And Then There Were Two
"Hard is it to die, because our delicate flesh doth shrink back from the worm it will not feel, and from that unknown which the winding-sheet doth curtain from our view. But harder still, to my fancy, would it be to live on, green in the leaf and fair, but dead and rotten at the core, and feel
that other secret worm of recollection gnawing ever at the heart."
H. Rider Haggard - She
Ron watched the sun setting without seeing the brilliant flashes of color that painted the sky. He had wandered up here, to the open area atop the astronomy tower, when the talking in the common room was too much for him. Harry's funeral was that morning. It was a horrible affair, Ron had watched in shock throughout the two hour service, completely unable to cry.
Hermione too had seemed stricken with an inability to show emotion. They had sat, each on a side of Ginny who didn't share their affliction, with stoic faces, much like stone pillars. There was nothing about them that would have told an observer that their worlds had ceased to make sense that day, that when Harry died life became hollow, pointless. Any observer would have said that the pair of emotionless Gryffindors were hard-hearted and callous or that they were truly brave, but never that they were as lost, afraid and heartbroken as the rest of the sobbing masses.
After the funeral the students had returned to their common rooms where students had been encouraged to remember the happy times and to share. For once the Gryffindors took the advice of their professors. Each memory that was voice stabbed at Ron's ruined heart like a thousand sharpened knives. It had taken only a few minutes for him to flee the tower and seek solace in solidarity.
Harry had been Ron's first and only true friend. Embarrassed by his family's poverty Ron had been terrified to reach out to the other students on his first train ride to Hogwarts, but Harry had welcomed him with open arms, much like a starving man would take a free meal. Ron had taken this friendship and held on to it tightly, even when he and Harry fought Ron would have to remind himself every morning that he was mad at Harry in order to keep from joining him at the breakfast table, or inviting him to practice Quidditch moves on the pitch.
Of course Ron had been jealous of Harry. His friend was rich, kind and brilliant at Quidditch, but Harry had been incredibly humble for the most-part and Ron had gradually overcome the jealousy, after all it never had helped.
He would never forget the sick, icy feeling of dread that had washed over him when he heard Dean's announcement that day. The words 'Potter's been struck by a Bludger" were so firmly engraved on his skull that he was rather certain if you bothered to peel away the flesh and bone you could read them there. The entire world had slipped into slow motion and Ron watched his friend tumble like a fallen leaf to the ground. He had run as fast as he could to get to Harry, but there had been nothing anyone could do.
Unable to cry Ron had busied himself comforting Hermione. He hadn't even thought of Ginny until he saw Malfoy pulling her away from Harry's body. In his distraught state of shock he hadn't even thought how weird that was.
Ron let out a bitter laugh at the thought. Albus Dumbledore's goal of inter- house unity had finally been achieved, at least for the moment. And all that had been needed was the death of a hero.
A bird chirped to its mate and Ron looked up at the beautiful sunset, seeing it for the first time. Harry had loved sunsets at Hogwarts. He had once told Ron that he had never seen a full sunset until he got to the school. His aunt and uncle had kept him locked up too often for him to sneak away and watch the sun take on its night-time shroud. The boys had spent most evenings at the Borrow sprawled out on the grass watching the sky change to red and gold. Harry had joked that even the Universe was biased towards Gryffindors. Remembering this Ron choked back a sob.
He was so sick of the tears; though he hadn't cried many it felt like all he'd been doing for months was fighting them back. He licked his lips and tasted the salt of tears on them. He didn't have the energy to suppress the sadness anymore. With a defeated sigh he leaned his head back against the cold stone, tilting his head up into the dusk and let the tears flow freely.
A/N: As much as I don't really like Ron, I felt that my story wouldn't be complete without his perspective, at least on the major events. So.. I came up with the idea of simply doing vignettes to cover the major plot pieces, the rest will be seen through Emerald or Carefully Crafted World, at least the important stuff. But Ron's prospective will be given for the big things. Anyhow, I hope you liked it. PLEASE REVIEW.
