Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

I've always liked the night.

When everyone is asleep and silence finally encases the castle.

I can pretend that I'm someone else. I can be the mighty Dumbledore, nasty Snape, clever Hermione, or even the famous Harry Potter.

I don't have to be Ronald Weasley the git.

If truth be told I'm tired of living in the shadow of Harry Potter's fame and glory. I only showed how I really feel once before, in our fourth year at Hogwarts. I was so jealous that Harry's name came out of the Goblet of Fire.

I never really believed what Harry said until the fake Moody's confession. Hermione was the one who made me apologize to him, I never really wanted to. I haven't told him how I feel since…

The truth is that after five generations of perfect older brothers I've mastered how to hide my feelings. I still have to learn how to make them really go away and have them plague me no longer, but tonight I think I've found the solution to my madness.

I've heard of muggles and how some cut their wrists and let their life force leave them.

They slowly fade away.

That's why I'm up so late pretending.

I need to get away.

There is a glass water jug on my bedside table. I get out of my four poster bed, pick it up and drop it on the stone floor knowing it will shatter. The other boys wake up from their slumber.

"What was that?" Neville asks groggily.

"You alright, Ron?" I hear Harry ask.

I wonder for a moment if he really cares.

"Fine," I reply wanting them all to sleep so I can finally end this. "I just dropped something…"

"Well, hurry up and go back to bed," Seamus says rolling over with a groan. "We have that potions test tomorrow and none of us can stand to fail this one."

"Yea, and you don't want McGonagall coming up here either," Dean says with a yawn.

"Alright, goodnight guys," I say picking up a large sharp piece of glass. "I'll pick up the mess in the morning."

I sit on the edge of my bed looking at the glass I hold glinting in the moon light. I wait for the boys breathing to become steady and even signaling their resting state.

I don't know how long I've been sitting here but it feels like I have to do it soon before anyone else can stop me. I stand in front of the small window by my bed and stare up at the moon wanting that to be the last thing I'll ever see. I raise the glass and slash my left wrist cutting my vein.

Pain engulfs me but I won't let myself cry out and risk someone to find me. I then take the glass in my other hand and cut my right wrist carefully. I make sure that I've gone through each vein before I drop the bloody shard onto my white bed sheet.

I stand here with my arms open waiting for the end to come, having no regrets at all.

The darkness is coming now.

I feel dizzy.

I fall to my knees.

I can't bear the pain anymore and a low moan escapes my lips and I fall forward with a thump, and I land in a small pool of my crimson blood.

"Ron," someone calls softly. "Are you okay?"

It's Harry.

I can't respond I'm far too weak. My heart seems to beat faster now and it is getting harder and harder to breath.

I hear Harry pull open the curtains of his four poster and him gasp. Damn he's spotted me!

He rushes to my side calling for help. He cradles my head in his lap.

I hear annoyed boys turn on the lamps on their bedside tables grumbling. All of a sudden I hear their grumbling stop and a few gasps of shock. They rush out of their beds and towards me. One boy runs down the stairs yelling for McGonagall.

'It's probably Neville,' I think.

"Ron what have you done?" Harry asks quietly tears falling from his shocked eyes.

"You never really knew… knew who I was Harry," I mange to tell him in a strangled whisper. "You never… never knew what I thought about… anything."

Harry starts to say something but I continue knowing my time is short.

"I'm sorry that you didn't have the chance to…to know me," I manage to get those words out when I felt my eyes growing heavy. "You were still my best friend….I just can't…can't stay…"

I feel one of his tears land on my face.

My eyes are completely closed now.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

"No Ron!" Harry yells shaking me.

But it's too late… I'm gone.

The boys standing around the scene start to realize what has happened. McGonagall enters in her bathrobe followed by Hermione, who puts a hand to her mouth in shock but it's all too late for me.

No one can save me now.

I, Ronald Weasley, die on a cold stone floor on this once silent night.

Harry still couldn't believe it. Ron was dead and it was his fault that he wasn't quick enough to save him.

He didn't understand it.

Ron seemed so happy, Harry didn't notice any change in his friend.

He was the same old happy Ron.

He complained once in a while for a detention or of Malfoy but that was it.

