Summary: Have you ever wanted to take your own life? Not
just think about it, but seriously really consider it, turn it
over in your mind. Ron does so every day. But can he
actually do it? He's the middle pillar holding up a tall
building and if he were to cease existince, so would everyone
else. But does Ron know that?
Rating: R. It'll get extremely dark in upcoming chapters. Lots of angst. Suicide, death, and much more. You have been warned.
Disclaimer: The characters and situations in this story belong to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Warner Bros. The writer is making no money off of it and does not claim ownership over it. And other citations will be made where necassary.
Dedication: I'm dedicating this to JK Rowling, who's imagination and amazing mind has put together an incredible story that has inspired me to write this fanfic. Please don't sue me Joanne, I do not claim to own this, for my mind could never compare to yours. Thanks for helping me decide where I want to go in life.
Author's Note: This next chapter was the hardest to write out of all of them. I took me almost a month to overcome Writers' Block. I had to sweat and bleed, just like Rowling says, to get the ideas to come. I was stuck. I finally got into the flow of things but then I had to figure out a way to.... well read the chapter and you'll see.
I have an apology to make. I've been making a lot of small, stupid spelling/grammar mistakes. I'm so sorry. When I get the chance, I will edit the whole story so it will look better.
Thanks to Scott, my beta-reader. You helped during the tough time I had writing this chapter. I'm so grateful! And thank you, Todd! My wonderful muse.
Chapter 4
**** Somebody shakes when the wind blows, Somebody's missing a friend. Somebody's lacking a hero, And they have not a clue when it's all gonna end.
Michael Jackson, Cry. ***
Back at school, nothing was better. As a matter of fact, it was a whole lot worse than it had ever been. I was so depressed, I'd started burying myself in my work. I was getting better marks than Hermione, which didn't upset her. It was good though, Harry and Hermione hadn't fought since that Potions class when I'd exploded at them both.
Hermione was worried. I could tell. She was always there now. Every moment. I'd turn, she'd be there. I'd look up, she'd be there. I should have been irritated beyond belief, and had it been anyone but Hermione, I would have been. She just always gave me this feeling of security. If she was watching out for me, I couldn't do anything stupid. I felt like I should be angry with her, but I wasn't. I was grateful that she was doing it for me.
I realized that I could never screw up our friendship by trying to make us anything more than friends. So, even though I sometimes felt like just grabbing her and hugging her tightly, I put the constraints on myself and let her carry on looking out for me.
I went to see Hagrid every day now. He always had tea and bicuits waiting for me. That, if nothing else, was the one thing I felt I could count on completely. No matter what time of day I went to Hagrid's hut, he always had tea and cookies waiting for me. And I adored that. It was something I could count on, that wouldn't just stop out of nowhere without any warning. It helped to keep me.... well not happy, I was never happy anymore, but it helped keep me pleasant towards other people. Which was an important thing. I didn't want people thinking there was something wrong with me. Since there wasn't.
That's a lie. There's something wrong with me. Sometimes.... I cause myself pain.... just to see my reaction. I don't really feel anything at all. A couple days ago I punched my hand right through one of the windows of the fifth year dormitories. It was stupid of me, considering Dean and Seamus were playing Exploding Snap at the next bed. They looked at me like I was a freak (which I am) and then they helped stop my hand from bleeding. Afterward I realized that they might not have been looking at me like I was a freak, but maybe they were looking at me sympathetically.
The thing is.... I'm desperately depressed. Often, I feel like there's nothing I can do. Just yesterday, I actually had everything ready to top myself. But I couldn't do it. I realized there were far too many people looking out for me. Hermione, Hagrid and maybe Harry. That was a lot to me. I had the pill bottle in my hand. I had actually, despite my principles, written a letter which had stated why I was going to do it and why I had never been very happy. But just as I was taking the pills out of the bottle, a thought occured to me. What would Ginny think?
I stopped right then and there. I knew I would never do it. Never. I would stay on this dratted world for however long, and I would never commit suicide. Because I was a role model to Ginny, and what kind of brother would I be?
That's when I realized what Fred meant that night during the Gryffindor Common Room party. He'd said that he didn't want me to turn out like him. Because, sure enough, these past few months, I'd become sarcastic and had developed somewhat of a sense of humor that which was very similar to Fred's. Which meant I was only helping Ginny turn out like me. And I knew I'd have to have a chat with her soon. Some time when I knew what the hell I was talking about. I was not a good role- model.
So nothing was better now that I had returned to school and it was all just one big problem that would probably never get solved. Every day, attacks were being reported. Every day, I got a little more depressed. Every day, Hermione got a little more worried. Every day, the school was more on the look out. And every day was just another disappointment.
Another death came about. And it was a lot like to my brother's demise. It happened one night, a month after we'd got back from the holidays. We were in the Great Hall eating breakfast when Dumbledore stood up. The hall went silent in under thirty seconds. It was a little weird. Because Dumbledore hardly ever makes announcements before breakfast and if he does, it's after the owls have delivered the mail.
"I wanted to tell you all something before the mail comes. The newspaper is carrying a story which may devistate a few people in here. Yet another Hogwarts student was killed last night. Voldemort has once again struck. I'd like you all to raise your glasses in remembrance of Dennis Creevey, who's life was cut short last night at approximately nine o'clock. My condolances go out to Dennis' family." No one had lifted their glasses yet for they were all in shock. They had all swivelled around in their seats to stare at Colin Creevey, who's glass was high in the air, tears streaming down his face. Automatically, I lifted my glass into the air as well.
