kinda dark yet kinda cute, hey, im an oxymoron, what can i say!
Ron blinked heavily, wiping his eyes before squinting, not believing the sight before him. It was happening. It was finally happening. It seemed as though, since he was eleven, he was waiting for this moment. Yet at exactly the same time it seemed as though it had come too quickly. Far too quickly.
The battle raged on around both Harry and Voldemort, no one was gaping like a buffoon at the two of them and their spectacular duel. Red and green sparks flew dramatically, spells ricocheting off bystanders.
He could not help it. Some of this battle was making him insane. Ring around the rosie...he thought, almost giggling. No one noticed him, watching his best friend in awe as he fought with all of his strength and skill, using every ounce of cunning he possessed.
It was not like in the movies. No witty banter accompanied their duel, perhaps it had in the beginning, but now they were too concentrated on one another. Sweat glistened fresh on Harry's skin, the green light making his pale face glow in the darkness, his face screwed up in determination.
Ron giggled as he watched him. Harry looks scary and not as merry as a fairy. He recited in his head, rubbing the back of his head lightly, surprised to see a shocking amount of blood on his hands when he brought his hands to his face. He sniffed the substance before licking it. Tastes like knuts, ha ha, knuts...nuts. He smiled dazedly, his vision suddenly waning.
He looked to his left to see Hermione locked in a battle with Narcissa Malfoy and some large, blond Death Eater. The smile faded from his face, the scene didn't look all so humorous anymore.
He stumbled to the ground, suddenly tasting a mouthful of dirt meshed with grass, feeling for his wand. Hermione...macaroni. Bologna. Kidney...damn it, Merlin, her name doesn't rhyme with anything! He thought with frustration, venting his annoyance on his magic and hurtling a stunning curse towards Narcissa.
She's smaller than the giant man. She'll go down easier. Hermione noted the help and glanced to her side and smiled jovially at Ron before continuing in her battle.
There was something sacred in duels such as these and he knew better than to assist her with the blond man, knowing that it would be an insult. Two against one was unfair and, by default, he was allowed to take one of them out. But he was, even in his concussed state positive that his help would not be wanted nor appreciated.
He glanced back towards Harry and Voldemort. They seemed trapped in their own reverie, all of the Order knowing better than to even attempt to stop the battle, the Death Eaters knowing that Harry Potter was a personal ailment to the Dark Lord. The nursery rhyme came to mind once more.
Pocket full of posies...he wondered what 'posies' were, Hermione once explained that they were some sort of flower, but he never truly knew what they looked like. She had simply rolled her eyes and questioned why he was so intent on that particular Muggle flower. He was not sure, himself...
A man he knew as the would-be-executioner of Buckbeak, er, Witherwings, now, went sailing through the air, screaming the entire way until he crash landed in the grass. Ron swore he heard something crack and the man did not rise.
Ron scanned the crowd for his family, their flaming red hair evident. His sight first caught Fleur who was battling furiously with the leering Bellatrix Lestrange, though it was no mystery as to whom she wished to kill. Any Death Eater will do. U-No-Poo...at that moment he, ironically, saw George fighting alone, Fred no where in sight. Ron did not immediately worry, seeing as his brain was slightly damaged from when he had hit his head.
Ginny was not there. She had been at Hogwarts when the attack ensued, and she was most likely still there, blissfully unaware. Ron saw Fenrir Greyback's back as he tore apart some body, ravaging it to the core, his hands and clothes bloodied. It took Lupin diving at him full force and killing the bastard for Ron to discover who it was. Tonks was dead.
It seemed as though Fred was, as well.
Ashes, ashes...
He loved the song and found it quite cheerful, despite the fact that it was entailing children's deaths, but he did not know that. Shacklebot fought far away, his eyes ablaze as he battled some distant figure. It took four other Death Eaters to flank him before he fell to the ground, cold.
It seemed that everyone was collapsing around him, Harry and Voldemort still furiously dueling nearby, neither of them relenting. Hermione had moved on through three Death Eaters and two werewolves, barely a scar to show her tribulations. But one of her eyes were injured, bleeding profusely.
"Hermione!" He called over the crowd, stumbling as he attempted to rush over to her. He was second to find her.
"Is she alright? Doesn't look...good." He mumbled desperately attempting to string his sentences. The figure in front of him was drenched in sweat and it looked as though he had ran from his opponent once he had seen that she was harmed.
"She'll live." he replied gruffly, momentarily ruffled by her injuries. Ron recognized his voice, not his face for the simple fact that it looked so different than he had remembered, his eyes clouded with something more than fear and indifference.
"What're you doing with her, Malfoy?" He asked, suddenly feeling slightly betrayed. Malfoy shrugged, looking down at Hermione.
"I'm fine. It's just that damned Nott snuck a hit in when I was fighting. He completely ignored the rules of engagement." Neither Malfoy nor Ron inquired as to what the rules of engagement were, they knew that more pressing matters were at hand.
"Oh, Ron, you're head. It's bleeding." Ron felt surprised by the news for a moment before he recalled the injury.
"I'm fine." He responded, taking a leaf out of her book. Suddenly he glanced at Malfoy again, terrified. "Wait, you? You're on V...You-Know-Who's side, though! Were you trying to finish her off?" He snarled, suddenly feeling every ounce of blood rise to his face.
Malfoy did not bother to answer the preposterous question and Hermione seemed to agree. She hastily came to her feet after Malfoy healed her eye, looking around with both restored eyes sharply. "We're needed. Be careful." She offered one hand to both of the men at her side. Ron did not seem to notice immediately as he turned away.
"Ron, wait. You're head!" She called after him, but he had no time to react as he walked straight into Lucius Malfoy. He whirled around, his pale and pointed face contorting into a sneer.
"You, Weasley?" He seemed slightly alarmed at the fact that he had survived for so long in the battle, but he hid his woes expertly.
"No, I'm Celestina Warbeck, highly esteemed, yet lame, sing..." Before he could finish Malfoy Sr. had whipped out his wand and mumbled a curse in the time it took the bemused Ron to blink. It felt as though millions of needles were piercing every pore on his body, agony flooding him in a matter of seconds. He let out a nearly inhuman wail of pain, only able to see long enough to observe Hermione rushing toward him. But she would not be in time...
And then the pain stopped abruptly, though everything still felt sore, the world painted black. My hair hurts...he thought grimly, feeling the cool earth on his face.
When his eyes opened he was unsurprised yet alarmed at the person looming above him. "Malfoy? Uh, the other one?" He added, his voice slurred. The fall had worsened his concussion.
Draco nodded, reaching his arm down to help him up.
Ron grimaced, feeling a sharp pain rise up in his left elbow. "Why?" He did not feel the need to elaborate, his mind found the task overwhelming.
"I couldn't have just let you die, Weasel. She would never let me live it down." He elaborated with a characteristic sneer. Ron's eyes widened, comprehension dawning upon him.
"You...Hermione?" He asked, eyes wide in alarm. Malfoy shook his head, the gesture a mixture of spite and discontentment.
"She wouldn't, not yet. She's still in love with you." Ron barely heard the last part over the roar of victory, coming from behind him.
He glanced over his shoulder to find a grinning, bloodied and sweat-covered Harry standing over Voldemort's corpse. We win.
The joy did not last as one last green bolt sparked from the wand of some random Death Eater, aimed for Harry. Neville stepped in front of him, his purpose suddenly apparent.
We all fall down...
And with that thought Ron fainted, sorrowful and overjoyed at the same moment.
kind of weird, i kno.