A/N:
Hogwarts Auction
Day 4, Auction 3: What if Hermione died in the Department of Mysteries (OotP)?
Warning: character death, murder
Word count: 1,044
A flash of green to the left made Ron turn while his shield charm still gave him some protection from Mulciber's attack. Crabbe's killing curse zoomed towards Hermione. Ron's eyes widened, unable to move or even cry out a warning. Not that a warning would have mattered. Hermione was staring at the spell with wide eyes, her arms thrown up to perform a defensive spell, but she was a split second too late. The bolt of light slammed into her chest, sending her flying down the stairs towards the strange veil in the center of the room.
Only then did Ron make a sound, something strangled and pathetic that made Mulciber laugh. "Looks like the Mudblood got what it deserved!" he shouted.
Crabbe grinned, pleased with his handiwork. It had been years since he'd gotten action like this. His smile was the same one Ron had seen on his son's face. He'd always hated it, but this was the first time it made bile rise in his throat.
He wanted to do so many things. He wanted to attack Crabbe for killing Hermione, attack Mulciber for mocking her, and most of all, he wanted to run to her, to desperately try to save her even though he knew it was too late.
But he couldn't do any of those things. Instead, he stood there, the rest of the room disappearing as he stared at Hermione's body contorted in a lifeless heap. His ears rang, preventing him from hearing another taunt from Crabbe or Mulciber. He didn't know if they were turning on him next. If they did, he wouldn't stop them. He couldn't remember how.
A figure stepping in front of him blocked his view of Hermione. Ron blinked at the back of Kingsley's head, unable to remember why he was there. The night's events came back to him in short bursts. They'd come to the Department of Mysteries to find Sirius. It had been a trap. The Order had come to their aid. Hermione was dead. Others were still fighting.
He needed to do something, but even as he returned to the room, he couldn't remember how to move. Kingsley fired off spell after spell at both Crabbe and Mulciber. Ron would have been a hindrance, and he wasn't sure if it mattered anyway.
Kingsley shifted, and Ron caught a glimpse of Hermione again, paler than he'd ever seen her before.
Ron flipped through the pages of the old Potions textbook, marveling at the Prince's notes. It was hard to believe that something that looked so old and useless at first glance could contain such useful information.
"Why was it just in that cupboard?" Ron mused. "Why put so much work into something like this and then not keep it?"
Harry shrugged, pulling the book back towards himself and snapping it shut. It was strange. He'd never seen Harry act protective of a book. It was something he'd have expected of—
He took a deep breath. Harry raised an eyebrow at him and then avoided his gaze as he responded. "I don't know why he left the book behind, but I'm thankful he did."
Ron nodded. His brain was threatening to go to the dark place again, the one he'd become very familiar with over the past several months. He'd grasp at anything he could to avoid it.
"Wish we knew who it was," he muttered. "If Hermione were here, she'd be able to figure it out."
They didn't speak her name often, and when they did, awkward silences always followed. This was no different. Harry nodded, but he didn't add anything else. Ron was thankful for that. He regretted speaking the name at all.
Ron looked around the castle grounds as spells of all colours flew through the air. During the long nights he and Harry had spent alone in random forests, he hadn't believed they'd reach this point. Once, he'd given up entirely. He'd been poised to Disapparate, their tent in the distance, when he'd realized that Hermione would never have forgiven him for abandoning Harry in the middle of a war. He'd gone back; he'd cried when Harry had forgiven him. They'd had their longest conversation about Hermione since her death a year and a half before. But even then, he'd been unable to imagine the day Harry would finally face Voldemort once and for all.
Now it was becoming a reality. The fighting wouldn't end until his remaining best friend was victorious or dead.
Ron saw a hooded Death Eater point their wand at Seamus, and he fired off a spell of his own. The stunner hit the Death Eater between the shoulder blades, and he fell face first into the ground. Seamus let out a cheer and gave Ron a thumbs up before running towards the part of the grounds where the most people were gathered.
Ron followed his old school friend. There wasn't time to waste waiting for the Death Eater to regain consciousness and want revenge.
Two more Death Eaters crossed Ron's path before he saw him.
Crabbe crouched behind the crumbled remains of a statue that had been hurled out of a fifth story window. The older man was too busy aiming his wand at a cluster of seventh years to notice Ron approach him from behind.
A surge of anger greater than Ron had ever experienced came over him. When he'd seen Hermione fall, he'd felt empty, but that emptiness was gone. He'd known the day would come when he'd see Crabbe again, and he'd thought he was prepared. He'd imagined Crabbe facing justice. He'd imagined firing off curses that hurt. Still, he'd told himself he wouldn't perform the most unforgivable curse of all. When he saw Crabbe in person, unaware of the danger he was in, Ron couldn't help himself though.
He raised his wand and said the two words he'd never thought he'd speak. There was a flash of green, and Crabbe crumbled to the ground in the same way Hermione had. Ron's legs gave out underneath him. He stared at Crabbe's lifeless body as the cold of the ground seeped through his robes.
It was Percy who saved him this time with a sharp tug on the neck of his robes.