A/N: Yet another thing I wrote at one in the morning. Not up to my standards, tbh but it'll do until I'm awake enough to edit it!
Enjoy anyways!
Disclaimer: I don't pretend to own Harry Potter...well, I do...but today I won't; I own nothing!
Ron ran.
He didn't know where to and he honestly did not care. All he knew was he was going the right way; something inside him told him this. Ron was always a man that followed his 'gut feeling'.
The Dark Lord had been defeated. But many of his surviving followers remained faithful to his cause. One of these survivors being Draco Malfoy. Draco ran tyranny across England; death mostly to muggles and muggle-born witches and wizards.
It was 4 months ago when Draco appeared after a long disappearance. It was 4 months ago when he destroyed the country for everyone living in it. It was 4 months ago when Ron started running.
Ron was still running. He had been running for all those months. 4 whole bloody months… he thought bitterly. He was tired; his little at breaks at every other town did very little to boost his energy. Thinking about it now, he hadn't stopped for a whole week. He couldn't stop now; he was so close, he was sure of it. On this thought, Ron ran through the past third of a year in his head.
2 days before his birthday, Ron received word from his sister Ginny that Hermione had been kidnapped by a group of 'Death Rebels' as Malfoy's followers called themselves. Immediately after hearing this, he began running, not knowing why and whether that was rational. He contemplated it all whilst running and never once did he consider going back. It had been years before he had the courage to tell Hermione he loved her. 3 years on from the War, and only 2 days away from Ron's birthday, she goes missing; the one thing in his life he worked hard to achieve. So he kept running; following the feeling that pointed out where Hermione would be. He was never too sure if his feeling was right until last week, when he came in contact with the kidnappers, killing a dozen of them with their own weapons…
His thoughts trailed off as he took in his surroundings; he was inside a very large castle though he was not sure which one, there are so many in England. Looking around, there was an eerie feeling emitting from every corner. The dark room which he assumed to be the foyer told him that he was quite alone. He felt the familiar tug on his stomach and it led him down a set of stone stairs. Withdrawing the knife he managed to swipe off one of the group members he had "met" earlier that week, he held it in front of him, almost like a torch leading him through the dark hallway he guessed led to the dungeon.
He heard footsteps from just ahead of him, and a light shone, revealing another one of the members of the group he had been chasing. He sheathed his knife and instead, withdrew his wand and with two clear spells, a lot of blood-spill (on behalf of the Rebel), and screaming that was eventually muffled by the blood pouring out of the Rebel's mouth, Ron made his way through the hallway, passing and spitting on the cadaver. I wonder how many I've left on the streets of England… he thought in a cynical yet sinister sort of way. He stopped in his track, whispered "Lumos" and shone the light on his left hand. It was covered in dry blood; mostly of the Rebels'. Shaking his head from all thoughts of death and murder, Ron realised that he was surrounded by at least 20 Rebels.
"You the bitch's man?" one asked. Just that one question sent Ron into a berserker rage and he yielded the knife stabbing the questioner in the lung with incredible precision. He then snatched the sword the now-dying Rebel was clutching, dropping his knife, and swung around, holding it high enough to decapitate another Rebel behind him. A series of spells administrated by him hit several Rebels square in the chest and a few more swings of the sword and nearly half the group were down. He fired three more charms before his wand was knocked out of his possession and into the darkness. Fortunately, the three shots had killed three more Rebels. He picked up his abandoned knife and began stabbing viciously at any member within a two foot radius allowing him to butcher another 4. With only three more remaining, He swung his sword into the skull of one, whilst thrusting his knife into another behind him. The last one stood there. He spoke:
"I admire your will. I admire the strength of your love. But I will not allow you to take my master's woman away fro – " Ron stabbed him with the knife, aiming and most probably hitting the heart whilst penetrating his abdomen with the sword. The dying Rebel looked up to him with pleading eyes. Ron stomped down on his head, which created a loud cracking sound.
"I don't do guilt," he said and ran again.
Yet again, he had been running for a long time, in and out of hallways that his stomach had pulled him towards. He was exhausted and ready to collapse until he heard crying.
"Hermione?" he called out into the darkness. The crying stopped abruptly.
"R-…Ron?" a meek voice replied. For the final time, he ran to a cell where he had heard the voice come from and finally collapsed onto his knees.
"Oh my God, Ron! It is you!" the girl cried, putting her hands through the bars and grabbing his shoulders in an attempt to hug him. Ron was speechless but a smile spread across his face and the worry lines that had been on his forehead for the past 4 months had vanished.
"I-I can't believe you're…you're really alive!" he said in a tone mixed with relief and exasperation. "Come on. Let's go home…I'll break the bars down…"
"No." Hermione stopped him half way through his sentence. She sounded sombre and Ron leaned a little closer to see her face; it was tear-stricken.
"What do you mean, 'no'?" he asked. She gently let go of his shoulders and her right hand slowly found his left. She pulled his knife away and stood up slowly in her cell. Placing the knife to her stomach, Ron realised it was a lot bigger than it used to…
"They raped me. They raped me and now…now I'm carrying…I don't want this baby…I don't want the baby of Malfoy…I don't want to live, knowing that I've been touched by a foul creature, the foulest to ever walk this earth…I'd rather die…Ron…" Ron's heart dropped and sunk to his stomach; he could not comfort her as he knew that he too was a murder, a "foul creature". She looked up, smiling lovingly although the tears were falling freely like a river.
"Ron, I love you. I'm sorry…goodbye Ron."
Ron yelled out something. It was probably 'No!' but he didn't know, the sound of the knife penetrating Hermione's skin and the blood seeping out were all that Ron heard that night. And it was all he had heard ever since.
Reviews'd be nice!
Send some my way. Criticism is always welcome and will be hugged especially for this fic.