(a/n: This is Chapter 20. Technically, it's the 21st. Overall, ladies and gentlemen, we've reached more than 100 pages of Unexpected Losses. And the journey's going to be ending soon. Thank you for hanging on with me this long, and not killing me for not posting for months at a time. Thank you for your applause and your criticism. Thank you for reviewing, and if you read and didn't review, I wish you would, but I can understand the not. ;x Anyway, off on another whirlwind adventure with…it's…actually, it's not whoever I got that from. Can't remember whom, exactly. In any case, I hope that you enjoy. P.S. to IsiwaruofCkaloatia: sorry sugar, you were close, but you've missed the banana. ;)

(argh, I didn't want to do responses this time! ;x Nixi: Yeah, I've done quite a bit of thinking myself, but frankly, I'm not really going to change my mind. Like M'Naria said, it's like the word gay. Once upon a time, if you called somebody gay, they might've agreed or whatever, but now it's a sort-of insult. Gay meant happy, now it's slang for homosexual, which amuses me, frankly. But I'm not complaining that it's an insult now. The meaning's changed, and no matter what I have to say about it will change the fact. Just like warlock may used to mean something, the meaning's different now. And I still promise not to actually address anyone by the title! And thank you for your rambles and your comments. I like them. –grins-.)

Chapter Twenty of Unexpected Losses

In the middle of the room was the silvered, familiar form of a lanky, freckled Ronald Weasley. Harry, Fred, and Lupin stared stupidly for several minutes. When Lucius Malfoy Apparated in the middle of the room, though, everyone seemed to be broken from their hold. The blonde man was bleeding from his shoulder, attempting to staunch the flow with his other hand. Immediately upon entering the room, he knelt.

"My Lord." He said softly, a weakening of his voice testament to his pain.

"What now, Lucius, has you crawling back to me in your own blood?" Voldemort sneered at the man. He seemed about to say more until snickering silenced him. He turned his glare on the slightly translucent Ron, who stood very next to Malfoy and stared deeply at his wound.

"Now that bugger had to hurt." Ron spoke conversationally, his voice ringing out around the room. "Wonder how you managed that one. Does it still sting? Was it a spell or not? I mean…I've never seen a spell that could do that, but I'm pretty sure that there is one. That's looks a lot like what happened earlier. Rather than deep, they were kinda long. I should ask Hermione. She knows these kinds of things. Speaking of Hermione--."

"Shut up." Voldemort snarled out at the teenager.

"Well, now, maybe if you didn't go about killing people you wouldn't have to deal with the consequences." Ron was apparently greatly enjoying annoying the Dark Lord. He wasn't sure exactly what had been going on. Merely, he knew that the pain he'd been in consumed him until he had to rest his eyes. When he reopened them, he didn't hurt in the least. He merely stood from his body and kept on going. Not to say that it wasn't disturbing.

But as far as he knew, there was no real way to eradicate a ghost. And annoyance from him was the very least that the Dark Lord deserved. In fact, he was pretty sure that no one had given the man any sign of disagreement at all besides the annual visit with Harry. He didn't take to it well; especially not criticism, which Ron had always had in abundance. He was only too glad to share.

It was rather disconcerting to be able to pass through things and to not feel. He'd never realized how many things he felt all the time and paid no attention to. Air moving against his skin, or the solid feel of stone underneath his sneakers, the feel of sunshine -- or in the current environment: dampness. He did rather wish he was more dressed up. To be eternally in ripped jeans and a maroon sweater and sneakers…and all the blood! Granted, no one would be able to tell that his sweater was maroon, as the rips from the curses that had been inflicted were still visible, and a silver coat of blood seemed be most everywhere. The cuts were still visibly open, and he could easily see into the opening. It seemed odd that he felt no pain.

