My Best Friend

By Opopanax

AN: sad little oneshot. Ron bashing. cliches. I like cliches, however. WEEE.

AN2: Expanded version. We now see what happens to Ron.

Chapter 1

Demise

It was the middle of December. The temperature had dropped to below fifteen degrees, but the young man sitting in the dark room in a darker house barely registered the cold and snow blowing against the windows. Tears ran slowly down his face as he cradles the body of his first and best friend against his chest.

The right side of her chest had been pierced with a blasting curse and her head hung limply over his arm, eyes gazing glassily at the ceiling. Never before had she looked so...so dead and so lifeless.

After having sat there for several hours, Harry Potter finally moved. Stiffly, he rose and set the body gently on the table. Pulling out his wand, he conjured a small, velvet lined box and arranged her gently into it. "I'll avenge you, Hedwig," he whispered quietly, green eyes burning with hatred for the one who would murder his defenseless familiar like that. "If it's the last thing I do, I'll make that son of a bitch pay."

Her death had hit particularly hard because Hedwig was not just an owl. For almost twelve years, she had always been there. Locked up at the Dursleys during the summers, surviving on short rations with him; visiting him in the mornings at school even when there was no mail; sitting on his shoulder while he did homework and seeming to read with him. Harry remembered that time in fifth year when she had been attacked. He had been on edge all morning, and in his mind he seemed to hear a faint scream just before History of Magic class.

And now, here she lay, dead. Dead by the hand of his former best friend. Because Ronald bloody Weasley just couldn't keep his hands to himself.

It had all started last week when Hermione had walked in on the redheaded fool in bed with, of all people, Pansy Parkinson. She hadn't screamed, she hadn't cried, she hadn't staged a big "from-this-day-forward-I-have-no-husband" scene. She simply walked in quietly, saw what he was doing, or rather whom, took off the wedding ring he had given her, and threw it in his face. Then turned and walked out.

It was only later, when she had come banging on Harry's door, that she broke down crying. It'd always been that way with them. Ron would do something utterly stupid and Harry would be there to comfort her. In the 5 years since the end of the war, Ron hadn't grown up at all. The adulation of the Wizarding world went straight to his head and he began to do stupid things. Yet Hermione always took him back. Finding him in bed with Pansy Parkinson, the Slytherin graduate whom Ron had bad mouthed throughout their years of school and beyond, however, was the straw that broke the hippogriff's back, apparently.

"I can't do this anymore, Harry," Hermione had sobbed on his shoulder. "He keeps right on doing the same old things, tells me he'll change, but then goes right back out and does it again."

Harry had made soothing noises and rubbed her back, debating on telling her what Ginny had done. Finally, reluctantly, he decided she had a right to know, since Ron might've done the same thing.

After the tears had calmed down and Harry and Hermione were sitting in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place with steaming cups of tea, Harry took her hand and spoke.

"Uh, Hermione, I think it's about time I told you what happened with Ginny, and, uh, maybe this might have some bearing on your situation," he said, not meeting her eyes and toying idly with his teaspoon. Randomly, he remembered a moment in their fifth year when Hermione had said something about Ron having the emotional range of a teaspoon, and a tiny smile tugged at his lips, almost against his will.

"Ginny? What's that got to do with anything? I thought you guys just broke up."

For a long moment, Harry didn't answer, but became even more interested in his teaspoon.

"Well?"

Slowly, Harry raised his head and looked directly into her slightly red-rimmed chocolate eyes. "Well, I found out that she had been dosing me with love potions since sixth year. Remember when I broke up with her after Dumbledore's funeral? How she didn't put up much of a fuss. Well, turns out she didn't have to; she could get me back on potions any old time."

Hermione gaped. "But-" she sputtered. "That's illegal! How'd you find out about it?"

It was a couple of days after Fred's funeral. "I came to the Burrow unannounced ... I wanted to talk to Ginny..."

Harry took a deep breath, gazing at a far corner of the room for a moment. "I thought we could maybe get back together, after, you know, the funerals. I felt really bad about everything, all the deaths and stuff ... well, you know how I was back then."

Hermione nodded and squeezed his hand supportively. "I understand, Harry. What happened then?"

