Warning: Some mild slash hints
Dedication: For Jenn, for recommending that good tattoo place.
Author's Note: This chapter is a bit short. It's sad though, and there will be no doubts left about what has happened in the recent past.
End of All Hope
Ron and Hermione
The hall was silent, save for the staccato sound of heels on stone. Both walked, side by side, staring strait ahead. It was as though they were afraid to speak.
"What..." Voice hesitant, afraid. Hermione turned to Ron, struggling for her words. "What's going on? Do you think?"
"They're scared." A shrug, hands shoved in pockets, eyes staring strait ahead, burning brilliantly. "Do you blame them?"
"Do you think...is it because Harry...?"
"Leave him out of this!" Words snapped out violently. Ron shoved ahead, long legs taking him further and further away from the woman who wished only to help him.
"Ron..." A hand reached out for him, which he shook off, angrily.
"Leave it, Mione."
"Ron, I know it hurts, but you have to..."
"I have to what?" Turning, eyes on fire.
"You have to just move on!" The words shouted, echoing in the empty hallway. They rang off of stone and glass, and fell, breaking into a thousand pieces. Silence followed, cold, angry. Burning eyes turned to two chips of blue ice. Brown eyes widened, realization setting in. A line had been crossed, and words that had been spoken could not be taken back.
"Excuse me." Words as cold as his eyes. He turned away from her, shoulders set. She stood, looking after him, tears welling up in her eyes. She knew she had made a grievous error, but did not know how to fix it. He had closed the door already, shutting her out.
He continued walking, through deadened corridors where once he had found such joy. Now they held nothing but an empty longing, an indescribable pain. He had never known pain, not truly, before this. His world had died, gone out with the light in a pair of emerald green eyes. And she could never understand. She had never seen, never knew.
"She was so damn blind..." The door was just another enemy. He kicked it, taking some pleasure in the sound of his foot hitting solid wood. "Of course this is because of him..."
What had happened? What had gone so wrong? Where had they failed? He couldn't help but take some blame himself. There should have been something that could have been done. But it was only heatsickness that caused those thoughts.
//They want tactics...fine. I can give them tactics.// He would not deny his skill on the field. But they would listen to him, despite his youth and lack of experience. He had stormed his way to the library, once a hated place, now a haven. There were books on strategy here, books that would hone his skill. And printed words would help take his mind off recent tragedy.
Opening the first book, he forced his eyes to scan the words. They swam and dipped on the pages, eluding him. It seemed his troubled mind would not allow him to turn to any tasks. He closed his eyes, longing for blissful darkness. Why couldn't he find it anymore?
//You know damn well why.// But his mind would not acknowledge what his heart already knew. That he had found love-and lost it-at the tender age of fifteen. Unrequited love, most certainly, but what did that matter?
Pain. He looked inside himself and pain was all that he found. His heart was dead inside of him. At first his mind had been a whirlwind, pure chaos. Now it was still and vacant. He often wondered if he looked as worn as he felt. He had done away with mirrors. He hated the way his eyes look, now. Empty and dead.
//It isn't fair.// But what, exactly it was that wasn't fair, he couldn't say. Nothing, anymore. He was tired of it all. Why should he suffer so? Why couldn't he just sink into that darkness he so longed for?
//Because you're not a coward Ron, that's why.// He was stern with himself. He raised his lids, and light flowed into his eyes again. Tactics. He needed to study tactics. He would heal, with time. And he *would* find the revenge he so desired. Regardless of what it took.
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