His hair was mussed, but he'd thankfully been able to push it down to some effect. He could feel himself, which was odd, but no weirder than most anything else he was enduring at the moment. Shrugging from his thoughts, he turned to continue his mocking until he saw the three uninvited guests in the doorway. Rarely had he been so overjoyed to see anyone, ever. Regardless of his current ghost-state, he needed Hermione to be okay, and they could find her. He couldn't bear to find her in the state he was in. Because telling her of his own death…being a ghost? Without being able to touch or hold her? It was worse than even being dead in the first place (and it was pretty damn horrid on its own).

"Ron?" Harry asked from the doorway, disbelieving.

"In the flesh. Well, not, but yeah." Ron answered, blundering over usually easy words. Voldemort glared up at the Boy-Who-Lived. There seemed to be a mix of sick satisfaction and annoyance at his presence. Something, actually, that Ron didn't understand, as the man had previously been ranting about how his trap would "lure him from his defenses". It seemed to go right along with his plan. Except for Ron dying. That wasn't supposed to happen.

"Boy." Voldemort said coldly from his chair, which had been erected something like a throne. Pettigrew, in the presence of the Dark Lord, was for once not quivering in fear, as he usually did whenever Harry or Lupin was nearby. This didn't stop the werewolf from glowering darkly at the shorter man, though. Harry's attention turned to the goal he initially set out after, and Fred couldn't tear his eyes away from the ghost of his brother.

All the wounds that he'd suffered were clearly visible, and yet Ron had no physical reaction to them. Between the two coinciding, the twin was confused as to what, exactly, he should've been feeling. Actually, Ron's presence threw all of them off kilter. Their righteous anger just wasn't as strong with Ron about making stupid comments and just…being there.

"Professor Kehoe is Bellatrix." Ron informed Harry darkly, and just that quickly, the anger was back for him. "Have you found Hermione?"

"The others are looking for her. I'm here to end this." Harry answered, focused entirely on the Dark Lord. The anger from merely hearing Bellatrix Lestrange's name was coursing through his veins, and he felt as if he could annihilate Voldemort with his will alone. The loss of his godfather had nearly destroyed him. He had gone so far as to cast an Unforgivable curse, and couldn't honestly say that he entirely regretted the action.

"So you've said before, boy." Voldemort answered, standing.

"Master." Lucius managed weakly, from where he finally stood. Blood still coated the front of his robes, and he seemed to be weakening from the lack of it.

"What?" Voldemort hissed at him, still keeping eye contact with Harry, unwilling to lose the staring match that Harry had seemed to instigate.

"There are others." Lucius reported. "They've found--."

"Then find and stop them." Voldemort replied, turning to Lucius, displeasure radiating from his inhuman red gaze. The blonde man winced and nodded, kneeling once more. Harry was still staring coldly at Voldemort, unwilling to tear his eyes away. "But before you do that. Take care of the ones still here."

"Curatio." Malfoy muttered, standing. The blood seemed to staunching itself, and though the wound didn't seem to be healing at all, the pain must've stopped bothering the man, as he stood straight without any obvious repercussions. He quickly approached Lupin and Fred, who were standing very close to the door, unlike Harry who'd entered the room by quite a bit.

Lupin didn't wait for Malfoy to reach them before tossing the first curse. "Adustum Orbis." A fireball about the size of a Quaffle formed at the tip of Lupin's wand, and soared towards Malfoy, who dissipated it with a counter curse. Fred thought furiously about what could help, but was distracted when the far from honorable Peter Pettigrew sent a Petrificus Totalus cursebehind him.

Fred sent the rat a glare that the Weasley family seemed to have reserved especially for the man that had posed as a pet for over a decade. True to character, this seemed to unnerve Wormtail slightly, and he flushed, glancing eagerly about for a way out of danger. With a slightly amused light in his eyes, Fred muttered a spell, waving his wand towards Wormtail. In the heat of duels, many wizards felt the urge to scream out their curses. But when a whisper worked as well, Fred knew the advantage was with him. Wormtail seemed to have an imagination on him, and knowing that he was about to be subjected to a curse would fill his imagination with things more dreadful than Fred could manage.