"To Dennis Creevey," I muttered. It started a chain reaction and everyone else did the same. The owls began to deliver the mail to their owners. I quickly got to my feet. I didn't want to see what the newspapers had to say about this. I fled the room so fast I nearly bumped into Colin who was doing just what I was. Running away from it. We both got out of the Great Hall safely and quietly and ascended the stairs together. Just as I was about to say something Colin burst out angrily:
"Don't tell me you're sorry, and don't you dare tell me you know how I feel." It seemed Colin had forgotten what kind of Christmas present I'd gotten this year. I stopped and so did he, realizing who he'd just spoken to. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. The teachers have been saying it all morning. And all last night. None of them know what it's like!" He turned to look at me, his eyes red and swollen.
"Colin....." I started but not really knowing what to say, I tried to defend the teachers, "some of them do."
"Oh please," he scoffed and I could tell he was extremely upset, "don't tell me about some sob story." That got me angry.
"Colin! You're a sob story. Everything about you is a sob story. You're muggle-born. Exactly the kind of person Voldemort would go after. And when he finally got your little brother, what did you think? 'Hey.... I must be the only guy in the world to ever have experienced this feeling of sadness and horrible pain.' Wake up and smell the coffee," I was at it now. No stopping me, "Look at all the people in this world who have lost a family member to Voldemort. You're not the only one. I'm not even speaking for myself here. In fact, this has nothing to do with George. But Jesus, look the hell around you. There's Harry with no fucking parents. And all you can say is, 'don't tell me about some sob story'? The world is a sob story, Colin. Get used to it."
Despite how angry I was, I still felt a little bad for yelling at Colin right when he really didn't need it. But goddammit, he shouldn't have said what he had. I think I got to him though, because he suddenly looked guilty.
"I'm sorry. I understand. It's just..... why Dennis? Why not me?" he demanded and I stepped back so abruptly, it startled Colin. Why was Coling thinking like me? "What I mean is, why did he have to take my brother's life. There are a million muggle-borns to choose from. I'm one. He could have taken my life. But he didn't. Why not? Ron.... you're not even muggle-born. None of your family is. You must ask yourself why the hell You-Know-Who killed your brother." I stared at him considering what he'd said.
"Not really Colin. But now that you've put the idea in my head, I'll think about it. Here's the answer: Voldemort does things that he finds amusing. So if killing my brother makes milk come out of his nose, goodbye George. Sorry for the harsh words, but it's damn true. Voldemort is evil. There is no justification with evil. He does things without asking himself about them. And it doesn't matter to him, because it doesn't affect him. So the answer to your question, Colin, is that he chose your brother because Dennis was there at the right time. Dennis probably just happened to be walking by when Voldemort thought 'why don't I kill this boy and see who it affects.' Because it affects us whether we like to admit it or not." I took a deep breath.
This was turning into one of those lessons. Where you learn something just from having a talk with someone you barely know. Except I wasn't learning anything. Suddenly, Colin turned and walked away. But I'll never forget the look on his face. There was something like anger and sadness, but most of all, there was a look of vengeance. Even more so, a look of helplessness. I had a feeling something really bad was going to happen. And nothing I did would stop it. I was about to follow Colin, when I heard a noise behind me. I turned and saw Hermione. I could tell by the way she held herself that she'd heard all of the conversation. This wasn't good.
I was petrified. I couldn't move a muscle. Hermione stood there in her too-large wrinkled robes, looking at me with wide, blue eyes. Her robes were so long I couldn't see her shoes. Her hair was wet so she'd probably just had a shower. Her hair clung to her shoulders making little damp marks where her hair had hung. She looked..... beautiful. That was my best friend. Everything about her was just so.... Hermione. And I stood there looking at my friend until my eyes began to water and I had to look down so she wouldn't see them.
I thought she was going to scold me. Like everyone else. She was going to tell me how cruel I'd been to Colin. How completely out of line I'd been. I waited, and when it didn't come I looked up to see what was keeping her. She was still standing there, staring at me. So I focused my eyes on hers and took a small step toward her:
"I guess you heard all that just now." She said nothing. For a moment I thought maybe she'd fallen asleep standing up. She hadn't moved since I'd noticed her. The only way I could tell she was awake was by her eyes. They were blinking abnormally often. All of a sudden, she took two steps toward me and threw her arms around my shoulders.
It felt perfect. That;s the word to describe it. Perfect. She just held me like that for what seemed like an eternity. It was way too emotional. Her shoulders began to shake but I knew she wasn't crying. She was just scared..... and so was I.
"I'm so sorry, Ron," Hermione whispered in my ear, "I'm sorry you had to say those things to Colin. He was asking you unfair questions." I smiled.
"Hermione.... he's just being a fourteen year old boy who's lost his brother to something he doesn't understand. He has to ask questions... in fact he's supposed to ask questions. But it's all right. I suppose...." I stopped, swallowed the lump in my throat, and continued, "I've come to terms with George's death. I know it's not my fault and that there was nothing I could do."
Hermione pulled away, and the smile on her face was worth the pain I felt. She squeezed my shoulder and guided me back to the Common Room, not letting go of my shoulder during the entire walk there.
It simply felt wrong to lie to Hermione. But I had to do it so that she would let go. Another moment, and I would have begun wondering about things I didn't need to wonder about. For I had not come to terms with George's death. I doubted whether I ever would. I did think it was my fault, despite the fact that I was not the one to whisper the death curse at him, and I do indeed feel like I could have done something. Perhaps if I'd been doing my homework with Fred and George that one moment when Voldemort had decided kill someone, George would still be here. Maybe Voldemort would not have bothered and George wouldn't be dead. But he was..... and that was something I felt I had to insist on coming to terms with. I wouldn't... not ever. But I should at least tell people that I was. To make them feel better.