"Hard is it to die, because our delicate flesh doth shrink back from the worm it will not feel, and from that unknown which the winding-sheet doth curtain from our view. But harder still, to my fancy, would it be to live on, green in the leaf and fair, but dead and rotten at the core, and feel
that other secret worm of recollection gnawing ever at the heart."
H. Rider Haggard - She
Ron watched the sun setting without seeing the brilliant flashes of color that painted the sky. He had wandered up here, to the open area atop the astronomy tower, when the talking in the common room was too much for him. Harry's funeral was that morning. It was a horrible affair, Ron had watched in shock throughout the two hour service, completely unable to cry.
Hermione too had seemed stricken with an inability to show emotion. They had sat, each on a side of Ginny who didn't share their affliction, with stoic faces, much like stone pillars. There was nothing about them that would have told an observer that their worlds had ceased to make sense that day, that when Harry died life became hollow, pointless. Any observer would have said that the pair of emotionless Gryffindors were hard-hearted and callous or that they were truly brave, but never that they were as lost, afraid and heartbroken as the rest of the sobbing masses.
After the funeral the students had returned to their common rooms where students had been encouraged to remember the happy times and to share. For once the Gryffindors took the advice of their professors. Each memory that was voice stabbed at Ron's ruined heart like a thousand sharpened knives. It had taken only a few minutes for him to flee the tower and seek solace in solidarity.
Harry had been Ron's first and only true friend. Embarrassed by his family's poverty Ron had been terrified to reach out to the other students on his first train ride to Hogwarts, but Harry had welcomed him with open arms, much like a starving man would take a free meal. Ron had taken this friendship and held on to it tightly, even when he and Harry fought Ron would have to remind himself every morning that he was mad at Harry in order to keep from joining him at the breakfast table, or inviting him to practice Quidditch moves on the pitch.
Of course Ron had been jealous of Harry. His friend was rich, kind and brilliant at Quidditch, but Harry had been incredibly humble for the most-part and Ron had gradually overcome the jealousy, after all it never had helped.
He would never forget the sick, icy feeling of dread that had washed over him when he heard Dean's announcement that day. The words 'Potter's been struck by a Bludger" were so firmly engraved on his skull that he was rather certain if you bothered to peel away the flesh and bone you could read them there. The entire world had slipped into slow motion and Ron watched his friend tumble like a fallen leaf to the ground. He had run as fast as he could to get to Harry, but there had been nothing anyone could do.
Unable to cry Ron had busied himself comforting Hermione. He hadn't even thought of Ginny until he saw Malfoy pulling her away from Harry's body. In his distraught state of shock he hadn't even thought how weird that was.
Ron let out a bitter laugh at the thought. Albus Dumbledore's goal of inter- house unity had finally been achieved, at least for the moment. And all that had been needed was the death of a hero.
A bird chirped to its mate and Ron looked up at the beautiful sunset, seeing it for the first time. Harry had loved sunsets at Hogwarts. He had once told Ron that he had never seen a full sunset until he got to the school. His aunt and uncle had kept him locked up too often for him to sneak away and watch the sun take on its night-time shroud. The boys had spent most evenings at the Borrow sprawled out on the grass watching the sky change to red and gold. Harry had joked that even the Universe was biased towards Gryffindors. Remembering this Ron choked back a sob.
He was so sick of the tears; though he hadn't cried many it felt like all he'd been doing for months was fighting them back. He licked his lips and tasted the salt of tears on them. He didn't have the energy to suppress the sadness anymore. With a defeated sigh he leaned his head back against the cold stone, tilting his head up into the dusk and let the tears flow freely.
A/N: As much as I don't really like Ron, I felt that my story wouldn't be complete without his perspective, at least on the major events. So.. I came up with the idea of simply doing vignettes to cover the major plot pieces, the rest will be seen through Emerald or Carefully Crafted World, at least the important stuff. But Ron's prospective will be given for the big things. Anyhow, I hope you liked it. PLEASE REVIEW.