Setting: Harry, Ron and Hermione are 23, Ginny is 22. Voldemort is still at
large, and more powerful than ever. Harry and Ginny are dating, but Ron and
Hermione, somehow, are not, and never have. They, and others, are all at
Hogwarts, which has become sort of the headquarters for the 'forces of
good.' For more details about the setting of this story, especially the
meeting that preceded this scene, see my other fic, Our Precious Blood.
In an Inglorious Spot
Chapter 1: Hunted and Penned
Harry left the meeting quickly. He felt he absolutely had to get away from them all and be alone. He had just decided his, and everyone else's, fate, and he wanted some peace to figure out if he'd been right.
"Right!?" he asked himself indignantly. How could any choice be right, or good, or smart, or fair, considering the circumstances they were in? Surrounded on all sides by Voldemort's forces, facing an apocalyptic battle tomorrow, a battle in which two thirds of their number would surely be killed, no matter whether Harry decided to flee or to stay and fight. Thinking of his friends dying brought a well of emotion into Harry's throat, and he struggled to push it down, knowing that if he broke down, if he allowed himself to anticipate the horror that fully, he would not have the strength to do what he must.
"I have to," he said aloud, though he was alone in the hallway. He really didn't feel he had a choice. They were going to die anyway, whether he risked himself or not, so why not go down with them?
It was a heady, intoxicating, numbing thought, the idea that after tomorrow he might be dead too and not have to deal with having lost them all, having been responsible for all their deaths. That thought was weakening him, tempting him into a deep and easy darkness.
Just then, Harry heard running footsteps in the hall behind him. He closed his eyes wearily, willing his best friend to leave him be.
But Ron didn't. He kept coming.
"Harry!" he called, catching up.
"Ron, I've made up my mind, please don't try to convince me to leave, I don't have the energy for this-" Harry began, attempting to cut off the pleas he thought were coming. At the meeting, Ron had vehemently opposed Harry's decision not to flee, and Harry simply did not want to listen to him any more. Ron seemed to have no idea how much harder his protests made things for Harry. It is easier to risk all when one believes that what he has is not much. But every word Ron had said at the meeting had reminded Harry of the incalculable value of his friends, who he would, in all likelihood, lose. And, more than even that, Ron had tried, in so many words, to make Harry realize his own value to them all, and that hurt worse. Not only would Harry lose friends who were valuable for their own sake, because they were brave and decent people, but friends who loved him. And their love for Harry was the reason they were going to die. Again, Harry closed his eyes against the painful thought.
"I know you've made up your mind, and that's not what I want to talk to you about." Ron answered firmly.
Harry stopped in his tracks, genuinely puzzled.
"Then what?" What could Ron want? Harry sincerely hoped it wasn't a stroll down memory lane; he thought he could hold up under anything but that.
Ron looked hard at his best friend.
"I want to know what you meant," he said determinedly.
Harry suddenly felt their height difference much more than usual. The way Ron had him pinned under his gaze made him feel as if he had done something wrong. Professor McGonagall had a similar glare, as did Mrs. Weasley. Harry did not like it.
"What?" he asked, confused and defiant.
Despite his resolve, Ron hesitated.
"When you said." He couldn't seem to finish; the taboo was too strong.
Ron's faltering unnerved and annoyed Harry.
"I said a lot of things," he snapped, turning to walk on. Harry felt he couldn't be expected to defend everything he'd said at the meeting, and he most decidedly did not want to do so. He only wanted to be left alone, away from it all for just a little while. Was it too much to ask?
Harry's minor show of temper seemed to give Ron the courage he needed. Unwilling to have an audience, he looked quickly up and down the corridor, and pulled Harry into the nearest door. It happened to be their old History of Magic classroom.
"When you said you're more than willing to die," he finished in an accusatory tone.
There was a moment of silence.
"I didn't say that," Harry said almost reflexively, not because it was true, but because he thought it might get him off the hook. This was an even less appealing topic of conversation than his decision to stay and fight, or his memories of school days.
"Yes you did." Ron asserted. "You said it quietly, like it was a thought you just let slip through, but I was close, and I heard you, and I want to know what you meant by it."
"Nothing, all right?" Harry retorted. "Like you said, it was just a thought, and I didn't mean to say it aloud at all."
"Then what did you mean thinking it?"
Harry looked at Ron in a near panic, as if he had suddenly divided into a hundred Death Eaters, surrounding him threateningly. He hated the feeling of being attacked, and instantly became defensive.
