A/N: I really prefer writing plotless fluff and after reading this, I'm sure you'll understand why, but seeing as I haven't written anything for a long time, I just had to start writing the first thing that came to mind. Anyway the song gave me the original idea but it has little if anything to do with the fic itself. Oh well please r/r. Thanks.
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Eight
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You won't ever amount to much,
You won't be anyone.
Now tell me what you were thinking of;
How could you think you would be enough?
It's not that you have stayed to long,
And it's not that you've done something wrong.
It's not your fault that you embarrass us all.
You're a hand-me-down; it's better when you're not around.
You feel good and you look like you should, but you won't ever make us proud.
-'Hand-Me-Down'
The Wallflowers
'Ow.' Ron Weasley tried in vain to force his eyes open. But at the moment they weren't cooperating. Instead of wasting his ever-waning strength on prying away his eyelids, Ron surrendered to the memories that were coming fast and faster from the back of his mind.
That muggy June day had been anything but uneventful. Normal seventh years around England were most likely looking forward to graduating or celebrating the fact that they had passed their exams. This was of course not the case for Ron Weasley. 'Nothing is ever normal when you're near Harry.' This thought had been foremost on his mind for the last few months. It was hard to ignore the fact that his life and the lives of his friends and family probably wouldn't be in jeopardy were it not for the fact that his best friend was the great, the famed, the glorious, the universally (minus Lord Voldemort and his loyal followers of course) beloved 'Boy Who Lived.'
But that was the situation. And come what may Ron had always believed that he would never abandon Harry. They were best friends, practically brothers. They would die for each other. Nothing would ever come between them. Except of course there is the minor point of the girl.
Hermione Granger. Intelligent, witty, caring, thoughtful,… 'Got to stop thinking rubbish like that.' Ron reached up his onerous hand to massage his throbbing temples. He was about to attempt to open his eyes once more when he heard a few rather disquieting sounds that made him realize that he most likely didn't want to see what was nearby. People were screaming, moaning in pain. But mainly Ron knew somewhere inside that whatever had caused all this was gone.
This thought brought him comfort. The danger was over. The only trouble now was determining the damage and piecing it all back together. Why did that sound familiar to him? 'Hermione.' She had said something like that at breakfast that morning: "There's not really much to worry about Harry. By the end of tonight we'll all be fine, Voldemort will be gone and all we'll have to do is put any broken pieces back together."
Harry had been so nervous that morning he'd been sick twice before he'd gone downstairs. Ron had felt just as bad. Since Halloween of their seventh year, Dumbledore and his team had been working on a plan to rid the world of Lord Voldemort once and for all. Voldemort was gaining so much power and influence, many older members of the magical community were admitting that it was worse than it had ever been before Harry became 'The Boy Who Lived.'
But that morning, they would act. Dumbledore and a few select Aurors along with Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Severus Snape and about a dozen specially trained students would be off to fight Voldemort. They were supposed to leave around noon. All reports were confirming that Voldemort was holed up at Malfoy Manor. (Lucius Malfoy had pulled his son out of school after sixth year. He wanted to give Draco more 'hands-on, practical training.').
The plan was changed however rather early in the day. Someone had betrayed them. Voldemort learned of their plan and sent all of the Death Eaters to lay siege on Hogwarts School. He too would be arriving that day. Ron had known as soon as he had heard that that day was going to be the day. For better or worse it would be the turning point in magical history. For the students who, like Harry, Ron, and Hermione, had been receiving advanced defense and dueling training since sixth year, the day was spent herding younger children into the cellars and catacombs beneath the school. The teachers came by after them to place defensive charms on the doors to these hiding places.
Ron couldn't quite recall what had happened next. He had been watching Harry again. Harry had been standing in the entrance hall. He was white and shaking. Ron probably would have looked equally miserable and pathetic were it not for the fact that he was so angry. Angry because Hermione had spent all her free time for the past three months with Harry. Angry because even then, so close to the turning point, the crux, she was with him. Comforting him, whispering to him, hugging him, loving him.
At this point Ron flung open his eyes. He wanted that image to be banished from his mind's eye. But even now, even with his eyes open and taking in the destruction before him, he couldn't push the picture of Hermione and Harry out of his head. Slowly he sat up. As he finally stood on his own two feet, all the things he'd seen that night came flashing back before him.
After turning his head away the sickening scene of what he could only assume was Harry and Hermione pledging their undying love for one another (They had been whispering so Ron couldn't hear. But he didn't need to hear to know the truth. He'd known it all along.), Ron walked over toward one of the large windows that flanked the great oak doors at the entrance of the school. It was there that he saw the most terrifying sight that would ever meet his eyes. Hundreds of Death Eaters, giants, Dementors, and other creatures too horrible to describe were seeping out of the Forbidden Forest like some awful black wave about to drown the school.
