Chapter Twenty-Nine
September 1997
"Ron, please don't leave me!"
He didn't even realise he'd done it until the raining scene in front of him was sucked into blackness. When he reappeared, the sky was clear and the ground dry beneath his feet. No. What had he done? Ron's eyes widened, and instinctively he called out, "Hermione!" His gut wrenched, and he sank to his knees in a panic when he was met with silence.
"No, no, no," he muttered. "Got to get back." He closed his eyes and gripped his wand tightly. "Focus!" he yelled at himself, trying to calm down enough to properly Disapparate without splinching. When a sharp pain knocked him to the ground, he thought he'd done just that, but he opened his eyes, and the scene in front of him hadn't changed.
"Oi! Look what I've got!" someone shouted behind him. "Whatchu think boys? Does he look of Hogwarts age? Yeah?" A pair of large hands tore Ron's wand from him, and another lifted him up.
Ron realised quickly he was surrounded. His eyes narrowed into slits as he demanded, "Who are you? What do you want?"
"That's our question, mate." The smallest of the bunch sneered at him. "Who are you?"
"Stan Shunpike," Ron answered without thinking, hoping that his quick reply wouldn't give away the obvious lie.
"From the Knight Bus?"
"Yeah." Ron nodded quickly. "You lot looking for Hogwarts students? I ain't been one for years now," he said clearly, though a part of him was still shaking, unaware who the attackers were.
"I dunno . . ." The small one focused his attention on Ron's face. "I been on the Knight Bus once, and I think I'd remember—"
"He's Shunpike all right," another said behind him. "Course, that bloke ain't been seen in a while. I heard rumours he skipped out on Death Eaters."
"That true there, Stan?" the small man asked him with a grin.
"I . . ." Ron didn't know how to answer. He knew that Stan had been Imperiused, but without knowing everything about his attackers, he couldn't say what side Stan was supposedly on.
"Keep him. If he's who he says he is, he's a runaway Death Eater. They'll pay us good coin to return him I bet." The man grinned, and Ron growled in response, thrashing a bit against the arms that held him tightly.
Another one spoke behind Ron. "What if he ain't Stan? Then what'll we do with him?"
"We still keep him, you git!"
"Watch yer tone!" a third man snapped and appeared in front of Ron, holding in his tight grip was Ron's wand.
Ron's eyes locked on the sight of his wand and, without thinking, he sunk an elbow into the stomach of the man holding him, instinctively reaching for a pocket where he retrieved a black wand. "Expelliarmus!" Ron cried out, and his own wand flew into his palm.
"Get him!"
Before anyone could touch him again, Ron Disapparated.
He winced in pain as he appeared elsewhere. Looking down at his hand he grimaced; two fingers were badly bleeding, and he realised quickly that they were missing the fingernails. "Shit!" Ron shouted and tried to press his splinched fingers against his shirt to stop the bleeding. He blinked, looking around and was grateful to see the rain. However, as his attention drew to the surroundings, he realised that he hadn't Apparated back to Harry and Hermione, just within the same area.
Ron moved quickly through the woods, unaware of the rising sun in the distance. Fatigue was crippling him as he walked, desperate for a sign of his friends. The trees were a blur, and he couldn't tell if he was walking in circles until he found a small stream that had overflowed from the storm.
Hours passed, and the rain began clearing up. Ron was soaked to the bone, shivering as he moved. His shoulder still throbbed with pain. When the stream eventually broke into a full riverbank, he smiled as he realised where he was.
"Hermione!" he yelled, but no response came. "Harry!"
Silence.
He paused to quietly and desperately listen, and he thought in the far distance he heard the echoing CRACK of someone Disapparating.
"No." Ron's eyes widened, and he broke into a run, forgetting for a moment how badly his legs hurt. He followed the river until it broke once again, this time into a familiar—though empty—clearing. "No, no," he whimpered. "Hermione."
They were gone.
He'd left them and they, in turn, had left entirely.
There was no hope now. They could be anywhere.
He fell to the ground in a pile of pathetic tears, punching the ground with a tightly balled fist in anger. He cursed the locket, himself, and You-Know-Who. What was he going to do without Harry and Hermione? He thought of the Burrow and seeing his family, but the idea of the look on his mum's face when he'd told her what he'd done caused guilt to well up inside of him, threatening to drown him in it. Nowhere was safe now. No one would forgive him for this.
Except maybe . . .
He thought long and hard, and he focused as desperately as he could as he thought, Shell Cottage.
Ron didn't remember arriving other than the blurry image of a small cottage against the backdrop of sand and sky. He tried to walk forward but suddenly the prospect of telling Bill what he'd done became too much, and his knees buckled beneath him as he collapsed to the ground, sobbing bitter tears. Waves crashed somewhere in the distance, and Ron would have given anything in the world for those waves to be replaced by the sound of raindrops. He wanted a Time-Turner so he could go back and prevent himself from leaving them—leaving her—alone in the middle of a storm.
"Ron? Ron is that you!?"
He couldn't move. It was too painful to admit that time was continuing forward and not moving back, allowing him to fix the greatest mistake of his life.
