A/N: Written for the 19,000 Prompts, 500 Words, One Week Challenge by andthearrowflies on the HPFC Forum. Prompt: 'test your metal'

Abandoned

Harry had woken, that morning after, with the foolish idea that if he kept his eyes shut and refused to face the music, then Ron would still be in the tent with him and Hermione. Of course, it was not the truth. Ron had left, and the only thing to do was soldier on, pretending that nothing had changed, when everything had.

At breakfast, Hermione's eyes were red and puffy. He wondered uneasily if she hadn't slept, and had simply cried for most of the night, and felt again a strong pulse of anger towards Ron. What was he thinking, leaving them like this, abandoning a job he had committed to? But then again, that was Ron, thought Harry savagely. He never did think.

It might not have been entirely Ron, said a voice inside his head. He was wearing the locket ... you know how it affected you ...

If he didn't lie to himself ... well, Harry didn't know what to think. He had never believed Ron capable of leaving them. He had thought Ron's insecurities and jealousy were well behind him, but now it seemed that he'd been wrong. Hermione had stayed, but without Ron, Harry found himself listless and distracted. It became increasingly harder each day to summon the energy needed to seize control of their situation and continue with the daily necessities for his and Hermione's survival. And now it was days later, and he was still no closer to resolving his thoughts concerning Ron than he had been that night. He was sitting in the tent while Hermione kept watch, but there was nothing to distract him from his own thoughts, and, as hard as he tried, he could not stop Ron's words from echoing in his head:

'I just hoped, you know, after we'd been running round a few weeks, we'd have achieved something ... We thought you knew what you were doing! We thought Dumbledore had told you what to do, we thought you had a real plan!'

Ron was an idiot, Harry thought irritably; didn't he think that he, Harry, felt the same way? As much as he had said, after Dumbledore's death, that he'd rather go it alone, because it was dangerous and not their burden to bear, he knew he couldn't survive without Ron and Hermione. They were the pillars holding him up, keeping him clinging on from day to day, and now that Ron was gone, Harry did not know if he could stand.

'I get it. You choose him.'

But that was wrong, because in Harry's mind, it had never been about him and Ron competing for Hermione's affection. He and Hermione were friends, that was all, and although he knew that both Ron and Hermione had liked the other for a long time, he had always assumed they were a little slow on the uptake. As for Hermione, Harry was absolutely sure that she had never seen him as anything more than a friend ... a brother-figure, maybe, but nothing else. Was this whole imagined rivalry what had been the last straw for Ron - Ron, who had five older brothers, who knew what it was like to be pushed aside and forgotten? A knot in the pit of his stomach, he recalled the only other time he and Ron had stopped talking.

'Look, it's always you who gets all the attention, you know it is. I know it's not your fault, I know you don't ask for it ... but - well - you know, Ron's got all these brothers to compete against at home, and you're his best friend, and you're really famous - he's always shunted to one side whenever people see you, and he puts up with it, and he never mentions it, but I suppose this is just one time too many ...'

Why was it, when he was grappling with thoughts difficult to realise, the voice of reason inside his head was always Hermione's? Because she always had the answers, he knew. But Hermione couldn't answer the question of when they would ever see Ron again (if they ever would), and on what terms.

He's gone, Harry told himself firmly. And he knew, though he hardly wanted to admit it (even to himself) that Ron could never come back. They had moved, and their protective charms made it impossible for anyone else to locate them. He couldn't forget Ron, couldn't forgive him ... but still, when it was his turn to guard the tent, he couldn't help hoping, hoping ...

And then, in the Forest of Dean, one night following Christmas, a silver doe led him to a frozen lake and a glittering sword, and when he dived into the pool and almost suffocated from the Horcrux around his neck, the impossible happened. Ron returned, saved Harry's life, destroyed the Horcrux and instilled in Harry a renewed energy and a sense of purpose that the months previous had been lacking. Harry and Ron hardly spoke about Ron's departure. They didn't need to; because, when it came down to it, Ron had returned, and that was all that mattered.