****
Two weeks passed. I was walking back from the library with Hermione and we were discussing the new book I was reading.
"Jason had real potential. He realized he wasn't a muggle, and you get to really experience it all. It's like you're really there. The description doesn't do that," I said. We were having a debate about whether or not Magic Powers was better at description or voice.
"Yes but Jason had no clue what his surroundings were. It's hard to describe something you don't understand," Hermione explained.
"No it's not," I covered her eyes with my hands from behind. Then I walked her into a random room, "now look," I let go, "where are we?"
"I dunno," Hermione answered, squinting through the darkness.
"Describe it to me," I told her.
"Well. It's very dark. And there's some sort of piece of furniture over there. A chair probably. And there's an - oh wow!" she said softly, "look at that!" She bent and scooped up something from the floor.
"What is it?" I asked curiously.
"It's.... it's a penny," Hermione answered.
"What's a penny?" I asked.
"It's muggle currency. It stands for one cent," she answered matter-of-factly.
"What's a cent?"
"Um.... you can't buy very much with it. It's supposed to stand for good luck," she said, "here." She dropped it in my hand and smiled. She looked great doing it. I shook the thought from my mind and dropped the penny in my pocket.
"Thanks," I replied. Hermione shrugged. We left the room together. When we got into the hall we realized we'd been in the Charms classroom. We quickly made our way up the remaining stairwells and then walked up to the the Portrait Hole.
"Old Magick," Hermione whispered. She always whispered it. She said it was because she was afraid someone would overhear.
"Yes yes, that's it," the Fat Lady replied, in the middle of a huge yawn, and swung forward on her hinges to admit us. As soon as we stepped inside the Common room, Hermione turned to me.
"Thanks for coming with me to study for the OWL's. It means a lot when you're coming because you actually want to," she said looking down at her feet.
"No problem," I answered, looking at mine.
"What caused you to become so involved in your work?" she asked and we both looked up. I sighed. Then I answered as truthfully as I could:
"A snap back to reality." I shuffled my feet for it was a bit awkward. Hermione seemed to get my drift for she looked at me with the utmost sympathy. That should have made me angry as hell, but it didn't. With other people, they always looked at me like they knew what I was going through. With Hermione, it was a lot different. She looked at me like she knew she couldn't understand what I was going through, but she wanted to so badly it hurt. That was what shined through when she looked at me. It made me feel sort of warm inside. "I want to apologize. I'm sorry for making you feel like you had to comfort me when I went psycho the night before the Chistmas holidays. I just -"
"Don't apologize!" she said sharply and I started, "I would have..... I would have done much worse if my brother or sister had died." She whispered the last word, as though she didn't want me to hear it. I was touched. No one had ever looked out for my well being like Hermione just had. She barely tried and yet she did infinitely more than anyone else did. And everyone else was trying way too hard.
"I know... but I laid a burden on you and I'm sorry for that. It won't happen again."
"On the contrary, I hope it does," she said.
"Pardon?" I said, in complete shock.
"I just meant that it's made us stronger. I felt as though we were drifting apart before. But now we're closer than ever," Hermione said, smiling widely, "I wonder what would happen if we went through all that again."
I didn't really feel like going through it again but I didn't say so. I just smiled weakly and muttered something about going up to bed. Later on, when I was lying in bed, I thought about it. And I came to the conclusion that maybe I would go through all of it again. Perhaps.... just to be in Hermione's arms again. That felt good. Just to be hugged and comforted by her by her. And I realized, that meant I'd even go through mr brother's death again. Who knows.... maybe this time I'd be stronger.
****
For some reason, the next morning, I woke up with a jolt. I hadn't been dreaming. Nor had I been scared or anything. For when I looked around the room, there was nothing there that would have woken me. Since I was already awake, I got up. I was still in my robes. I hadn't changed out of them the night before. Well, I wasn't going to bother to now. It was only six in the morning. I could probably fit in a bit of reading time until Breakfast. So I went down into the Common Room and sat down.
It was a very interesting book. It was called School Time. There was a little girl, Janey, and she kept getting really good marks in school. She thought she was some sort of genius. Then she finds out her mother had always gotten good marks in school, but her father had always gotten bad marks until he met Janey's mother and they'd fallen madly in love. Then he'd gotten wonderful marks as well. It was kind of a creepy book. I wasn't sure why, it was just creepy.
I read for about ten minutes when I got this kind of weird feeling. Like someone was watching me. I turned to look behind me and was met with the most horrible sight I'd seen in my entire life. Worse than finding out George was dead. Worse than finding out Dennis was dead. Hanging from the very ceiling by their neck was a person. It was still too dark to see who it was but I quickly jumped out of my chair and stumbled away from the body completely aghast. I was gasping for breath.
I really didn't want to know who it was. It could have been anyone. It could have been any first year, second year, third year, fourth year, fifth year, sixth year or seventh year. But I had a horrible feeling it was a particular fourth year. Automatically it seemed, I screamed. Screamed like there was no tomorrow. I was so scared and disgusted that I could only scream.
Obviously it attracted a whole bunch of people. In fact, the entire Gryffindor house came bolting down the stairs to see what was wrong. I crouched up against the wall and kept yelling. Dean and Seamus came over to see what was wrong and they quickly covered my mouths with their hands. That stopped me from screaming. But not from speaking.