"Fleur!"
The voice sounded like it was echoing in his head, and suddenly he felt his head being propped up. His blue eyes looked into a near mirror his own, but with less devastation and more concern.
"Ron?" Bill stared down into his baby brother's face. "Ron what happened? Where are Harry and Hermione?"
At the sound of their names, Ron shut his eyes, unable to look at his brother.
"Fleur, we need to contact the Order," Bill called back to his wife.
The words breathed life back into Ron's helpless body. "No!" he shouted, reaching up and taking hold of Bill's robes. "No, they can't know," he pleaded. "Bill, they can't know what I've done."
"Bill?" Fleur slowly stepped closer to her husband and looked down at Ron kneeling before them both, a desperate man. "Bill, we must get him inside," she said, touching his shoulder. "He iz not well." She knelt down and helped Ron to stand and, between Bill and Fleur, he made it into the small warm cottage and sank onto a couch in the middle of the room.
"Sweetheart," Bill called to his wife. "Get him some tea." He turned to address his brother, scanning Ron and taking notice of the weight his brother had lost in such a short amount of time. He took notice of the dark shadows beneath his eyes and the blood on his clothes. "Ron?" Bill spoke slowly. "What happened to Harry and Hermione?"
Ron looked up and bit back the full truth, unable to stomach it all. "They're alive," he said, hoping that it would be enough. "I-I don't know where they are. But they're together, alive."
"What happened to you?"
"Splinched." Ron showed him his hand. "Twice." He gestured to his shoulder and, with a free hand, pushed back his shirt to reveal the deep scar that was left in place of freckled skin.
Bill widened his eyes and shook his head a little sighing deeply. "What happened, Ron?"
"Bill," Fleur said as she approached, handing a small cup to Ron, who drank eagerly. She placed a gentle hand on her husband's shoulder. Ron caught the affectionate gesture, and something pained inside of him, wrenching against his chest. He winced and looked away from them both. "Bill, he needs time. Let him rest."
He hadn't remembered climbing the stairs or lying down on the bed, but when he woke, Ron was beneath clean, warm sheets. He briefly wondered if he had died in the woods. That is, until the pains and aches throbbed in his muscles, and he realised that he was still bitterly alive. Slowly, he sat up, but before he could move again, he caught a glimpse of red in the corner of the room and saw his brother sitting there in an armchair facing him.
"Sleep well?" Bill asked.
"Didn't even realise I'd gone to sleep," Ron muttered.
"Fleur slipped you a Sleeping Draught. You looked like you really needed it. Still do," Bill commented quietly before standing. He pulled his chair closer to the bed and retook his seat.
"How long?" Ron asked and coughed; his throat was dry and raw.
"Two days," Bill muttered and reached for a pitcher of water, pouring some into a small cup and handing it over.
"You didn't tell anyone I'm here, did you?" Ron asked, panic in his eyes.
"No, you seemed pretty insistent that we not let anyone know you were here," Bill's said, suddenly stern. "I'd like to know why."
Ron shook his head, not knowing how to tell Bill the truth of what he'd done. He was unable to even look his brother in the eye. "I don't know," he murmured. "Bill, I've done . . . I'm a coward." He shut his eyes tightly, fighting back tears. "I left them."
Bill leant in closely. "You what?"
Ron looked up, his eyes bloodshot. "I left them. I left Hermione and Harry."
"Why?" Bill asked. "Were you attacked? Was it—?"
Ron shook his head. "I can't explain it. I thought . . . Harry and I fought. I thought he and Hermione were . . ." He winced at the memory. "So I left. I Disapparated, and I don't know how to get ba—"
SMACK!
"Ow!" Ron shouted and pulled a hand to the side of his head where Bill's had hit him. "What the bloody hell!?"
"You left Harry, who happen to be our only hope in winning this war because of an argument over a girl?!" Bill's eyes were alight with disappointment and fury.
Ron stared at his brother in shock. He couldn't help but notice the details of the rep red scars across Bill's face and wonder exactly how much more wolf he was than man at this point. "I didn't want to. Not really," he muttered. "I can't tell you why," he said, thinking of that damned Horcrux. "I just . . . I thought they'd be better off without—"
SMACK!
"Ow! Arsehole!" Ron shouted and stood up to face Bill. He stood half an inch taller than his eldest brother, but his height still didn't give him the proper courage to strike back in any way.
"I've had enough of this." Bill grabbed Ron by the collar and pulled hard. Ron tripped at first, unable to get a decent footing, as he was drug down the stairs. He stumbled a few times when Bill forced him through the front door, ignoring a concerned Fleur who called after them both. "Out!" Bill shouted and threw Ron to the sand in front of the cottage.
He fell backward, landing on his backside. He stared up at his brother, who had a frightening determination in his eyes. Ron panicked as he saw Bill reach for his wand. Instinctively, Ron reached for his own.
"Get up," Bill demanded.
Ron blinked, mildly terrified. "Bill, what are you playing at?"
"Get up!" Bill repeated, and a flicker of light flashed out of his wand, striking the ground next to where Ron sat.
