Takes place during Deathly Hallows.
"Ron and Tonks should be back by now. They didn't have a long journey: Auntie Muriel's not that far from here."
The night sky had never seemed so oppressive. From the Burrow's yard, the stars were plentiful and glittering but it felt empty. Harry felt empty. How could he have allowed this? He should have fought harder, allowed no one to help him. George was injured and people had already died helping him – people like Sirius and Dumbledore. And his Hedwig, who had never had a choice. Why hadn't he sent her along to the Burrow weeks before? Harry had a choice and he had just wanted to keep her close because he loved her and that was the undoing of everyone close to him.
He hadn't even turned seventeen yet. He shouldn't have more regrets than years.
Harry scanned the sky again, barely aware of those standing with him doing the same thing.
Ron couldn't be one of those regrets. He just couldn't be. But there was a voice, deep inside of him whispering: what if he's dead?
There had been Death Eaters in the sky. Voldemort himself had been there. Ron and Tonks were late. They had been on a broom. That had had been the plan, draw Voldemort to those at home on brooms. There had been a target on Ron's head – on all of their heads – and Harry had just let it happen. Ron had done it because he cared about Harry but Harry had led him astray so many times. Chess and hospital wing stays and the brain room at the ministry. Like it had just happened, Ron thought of himself shoving a bezoar down Ron's throat in Slughorn's office.
How many times had he almost lost Ron?
Harry had never really thought about it, in part, because Ron had felt, in some way, eternal. Not like Dumbledore had felt eternal, in away that was ancient and unyielding and persistent, but more in the way Hedwig had. Ron was just supposed to be there. Harry just had to close his eyes to feel that first stroke of happiness, sitting on the Hogwarts Express and sharing his lunch with his first friend. Ron was there, the way the moon always was. Even when he couldn't see it, Harry knew where it was, and he had to believe that Ron was on his way home.
He stared up again but the sky had not changed.
C'mon, Ron, c'mon, Harry thought, as if he could summon him by willpower alone. Harry had already lost so much. He couldn't lose Ron too. What would it be like to look at Hermione with Ron dead? He couldn't fathom that they would ever be able to look one another in the eye again without thinking of what they should lost.
Harry blinked rapidly. Ron was not lost. Any moment now, he and Tonks were going to appear and they were going to be fine. Tonks had just gotten married and there was so much left that Ron had ever done. Harry thought of Hermione again and he tried not to brood but it was a losing battle. It was all he had done since finding out Ron had not arrived.
Then, Hermione screamed and the night was shattered. Harry stared at the newly visible broom expecting a horror until his brain worked out the words in Hermione's shout.
It's them!
Ron and Tonks collided with the ground, the broom thrown to the side as soon as their feet touched down. Ron and Tonks a little worse for wear but whole and alive.
Ron tripped toward Harry and Hermione.
"You're okay," Ron managed before Hermione caught him in a hug.
Harry met Ron's eyes and knew they were both flooded with the same relief: the other would live to see sunrise and that was what mattered.
Shorter than usual but I just wanted to expand upon this scene a little more. I know if JKR had dwelled than the scene wouldn't have been as tense as it needed to be but I wanted to write out the emotion that was there between the lines in DH.
~TLL~
