Disclaimer: Any characters found in J.K Rowling's Harry Potter series belong to her. The plot and any characters other than the aforementioned characters belong to me (unless otherwise stated). I am not making any profit off this work.
Author's Note: Hello to anyone who has come to read my story. I already love you. This is my second story; it centers around two completely different characters. This is a Ron story. He is involved with Hermione but that is not the focus of the story, there is also implied Harry/Draco. I actually don't think that you have to worry about love scenes being graphic. If I have them at all in this story, they won't be adult only content. The rating is mainly for abuse and cursing. I hope you enjoy the story and are interested enough to read the next chapter. I hope to hear from you. Flames are not cool, constructive criticism is always welcome, I try my best to take these things into account but I won't always. Enjoy the chapter.
Fearing Simple Chapter 1
Ron Weasley fell into his favorite chair after checking the protective wards around the house. Sighing he gazed into the magical flames in the hearth before him; flickering softly, deceptively real. Ron knew that they were not, despite the soft orange glow and the comforting heat. He had not lit a real fire in his hearth for three years, lest someone unwanted arrive via the Floo network.
The Floo network had been the first attack signaling the return of Lord Voldemort, three years ago. The Death Eaters had invaded the Ministry and taken control of the one thing that connected every wizard together. It was a strategic move on their part Ron had to admit grudgingly – it prevented instantaneous communication. However, that had only cause a small response in the Wizarding community; they had all defiantly extinguished the flames in their fireplaces and warded their homes against invasion. Voldemort did not get the war he wanted with that first blow to the security of the Wizard World. He got his war when he kidnapped Harry Potter; 2 years, ten months and eleven days ago.
Ron could still remember, with crystal clarity, everything that happened to him the night Harry disappeared…
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Ron was jolted from his sleep by a frantic banging on the front door of his house. Beside him, Hermione stirred and finally sat up. "Ron what's going on?"
"I don't know 'Mione, wait here." Ron let his hand trail down her spine as he grabbed his wand and left the room.
Ron paused in the entrance hall and peered out the window. The night was calm and dark, the moon was hidden by a wisp of cloud, barely a breeze rustled through the leaves. The only sound was the banging on his door, slicing through the silence. Readying his wand he removed the wards and threw open the door.
Instead of the Death Eater Ron was expecting, Draco Malfoy was on his front step; his hair was mess, his eyes red and swollen. Ron was shocked at the state of the man before him; during the two years since graduation, Ron and Draco had formed a truce, for Harry's sake, Ron had never see him look so harried. Ron had seen Draco that morning and he had been fine – something must be horribly wrong. Draco moved past Ron and into the house without waiting for an invitation; he lit a magical fire and watched the flames methodically for a few moments before breaking into sobs.
Hermione appeared in the hall as Ron closed and spelled the door. "Who was it?"
"Draco, I don't know what's wrong with him. He looked frantic and now he's sobbing." Ron's voice was dull and confused as he tried to recover from the shock of seeing Draco so vulnerable.
Hermione gasped, getting an odd look from Ron; the looked quickly changed to concern as Hermione threw her hands up to her mouth. Hermione looked at him with watery eyes, "Harry!" She whispered. Ron's eyes grew wide with disbelief as the two sprinted into the sitting room. Hermione immediately went to Draco's side and enveloped him in her arms. Ron settled stiffly on the edge of his chair.
"What happened tonight Dray? Where's Harry?" Hermione asked gently but urgently.
Draco hiccupped and choked on the words as he tried to speak. "Harry, he… I was…"
"Shh," Hermione soothed, "Calm down and try again. Slowly and calmly Draco, we need to know."
Ron tensed on the edge of the cushion as Draco took three deep calming breaths. "Harry got a letter from Colin Creevey this morning, saying that Dean Thomas had received new information on Voldemort. He said that Dumbledore wanted Harry to collect the information and specified a meeting place. Harry cast a spell that verified that Colin was the true author of the note convinced me I didn't need to come and took off. When he hadn't returned by dinner, I owled Dean to ask if he had sent Harry home; Dean replied that he hadn't seen Harry and that he had just discovered that Colin Creevey was spying for Voldemort!" Draco drew in a shuddery breath, "We had no idea that Colin was a spy! We thought he was an ally and Harry unknowingly walked into a trap. Voldemort has him!" Draco broke down into tears again.
Ron gasped lurching forward, causing a china plate on the coffee table to crash to the wooden floor as Ron's leg jarred it. Hermione buried her face into Draco's robes and sobbed, while Draco hugged her tighter. Ron broke the long stretch of tense silence, "We have to contact Dumbledore."
Hermione nodded stiffly and rose to retrieve a stack of parchment, a quill and an inkwell; placing the items on the table in front of Ron, she once again left the room in search of Pig. The once small owl had grown quite large and had calmed with age, Pig was settled regally on Hermione's shoulder when she returned and sat next to Draco. She tightly folded her hands in her lap to prevent the two men around her from seeing the nervous shaking in them.
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That night Dumbledore had gathered the Order of the Phoenix and word of Harry Potter's disappearance circulated quickly through the wizard community. By morning, the news of the Golden Boy's abduction had reached the ears of every witch and wizard on the continent. The witches and wizards on the side of light had raised together and declared war on Voldemort; three years later, they were still struggling to beat back the darkness that crept over their lives.
Ron sighed loudly, the sound echoed through the empty house. Ron hated being alone, it always forced him to think about the dark moments in his life – Harry missing, the war, and Percy's death in battle last year… Ron wished that he hadn't been forced by Commander Wood to take his mandatory two week leave; Hermione was on duty, working as a medi-witch, healing casualties who had been hit with complex curses. Draco was at Hogwarts, recruiting and training sixth and seventh year students so that they could join the fight against Voldemort. The rest of the Weasleys were still actively involved in the war; leaving Ron alone without the company of anyone he trusted.
