Author's Note: I am writing this only because I am seriously lacking in
ideas on my other fic and I just thought I'd let the world know.
Disclaimer: I seriously own none of these characters. I promise. I swear. I tell only the truth. I swear to tell the....aw, you get the idea.
Ron Weasley picked up a pen and flicked it across his desk. He hated Friday nights. One night away from Saturday, and here he was at the office, working late again. Crap. What the hell was he doing here, anyway? Oh, yeah. He had a job. Sometimes Ron wished he was a kid again, back at Hogwarts. Oh, well. Some dreams just don't come true. At least he had Harry.
Harry picked the pen off the floor and handed it to him. "I think you dropped something." He sounded just as tired as Ron looked.
"I would have guessed." Ron flashed him the unmistakable mischevious grin he had had since the age of eleven, when the best friends had met.
Of course, there had been three of them then. Now there were only two.
Hermione Granger had been the love of Ron Weasley's life. There was no doubting it. Of course, he had been such a prat up till he was sixteen that he didn't notice it. But then, oh, then, he had seen the truth.
They, he and Harry and Hermione, had been best friends to begin with. They had plenty of adventures together, starting with the mountain troll that brought them together at the age of eleven to the final battle with the Dark Lord Voldemort in their seventh year. The memories of that night, still ever fresh in Ron's mind even though it had been three years, suddenly flooded his head. He saw a Petrified Snape, their latest ally, lying on the floor of the Great Hall. He saw the face of a tear streaked Hermione, shrieking the life out of herself as Voldemort tried to kill Harry once more. He saw the face of the dead Dumbledore as they had passed his office in search of Voldemort. And finally, he saw the image that scared him the most. The image of Voldemort laughing the most cruel laugh imaginable as he sank to the floor in the midst of a rage of insanity and his death all at once. It was the most horrid thing Ron had ever seen in his life.
"Ron?" Ron was jerked from his reverie by Harry's voice. "Are-are you okay?"
Ron nodded.
"You're thinking about that night, aren't you?" Harry said it very quickly and quietly. Talking about it always made him uncomfortable for a number of reasons. How many Ron knew of he himself was not sure of.
"Yeah," Ron replied. A dead silence hung over them.
"We were all scared that night, you know," Harry said. He looked as though he was trying very hard not to cry himself. "We all lost a bit of our innocence. But you...you saved me Ron. I owe you everything."
"You don't owe me shit," Ron said, cutting him off instantly.
Harry shook his head. "I do. You gave the only countercurse there is for what Voldemort was about to do to me."
"It wasn't just me," Ron muttered under his breath.
Harry exhaled low and ran a hand through his hair in realization. "Is this about Hermione?" he asked after a moment.
"Everything is about Her-Her..Everything is about her," was the only reply that came out of Ron's mouth.
"Ron, she's gone. It's not your fault." Harry looked quite sad at the mention of his former best friend.
"It was my fault! If she had just stayed in her room that night then none of this-"
"Then things wouldnt've gone the way they were supposed to, Ron!" Harry matched Ron's yelling tone.
"Things weren't supposed to be like this!" Ron yelled back.
"Ron, she's dead!" Harry's voice rang out in Ron's head louder than he'd ever heard anything in his life. He could barely look up. Neither one of the two had ever voiced the fact aloud; it had been merely something known to one another. Finally, Ron let his tears flow freely down his cheeks.
"I know," he whispered. "I know." Suddenly he stood up. "Our lives are fucking shitholes, Harry," he said, his sobs suddenly turning to laughter.
"Yeah," was the now laughing reply of his best friend.
"I mean look at this place," Ron said, eyeing the shabby walls and ragged setting. "You'd think working at the Ministry would've made us more money, eh?"
"Now you know that just because you're famous you don't get all the perks," Harry said, grinning.
"Ten points from Gryffindor for your cheek, Potter!" Ron said, in an accurate mimicry of their old school professor.
Just as the two began to laugh again, there was a knock at the door.
"I'll get it," Ron volunteered, getting up. "I'm dying to find out who'd want to visit such paupers this late on a Friday night."
He got his answer as he swung the door open. Ron Weasley's eyes grew wide as he said the only thing that would come to mind. "Bloody hell..."
Hermione Granger, their dead best friend, was standing in the doorway to their office.
******************************
So, how do you like it? Do you want me to continue? I know it sounds a bit rushed and weird but it'll get good I promise. As usual, I love feedback and am welcome to some ideas.
