from me." They shared a silence, the first comfortable one yet. Which, Ron thought, he had to break. "Does that mean you're convinced?" He couldn't help himself from sounding hopeful.

"No. This isn't something that you or I can force. But I won't try to off myself again anytime soon, I guarantee that."

Ron nodded and looked outside the window. People in the street below shaded their eyes from the sun, but at the same time they wrapped themselves with shawls and longer clothing. It was breezy. "Harry, we all care about you. We love you and we want you back. But on your terms, not ours." He walked over to his friend and picked up the handcuffs from where they fell beside the bed. "I don't have to put these back on, do I?"

Harry looked at them and then at Ron, his emerald eyes wearier than when Ron entered, but also thankful, and a bit disappointed. Ron thought he knew what that was about. "No. I you can trust me."

"Mmhmm. I know I can." He put the manacles on the desk and picked up Harry's broken glasses from the floor. Fixing them with a careful Reparo, he put them on Harry's face gently. "I think it's time for you to see properly. Don't you agree?" He smiled and turned around, slowly walking to the entrance, waiting for the inevitable question to escape Harry's lips. He picked up his umbrella and opened the door when it did.

"Ginny?" Harry almost yelled. Ron turned around again and dropped his umbrella. His best mate's face was hardened with anticipation. Ron braced himself. He knew that his answer was going to hurt Harry, more than anything that was said thus far. He was surprised that the issue almost didn't come up. But Harry had probably held it in the entire time, Ron thought.

"She doesn't know. We didn't want to scare her into doing something stupid." Harry's face turned from expectant to anguished and troubled. But Ron wasn't finished yet. "And we're not going to tell her, Harry. She's too fragile as it is, with Fred's death and all that. And now she has that tiny happy thing, the Harpies scholarship. She has to focus on that. Knowing how you are right now can make her topple over again. For now we just told her that you're on a tour with Kingsley across Europe's magical governments."

He picked up the umbrella and opened the door. With one leg in the corridor he looked back and said, "When you pull yourself together, you tell her. She won't take it as hard when she'll see you alive and well in front of her." With that, he completely exited the room and closed the door behind him, remembering to lock it like the healers did. He chanced one last look through the round window in the door and saw Harry Potter stare at the wall in front of him, deep in thought.

The reception area was even less crowded when Ron entered the ground floor. The receptionist looked at him curiously, wondering how she hadn't seen him before. Walking over to the place marking the exit back to the street, Ron looked back at the walls. He tried to remember where Harry's verse was. He looked closely and after a few moments he found it, right next to "We paid our price for victory". A hasty scribble of a quill, somewhat covering an allegedly offensive sentence. Ron could barely make it out, but it was possible because he knew what was written. "The last enemy that shall be destroyed is Death". Ron looked at it for a few seconds then walked through the barrier to the street outside. People were still walking quickly, but mostly because the weather had taken a turn for the worst. It was chilly and a sharp wind was blowing, tangling Ron's hair and biting his cheeks. Dark clouds formed in the sky and Ron smelled the oncoming rain.

He was the only one in the street with an umbrella.

A/N: Wow, that was long. I hope you didn't lose interest. That's just how the conversation between Harry and Ron went in my head. I sincerely hope you enjoyed this. If you had, please leave a review with anything that you have in mind- improvements you think are necessary (format wise- sorry, but I won't take story suggestions), opinions or anything really.

I apologize for any grammar and/or spelling mistakes. I'm sure that there are many. English isn't my first language and I'm still struggling with grammar sometimes...

Thank you so much for reading. Until the next time :)

OYesIDid