. I came in through the kitchen and heard Ginny and Molly discussing when to get me back on the potions. I put on my cloak-I always carry it with me now-and it turns out I was really supposed to die, and the Weasleys were going to get my money. Dumbledore apparently arranged it."

"OH, Harry," Hermione said, rushing around the table and hugging him. "That's terrible. What'd you do?"

Harry smiled sardonically. "I left. Haven't been back there since. But you know what the really ironic part is?"

"Hmmm?"

"I was going to try and arrange a big galleon transfer to the Weasleys' vault. As a thank you for taking me into their circle as part of their family. And, of course, if they wanted money, all they would've had to do is ask." Harry snorted bittery. "I had no idea they were being paid to do it in the first place."

Harry shook himself, bringing his mind away from his dark thoughts. Hermione needed him.

"Enough about that. we need to find out if you've been potioned as well."

Hermione's lip trembled, before the familiar resolve settled in her eyes. "All right, I want to know."

Harry nodded and pulled his wand. He muttered the revealer spell and Hermione glowed blue. "Guess I was right," he said sadly. "Not Amortentia, but a weaker version. If it'd been Amortentia you'd be a mindless idiot all the time and it couldn't have been hidden for so long."

Harry had expected many things. Fear, tears, sadness. but the look of unbridles fury on Hermione's face made him back up hastily, raising his wand almost unconsciously. "That fucking bastard!" she hissed, sounding almost as if she was about to lapse into Parseltongue. "I'll make him pay for this."

Before Harry could stop her, she had rushed through the fireplace shouting: "The Leaky cauldron!"

And there you have it, a true Gryffindor, Harry thought wryly, before cleaning up their tea service. He only hoped Hermione knew what she was doing.

# # #

Ronald Weasley growled and threw his clothes back on, muttering something to Parkinson about having an afternoon appointment. He had an appointment all right; an appointment to teach that snotty mudblood whore her place in the grand scheme of Weasley life. In other words, he was going to cut himself a chunk of prime Granger ass, and you by Merlin better believe it. No stupid bitch was going to throw his wedding ring at him, not at all.

That stupid Potter, he thought venomously to himself as he headed for the floo. I bet he put her up to this. That'd be just like Potter, trying to steal what was his.

Ron staggered out of the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron, waved sullenly at Tom and looked

around for Granger. She was promised to him, dammit, and he would drag her back where she belonged.

She was nowhere to be seen, however. And, in typical Ron Weasley fashion, he decided to put off dragging her back when he saw the dinner special. He was hungry.

An hour later, after having successfully charmed a couple of buxom witches into sharing his table, Ron was feeling, if not happy, then somewhat satisfied, when, lookie here, friends and neighbors. Is that a certain mudblood staggering out of the fireplace? A certain mudblood with hair like a tornado stricken bird nest? Why yes, yes it was.

"Granger you get your ass over here right now!" he bellowed, showing his usual tact and subtlety.

Granger jumped and spun to face him, a look of homicidal fury on her face. Even Ron, as dense as he was, took a step back, suddenly remembering that she had been hailed the brightest witch of the age for a reason. Her wand was out and it was glowing ominously. The pub had gone totally silent, all its patrons sitting like birds on telephone wires, waiting for a juicy bit of scandal.

"How could you do this to me, Ronald Bilius Weasley!" Granger screamed, her wand jabbing at him and sending purple sparks into the air. "You dose me with love potions and sleep around with any witch that'll have you. Did you dose all your little floozies with potions too?"

Ron stood there, gaping like a fish, before his brain caught up to what she had said. With a roar, he lunged at her. "You keep your mouth shut, bitch!" he screamed, hands reaching to throttle her. "I'll-"

But what he was going to do was never found out, because he was hit with a stunner, a body bind, and a silencing charm before he'd taken three steps. The two witches he'd charmed were looking furious as well, and they had hit him with the bind and silencer. It took all of Hermione's self control to not castrate him on the spot.

"Bastard," she muttered, suddenly seeming to deflate. She sank into a chair and sobbed.

"There there, now, dear," one of the witches at the table said. "I'm glad you told us what he was like."