"Look," I whispered and everyone looked to where I was pointing, "It's Colin.... he's dead." There was an eerie silence. Then a thump, for someone had fainted, and then a whole bunch of screams. Suddenly, my eye caught a certain person. Harry. He had an unreadable expression on his face. His gaze met mine and he suddenly bolted out of the common room, the portrait hole slamming shut behind him.
Hermione started to go after him but I quickly ran over to her and grabbed onto her arm.
"Let me...." I requested. Hermione nodded reluctantly and I ran out of the portrait hole. When I got out into the corridor, I could see Harry turning around a corner. I followed him outside. He turned around, and when he saw what I was doing, he broke into a run.
I chased after Harry, trying to catch up. I knew there was only one way I would. I worked up the energy and jumped onto Harry, pinning him front first to the ground. Harry spat snow out of his mouth.
"What the hell, Ron?" he shouted angrily. I got off of Harry and he got to his feet without taking my outstretched hand, "Leave me alone, Ron!"
"Yes I suppose the fact that you just had to throw yourself out of the common room to get down here suggests you really need to be left alone," I said with much disdain.
"Just go away!" he shouted, his back to me.
"Harry!" I said and stomped my foot on the ground in a fit of angry frustration. Harry turned around to look at me.
"What is it?" he snapped. I didn't really know what to say to that. Correction. I knew exactly what to say to that. But what I was going to say, was not appropriate. I thought a moment.
"Christ Harry!" I said, losing my temper, "what is wrong with you!?" There was a moment's silence. I'd said exactly what I shouldn't have said. Me and my big mouth.
"What are you getting at?" Harry asked. I sighed, closed my eyes a moment, and answered.
"Harry. I don't know what happened to you on the night of Cedric's death... but whatever it was, has changed you. You constantly fight with Hermione, you're barely ever happy and lately it's almost like you've forgotten you're my best mate." Harry looked - not angry, really - he looked sort of happy. Almost like he'd been waiting for this conversation to transpire.
"Oh... you're referring to how you acted last year," he answered coolly. It occurred to me that this was exactly what he'd been waiting for. He'd wanted me to say what I'd said. There was nothing stopping me now.
"Yes Harry, let's ignore what I just said and snipe at me about last year," I hissed, my voice shaking slightly, "I've just decided something. You can snap at me all you want but it's not as though I'm going to take you seriously. I'm going to talk," I said and Harry's head snapped up to look at me, "and you're going to listen." It was not a suggestion.
"I've watched you suffer all year. I've said nothing. Sometimes I got a bit fed up and said something, but most of the time, I didn't do a thing. I think I've figured out why I get so angry," I said, unable to hold it in any longer, "it's because you're going through loads of pain and yet - no one scolds you for expressing it. When I snap and let some steam off, people just think - and often voice - that I'm being selfish. I understand why people say it's all right for you to be angry, but why must I hide mine? And now.... when I finally get a moment to have a sincere talk with you, I end up getting the full on burn from your torch of fury. Guess what Harry. My turn." I was so angry, I could see little red splotches all around. "I've taken crap from people since I was roughly the age of five. That is ten years of other people'sshit! Perhaps you understand what I'm saying, for you've gone through much the same as I have."
"I -" Harry began but I cut him off.
"No. Let me finish," I spluttered furiously. I stopped. Then I spoke softer and quieter. "Where have you been for the last three and a half months Harry? I've got to know. I watch you take your anger out on Hermione and I have to wonder what the hell they did to you! Did they torture you? No it's worse isn't it? What happened?" Harry suddenly sat down on the ground cross-legged and put his head in his hands. I knelt down in front of him.
"Harry. It hurts me - to see you..... God Harry," I took one of his hands and held it in mine, "I know it's difficult...." I stopped when I realized Harry was crying. It froze my heart. I watched as the tears coursed down his cheeks basically as mine had days ago when Hermione had comforted me in the dormitory. Harry grabbed his knees and hugged them close to his chest, rocking back and forth. He didn't sob like I did. He just shook, but made no noise at all. It hit me that perhaps I hadn't been very understanding. What was it Hermione had done?
No.... I was going to do differently. I cupped Harry's face in my hands. My thumbs shot out and wiped away his tears. I couldn't stand to see Harry cry.
"Harry stop..." I whispered, "please stop crying. I can't take much more of it." It didn't do any good, for next moment I could feel tears on my face too. We sat there crying, hugging each other desperately. I wanted to feel better but even though the tears were seaping form my eyes like a fountain tap, my horrible, dark feelings could not be washed away. Only then did it occur to me that perhaps I wasn't meant to feel better. Maybe I was supposed to feel pain until the day I died.
A thought like that.... it made me shake with fear. What if I never got out? Supposing George and Fred and everyone else just went away and I stayed here..... what if I never got to leave? It was such a scary thought I stopped crying. But hang on... was that really why I'd stopped? I could hear footsteps. I noticed our surroundings then. We were just on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. This was not the best place for Harry and I to be.
"Harry.... we shouldn't be here," I said, feeling a bit frantic, "I think there's something here."
"There most certainly is," said a voice and a moment later everything went black.
Oof! That chapter was the hardest one to write. I got Writers' Block, and it took me forever to overcome it. But I did.... in a rather odd way. I couldn't figure out how to kill Colin off. I knew he would commit suicide, I just didn't know how Ron would find him or how I'd make him do what he did. I had something much worse in store for poor Colin! But that'll be saved for something else. So if this chapter seemed weak to you, I'm very sorry! I'll do better in the next two chapters, or I'll try anyway!