"How could I help thinking it? Tomorrow, just about everyone I care about is going to die. And, as if that weren't hard enough to deal with by itself, I'm the reason they're all going to die." Harry was quickly falling into his angry, sarcastic voice, the one he knew made Ron flinch. "But then again, I suppose I should be used to it by now. My parents, Sirius, Cedric, and how many close calls have you and Hermione had because of me? I've lost count. Ron, I've had to deal with this huge burden of guilt ever since I found out who I was. You know, maybe it is who I am. Maybe that's what this scar really means: stay away from this guy, he'll get you killed! His mum died for him and you will too!" Harry's rising temper was giving him a headache that was completely unrelated to his scar. He put a hand on his temples and took a breath before returning to the original question in a quieter voice. "It's just that I don't think I can handle losing so many people.so many friends. I can't deal with having so many deaths on my head all at once. It was horrible enough when they came one or two at a time. Is it that wrong for me to want to escape from all that guilt and all that grief?" Harry closed his eyes. "I'm sick of being 'The Boy Who Lived.' And if my living means that so many people." Harry looked straight at Ron and voiced something he knew they'd both been thinking about since the terrible statistic was announced at the meeting. "that you are going to be killed, then, yes, I'm more than willing to die."
"That is BULLSHIT, Harry."
The strength of Ron's audacious response stunned Harry. He was used to people instantly backing down every time he mentioned his past, who he was. To have anyone, especially Ron, openly disrespect everything that he'd been through completely shocked him.
"D'you hear me? Bullshit." Ron repeated firmly. "You can't make that decision. They're our lives, and we decide what we're going to do with them. So if we want to die for you, then you damn well better live. When we're all giving our lives for you, you haven't got any right to be heroically suicidal. You've got no right to decide if we will make that sacrifice, and even less right to throw our sacrifice away because you 'can't deal' with it."
It took Harry a moment to recover from the shock of hearing Ron speak to him like this, and the grief that filled him at realizing that Ron, by his choice of pronoun, included himself pretty automatically in those that would be lost.
"But-but that's not fair," Harry stuttered, feeling suddenly very young before Ron, who seemed to have quickly matured. "So you're allowed to die for me, but I can't die for you?"
"Because if you die, then Voldemort wins." Ron said the name without even blinking, Harry noticed. "That's how it works, right?"
They were both quiet for a moment. Harry had never expressly told anyone the details of the prophecy concerning himself and Lord Voldemort. Considering all that the Dark Lord had done to try to learn the prophecy's contents, he believed his friends were probably safer not knowing. The truth that Ron had just uttered somehow meant more because he seemed to have pulled it from thin air. Harry wasn't sure how to answer him, because he was right. Harry had been so taken in by the seductive idea of dying tomorrow that he hadn't even thought about how it would inevitably effect the outcome of the battle. Harry felt a strange disappointment at the loss of his pathetic last consolation.
"You need to find something to live for, Harry." Ron said quietly.
At that moment there was a knock at the door to the classroom. In the time it took for Harry and Ron to look in that direction, Ginny had already let herself in.
A/n: Next chapter: Ron has an idea to help Harry make it through tomorrow- but Ginny probably won't like it at all. If you're confused, especially about what exactly happened at the meeting before this scene, you should read the first chapter of the companion piece, Our Precious Blood. Thanks for reading, please review!
In an Inglorious Spot
Chapter 1: Hunted and Penned
Harry left the meeting quickly. He felt he absolutely had to get away from them all and be alone. He had just decided his, and everyone else's, fate, and he wanted some peace to figure out if he'd been right.
"Right!?" he asked himself indignantly. How could any choice be right, or good, or smart, or fair, considering the circumstances they were in? Surrounded on all sides by Voldemort's forces, facing an apocalyptic battle tomorrow, a battle in which two thirds of their number would surely be killed, no matter whether Harry decided to flee or to stay and fight. Thinking of his friends dying brought a well of emotion into Harry's throat, and he struggled to push it down, knowing that if he broke down, if he allowed himself to anticipate the horror that fully, he would not have the strength to do what he must.
"I have to," he said aloud, though he was alone in the hallway. He really didn't feel he had a choice. They were going to die anyway, whether he risked himself or not, so why not go down with them?
It was a heady, intoxicating, numbing thought, the idea that after tomorrow he might be dead too and not have to deal with having lost them all, having been responsible for all their deaths. That thought was weakening him, tempting him into a deep and easy darkness.
Just then, Harry heard running footsteps in the hall behind him. He closed his eyes wearily, willing his best friend to leave him be.
But Ron didn't. He kept coming.
"Harry!" he called, catching up.
"Ron, I've made up my mind, please don't try to convince me to leave, I don't have the energy for this-" Harry began, attempting to cut off the pleas he thought were coming. At the meeting, Ron had vehemently opposed Harry's decision not to flee, and Harry simply did not want to listen to him any more. Ron seemed to have no idea how much harder his protests made things for Harry. It is easier to risk all when one believes that what he has is not much. But every word Ron had said at the meeting had reminded Harry of the incalculable value of his friends, who he would, in all likelihood, lose. And, more than even that, Ron had tried, in so many words, to make Harry realize his own value to them all, and that hurt worse. Not only would Harry lose friends who were valuable for their own sake, because they were brave and decent people, but friends who loved him. And their love for Harry was the reason they were going to die. Again, Harry closed his eyes against the painful thought.
"I know you've made up your mind, and that's not what I want to talk to you about." Ron answered firmly.
Harry stopped in his tracks, genuinely puzzled.
"Then what?" What could Ron want? Harry sincerely hoped it wasn't a stroll down memory lane; he thought he could hold up under anything but that.