Hermione only nodded sadly and continued to cry. "I was going to marry him," she choked out finally. "I found him in bed earlier with another woman and threw his ring back at him."

"Good for you, dearie," the other witch said. "Serves him right."

Just then, Harry Potter opened the door to the pub and strode in, eyes crackling with power. "Hermione, come home with me," he said gently, taking her hand and tugging her into an embrace. "Let's leave this son of a bitch to himself." Harry kicked Ron in the side before enervating him and leading Hermione out the door to side-along her back to Grimmauld Place.

# # #

Within a couple of days, Hermione had moved back to her own flat. She was working for the Department of Mysteries and thus couldn't take too many days off. After the first day, she had gone from sad, to angry, back to sad, before finally seeming to come to grips with the betrayal of their former best friend. Mrs. Weasley had sent them howlers, but Harry quickly and neatly burned them before they could explode; neither of them was interested in what she had to say. Ron hadn't bothered to contact them at all, for which they were grateful.

But Ron had something much worse than howlers in mind, apparently. This morning, while Harry had gone out to get more groceries, Ron had flooed into Grimmauld Place, murdered Hedwig with a blasting curse, and left a note that simply said: You'll get yours, Potter.

Ron knew, from all his years as Harry's best friend, how tenderly he felt about Hedwig, and this single act almost more than any other would cut him deeply. Shuffling sadly out to the back garden, Harry buried his first and best friend and vowed vengeance on Ronald Bilius Weasley. Murdering a wizard's familiar was a high crime, but he wouldn't report it to his superiors at the DMLE. No, Harry vowed as he tamped the last bit of earth over Hedwig's grave. I will handle this myself. And Merlin help anyone who got in his way.

Chapter 2

Resolution

Harry straightened over the grave and resolutely wiped the tears of bitterness and grief from his face, before his emerald eyes lit with a fire for vengeance. Striding purposefully back into the house, he Floo called Amelia Bones and requested, and was granted, a couple of days off. He had some scores to settle.

After withdrawing from the fireplace and muttering, for what had to be the millionth time, about idiotic wizards and their communication methods, Harry left Grimmauld Place to find Hermione. She had been wronged as much as he had and deserved a stake in this as well.

Not paying much attention to the snow that was gently falling, Harry Apparated to an alley on Hermione's street and walked up the steps to the building.

"Who's there?" came the rather nasally voice of his best friend. Harry could tell she was still distraught over Ron's betrayal.

"It's me, Harry," he answered through the intercom.

The door clicked open and Harry went up the stairs, privately wondering what to say to comfort his distraught friend. Even after all these years, Harry was still uncomfortable around crying girls.

"Hi, Harry," Hermione said wearily, letting him into the flat and hugging him rather despondently.

Hermione had filled out quite a bit since her schoolgirl days, now sporting quite a buxom chest and flaring hips. Harry was acutely aware of the changes in his friend and berated himself for it. She's grieving, Potter, get a grip, he told himself.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said, shoving the less than platonic thoughts about his best friend into a dark corner of his mind and hugging back awkwardly.

"How are you hanging in there?"

Hermione smiled wanly. "I'm fine," she said, looking away and blushing slightly.

Harry scoffed and gently took her chin in his hand. "I know better than that, Hermione. Tell me the real truth, now."

Hermione gave a more genuine smile. "I'm terrible, actually. How could he do that to me?" Suddenly she fixed Harry with a stern gaze, not unlike the look she used to give when she suspected he hadn't done his homework. "I do have a question for you though, Harry. If you knew

Ginny had dosed you with love potions since after the final battle, how come it took you this long to test me for it?"

"Because I assumed you were happy, or at least content with Ron," he answered. "I mean, once I actually cooled down and thought about it, it made sense. Ginny had always been a little fangirl and before sixth year I never showed much interest in her. So she had to resort to drastic measures. I was still shocked, but like I said, after I thought about it, it sort of made sense."

Harry paused and scuffed his feet on the carpet, rather ashamed of himself. "Ron didn't have those kinds of issues. I mean, we all assumed he really did love you, especially after that Yule Ball. SO I just didn't think you had been dosed."