Song Identification: Cry by Michael Jackson. You might have noticed a connection here. Two songs called Perfect. Two songs called Cry. It stops here because I couldn't find any other songs that had the same title and had basically the same sort of meaning.
-Tine
Rating: R. It'll get extremely dark in upcoming chapters. Lots of angst. Suicide, death, and much more. You have been warned.
Disclaimer: The characters and situations in this story belong to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Warner Bros. The writer is making no money off of it and does not claim ownership over it. And other citations will be made where necassary.
Dedication: I'm dedicating this to JK Rowling, who's imagination and amazing mind has put together an incredible story that has inspired me to write this fanfic. Please don't sue me Joanne, I do not claim to own this, for my mind could never compare to yours. Thanks for helping me decide where I want to go in life.
Author's Note: This next chapter was the hardest to write out of all of them. I took me almost a month to overcome Writers' Block. I had to sweat and bleed, just like Rowling says, to get the ideas to come. I was stuck. I finally got into the flow of things but then I had to figure out a way to.... well read the chapter and you'll see.
I have an apology to make. I've been making a lot of small, stupid spelling/grammar mistakes. I'm so sorry. When I get the chance, I will edit the whole story so it will look better.
Thanks to Scott, my beta-reader. You helped during the tough time I had writing this chapter. I'm so grateful! And thank you, Todd! My wonderful muse.
Chapter 4
**** Somebody shakes when the wind blows, Somebody's missing a friend. Somebody's lacking a hero, And they have not a clue when it's all gonna end.
Michael Jackson, Cry. ***
Back at school, nothing was better. As a matter of fact, it was a whole lot worse than it had ever been. I was so depressed, I'd started burying myself in my work. I was getting better marks than Hermione, which didn't upset her. It was good though, Harry and Hermione hadn't fought since that Potions class when I'd exploded at them both.
Hermione was worried. I could tell. She was always there now. Every moment. I'd turn, she'd be there. I'd look up, she'd be there. I should have been irritated beyond belief, and had it been anyone but Hermione, I would have been. She just always gave me this feeling of security. If she was watching out for me, I couldn't do anything stupid. I felt like I should be angry with her, but I wasn't. I was grateful that she was doing it for me.
I realized that I could never screw up our friendship by trying to make us anything more than friends. So, even though I sometimes felt like just grabbing her and hugging her tightly, I put the constraints on myself and let her carry on looking out for me.
I went to see Hagrid every day now. He always had tea and bicuits waiting for me. That, if nothing else, was the one thing I felt I could count on completely. No matter what time of day I went to Hagrid's hut, he always had tea and cookies waiting for me. And I adored that. It was something I could count on, that wouldn't just stop out of nowhere without any warning. It helped to keep me.... well not happy, I was never happy anymore, but it helped keep me pleasant towards other people. Which was an important thing. I didn't want people thinking there was something wrong with me. Since there wasn't.
That's a lie. There's something wrong with me. Sometimes.... I cause myself pain.... just to see my reaction. I don't really feel anything at all. A couple days ago I punched my hand right through one of the windows of the fifth year dormitories. It was stupid of me, considering Dean and Seamus were playing Exploding Snap at the next bed. They looked at me like I was a freak (which I am) and then they helped stop my hand from bleeding. Afterward I realized that they might not have been looking at me like I was a freak, but maybe they were looking at me sympathetically.
The thing is.... I'm desperately depressed. Often, I feel like there's nothing I can do. Just yesterday, I actually had everything ready to top myself. But I couldn't do it. I realized there were far too many people looking out for me. Hermione, Hagrid and maybe Harry. That was a lot to me. I had the pill bottle in my hand. I had actually, despite my principles, written a letter which had stated why I was going to do it and why I had never been very happy. But just as I was taking the pills out of the bottle, a thought occured to me. What would Ginny think?
I stopped right then and there. I knew I would never do it. Never. I would stay on this dratted world for however long, and I would never commit suicide. Because I was a role model to Ginny, and what kind of brother would I be?
That's when I realized what Fred meant that night during the Gryffindor Common Room party. He'd said that he didn't want me to turn out like him. Because, sure enough, these past few months, I'd become sarcastic and had developed somewhat of a sense of humor that which was very similar to Fred's. Which meant I was only helping Ginny turn out like me. And I knew I'd have to have a chat with her soon. Some time when I knew what the hell I was talking about. I was not a good role- model.
So nothing was better now that I had returned to school and it was all just one big problem that would probably never get solved. Every day, attacks were being reported. Every day, I got a little more depressed. Every day, Hermione got a little more worried. Every day, the school was more on the look out. And every day was just another disappointment.
Another death came about. And it was a lot like to my brother's demise. It happened one night, a month after we'd got back from the holidays. We were in the Great Hall eating breakfast when Dumbledore stood up. The hall went silent in under thirty seconds. It was a little weird. Because Dumbledore hardly ever makes announcements before breakfast and if he does, it's after the owls have delivered the mail.
"I wanted to tell you all something before the mail comes. The newspaper is carrying a story which may devistate a few people in here. Yet another Hogwarts student was killed last night. Voldemort has once again struck. I'd like you all to raise your glasses in remembrance of Dennis Creevey, who's life was cut short last night at approximately nine o'clock. My condolances go out to Dennis' family." No one had lifted their glasses yet for they were all in shock. They had all swivelled around in their seats to stare at Colin Creevey, who's glass was high in the air, tears streaming down his face. Automatically, I lifted my glass into the air as well.
