Letting Go.
In all his days, he never imagined it would end like this.
Morbid as it was to say, he'd had many opportunities to think about this time. How many times had his life - his friends, his family - been threatened. How many times had they been close to death? Of course he'd thought about it. But he never thought it would get here.
This… was a surprise. Not supposed to happen. He was too young. He had too much time left, too many laughs to have and tears to cry. Too much love to give.
He wanted to go out surrounded by family, friends… Her. His children and grandchildren, and her; her curls gray with age, but no less beautiful.
And if he couldn't have that… He wanted to go out with a bang; with a moment of glory. A moment everyone would remember. He wanted to be remembered.
Now, that it was actually happening, he realized, in a split instant, the he didn't want the glory. He didn't want hordes of nameless, faceless people remembering him for how he went out. He only wanted one person to remember.
Her.
And not for the way he went out, for the way he lived. For every moment of passion he ignited in her, even if it was an angry one.
He didn't want her to see him this way. He wanted to go before she got there. So she didn't remember him dying.
Didn't want her to remember the look on his face as he went, didn't want her to have to think of last words to say to him.
Immediately after this thought, he realized something. He couldn't do this to her. Couldn't deny her the right of seeing him again. The thought of her being angry of him, for the rest of her life occurred to him, and he grinned slightly. How fitting. Then his brow furrowed as he fought to stay on.
He had to hang on until… until she got there.
…It didn't take long. He knew it wouldn't.
Bursting through the crowd, her hair flying around her in wild waves that he always found gorgeous, her nose and cheeks pink from the wind, she stopped, sinking to the ground beside him.
"Ron."
Tears poured from her eyes. He grinned sadly. He always hated to see her cry. Most especially if it was he that was the cause of it.
"Shhh…" He spoke quietly.
She shook her head, her hair flying, and tears coursing down her cheeks. His thoughts ran to her again. They always did.
They went to the wedding they would never have. The day that he'd never propose. The day she'd never tell him she was pregnant. The first of their children they'd never have.
His eyes closed at that. As much as he hated his red hair, sometimes, he still wanted a little Weasley, red, curly haired, and bright as his or her mother.
Her. It would have been a girl.
He wanted, he realized suddenly, her to move on. She needed to move on, to find a new love. He wanted her to find someone to take care of her… for her to take care of. He wanted nothing more than to know that he made her laugh, and that she was comfortable with him.
She needed to laugh and dance at her wedding, and he wanted nothing more than for that to happen.
Except, for that person to be him.
But that would never happen. So, he had to be content with the knowledge that she would move on, and love again. Because the thought that knowing him, losing him, scarred her that much, was unthinkable. That could not happen.
But, he didn't voice this to her. Instead, he looked up at her, grinning slightly. He reached a hand up to her face, caressing her cheek gently. She grabbed onto his hand and held it there.
"My last thought, my last vision, is going to be of you." He whispered. It was suddenly hard to talk.
"No." She moaned, gripping his hand tighter, as if that would keep him with her just a moment longer.
"Don't." He said softly. "It wouldn't be heaven if you weren't emblazoned in my mind for all eternity."
"I love you." She choked out.
He smiled. "I know." He said simply. "My mental, nagging, beautiful girl."
"I don't nag." She got out, grinning slightly.
He laughed quickly, then stopped suddenly. "I would give anything in the world to have you nag me for the rest of time." He said, his voice tightening. "Even Quidditch. Even the Chudley Cannons."
"I'd watch the Cannons." She joked feebly, and he laughed again. His last time.
He looked at her again, his eyes searching hers, and, suddenly, she became calm. She knew.
She nodded, calmly, and squeezed his hand once more, leaning down to kiss him on his lips. She broke it off once, then moved back down, pressing her lips against his. The sweetest, most wonderful kiss she'd ever given him. It always was, each time. But this one had to do for eternity.
She pulled away reluctantly, and leaned down, pressing her forehead against his. His hand remained in hers, though, and he looked at it, then at her eyes.
"I love you, you know."
She let out a half laugh, half sob. "Of course I know."
He nodded slightly then. "Good." He said softly. "Then I can go."
And with that, with her image still emblazoned in his mind, in his heart, Ronald Weasley… let go.
Author's Notes –
This story, was the result of reading an article about a young woman who died, way before her time. Her courage, brashness in her feelings, and her love for life inspired this story. Yes, it's probably the saddest thing that I have ever written… and I usually don't ever write about one of the Trio dying… but this story needed to come out. It was her wish to be remembered. She is.