Chapter 2 – A Bloody day to forget

For some reason and Ron Weasley had a good idea why his hands were shaking. Normally, he would blame it on pre-game nerves or another bout of the "shakes" from going cold turkey off alcohol. However, tonight was different in that it was neither, he was simply scared. He hadn't been this scared since -- since the day that he finally learned the truth.

Fourteen and a half years ago

"HARRY!" Ron screamed with all the air he could muster to use.

His left lung and chest was screaming in pain after Draco Malfoy hit him with a rather nasty hex just a moment before. Luckily, Draco was busying himself with making his escape thru the Forbidden Forest after seeing Voldemort fall dead from Harry's wand. Harry had fallen to a fetal position on the forest ground and from what Ron could see a strange red light blazed from his scar. Within seconds the red light diminished to nothing and Ron was able to see the scar on Harry's head was no longer there. Immediately after losing his scar Harry started to go into a seizure with his arms and legs shaking and trembling in tremors.

"Aggh!'" Hermione screamed on the other side of the circle that Voldemort had built to duel Harry with.

Ron looked over to see a bloody and bruise Hermione fall victim to a binding spell from Bellatrix LeStrange. He didn't even hesitate as he shot an Impediment curse at her from the other side of the circle near Harry. The spell hit her with such strength in the side and back that she was hurled slamming into an old oak tree. She was knocked out cold as her limp body felled gracelessly down off the side of the tree. He didn't even take the time to celebrate as he looked frantically around for his next enemy. He found Severus Snape no less then ten feet away with a wand pointed directly at his chest.

"You're a blood traitor, Weasley." Snape declared with the same tone that he used when he antagonized him during his Potions class.

Ron sneered at him in contempt before he replied back. "You're the traitor. Killed any Headmaster's lately?"

Snape didn't even bother to reply back to him as Ron felt the Cruciatus spell hit his entire body from Snape's wand. The pain was nothing short of breathtakingly horrible as every cartilage, muscle, nerve, and bone in his body screamed in pain. Pain like he never felt before as he listened to his own voice screaming throughout the forest. After a few seconds, the pain suddenly stopped as Snape took his attention off of Ron and over to Harry still helplessly shaking in a seizure on the ground. The sneer that spread across Snape's face told Ron what he was intended to do.

He couldn't let it happen. Harry was his Best Mate and Ron wasn't about to watch him die at the hands of the Half-blood Prince. With a strength and anger he never though he had within him he performed an Unforgivable Curse.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Snape after getting hit with a bright green light fell to the forest ground with the same evil sneer frozen to his soulless body. Moreover, Ron felt a part of his soul and magic darken after performing the spell. The killing curse would forever be etched in his own magic and wand.

He stumbled around in pain as he went to check on Harry and then Hermione. Luckily, Hermione after getting untied was able to sedate Harry and between the two of them with Ron magically levitating Harry and helping Hermione walk they were able to limp out of the Forbidden Forest to Hagrid's old hut by Hogwarts. Ron barely had enough energy left to go another foot as the last thing he remembered was passing out after knocking on Hagrid's hut.

"Will you look at that. I told you, George, that they would be able to find something when they did a scan of his thick head." A familiar voice said near him.

Ron slowly opened his eyes to see red-hair blurry people all around him.

"I would've thought it be nothing more than air," responded a voice that sounded like George's.

Ron looked over to see a blurry vision approach his face.

"Ron! He's awake – Ron, talk to me! Can you say something!"

Ron's vision started to clear as he saw the worried and crying face of Ginny staring at him.

"I… I'm fine, Ginny." Ron's throat was very raw as if he hasn't a drop of water in a week. "How's Hermione – and – Harry?"

Ron wasn't sure if his vision was still blurry as he noticed Ginny flinch as if she was choking back tears. Fortunately it was his Mum on the other side of his hospital bed that gave him the answers he wanted.

"They're fine, dear. You're at St. Mongo and Harry is in the next hospital room over and… Hermione's with him." Mrs. Weasley said, but for some strange reason she hesitated at saying Hermione was with him.

Ron didn't think anything of it at the time as he was just glad they all made it out alive. An impossible feat if someone had asked him beforehand. In fact, he meekly nodded his head as if nothing was out of the ordinary about his girlfriend seeing to his best friend. He foolishly thought she would come visit him later.

After three days of recuperating in his hospital bed without so much as one visit from Hermione, he was nothing short of furious with her and everybody else. Even the Healers were getting tired of his hateful mood. They had threatened him that if he wasn't nicer to the nurses and staff that he would be put on nothing but Nutritional Potions to eat. The same hospital Nutritional Potions that tasted something similar to molded old bread and toe jam.

Where the bloody hell can she be? Three days! Something must be wrong – she would've gotten here by now. Ron thought to himself as he forced himself to get out of bed for the first time.

At first everything was fine until he started to put some weight on his feet and he quickly went down like a broken broomstick. He yelled for help, but due to his own fault the nurses and staff was giving him a wide berth and so he was forced to pick himself off the floor. He used his wand on his second attempt to create a rudimentary wooden stick which helped him to steady himself without falling. He struggled as every breath pinched hard against his wounded lungs. The Healers said it still be a day or two before he was total cured from Draco's Dark Art curse.

"I hope Draco goes straight to Azkaban where he belongs," moaned Ron to himself as he fought for each step toward the door and out to across the hall where Harry's room was.

By the time he got to Harry's hospital door he could hear small giggles and wet noises that at the time he thought was from Harry and Ginny. In spite of his desire never to see Ginny and Harry kissing he was more concerned for where Hermione was and if she was truly alright. He slowly opened the door with his wand and was confronted with a sight that he couldn't believe.

"What the—"

"Ek… Ron!" Hermione grasped as she moved off Harry's lap with her lipstick smeared.

"Ron, I can explain!" Harry shouted with red lipstick all over his lips and cheeks.

"Explain what! You … both of you—"

Hermione and Harry both shared a guilty look of being caught and were both ashamed from it.

Ron had wanted to take his stick and beat Harry to death with it, but he had foolishly forgotten that it was the very thing that was supporting him to stand up with. As soon as he had lifted it to use as a weapon he crumbled to the floor and landed hard on his side. He immediately cried out in pain as if his lung was punctured all over again. This brought the healers and nurses who came running thinking it was the Chosen One that was in pain and not the foolish, stupid, heart-broken, angry red-hair sidekick. Shortly thereafter he was unceremoniously dragged back to his room and immediately sedated and strapped to his bed. To which he set alone for a day and night until the Healers released him with a professional medical opinion that he was cured.

Hermione had tried twice to visit him to explain but he used every foul word he could think of to call her with. Mudblood was even used a few times and that was one of the nicer things he called her. He was furious and in spite of the Healers declaring him cured he carried with him a broken heart from that bloody day on.

Present day

Ron felt the monkey on his back as he remembered that day. The temporary cure of drowning his sorrows in fire-whiskey had caused him to go on a few drinking binges throughout the years since that day.

No, I've been sober for seven years, three months, and twelve days. Not today – I want to have the nerve to take the potion. Ron reasoned with himself against the ever present need to drink.

As if his body agreed with his mind he could feel the monkey loosening his hold on him. He was going to remain sober for his last night alive.