"To Dennis Creevey," I muttered. It started a chain reaction and everyone else did the same. The owls began to deliver the mail to their owners. I quickly got to my feet. I didn't want to see what the newspapers had to say about this. I fled the room so fast I nearly bumped into Colin who was doing just what I was. Running away from it. We both got out of the Great Hall safely and quietly and ascended the stairs together. Just as I was about to say something Colin burst out angrily:
"Don't tell me you're sorry, and don't you dare tell me you know how I feel." It seemed Colin had forgotten what kind of Christmas present I'd gotten this year. I stopped and so did he, realizing who he'd just spoken to. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. The teachers have been saying it all morning. And all last night. None of them know what it's like!" He turned to look at me, his eyes red and swollen.
"Colin....." I started but not really knowing what to say, I tried to defend the teachers, "some of them do."
"Oh please," he scoffed and I could tell he was extremely upset, "don't tell me about some sob story." That got me angry.
"Colin! You're a sob story. Everything about you is a sob story. You're muggle-born. Exactly the kind of person Voldemort would go after. And when he finally got your little brother, what did you think? 'Hey.... I must be the only guy in the world to ever have experienced this feeling of sadness and horrible pain.' Wake up and smell the coffee," I was at it now. No stopping me, "Look at all the people in this world who have lost a family member to Voldemort. You're not the only one. I'm not even speaking for myself here. In fact, this has nothing to do with George. But Jesus, look the hell around you. There's Harry with no fucking parents. And all you can say is, 'don't tell me about some sob story'? The world is a sob story, Colin. Get used to it."
Despite how angry I was, I still felt a little bad for yelling at Colin right when he really didn't need it. But goddammit, he shouldn't have said what he had. I think I got to him though, because he suddenly looked guilty.
"I'm sorry. I understand. It's just..... why Dennis? Why not me?" he demanded and I stepped back so abruptly, it startled Colin. Why was Coling thinking like me? "What I mean is, why did he have to take my brother's life. There are a million muggle-borns to choose from. I'm one. He could have taken my life. But he didn't. Why not? Ron.... you're not even muggle-born. None of your family is. You must ask yourself why the hell You-Know-Who killed your brother." I stared at him considering what he'd said.
"Not really Colin. But now that you've put the idea in my head, I'll think about it. Here's the answer: Voldemort does things that he finds amusing. So if killing my brother makes milk come out of his nose, goodbye George. Sorry for the harsh words, but it's damn true. Voldemort is evil. There is no justification with evil. He does things without asking himself about them. And it doesn't matter to him, because it doesn't affect him. So the answer to your question, Colin, is that he chose your brother because Dennis was there at the right time. Dennis probably just happened to be walking by when Voldemort thought 'why don't I kill this boy and see who it affects.' Because it affects us whether we like to admit it or not." I took a deep breath.
This was turning into one of those lessons. Where you learn something just from having a talk with someone you barely know. Except I wasn't learning anything. Suddenly, Colin turned and walked away. But I'll never forget the look on his face. There was something like anger and sadness, but most of all, there was a look of vengeance. Even more so, a look of helplessness. I had a feeling something really bad was going to happen. And nothing I did would stop it. I was about to follow Colin, when I heard a noise behind me. I turned and saw Hermione. I could tell by the way she held herself that she'd heard all of the conversation. This wasn't good.
I was petrified. I couldn't move a muscle. Hermione stood there in her too-large wrinkled robes, looking at me with wide, blue eyes. Her robes were so long I couldn't see her shoes. Her hair was wet so she'd probably just had a shower. Her hair clung to her shoulders making little damp marks where her hair had hung. She looked..... beautiful. That was my best friend. Everything about her was just so.... Hermione. And I stood there looking at my friend until my eyes began to water and I had to look down so she wouldn't see them.
I thought she was going to scold me. Like everyone else. She was going to tell me how cruel I'd been to Colin. How completely out of line I'd been. I waited, and when it didn't come I looked up to see what was keeping her. She was still standing there, staring at me. So I focused my eyes on hers and took a small step toward her:
"I guess you heard all that just now." She said nothing. For a moment I thought maybe she'd fallen asleep standing up. She hadn't moved since I'd noticed her. The only way I could tell she was awake was by her eyes. They were blinking abnormally often. All of a sudden, she took two steps toward me and threw her arms around my shoulders.
It felt perfect. That;s the word to describe it. Perfect. She just held me like that for what seemed like an eternity. It was way too emotional. Her shoulders began to shake but I knew she wasn't crying. She was just scared..... and so was I.
"I'm so sorry, Ron," Hermione whispered in my ear, "I'm sorry you had to say those things to Colin. He was asking you unfair questions." I smiled.
"Hermione.... he's just being a fourteen year old boy who's lost his brother to something he doesn't understand. He has to ask questions... in fact he's supposed to ask questions. But it's all right. I suppose...." I stopped, swallowed the lump in my throat, and continued, "I've come to terms with George's death. I know it's not my fault and that there was nothing I could do."
Hermione pulled away, and the smile on her face was worth the pain I felt. She squeezed my shoulder and guided me back to the Common Room, not letting go of my shoulder during the entire walk there.
It simply felt wrong to lie to Hermione. But I had to do it so that she would let go. Another moment, and I would have begun wondering about things I didn't need to wonder about. For I had not come to terms with George's death. I doubted whether I ever would. I did think it was my fault, despite the fact that I was not the one to whisper the death curse at him, and I do indeed feel like I could have done something. Perhaps if I'd been doing my homework with Fred and George that one moment when Voldemort had decided kill someone, George would still be here. Maybe Voldemort would not have bothered and George wouldn't be dead. But he was..... and that was something I felt I had to insist on coming to terms with. I wouldn't... not ever. But I should at least tell people that I was. To make them feel better.