There was a silence while Hermione digested this. "I ... see. Well, hindsight is 20-20, I guess. It was the same for me, sort of. Sixth year I really started to fancy him-" she gave a faint grimace of disgust "-and you and I grew apart over that dumb potions book, remember? And I got jealous about Ron kissing Lavender. He probably dosed me back then too."

"Probably, yeah. None of us could figure out why you kept forgiving him after all the crap he put you through. But it was all the potions. I'm sorry for not checking sooner, Hermione."

"It's ok, Harry," she said, smiling. "I forgive you. And we're both done with the Weasley's so all's well that ends well."

Harry's face darkened. His magic begged for release and the windows rattled ominously. "No, we aren't, actually. Do you know what that asshole did this morning?" he growled.

Hermione stepped back in alarm. "Harry?"

"That son of a bitch killed Hedwig!" he roared. "My owl, he hit her with a Reducto and left me a fucking note!"

"Oh Harry," Hermione cried. "Poor Hedwig. What're you going to do?"

Harry abruptly calmed. The look on his face made Hermione back up a step involuntarily. His eyes narrowed into green slits. "I'm going to make him pay," he said in an utterly calm and chilling voice. "Hedwig was my first true friend, and her death will not go unpunished."

"Harry! You don't mean to ... to kill Ron, do you?"

Harry blinked as if coming out of a trance. "Oh, no, Hermione. I'll do worse than that. Dumbledore said once that there are worse things than death. I intend to prove him right." And he would say no more on that, much to Hermione's consternation.

# # #

After murdering that son of a bitch Potter's stupid owl, Ron went back home. He was still limping slightly. That stupid bitch, he thought savagely. How dare she do this to him, after all he'd done for her?

Oh well, he thought to himself gleefully. Pussies are a dime a dozen and I've got lots to choose from. In fact there were a few girls in his house, ready and waiting for him, also under potions.

As he was stepping onto his porch, Ron heard a slight pop off to his right, but before he could turn he was hit by a stunner and knew no more.

Opening his eyes blearily, Ron came abruptly awake when he felt himself bound against a wall. The smell of dank stone met his nostrils and he heard things currying under his feet, along with the sounds of dripping water.

"Afternoon, Weasley," came a cold voice Ron recognized. "Welcome to my little party."

"Potter!" Ron roared, struggling in the bonds and nearly frothing at the mouth. "Let me go right now, you fucker!"

Harry laughed from just out of Ron's sight. "Oh no, not yet, my friend. We have to play some games first."

"Potter if you don't let me go right now I'll-"

"Oh shut up, Weasley," came another hated voice, that of Granger. "You never were vary good at giving threats."

"Shall we get started now, Hermione?" Potter said.

"Why yes, I do believe we should," Granger responded.

There was silence. Ron had a few moments to reflect, and in a rare burst of rational thought, he realized that perhaps killing Potter's owl wasn't a smart idea. He knew that Hedwig held a special place in Potter's heart, and that killing her would wound him deeply. But this...

All at once, a bright light hit him in the forehead and he heard a whispered "Legilimens!" and then he fell into darkness.

He was standing on the forest floor. Somewhere an owl hooted mournfully, echoing off the trees. Small insects hummed in the grass and bats fluttered in the moonlight, snatching up unwary insects.

What the hell, Ron thought, looking around at the dim clearing. And then, his eye caught something and he froze. His bladder let go with a rush and his eyes widened comically, before he turned and started to run.

Before he had gone two steps, a set of gigantic pincers had closed around his torso and Ron found himself hoisted high in the air. With a hiss and a click, his face got chewed off his skull, his last scream still echoing off the silent trees.

# # #

Hermione watched impassively as Ron twitched and piss ran down his leg. "You're sure this will keep him?" she asked Harry, standing off to one side with his wand pointed at Ron's forehead.

He nodded. "Oh yes. That nightmare loop will play, over and over, until his mind gives out. He's being eaten by Acromantulas, over and over again," he said, smiling a cold, ruthless smile. "Serves the son of a bitch right."

Hermione bit her lip worriedly, but didn't say anything. This was Harry's show. And, while she had been wronged by Ron as well, Harry had been wronged more. Ron, meanwhile, continued to scream, and scream, and scream.