Then again, it was almost funny to see him panic before the spell that supplied Fred and George with one of their rather problematic pieces of merchandise. Puking Pastilles. Wormtail found himself retching horribly, and definitely unable to cast anymore spells until Fred cast the counter curse. For the Weasley Wizard Wheezes, he and George were forced to come up with a number of their own spells and the Puking Pastilles caused them a certain amount of grief, until they were able to perfect it. This led Wormtail to a rather unfortunate position.

Attention focused away from Wormtail, he turned to see Lupin and Malfoy still dodging and throwing curses at one another. Due to Malfoy's rather hindering wound, Lupin started with the advantage. Unfortunately, Lucius's willingness to perform dark spells as easily light, that advantage was somewhat less outstanding. Lupin was using everything that came to mind, leaving Malfoy to use a shield in his defense. This attack pattern left Lupin wasting his energy on nothing, a fact he quickly realized before he paused in his attack

At something of a standstill, the two wizards regarded each other frigidly. After a short pause, Lucius Malfoy summoned all his concentration, and started his own assault. Until Ron glided over (figuring out his lack of need to walk as he did so) and put his arm through Malfoy's face. Most people haven't even met ghosts, and a few unfortunates at Hogwarts castle and elsewhere have felt the disturbing chill of walking through a ghost. But fewer still have had a ghost's forearm shot directly through their head. Probably next to none.

The brain - though the nerve center of humans - isn't directly capable of feeling, but the prolonged, unearthly feeling of a ghost through one almost seems to freeze thought. Much like the pain of a headache as a result of eating something cold too quickly, it stabs and severely constricts the brain's ability to commence thought. Malfoy, suffering this pain, wasn't particularly able to correctly cast the spells he wanted to use against Lupin. Nor, really, could he seem to recall anything pardoning the pain that wouldn't let up.

Lupin took the chance to cast a simple Petrificus Totalus at the man, which caused him to topple over. Lupin didn't dare tear his eyes away from the man, though, knowing of Lucius's ability to get himself out of apparently inescapable situations (and unscathed beyond that). He refused to take a chance on another miracle escape.

Fred took no such reservations, nor did Ron. Both turned to see what Voldemort and Harry were doing, and how they were faring. Astonishingly, despite their respective wishes to destroy the other, neither one seemed to have uttered so much as a single curse. Not entirely unsurprising, though, seeing as how no matter the curse, the wands would deflect one another. Whereas Voldemort might've been able to overpower Harry in the graveyard where he'd ascended, Harry had two years to progress in strength, and it wouldn't be so easy for the older wizard to overpower him.

For the moment, all was still at a standstill.

OoOoOoO

Willow and the rest of her group (Charlie now burdened with Ron's body, giving Xander a well-deserved break) were heading off once more. Charlie seemed to trust Giles perfectly, prior to his Ripper display in dealing with Lucius Malfoy, but now seemed very wary of the older man. Hermione wasn't reacting to too much of anything any longer, and was staring blankly at nothing while she walked. Everyone kept an eye on her, just to make sure that she kept up with the rest of the group.

Since Lucius's Dissapparation, they were all waiting for repercussion. Some kind of assault on them due to their intrusion, and Giles's attack. There didn't seem to be any, which simply put them even further on edge. Though they didn't speak, wishing to keep their movements as quiet as possible, there was a silent dispute being carried out.

They were unsure about what actions they should take. Their goal was to get Hermione, and get out. But in the general plan, they didn't split up, and so they were unsure whether or not they should go and find the other half of their group. They hadn't accounted for the size of the castle either. Even if they did go in search for the others, there was no telling of where they would be or how long it would take to find them. Add the fact that they were carting Ron with them, and the fact that tour groups were hanging about everywhere; there was no saying how dangerous remaining was going to be.

It was apparently decided that they would stay, though, and Giles pulled all of them to the side. "My suggestion is that we head to the White Tower. It's the most protected area in the castle. If I were hiding from anyone, no matter whom, that's probably where I would go," he whispered to the group before him. "Is that acceptable for everyone?"

"Let's go." Charlie nodded in agreement. "Do you know the way?"