****
Two weeks passed. I was walking back from the library with Hermione and we were discussing the new book I was reading.
"Jason had real potential. He realized he wasn't a muggle, and you get to really experience it all. It's like you're really there. The description doesn't do that," I said. We were having a debate about whether or not Magic Powers was better at description or voice.
"Yes but Jason had no clue what his surroundings were. It's hard to describe something you don't understand," Hermione explained.
"No it's not," I covered her eyes with my hands from behind. Then I walked her into a random room, "now look," I let go, "where are we?"
"I dunno," Hermione answered, squinting through the darkness.
"Describe it to me," I told her.
"Well. It's very dark. And there's some sort of piece of furniture over there. A chair probably. And there's an - oh wow!" she said softly, "look at that!" She bent and scooped up something from the floor.
"What is it?" I asked curiously.
"It's.... it's a penny," Hermione answered.
"What's a penny?" I asked.
"It's muggle currency. It stands for one cent," she answered matter-of-factly.
"What's a cent?"
"Um.... you can't buy very much with it. It's supposed to stand for good luck," she said, "here." She dropped it in my hand and smiled. She looked great doing it. I shook the thought from my mind and dropped the penny in my pocket.
"Thanks," I replied. Hermione shrugged. We left the room together. When we got into the hall we realized we'd been in the Charms classroom. We quickly made our way up the remaining stairwells and then walked up to the the Portrait Hole.
"Old Magick," Hermione whispered. She always whispered it. She said it was because she was afraid someone would overhear.
"Yes yes, that's it," the Fat Lady replied, in the middle of a huge yawn, and swung forward on her hinges to admit us. As soon as we stepped inside the Common room, Hermione turned to me.
"Thanks for coming with me to study for the OWL's. It means a lot when you're coming because you actually want to," she said looking down at her feet.
"No problem," I answered, looking at mine.
"What caused you to become so involved in your work?" she asked and we both looked up. I sighed. Then I answered as truthfully as I could:
"A snap back to reality." I shuffled my feet for it was a bit awkward. Hermione seemed to get my drift for she looked at me with the utmost sympathy. That should have made me angry as hell, but it didn't. With other people, they always looked at me like they knew what I was going through. With Hermione, it was a lot different. She looked at me like she knew she couldn't understand what I was going through, but she wanted to so badly it hurt. That was what shined through when she looked at me. It made me feel sort of warm inside. "I want to apologize. I'm sorry for making you feel like you had to comfort me when I went psycho the night before the Chistmas holidays. I just -"
"Don't apologize!" she said sharply and I started, "I would have..... I would have done much worse if my brother or sister had died." She whispered the last word, as though she didn't want me to hear it. I was touched. No one had ever looked out for my well being like Hermione just had. She barely tried and yet she did infinitely more than anyone else did. And everyone else was trying way too hard.
"I know... but I laid a burden on you and I'm sorry for that. It won't happen again."
"On the contrary, I hope it does," she said.
"Pardon?" I said, in complete shock.
"I just meant that it's made us stronger. I felt as though we were drifting apart before. But now we're closer than ever," Hermione said, smiling widely, "I wonder what would happen if we went through all that again."
I didn't really feel like going through it again but I didn't say so. I just smiled weakly and muttered something about going up to bed. Later on, when I was lying in bed, I thought about it. And I came to the conclusion that maybe I would go through all of it again. Perhaps.... just to be in Hermione's arms again. That felt good. Just to be hugged and comforted by her by her. And I realized, that meant I'd even go through mr brother's death again. Who knows.... maybe this time I'd be stronger.
****
For some reason, the next morning, I woke up with a jolt. I hadn't been dreaming. Nor had I been scared or anything. For when I looked around the room, there was nothing there that would have woken me. Since I was already awake, I got up. I was still in my robes. I hadn't changed out of them the night before. Well, I wasn't going to bother to now. It was only six in the morning. I could probably fit in a bit of reading time until Breakfast. So I went down into the Common Room and sat down.
It was a very interesting book. It was called School Time. There was a little girl, Janey, and she kept getting really good marks in school. She thought she was some sort of genius. Then she finds out her mother had always gotten good marks in school, but her father had always gotten bad marks until he met Janey's mother and they'd fallen madly in love. Then he'd gotten wonderful marks as well. It was kind of a creepy book. I wasn't sure why, it was just creepy.
I read for about ten minutes when I got this kind of weird feeling. Like someone was watching me. I turned to look behind me and was met with the most horrible sight I'd seen in my entire life. Worse than finding out George was dead. Worse than finding out Dennis was dead. Hanging from the very ceiling by their neck was a person. It was still too dark to see who it was but I quickly jumped out of my chair and stumbled away from the body completely aghast. I was gasping for breath.
I really didn't want to know who it was. It could have been anyone. It could have been any first year, second year, third year, fourth year, fifth year, sixth year or seventh year. But I had a horrible feeling it was a particular fourth year. Automatically it seemed, I screamed. Screamed like there was no tomorrow. I was so scared and disgusted that I could only scream.
Obviously it attracted a whole bunch of people. In fact, the entire Gryffindor house came bolting down the stairs to see what was wrong. I crouched up against the wall and kept yelling. Dean and Seamus came over to see what was wrong and they quickly covered my mouths with their hands. That stopped me from screaming. But not from speaking.
"Look," I whispered and everyone looked to where I was pointing, "It's Colin.... he's dead." There was an eerie silence. Then a thump, for someone had fainted, and then a whole bunch of screams. Suddenly, my eye caught a certain person. Harry. He had an unreadable expression on his face. His gaze met mine and he suddenly bolted out of the common room, the portrait hole slamming shut behind him.
