Disclaimer: I own nothing
Claimer: I do own this idea.
AN: Yes, I know it's sad,yes I know it's very dark and depressing... BUT PLEASE REVIEW!
Cloudless. It was just a cloudless, empty sky that hung upon shrouds of grey.
Forgotten. It was just a forgotten, empty street that had never seemed to have a footstep upon its dark cobbles.
And the man looked up at the buildings that had been encased in fire and ruin, and found himself falling to his knees. One cut on a sharp stone, but he took no notice as he remembered walking down this street from the age of eleven until seventeen.
When he was eighteen, this street was finally deserted.
He swallowed back the spit and vomit that he found in his throat, felt tears tugging against the lids in his eyes. Dead, they are all dead, he slowly realised for the first time in twenty years.
Sure, he'd known it. He remembered easily the night he had seen Draco Malfoy leaning on a building, cackling hoarsely. "She's dead Weasley. Mudblood Granger. She's dead."
But Ron had known. He had known the moment he had been pushed to the ground, left for dead. He had felt the sudden jolt of the floor moving beneath his feet and had hoped that he was dreaming, that nothing bad was happening, that Harry had prevailed.
But he hadn't. Ron had known it instantly. The Dark Lord had risen.
-- -- -- --
Harry was looking out of the window in The Leaky Cauldron, knowing that Ron was standing in the doorway. "Feel like a game of Wizard Chess?" Harry murmured after a few moments. Ron glanced at him, surprised.
"Now?" Ron questioned curiously.
"Yeah, now. It might be the last time we get a chance to, we may as well have a game right?" Harry turned round just as Hermione walked towards the door. "I'll set it up. Hermione, want to watch?" She nodded.
"Sure... just like old times." Harry smiled slightly, and walked over to his bed, and rummaged around his in trunk until he found his battered chess set.
-- -- -- --
Ron found himself pushed the ground, his lip bleeding, and a searing pain running through his head. "He's dead Lucius, just leave him."
"Yes. But it only seems fitting that there should be nothing of him left to find."
Just let me die, Ron agreed. Kill me, kill me now. Hermione's already dead, I saw her die. I saw you kill her you bastard! Kill me Malfoy! Come on, just do it! Or why don't you let your precious son do it? I know he'd enjoy it too.
"Lucius, wait!"
"What now Crabbe?"
"The Mark... it's... it's... bloody hell Lucius! It's red... I... we... bloody hell, Malfoy, we've won."
Ron felt his heart stop beating, his breathing pause, and every sound cut out and he lay there, completely oblivious to everything but the blood in his mouth and the pain he felt. No... Harry can't be dead... he's meant to save the day...
His head was pounding, and he slowly opened his eyes, to see the men who had been leering over him, running towards the Dark Mark that hung at the end of the road.
Ron felt numb, alone, more alone than he had ever felt. How many others had died in this way? How many others had been left for dead? Why couldn't they just finish him off? He spat the blood out of his mouth, and tried to stand up.
His whole body was shaking violently, but he knew if he didn't move soon he never would. He had to stand up... Come on Ron. Are you a Weasley or a stupid prat? Get up for God's sake!
And the flames tore over The Leaky Cauldron and he saw it happen. His mouth opened in shock. No... no, the wounded were in that building! His parents were in that building, his sister! But he couldn't stop it. His wand had been stolen from his hand ages ago.
Why, why? ... No... I'm alone...
-- -- -- --
The house was in a terrible condition. Grease ran down the walls, and he was sure rats sat nibbling the wallpaper. He ran to the window and he watched as the brick walls were being built. So, this was it then, he realised. They were all going to starve. Fan-bloody-tastic.
Dean Thomas walked over to where Ron stood and watched with him. "This is then Ron," he said slowly. "The end of the rest of our lives." Ron nodded reluctantly. "I can't believe it... I thought... I thought we'd win... I was so sure we'd win..."
"We all were."
"Lavender's trying to scramble some food together. She's not doing well... I feel... lost without my wand you know? I never even used to know about magic and now I feel empty without my wand. It's kinda ridiculous."
"It is."
"Ron... you can't just stay up here. You haven't moved for hours. Seamus and Lav are really worried about you. I know... I'm sure it'll be alright..."
"How can it ever be alright Dean? We're all going to starve! We're going to die here alone and no one will give a damn! Is that alright Dean? Is that what you want?"
"Ron..."
"Just bugger off and leave me alone." Dean stared at him for a few moments, before leaving him to stand in the empty room alone, still staring out of the window, remembering happier times.
The sky had been grey for days. He felt like he'd never even seen the sun before. He had nothing. He was going to die with nothing...
-- -- -- --
They'd had one day to get together and try and arrange something. One day to work out how to leave this prison. It had been Ron who had finally realised they should die trying. If they got out this alive, there may be a chance...
The plans had been lain down, words written on tabletops, carved with stones. Weapons made from ordinary, every day objects. The wall climbed, the guards beaten.
How they'd managed it was beyond Ron, but his first reaction to this sudden freedom was how he felt better knowing there was no way out.
-- -- -- --
He had been surprised that Remus Lupin was still alive. Barely.
He hadn't been surprised that he had no family left.
He had escaped the country, finding a place to lie low in Germany. He'd bought a small, ram shackled place, and set about writing his life story. The book covered every aspect of his life. Growing up, his family, Hogwarts, his best friend, the war, escaping his prison.
His hair grew long, and his face soon became captured by lines and hair. He looked older than he should.
-- -- -- --
It was twenty years to the day of the final battle, and in a sudden torrent of war, The Dark Lord had been defeated. And so, Ron walked down Diagon Alley, before falling to his knees in the exact spot where he had fallen to the ground and Lucius Malfoy had been towering above him.
He could see the remains of The Leaky Cauldron, the final resting place of his family.
His book was being published tomorrow, and had been predicted a success. He still wanted to die. But no one would let him do that. He would just remain alone. This was it.
Loneliness.
One day, he would get his life back. But that day was a long, long way off.