"I'm fairly certain." Giles answered shortly. In truth, it had been a number of years since he'd last been in the Tower of London, and he'd honestly not been paying overly much attention to where they were going in light of a highly attractive tour guide, who apparently like to flirt as much as he had. Cursing his misspent youth, not for the first time, Giles began ignoring his runaway thoughts, and started walking once more, trusting the others to follow.

Surprising himself with his own sense of direction and awareness concerning where they were supposed to go, Giles led them easily to the White tower, with only a single near-miss with another tour group. The group nearly froze as one once they entered the inner structure. Lucius Malfoy was lying on the floor, petrified, while Remus Lupin pinned the felled man in his gaze. Peter Pettigrew seemed to be heaving in a corner of the room, apparently not even bothering to attempt any kind of escape. Fred Weasley was standing next to what was apparently the ghost of the boy Charlie was holding, and Harry Potter was standing across from Lord Voldemort, neither one of them making any move.

Ron was the only one who seemed to take real notice of their entrance. He turned towards them, and froze at the sight of Charlie's burden. Because despite the fact that he was aware that he was a ghost, there was something so final about seeing…himself that sent a spike of fear to his very core.

Charlie and Hermione froze where they stood, both staring unblinkingly at Ron; meanwhile the three from Sunnydale each seemed to be concentrating on different things. Like Charlie and Hermione, Xander stared at Ron, knowing who he was from having carried the boy for as long as he had. Giles joined Remus in staring at a fiercely glaring Lucius. Willow was focused on her roommate, however, and the wizard he stood facing. She could feel the magic radiating from this man, and it terrified her. Had Giles been paying as much attention as she did, he would've been almost as scared. As it was, his own anger was quite distracting for him.

Ron still wasn't moving. When Hermione approached him, though, he seemed to start to attention. She paused a few feet away from him, fresh tears coursing down her cheeks. In the past few hours, she'd cried more than she had in the past several years of her life. Ron seemed to be uncertain about what he should do. Instinct told him to hug her, but he simply wasn't able to, as much as he wanted to. Even, really, if he could, he was scared that he might hurt her as he'd hurt Lucius just before.

"You-you're still--." Hermione broke off, unable to think of the words she wanted to say. Emotions were swirling beneath the surface so quickly she felt nauseated and lost. Relief that such a mark remained. She couldn't handle being completely alone. Fear that Ron was in the situation he was in. Would he have to stay in the Tower forever? Anger that he would do something as stupid as give up, like Bellatrix said he had. Anger at herself for thinking such horrid thoughts. Mostly, it all seemed to whirl together into a mass of confusion.

"Are you hurt?" Ron was every bit as confused. He couldn't even answer her with a definitive answer, regardless of agreement or disagreement.

"I don't know." Hermione answered unhappily. Ron seemed to understand, though, because he just nodded.

Xander started from his momentary shock at seeing a ghost, and he made his way towards Giles. Despite the fact that Giles seemed to be focused on Lucius, and quite intently, Xander was looking towards Harry and Voldemort. The animosity between them was starting to peak, and Xander couldn't understand why neither one made a move. Assuming that it was related to being wizards, he decided Giles was probably his best source of the information.

Unfortunately, Giles revealed that he wasn't sure when asked, which made Lupin look very smug. Xander rolled his eyes, knowing that whatever had taken place when they were in school together was the source of their shared bitterness. He was currently dating the object of the "I Hate Cordelia Club (of which he'd been treasurer)," and the two adults in the situation didn't want to grow up and at east pretend to get along.

The doors slammed open, drawing every individual in the room's attention, including Harry and Voldemort's. More dangerous for Harry, as he had his back to the door, but it seemed instinct to look. There, seeming tiny underneath the huge arch that housed the doors, they stood. Voldemort assumed that it would be Bellatrix Lestrange, and others simply were unsure of who it would be. None had expected the truth. Because in the doorway was neither witch nor wizard.

It was Buffy.

OoOoOoO

(a/n: Lord. I could swear I was trying to screw myself up if I didn't know I wasn't. –sighs-. I hope that everybody liked the chapter. Thanks for all your responses thus far.)