Perfect Memory
By The Fallen Caryatid
PG-13
Ron/Hermione, other relationships yet to be decided.
Chapter One: "Remember how they always seemed to know"
It hurts. It hurts so incredibly fucking much. Ron forced his eyes open, allowing himself a small whimper as they slowly widened. He had been squeezing his eyes shut tight enough to make his face spasm, trying to shut out the pain. He had allowed himself to acclimate to the pain, and now that it was at bearable levels, he opened his eyes.
The world tilted on its side for a moment or two before seesawing back to its proper position. Oh god, I'm going to be—he bent over double and vomited on to the cold floor.
"I'm here too," rasped a voice from somewhere in corner of the room. Ron turned his head slowly to face it, mindful of his throbbing head. He was in a large cell, most likely a cellar of some sort, since he could see cold sunlight from a barred window over his head. The floor was packed dirt; the walls rough stone and there was no door.
He continued to turn around until he matched the voice to a pair of cool jade eyes. Ron closed his eyes again in shock and laughed weakly. "Hullo, Harry. Didn't expect to see you here."
"You didn't have to do this for me, Ron. You knew I'd end up here anyway." Harry gave a smile, but his emerald eyes remained empty. Harry leaned away from the wall he had propped himself up against and crawled on all fours towards Ron. It was obvious he didn't have enough energy to stand. He stopped in front of Ron and reached out for Ron, but his long-time friend only flinched away.
"It's always about you, isn't it, Harry?" The bitterness of old jealousy started to creep into his voice, and he struggled to throw it off. "I did it for her." He didn't bother to mention who 'she' was. Harry knew.
Harry looked apathetic to whatever sharpness lay in Ron's words and shrugged. "It's the same thing, isn't it?"
Ron felt like crying, or killing himself, or beating in Harry's disaffected face—he really wasn't sure which would be better. Harry was right—doing something for 'her' was the same as doing something for the Gryffindor heir. Ron sucked in air suddenly as the world swooned about him again. He must have been hit on the head harder than he thought…Ron leaned back and grumbled something to Harry. "So why are you here? I thought I was going to get to be the sacrificial lamb this time."
For a moment, Harry's eyes glittered with some of his old life and it looked like he might loose his temper, but they dulled over quickly enough. It was the same hollow look that Harry had carried with him for at least a year now. "I was called by him. It's time, Ron."
Before Ron could question The Golden Boy's cryptic words further, the door to the cell appeared and two masked figures stepped through. Harry slowly picked himself off the floor and then stood, swaying on his feet for a moment before ambling over to the Death Eaters. Ron stared after him, realizing how much his year-mate moved like a puppet whose strings were about to snap. One of the Death Eaters gripped Harry by the arm, and Harry seemed to lean almost gratefully into the support.
The second Death Eater strode over to Ron and hauled him to his feet. Ron wretched again at the sudden movement, but his stomach was already empty. His whole body protested any movement, but he forced himself to stay upright. Harry blearily gazed over to his friend. "They're going to let you go, as long as I stay here."
It figured; Harry would never pass up the chance to be flung into a fatal situation in place of someone else. It was probably some damn Savior-of-the-world mental complex. Ron frowned. "You didn't have to do that for me, Harry."
Harry issued out a hollow laugh that sounded more like a rasping cough. Blood was dripping from the corner of his mouth, and Ron realized that Harry was hurt much worse than he had let on. "I didn't do it for you. I did it for her." His smile was fading but still lingering on his too-pale face.
Ron blinked, trying to clear the pain-induced haze forming before his eyes. "Yes…Well, I suppose it's the same thing, isn't it?" Harry just gave another laugh, but Ron was distracted because he was shoved roughly shoved towards the door.
He was about to pass though the door when Harry suddenly pulled away from the Death Eater who was holding him and slumped onto Ron. Ron caught him in his arms, gasping from both the pain that collided through his nerves and the shock of how thin Harry had become. Harry clawed at the red head until his lips were even with the other's ear. "Drop to the left." Ron shot him a look of confusion but Harry only repeated the same. "Drop to the left."
Then strong arms came and wrenched the two apart and Ron was shoved to the left and directed down the hallway. Shafts of sunlight were visible playing across the floor ahead. Ron twisted his head around to look behind, seeing Harry lead the opposite way, descending into the darkness. He recalled Harry's last words. Not for the first time, the thought that Harry was insane slithered across his mind.
They rounded a corner and Ron paused to lean unsteadily on the wall. Bright sunlight was visible just ahead. He was in so much pain and the wand that was prodding one of the wounds on his chest wasn't helping. He thought about that for a second before he realized that his wand had been taken when he was captured. Bloody hell—Harry left me his wand! Harry's wand had been covered with a thick layering of charms and spells about a year ago, so it was undetectable unless Harry wished it otherwise. Bugger! How does he think he can face the Dark Lord without his wand?
He didn't have time to think about it, though, because he was shoved forward again and once more he was riddled with pain.
The Death Eaters hung back in the shadows as Ron walked out into the sunshine. Looking around, he realized the exit to Voldemort's underground base was little more than a ramshackle wooden shed in the middle of a golden grass field. Around a hundred meters ahead a old, dark forest stretched on, and beyond that, jagged and imposing mountains tore at the too-blue sky.
He took one step and then another, and before long he was running for all he was worth for the forest. His battered body couldn't take much more abuse; but still he pressed on. He wouldn't feel better until he was within the safety of the trees. Suddenly, the Harry's words came to mind. Acting on instinct, he dropped to the left.
A jet of green light blazed by and towards the forest. Without giving it further thought, he hauled himself to his feet, shot a curse across over his shoulder and began to run again, feeling as though he would drop dead of exhaustion at any moment. There was a muffled yell behind him, his curse had found a mark. He was a few meters from the forest when the green light finally struck something ahead of him. It seemed to be an invisible wall of some sort; but in any case, the killing curse had torn a hole in it somehow. Ron leapt the last meter and tumbled through the hole as it closed up behind him.
He struggled to sit up and could see the Death Eaters in the distance stalking towards him. I guess they only had to let me go, not let me live. Ron struggled for another moment before realizing he could move anymore. It hurts too much. Shit, it hurts just to breathe. What did they do to me? He struggled to think of what happened between the time he had been captured and when he woke up in the cell with Harry, but aside from a few random images and impressions, he was drawing a blank. Of course, if those few images were anything to go by, he didn't blame his subconscious for repressing it.
Ron blinked. The Death Eaters were close now; he could make out the details of their sneering masks. One had an obvious limp from Ron's poorly aimed spell, but his companion did not seem to notice and offered him no assistance as he fell behind.
Ron wasn't looking forward to witnessing his own death, so he was thankful when he the pain finally became too much and he slid into merciful darkness.
A/N:
This was inspired by the kick-ass music of Remy Zero. For those confused, all shall soon be explained.