Ron looked hard at his best friend.
"I want to know what you meant," he said determinedly.
Harry suddenly felt their height difference much more than usual. The way Ron had him pinned under his gaze made him feel as if he had done something wrong. Professor McGonagall had a similar glare, as did Mrs. Weasley. Harry did not like it.
"What?" he asked, confused and defiant.
Despite his resolve, Ron hesitated.
"When you said." He couldn't seem to finish; the taboo was too strong.
Ron's faltering unnerved and annoyed Harry.
"I said a lot of things," he snapped, turning to walk on. Harry felt he couldn't be expected to defend everything he'd said at the meeting, and he most decidedly did not want to do so. He only wanted to be left alone, away from it all for just a little while. Was it too much to ask?
Harry's minor show of temper seemed to give Ron the courage he needed. Unwilling to have an audience, he looked quickly up and down the corridor, and pulled Harry into the nearest door. It happened to be their old History of Magic classroom.
"When you said you're more than willing to die," he finished in an accusatory tone.
There was a moment of silence.
"I didn't say that," Harry said almost reflexively, not because it was true, but because he thought it might get him off the hook. This was an even less appealing topic of conversation than his decision to stay and fight, or his memories of school days.
"Yes you did." Ron asserted. "You said it quietly, like it was a thought you just let slip through, but I was close, and I heard you, and I want to know what you meant by it."
"Nothing, all right?" Harry retorted. "Like you said, it was just a thought, and I didn't mean to say it aloud at all."
"Then what did you mean thinking it?"
Harry looked at Ron in a near panic, as if he had suddenly divided into a hundred Death Eaters, surrounding him threateningly. He hated the feeling of being attacked, and instantly became defensive.
"How could I help thinking it? Tomorrow, just about everyone I care about is going to die. And, as if that weren't hard enough to deal with by itself, I'm the reason they're all going to die." Harry was quickly falling into his angry, sarcastic voice, the one he knew made Ron flinch. "But then again, I suppose I should be used to it by now. My parents, Sirius, Cedric, and how many close calls have you and Hermione had because of me? I've lost count. Ron, I've had to deal with this huge burden of guilt ever since I found out who I was. You know, maybe it is who I am. Maybe that's what this scar really means: stay away from this guy, he'll get you killed! His mum died for him and you will too!" Harry's rising temper was giving him a headache that was completely unrelated to his scar. He put a hand on his temples and took a breath before returning to the original question in a quieter voice. "It's just that I don't think I can handle losing so many people.so many friends. I can't deal with having so many deaths on my head all at once. It was horrible enough when they came one or two at a time. Is it that wrong for me to want to escape from all that guilt and all that grief?" Harry closed his eyes. "I'm sick of being 'The Boy Who Lived.' And if my living means that so many people." Harry looked straight at Ron and voiced something he knew they'd both been thinking about since the terrible statistic was announced at the meeting. "that you are going to be killed, then, yes, I'm more than willing to die."
"That is BULLSHIT, Harry."
The strength of Ron's audacious response stunned Harry. He was used to people instantly backing down every time he mentioned his past, who he was. To have anyone, especially Ron, openly disrespect everything that he'd been through completely shocked him.
"D'you hear me? Bullshit." Ron repeated firmly. "You can't make that decision. They're our lives, and we decide what we're going to do with them. So if we want to die for you, then you damn well better live. When we're all giving our lives for you, you haven't got any right to be heroically suicidal. You've got no right to decide if we will make that sacrifice, and even less right to throw our sacrifice away because you 'can't deal' with it."
It took Harry a moment to recover from the shock of hearing Ron speak to him like this, and the grief that filled him at realizing that Ron, by his choice of pronoun, included himself pretty automatically in those that would be lost.
"But-but that's not fair," Harry stuttered, feeling suddenly very young before Ron, who seemed to have quickly matured. "So you're allowed to die for me, but I can't die for you?"
"Because if you die, then Voldemort wins." Ron said the name without even blinking, Harry noticed. "That's how it works, right?"
They were both quiet for a moment. Harry had never expressly told anyone the details of the prophecy concerning himself and Lord Voldemort. Considering all that the Dark Lord had done to try to learn the prophecy's contents, he believed his friends were probably safer not knowing. The truth that Ron had just uttered somehow meant more because he seemed to have pulled it from thin air. Harry wasn't sure how to answer him, because he was right. Harry had been so taken in by the seductive idea of dying tomorrow that he hadn't even thought about how it would inevitably effect the outcome of the battle. Harry felt a strange disappointment at the loss of his pathetic last consolation.
"You need to find something to live for, Harry." Ron said quietly.
At that moment there was a knock at the door to the classroom. In the time it took for Harry and Ron to look in that direction, Ginny had already let herself in.
A/n: Next chapter: Ron has an idea to help Harry make it through tomorrow- but Ginny probably won't like it at all. If you're confused, especially about what exactly happened at the meeting before this scene, you should read the first chapter of the companion piece, Our Precious Blood. Thanks for reading, please review!