Ron was worried about Draco, the blonde Slytherin had been slowly slipping away from reality since Harry had disappeared. It hadn't been as bad the first six months, when they held on to the hope that Harry might still be alive. Now, almost three years later, even Ron could not delude himself into believing that the Dark Lord had kept Harry alive all this time and Draco was becoming more withdrawn. Ron knew the only reason that Draco fought on now was to get revenge on the Death Eater and Tom Riddle for ripping away his soul. Ron had been truly frightened of his blonde friend the day they had found Colin Creevey. It was two years ago, almost a year after Harry had been taken; Ron had never seen rage like Draco's as he had killed the once loyal fan of Harry's turned traitor. Ron couldn't fault Draco for his reasons though; they were similar to his own. Ron fought to get vengeance for Harry's life, and to keep Hermione safe; he didn't think he could handle losing her too. Lost in his thoughts Ron watched the shadows dance on the wall.
Ron couldn't see in the darkness around him. It was hot and oppressively damp. The stench of fear and death assaulted his senses, triggering his gag reflex. Ron stopped walking as the sound of talking filtered through the blackness in front of him. The voice was low and rasping, edged with a sort of malicious delight. When Ron had satisfied himself with the knowledge that the voice was a ways in the distance, he began to inch forward, trying to hear what the man was saying; he stopped again briefly at the sound of shifting chains. Another voice joined the conversation, softer, pain filled yet defiant; Ron knew this voice, it was familiar – Harry! Ron's eyes adjusted to the low light and he could see a bend in the corridor ahead of him. Beyond the bend was a flickering light and the voices grew louder. Ron carefully picked his way through the masses of bones he could now see littering the dirty stone floor, coming to a silent halt in the shadows just beside the entrance to the lighted room.
Peering into the room, Ron flinched and forced himself to remain hidden. Harry was chained to the wall, his feet dangling barely an inch above the ground beneath him – preventing him from alleviating the tension placed on his shoulders. Blood oozed sluggishly from beneath the manacles that bound his wrists above his head, dripping over dried blood and dirt as it trailed down his muddy arms. Harry's shoulders were broken, the bones twisted and deformed as they supported Harry's slight weight. Looking at his best friend's face, Ron almost cried out. Harry's left eye was seared shut; now forever useless. The mass of yellow and black bruises made Harry look like a corpse; they circled his eyes and cheekbones, giving Harry's sallow face an unnatural, grotesque puffiness. His jaw had been broken at one point, and had healed improperly; Ron knew from looking at it, that speaking would be excruciatingly painful.
Ron turned his eyes from Harry's horribly broken body, fighting down a wave of nausea that threatened to overtake him; his eyes scanned the rest of the room, taking in the pile of rotting corpses strewn against the far wall, and the small cell in the Northeastern corner that contained a small badly beaten little blonde girl. The girl couldn't have been more than five, and was watching the scene before her in muted terror; her eyes dull behind a wall of greasy, stringy blonde hair that was matted with dirt and her own blood. Ron felt his hatred increase as he focused his attention on the creature in front of Harry. Voldemort…
Voldemort was laughing; pointing his wand at Harry's scar, barely visible against the gruesome wounds, he started speaking. "You're a pathetic creature boy. Although I must say, you are a Gryffindor through and through; so brave to take all the pain in silence, foolish boy! All you have to do is bow down to me, beg me for pity and I will end this three years of agony. Then you can join your pathetic friends, who were too weak to stand against me. That Mudblood friend of yours begged for her life, she vowed to serve me if I would spare her." Voldemort laughed sickly, "Of course, I killed her slowly. But it was most delightful of all to take the life of the traitor Malfoy."
Voldemort's eyes lit up as Harry flinched away. Grabbing Harry's chin, Voldemort forced Harry to face him. "It took days for him to give in to death – he died screaming your name in agony as I peeled off his flesh. Beg me for death boy, and I may be merciful!"
Harry raised his head slightly and glared disobediently at the disfigured man before him. "You are a liar Voldemort! My friends and family live, and you can't touch them. I would rather live a lifetime in agony, then be released into death in your service. I will never bow to someone beneath me!" Harry spat inVoldemort's face.
"So be it boy. If it is pain you want – pain you shall receive!" Voldemort swung his open hand at Harry's face. The force snapped Harry's head to the right. Ron heard a sickening crack as Harry's neck broke. Harry's head lulled unnaturally and his blank eye stared unseeing into the corner where Ron hid. Ron ran forward, his scream mingling with the terrified scream of the young girl in the cell…
"NO!" Ron yelled, jolting awake. Panting heavily, Ron's eyes wildly surveyed his surroundings; he was in his living room, in the chair he had sat down in the night before after securing the wards. "It was only a dream," Ron muttered as he tried to slow his heart rate, "Only a dream."
Ron could still feel the damp, hot air clinging to his clothes; he could still smell the fear, the blood and the death. He could still hear the sharp crack of bone as Harry's neck broke. Closing his eyes, Ron tried to block out the memories of the dream, but the scene replayed across his closed eyelids, more vivid than before. 'Beg me for death…' Voldemort's voice hissed through his ears. Ron whimpered as a knock on the door cut through the silence of the house. Ron stumbled to the door and carelessly threw it open, fully expecting to see one of his brothers on the other side. Ron blinked; there looking as though he had never disappeared, stood Harry Potter.
TBC What did you think? :)