Harry and Hermione were excused from all their classes for a month since they were so close to Ron.

Hermione was so out of it that she didn't complain about not doing her school work for once. They seemed to walk around in a daze not really knowing what they did wrong or what they missed.

The last words Ron said to Harry still rung in his head.

"You never really knew who I was Harry. You never knew what I thought about anything."

'What did I miss,' Harry found himself thinking one night. 'Ron told me everything he thought about. What did I miss?'

Harry tried to be strong for Hermione but no matter how hard he tried to hold in his tears he remembered what Ron did to himself and how he couldn't save him.

Hermione remembered seeing Harry holding Ron's body refusing to let him go; shaking him and calling his name. Dumbledore came into the dormitory that night prying Harry's grip off of his body just like he wouldn't let go of Cedric on night of the Triwizards Tournament. Dumbledore took his body down to the hospital wing and then called her and Harry down to his office.

He talked to Harry and Hermione for a long time but none of them took in what he actually said.

Ron was dead.

Ron killed himself.

Ron was dead.

That's all they actually thought about. That was what their thoughts were.

They were with their dead friend.

Professor McGonagall called Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and they came in Dumbledore's office about an hour later. Mr. Weasley just stood there in shock while Mrs. Weasley fell to her knees sobbing hysterically.

Fred, George, and Ginny arrived a few minutes later looking confused. It was obvious that no one had told them anything. They saw their mum and dad and turned pale under all their freckles. They asked their parents what was going on but they were both enable to say because they were now both in hysterics.

"What's going on, Professor?" Ginny asked nervously. She looked around and noticed that her other brother wasn't there and asked, "Where's Ron?"

"Ginny," Dumbledore said gently. "Your brother is dead."

Ginny stood in shock for a second then crumpled to the floor like her mother.

"What?" the twins asked in unison.

"Your brother died around two hours ago," Dumbledore looked at the ground. "I am sorry."

"No," George said. "No! Ron isn't dead."

"Ron was the youngest boy," Fred yelled. "He was the one we tested our stuff on; the one who would always be there for us!"

"He can't be dead!' George yelled. "He just can't be! You're lying to us!"

Fred and George ran out of his office and down the spiral escalator.

Dumbledore sat down heavily at his desk his head in his hands. Mr. Weasley was trying to get Ginny up and Mrs. Weasley was still on her hands and knees. Harry and Hermione couldn't stand the glum atmosphere any longer so they got up and left to find out where Fred and George went.

Harry and Hermione found them in the corridor outside the hospital wing. They were sitting on the ground their backs against the wall with their faces in their knees, which were drawn up against their chests. Hermione and Harry went and sat down on either side of them. They just sat there next to them while tears made small tracks down their cheeks.

Finally Fred and George looked up.

"We saw him," Fred said quietly. "He is dead."

"How… how did it happen, Harry?" George asked, looking at him. "Madam Pomphery wouldn't tell us...she said we were too young."

"You sleep in his dormitory so we thought that...maybe you would know," Fred said, also looking at Harry.

"He...," Harry tried to tell them but he couldn't.

He remembered Ron's last words and he burst out sobbing again. He had to tell them but...should they really know?

Wouldn't knowing that he did it to himself make them feel the pain like he and Hermione did? But Harry knew that they had a right to know.

"He broke a water pitcher...and there was glass on the floor," Harry was talking between sobs. "He picked up the glass and...Fred...George...he killed himself."

Harry hugged his knees to his chest and put his face in his knees sobbing. He felt Fred and George get up. He heard Hermione ask where they were going. They said that they were going down on the grounds...said something about needing fresh air.

Hermione moved closer to him and lifted his face to look at hers. Cheeks puffy, eyes red with tears still rolling down her face, she put her arms around his shoulders and held him tightly. He held her back and they cried...and cried...and cried right there outside the hospital wing.

A/N: Yes…I fixed it up and shortened it but this is all I actually intend to have actually….I am sorry. I just can't get into HP writing anymore. I can stick with the wonderful reading and studying but I can't write it… evil writer's block!

Please continue to tell me what you think…

Thankies!

TheDudeLordOfFantasy a.k.a. Kathleen