Ron had shouted to alert the others and within moments they were all on the vast grounds fighting the Dark Lord's minions. For awhile it was all a haze of running, firing disarming and immobilizing spells, and ducking hexes. One point Ron remembered quite clearly was a scuffle he'd had with a particularly vicious giant. He was almost sure he'd killed it, but he hadn't stopped to check.
The last thing he remembered was running after Dean and Parvati. They had been heading toward an area he knew was currently swarming with more Dementors than he'd ever seen in one place at once. He had just gotten their attention when he felt an intense burning sensation begin in his back and spread like fire engulfing a brittle twig throughout his body. It was only as he fell screaming to the ground that he understood what had happened. Someone had hit him with the Cruciatus Curse.
Now the only remnant of the curse was a dull ache in his bones. Ron groaned and rubbed his head where he felt what was sure to be the pre-cursor to a rather nasty bump. Slowly he began to pick up his pace. As he walked Ron noticed that while the grounds looked terribly burned, almost unrecognizable in some areas, the school itself was relatively in tact. He also noticed all of the bodies lying on the grounds, staining the green grass with blood. But mercifully Ron saw no faces he recognized and it seemed that many medi-wizards had arrived to begin attending to the wounded.
Turning toward the school Ron's mind began to call up distant memories from his earlier years at Hogwarts. When his biggest problems were too much homework, bratty Slytherins, insane teachers, and yeah sure a three-headed dog, a mountain troll and several other equally unpleasant anomalies, but, eh, no one ever said life was easy. Besides Ron would take on another mountain troll any day if it meant he didn't ever have to worry about Voldemort or kill anything else again. Ron thought back…how many…things…had he killed that night?
Eight.
He remembered killing eight soldiers of Voldemort's besieging army. Five Death Eaters, two giants, and a troll. He'd killed people…Ron shuddered. Dumbledore had told them that obviously they might have to kill human beings…but Ron felt sick at the thought of what he'd done.
Eight.
Seven people Ron knew had been murdered in the past year. Ernie MacMillan, Cho Chang, Natalie McDonald, Seamus Finnigan, both Mr. and Mrs. Finnigan, and of course Ron's own brother Charlie. Ron shook his head, which seemed to only be able to produce unhappy thoughts at present.
He was very near the school now, right by the steps. Ron was glad that at least he knew for sure that his little sister was safe. He had personally escorted Ginny to one of the catacombs that day. He'd kissed her on the cheek and said he'd see her later. Ron thanked the stars he would actually have the chance to see his sister once more. Ron was about to pull open the doors to the school when a practically inaudible sound reached his ears. Ron turned and saw a heap of bloody robes.
He stood frozen on the great stone steps for an eternity. He didn't want to know who that was. He didn't want to see the face of one of his friends in that mess of charred, gory robes. He didn't want to see someone, anyone, dying. But one more feeble plea of help reached his ears and Ron sprinted to whoever this poor person was.
Upon lifting the girl's head up from the stones on the ground, Ron thought he actually felt his heart shatter. Hermione.
"Hermione?" Ron sputtered. "What happened?" Hermione's eyes focused on Ron's face as though she'd only just seen him. Hermione's eyes filled with tears as her nerves burned with pain. "No, never mind." Ron started. "Just relax and when you're a little better I'll go get someone to help you. I, I think there are a few medi-wizards around the other side of the school."
"No!" Hermione gasped. Hermione grabbed Ron's hand tightly. "Please just stay with me." If she had asked him to bring her the head of Voldemort he would have agreed to do so instantly, so of course this decision was easy as well. Ron knelt beside her and tried to keep her comfortable.
It wasn't long before Hermione's grip on his hand began to weaken. About half an hour passed before it finally dropped to the ground.
"Hermione! HERMIONE! Please stay here!" Ron pulled Hermione's limp body towards him. "Please…I love you!" Hermione's eyes fluttered open briefly.
"I know." She whispered. Then very softly Hermione kissed Ron's lips and fell back.
Eight.
Ron probably sat there for an hour before noise inside the school caused him to move. Quickly he made his way inside to be greeted by a screaming, jubilant crowd. They all seemed to be celebrating the downfall of the Dark Lord. It didn't take very long for Harry to find him then.
"Hey, Ron…" Harry looked utterly dead on his feet, but happy. "Have you seen Hermione? I lost over near the Whomping Willow a few hours ago?"
Ron just stared down at him. He shook his head and pushed past everyone. He barely noticed when Ginny ran up to hug him. He couldn't process anything that was going on around him. Just one thought pounded on his brain.
Eight.