Learning to Live and Coping with Death

Chapter 1: Saving the World

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, I just own this theory of mine.

The voice screamed in his mind. He could hear them all screaming. The vision of the group of red heads, a faded pink haired figure, and an aging man with a proud face. He could hear them… even her. She was wincing and being noble, but when she felt the pain of the Cruciatus curse her voice was the most piercing to his ears. He felt the chains on his arms drawing blood at the surface of his wrists as he tried with no avail to get to her to ease her pain. He would do anything to remove that pain from her.

She was distracted, though. She didn't see him sitting there; she was staring at the opposite wall screaming to the form of a man. He was strung out by chains that locked his arms at their farthest reach; any more stretching would have caused him to lose his arms. He was without a shirt and his poor body was dripping with blood and sweat glossing his body into a tan. He looked weak, and she cried salty tears for him: salty tears because of the words of the other figure in the room. He could never forget the face of that creature. Stretched and snakelike, even snake colored. This was the face he had feared all his life. But at this point he wasn't afraid of the form. He was simply disgusted by it. He didn't have the time to be afraid.

You can save them

The voice was calming, but he knew it was a deceitful voice that spoke to the strung up man. In response he raised his hanging head to look at the speaker with more hatred than he had ever known this man to be capable of.

Harry

NO! He screamed in his head. But the voice that said those words was not his own. He looked to his side to see the same girl sitting there. She was panting and screaming NO!

She doesn't know what's good for her, does she Harry? You can save her. It's just you and me now. This is between men.

NO!

You have something I want, I have something you want. So what do you say: your life for theirs'?

No, he thought. It was unfair to bargain his life for theirs, but before he could stop them he heard the words coming out of Harry's mouth. Harry Potter, the boy who lived, was about to die so they could live.

"Voldemort, you think you have everything figured out, but just like always you are the one making the mistake. You can have my life, but no one else's. If my life is so important to you, then take it, but you will always remember me Voldemort. I don't know if you are capable of guilt but you are still human despite your belief."

Harry lapsed into a coughing fit, but when he gained composure and when the sobbing of the women around him stopped he continued. "I have something you will never have, Voldemort: I have love. You have destroyed everyone I loved except these people in this room, but my love for them, and their love for me will never perish. And when you die, which I know you will, I will be waiting on the other side to make your afterlife hell, and I'm sure you will meet my father, mother, Sirius, and Dumbledore on the way. Don't think any of them will spare you the way you didn't for them. For every life there is a price to pay, you knew that. Goodbye Voldemort, and as Merlin is my witness you'll get what you deserve, in this life and the next. Beware, and keep to your promise."

Those were his last words before he looked at each person in the room dwelling on each face. No words needed to be spoken, he had said enough for them. Mrs. Weasley, the only mother he ever knew, and Mr. Weasley, a good friend and father figure, the only one that lasted, Bill and Charlie, like brothers, Fred and George, always there to brighten his day, though their faces were covered in tears now, Lupin, his comfort, the only one left who knew his father in his younger days, and one of the greatest inspirations Harry ever knew, Tonks, fun and lovable and always smiling and looking out for him. The last three faces were where Harry finally found tears in his eyes. Ginny, the love of his life, he told her with his eyes now and it made her lapse into sobbing fits like Ron had never heard from her before. Hermione, his companion, she was always there for him, always helping him when he needed it and treating him the only way he ever wanted to be treated by people, like he was normal, like he was human. Then, there was Ron. Their eyes connected and tears couldn't even see into the bottom of their grief. They were friends, confidants, partners in crime, and most importantly they were brothers. Truly united in all that they felt and knew. There was more sadness in this moment than in any other moments to the world's end that you could imagine. He was going to have to watch him die.

HARRY! he heard her scream. His love, his one and only and she was screaming for his brother to come back. Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Ron, they all died in that moment.

Then the morning came, but the sun was not welcome in the bedroom of Ron Weasley. For two months now the dreams had been the same. Blood, death, and his best friends and family sitting in a huddled room like dogs packed in a kennel. The shades held out the light so Ron didn't have to deal with it. He was alright in this moment, lost to emotion, but once he was out there he would have to feel again. He hated feeling now-a-days. It felt unnatural to betray his friends memory with being sad all the time. Harry died for him, shouldn't he be grateful?

The only problem was those words. He had died. Nothing else mattered but that word: death. He had died. He would never see Ron's children if he had any, he would never be able to marry Ginny, and now, as selfish as it was, Ron would never get to have his best friend back. Living life this way was torture, but he had gotten used to it.

Five minutes till 9 he got out of bed feeling drowsy still hearing the shrieks of all the women in his life around him. He took pain killers to block it out, but even that didn't stop the pain throbbing right behind his ears. Life was life, though, and Ron got out of bed, put on clothes, and even brushed his hair, shockingly enough. Then he was out the door and wishing he would have just stayed in bed. The bags under his eyes were aching from the light of day, and the tired look on his face remained in a scowl of some sort that those who knew Ron had never seen before.