"Bloody hell!" Ron shouted and stood, staring at the bit of burnt earth that had been inches from his hand. "Have you gone mental!?"
"Have you?" Bill asked and stepped forward once for every step that Ron took back, wand held at the ready aimed at his little brother. "Vermillious!" Red sparks shot from Bill's wand like firecrackers.
"Protego!" Ron shouted and watched as the sparks burst against his shield. "What's wrong with you?! What would Mum think if she knew you were attacking your own brother!?" He hoped that playing the "Mum Card" would snap some sense into Bill. Ron had been on the run for months, had been physically and mentally broken, and was not in the mood to duel his own brother.
"Depends, what would she say if she found out that you'd left Harry?" Bill shot back. "Stupefy!"
Ron blocked the attack, but his shield weakened, and he fell back against the sand. The words had clearly struck him harder than Bill's attack had. He was exhausted and broken and didn't know how to fight back.
Bill growled down at his brother. "And all over what? You abandoned your friend all over a stupid girl?"
Something snapped inside of Ron and his eyes darkened. Back on his feet in a flash, he shouted, "Expelliarmus!" with speed that he hadn't had moments earlier. Bill's wand flew out of his hand, but he didn't appear deterred in the slightest.
Wandless, Bill stalked toward his younger brother. "How old are you?!"
"Sev-Seventeen," Ron muttered, confused and worried as Bill approached him without a wand and gave him a good shove backward. Ron stumbled but caught his balance, still looking at his elder brother with horror painted on his face.
"So you're telling me you're not a child?" Bill asked, and Ron scowled in response. "You're supposedly a man?"
Ron clenched his teeth but remained quiet.
"And are you a bloody coward?" Bill demanded.
When Ron looked away, breaking eye contact, he earned another good smack to the side of the head which caused him to turn quickly and shout, "No!"
"So you're not a disappointment to the House of Gryffindor!?" Bill pushed him again, and Ron fell on his backside. "Are you a Gryffindor or aren't you? Are you a man or a child?! Or are you just a self-serving coward, Ronald Weasley? Maybe you should have been sorted into Slytherin."
And that was the breaking point.
Ron stood up and gave a good shove at his brother's chest, his eyes blazing as he towered over Bill, knocking him to the ground as easily as anything he'd ever done. Not done making his point, he turned his wand on his brother and narrowed his eyes. "Levicorpus!"
All too quickly, Bill was pulled by his ankle from the sand and hung upside-down, hovering in midair.
"Bill!" Fleur shouted, reaching for her wand, but Ron pulled Bill's wand around and aimed it at her. She widened her eyes in shock but held steady as Ron slowly approached his brother.
"You done?" Bill asked, his voice suddenly calm and collected. "Get it out of your system?" Ron said nothing but narrowed his eyes still. "Feel better?"
"Yeah," Ron muttered hesitantly before looking back at Fleur and lowering the second wand in his hand. He turned back to Bill and mumbled, "Liberacorpus." Bill quickly fell to the sand, but Ron kept his wand firmly in his grip. His ears were scarlet, and his face looked determined and furious. "You want to explain what the bloody hell you attacked me for?"
Bill slowly stood up, dusting the sand off of his trousers. "I'm done watching your lifelong pity party. Yeah, you got the short end of the stick in the family being the youngest boy. Fred and George gave you a hard time growing up, especially after Charlie and I left. But you're a grown man now," Bill said as he approached him, pushing the wand out of his face and gripping the back of Ron's neck tight. "And a man, a Gryffindor, a Weasley," he said, "fixes their mistakes and moves on. You're not selfish, cowardly, or stupid, Ron. If you ever think those things about yourself again, you come to me."
"I-I . . ." Ron broke against his brother, wrapping his arms around Bill's shoulders tightly. "I don't know how to fix it. I don't know where they are."
Bill patted him on the back. "Then suck it up. Get inside, get some food. Get your strength back and figure it out. You can do it," he said with a smile. "You just got the better of me,didn't you? And I'm a bloody Curse-Breaker."
"Thanks, Bill," Ron said with a small bit of hope in his voice. He'd never seemed to be able to one up any of his brothers. Charlie faced dragons on a daily basis; he'd always been afraid to try anything. Fred and George had made it their own personal vendetta to constantly prank Percy, always leaving Ron out. If Ron even thought about trying to get one over on the twins, the payback would never be worth the risk. But out of all of his brothers, Bill had always been the most intimidating, the most skilled. He had to be with a job like his, not to mention working in the Order. Somehow, knowing that he'd been able to best Bill in a duel—in the state he was in—made him wonder if he really was worth a damn.
"For the record, though," Bill said as they approached the door and a furious-looking Fleur, "point a wand at my wife again, and I'm gonna knock you on your arse."
Ron looked at him. "To be fair, you called Hermione stupid."
Bill inclined his head. "Good point. It was just to get a rise out of you. When you find her"—Bill paused and looked at Ron—" and you will find her, you don't mention that to her, yeah?"
For the first time in what felt like months, Ron smiled.