Disclaimer: I seriously own none of these characters. I promise. I swear. I tell only the truth. I swear to tell the....aw, you get the idea.
Ron Weasley picked up a pen and flicked it across his desk. He hated Friday nights. One night away from Saturday, and here he was at the office, working late again. Crap. What the hell was he doing here, anyway? Oh, yeah. He had a job. Sometimes Ron wished he was a kid again, back at Hogwarts. Oh, well. Some dreams just don't come true. At least he had Harry.
Harry picked the pen off the floor and handed it to him. "I think you dropped something." He sounded just as tired as Ron looked.
"I would have guessed." Ron flashed him the unmistakable mischevious grin he had had since the age of eleven, when the best friends had met.
Of course, there had been three of them then. Now there were only two.
Hermione Granger had been the love of Ron Weasley's life. There was no doubting it. Of course, he had been such a prat up till he was sixteen that he didn't notice it. But then, oh, then, he had seen the truth.
They, he and Harry and Hermione, had been best friends to begin with. They had plenty of adventures together, starting with the mountain troll that brought them together at the age of eleven to the final battle with the Dark Lord Voldemort in their seventh year. The memories of that night, still ever fresh in Ron's mind even though it had been three years, suddenly flooded his head. He saw a Petrified Snape, their latest ally, lying on the floor of the Great Hall. He saw the face of a tear streaked Hermione, shrieking the life out of herself as Voldemort tried to kill Harry once more. He saw the face of the dead Dumbledore as they had passed his office in search of Voldemort. And finally, he saw the image that scared him the most. The image of Voldemort laughing the most cruel laugh imaginable as he sank to the floor in the midst of a rage of insanity and his death all at once. It was the most horrid thing Ron had ever seen in his life.
"Ron?" Ron was jerked from his reverie by Harry's voice. "Are-are you okay?"
Ron nodded.
"You're thinking about that night, aren't you?" Harry said it very quickly and quietly. Talking about it always made him uncomfortable for a number of reasons. How many Ron knew of he himself was not sure of.
"Yeah," Ron replied. A dead silence hung over them.
"We were all scared that night, you know," Harry said. He looked as though he was trying very hard not to cry himself. "We all lost a bit of our innocence. But you...you saved me Ron. I owe you everything."
"You don't owe me shit," Ron said, cutting him off instantly.
Harry shook his head. "I do. You gave the only countercurse there is for what Voldemort was about to do to me."
"It wasn't just me," Ron muttered under his breath.
Harry exhaled low and ran a hand through his hair in realization. "Is this about Hermione?" he asked after a moment.
"Everything is about Her-Her..Everything is about her," was the only reply that came out of Ron's mouth.
"Ron, she's gone. It's not your fault." Harry looked quite sad at the mention of his former best friend.
"It was my fault! If she had just stayed in her room that night then none of this-"
"Then things wouldnt've gone the way they were supposed to, Ron!" Harry matched Ron's yelling tone.
"Things weren't supposed to be like this!" Ron yelled back.
"Ron, she's dead!" Harry's voice rang out in Ron's head louder than he'd ever heard anything in his life. He could barely look up. Neither one of the two had ever voiced the fact aloud; it had been merely something known to one another. Finally, Ron let his tears flow freely down his cheeks.
"I know," he whispered. "I know." Suddenly he stood up. "Our lives are fucking shitholes, Harry," he said, his sobs suddenly turning to laughter.
"Yeah," was the now laughing reply of his best friend.
"I mean look at this place," Ron said, eyeing the shabby walls and ragged setting. "You'd think working at the Ministry would've made us more money, eh?"
"Now you know that just because you're famous you don't get all the perks," Harry said, grinning.
"Ten points from Gryffindor for your cheek, Potter!" Ron said, in an accurate mimicry of their old school professor.
Just as the two began to laugh again, there was a knock at the door.
"I'll get it," Ron volunteered, getting up. "I'm dying to find out who'd want to visit such paupers this late on a Friday night."
He got his answer as he swung the door open. Ron Weasley's eyes grew wide as he said the only thing that would come to mind. "Bloody hell..."
Hermione Granger, their dead best friend, was standing in the doorway to their office.
******************************
So, how do you like it? Do you want me to continue? I know it sounds a bit rushed and weird but it'll get good I promise. As usual, I love feedback and am welcome to some ideas.