Walking down the street was torture. He thought going by foot instead of by apparating would give him some time to think, but he was cruelly mistaken. The walk led him straight past a park, which no matter which way he went could not be avoided and the sight of the happy people was too much for his battered soul. Seeing one couple kissing was the end, however, to the idea of a peaceful walk as a vision of brown curly hair came into his mind. This time it was different than the dream, but it still held the same amount of sadness. He was seeing her beautiful smile lighting up the day of so many lost lifetimes. Hermione always had been the love of his life and now she was gone. They hadn't spoken since the accident. Something had forbid them in their own hearts to deal with the pain of living each day like nothing had happened. They were almost ashamed of the prospect of moving on when their third musketeer wasn't there to enjoy each healthful breath.

It had been an understanding between the two, and they never spoke after that moment in the dark room. Not since it was over.

Harry had given his life to save theirs and in so doing had ended Voldemort for just as his mother had given her life for him he had given his life for his friends. Voldemort wouldn't have lost his life if not for going back on his promise. He aimed his wand at Ginny after performing the avada kadavra on Harry. The screams of Ron's mother could still be heard in the hollows of his ears, but he had not succeeded in killing Ginny, the one true love of Harry Potter. Instead he lost his life, and ended entirely because of his hate for Harry. All of the Horcruxes were gone and so Voldemort died mortal. He was a man faced with his own mortality, and so the only fear he ever had came true because of his own arrogance and ignorance.

Running back over it in his mind seemed to be the same thing every day on his short walk to the phone booth that entered into the Ministry of Magic where he now worked. He had missed his last year of school, but due to the circumstances he was allowed to take his NEWTS and did better than anyone had expected. In fact, he had done well enough to earn a job in the complaint department of the Ministry as an intern until he was promoted to a better position. This had been in large part due to the Headmistress of Hogwarts, Miss. Minerva McGonagall who wrote a quite outstanding recommendation letter for him. He had swore to pay her back, and he did by buying her all new quills and goblets for her lessons.

Now he stood in front of the afore mentioned phone booth with his arms crossed wishing he didn't have to go to work today, not that it was different than any other day. After he transported to the Ministry of Magic with its tall ceilings and shining floor tiling he walked right past all the on lookers. Some said hi, but most were too nervous to say a word. After all, what do you say to the person who lost his best friend and witnessed the most heinous crime of a million centuries? Nothing, and they did well to learn it, for Ron was not in the mood to deal with well wishes and pity pleas. The only person who seemed to constantly force happiness upon his shoulders, however, had been his father, Arthur Weasley, who also worked at the Ministry of Magic. It had become almost a job for Arthur to try and cheer up his son in any way he knew possible, though his favorite solution always seemed to be a girl.

This time, as Ron was walking down the corridor to his cubicle his father stopped him and asked him to come into his office.

"It will only take a minute."

"Dad, I'm already late," he said adult like and tired.

"I'll write you a note." And if Arthur had been looking at his son that moment he would have saw him roll his eyes dramatically.

When he entered the office, though, he found that it was not empty. A young woman, probably his age was sitting in the chair across from his fathers desk. She stood up as he entered and he had to admit that she was the most beautiful woman he had seen in some time. She had chocolate colored skin and intense green eyes and high cheek bones lightly rose colored. The most outstanding of her features, however, was her smile. It seemed truly and genuinely happy. Her bright red lips made him wonder what they taste like, yet in the back of his mind a head of messy curls came into view and he lost all subtle urges.

"This is Delilah Figg, son, and Delilah, this is my son Ronald."

"Ron, Dad. My name is Ron," he said as he took her hand and shook it firmly. She smiled widely and then Arthur began to ramble on about her which caused her to blush.

"She's the niece of Arabella Figg, you remember her, don't you?" Of course he did, he thought. "Well her family just moved back to London, they haven't been here in a while. They left when Delilah was just a baby what with the war getting bad and all. She's been living in Italy ever since, and she went to Beauxbaton for school. She was too young to participate in the Triwizard Tournament, though. I thought I'd introduce the two of you. She got sent in to work with muggle studies, what with living around muggles most of her life. She's around your age so I thought you'd have more in common than you do with all those old bats you work with."

"Yes, that would be fantastic," she said for the first time in a heavy Italian accent. Her voice seemed to match the beauty of her face.

"Maybe you could go out for coffee?" Arthur said, but his son knew full well it wasn't a question. This was a ploy to 'brighten his world' all over again. He was only glad this time it was an incredibly attractive woman.

"Yes, that sounds lovely. Tell me, do you know anywhere where you can get a good espresso?"

Ron laughed at her words, but found it quite flattering that she would actually be interested in him. "Sure, how 'bout after work we go get a cup of coffee, your choice."

"I will have a hard time choosing a place to go while you are still around." He blinked. He knew he must be dreaming. Was she actually flirting with him? Don't smile like an idiot, he thought, just don't smile like an idiot.

As Arthur could attest, however, his wishing was for naught. The silly grin that alwaysshown itself when Fleur Delacour was around was now plastered on his face.

All thoughts of sadness were gone, at least for a while, and he found himself excusing his exit as he went to his desk to actually try to do work.

A/N: I finally decided to submit this story. It is very interesting (I know cause I've almost finished it now). I hope you enjoy it. This is my first attempt at writing a RHr fic. I hope you enjoy it!