The Last Battle
A/N: This is my first Fanfiction in FFN written to celebrate Ron Weasley's Birthday, the man I fell in love with during lockdown. The story unfolds through Ron's POV against the backdrop of the golden trio's last day of horcrux hunt. My heartiest thanks to shybrunettepainter without whose support in editing the story I would have never come this far
All the characters belong to J K Rowling
Chapter 1- Good-Bye Shell Cottage
Ron, Harry and Hermione retired early to bed. In his sleep, his crappy brain kept creating images of a deranged human-snake You-Know-Who pointing his Elder Wand at the three of them and hissing the Killing Curse. He dodged himself by inches from the green jet of light but it kept hitting Harry and Hermione more than hundred times, prompting him to wake up shocked at frequent intervals. He glanced at his gold watch which his parents had given to him when he came of age. The day to bid goodbye to Shell Cottage and venture on their suicidal plan of stealing another fragment of You-Know-Who's supposed soul from Gringotts had arrived. You-Know-Who was three pieces down but got the elder wand and an army of death-eaters to save his arse. To defeat him, Harry, Ron and Hermione would depend on looted wands, one of which was ordinary, the other was a killer, Gryffindor's sword which the loathsome little swine had eyes for, an old snitch which had willed not to open and a mobile library. If they encountered You-Know-Who at Gringotts, it would be seventeen-year-old Harry versus You-Know-Who and eighteen-year-old Ron and Hermione versus the Death Eaters! The sound of a mirthless laugh escaped his mouth.
Harry made slight movement in his sleeping bag which meant that the other bloke was also awake- anxious just like him- because as much as he cared for the mission he cared for Ron and Hermione's lives too. But he needed them and they in turn desperately wanted to be by his side, always. The three of them had pledged themselves to each other for life since they were sorted into Gryffindor.
Ron internally acknowledged that he was perhaps more grateful than Hermione over her sorting. Sometimes he wondered why she was not sorted into Ravenclaw. Hermione seemed bent on proving that the funny old Sorting Hat was correct. Agreeing to disguise herself as the wicked Bellatrix after being tortured by her almost to insanity was mental even by Hermione's standards. Hermione, he knew, was a tough nut to crack. But he dared not to think what could happen to her if she was caught and worse, what would he do to himself if something happened to her.
Ron tried to calm his mind and go to sleep again but the suspense was killing him. He decided to take a hot bath to calm his nerves. He glanced at his watch again and then crept out of his sleeping bag. He silently climbed the creaking staircase towards the bathroom upstairs. He crossed Hermione's bedroom and his mind was somewhat pleased to visualize her sleeping form - her body curled in the fetal position - her hair sprawled upon the pillow - her lips parted - her top slightly revealing her perfect belly-
Someday, if they made it through the hot party with You-Know-Who, he would follow his mind and let those feelings loose. He hoped that she'd let him cocoon her in love for the rest of their lives. The blissful feeling was enough to harness his vulnerability for the moment and prepare himself for the crazy mission at hand.