Hermione started to go after him but I quickly ran over to her and grabbed onto her arm.
"Let me...." I requested. Hermione nodded reluctantly and I ran out of the portrait hole. When I got out into the corridor, I could see Harry turning around a corner. I followed him outside. He turned around, and when he saw what I was doing, he broke into a run.
I chased after Harry, trying to catch up. I knew there was only one way I would. I worked up the energy and jumped onto Harry, pinning him front first to the ground. Harry spat snow out of his mouth.
"What the hell, Ron?" he shouted angrily. I got off of Harry and he got to his feet without taking my outstretched hand, "Leave me alone, Ron!"
"Yes I suppose the fact that you just had to throw yourself out of the common room to get down here suggests you really need to be left alone," I said with much disdain.
"Just go away!" he shouted, his back to me.
"Harry!" I said and stomped my foot on the ground in a fit of angry frustration. Harry turned around to look at me.
"What is it?" he snapped. I didn't really know what to say to that. Correction. I knew exactly what to say to that. But what I was going to say, was not appropriate. I thought a moment.
"Christ Harry!" I said, losing my temper, "what is wrong with you!?" There was a moment's silence. I'd said exactly what I shouldn't have said. Me and my big mouth.
"What are you getting at?" Harry asked. I sighed, closed my eyes a moment, and answered.
"Harry. I don't know what happened to you on the night of Cedric's death... but whatever it was, has changed you. You constantly fight with Hermione, you're barely ever happy and lately it's almost like you've forgotten you're my best mate." Harry looked - not angry, really - he looked sort of happy. Almost like he'd been waiting for this conversation to transpire.
"Oh... you're referring to how you acted last year," he answered coolly. It occurred to me that this was exactly what he'd been waiting for. He'd wanted me to say what I'd said. There was nothing stopping me now.
"Yes Harry, let's ignore what I just said and snipe at me about last year," I hissed, my voice shaking slightly, "I've just decided something. You can snap at me all you want but it's not as though I'm going to take you seriously. I'm going to talk," I said and Harry's head snapped up to look at me, "and you're going to listen." It was not a suggestion.
"I've watched you suffer all year. I've said nothing. Sometimes I got a bit fed up and said something, but most of the time, I didn't do a thing. I think I've figured out why I get so angry," I said, unable to hold it in any longer, "it's because you're going through loads of pain and yet - no one scolds you for expressing it. When I snap and let some steam off, people just think - and often voice - that I'm being selfish. I understand why people say it's all right for you to be angry, but why must I hide mine? And now.... when I finally get a moment to have a sincere talk with you, I end up getting the full on burn from your torch of fury. Guess what Harry. My turn." I was so angry, I could see little red splotches all around. "I've taken crap from people since I was roughly the age of five. That is ten years of other people'sshit! Perhaps you understand what I'm saying, for you've gone through much the same as I have."
"I -" Harry began but I cut him off.
"No. Let me finish," I spluttered furiously. I stopped. Then I spoke softer and quieter. "Where have you been for the last three and a half months Harry? I've got to know. I watch you take your anger out on Hermione and I have to wonder what the hell they did to you! Did they torture you? No it's worse isn't it? What happened?" Harry suddenly sat down on the ground cross-legged and put his head in his hands. I knelt down in front of him.
"Harry. It hurts me - to see you..... God Harry," I took one of his hands and held it in mine, "I know it's difficult...." I stopped when I realized Harry was crying. It froze my heart. I watched as the tears coursed down his cheeks basically as mine had days ago when Hermione had comforted me in the dormitory. Harry grabbed his knees and hugged them close to his chest, rocking back and forth. He didn't sob like I did. He just shook, but made no noise at all. It hit me that perhaps I hadn't been very understanding. What was it Hermione had done?
No.... I was going to do differently. I cupped Harry's face in my hands. My thumbs shot out and wiped away his tears. I couldn't stand to see Harry cry.
"Harry stop..." I whispered, "please stop crying. I can't take much more of it." It didn't do any good, for next moment I could feel tears on my face too. We sat there crying, hugging each other desperately. I wanted to feel better but even though the tears were seaping form my eyes like a fountain tap, my horrible, dark feelings could not be washed away. Only then did it occur to me that perhaps I wasn't meant to feel better. Maybe I was supposed to feel pain until the day I died.
A thought like that.... it made me shake with fear. What if I never got out? Supposing George and Fred and everyone else just went away and I stayed here..... what if I never got to leave? It was such a scary thought I stopped crying. But hang on... was that really why I'd stopped? I could hear footsteps. I noticed our surroundings then. We were just on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. This was not the best place for Harry and I to be.
"Harry.... we shouldn't be here," I said, feeling a bit frantic, "I think there's something here."
"There most certainly is," said a voice and a moment later everything went black.
Oof! That chapter was the hardest one to write. I got Writers' Block, and it took me forever to overcome it. But I did.... in a rather odd way. I couldn't figure out how to kill Colin off. I knew he would commit suicide, I just didn't know how Ron would find him or how I'd make him do what he did. I had something much worse in store for poor Colin! But that'll be saved for something else. So if this chapter seemed weak to you, I'm very sorry! I'll do better in the next two chapters, or I'll try anyway!
Song Identification: Cry by Michael Jackson. You might have noticed a connection here. Two songs called Perfect. Two songs called Cry. It stops here because I couldn't find any other songs that had the same title and had basically the same sort of meaning.
-Tine