Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Never have, never will. Not until I take over the world, that is.
Author's Note: I posted a part of this before, but then I decided to just post it as one long oneshot rather than in chapters. They are in their seventh year at Hogwarts, so ignore the sixth book herein.
For the people who reviewed this fic at its initial posting, I'm very sorry that your reviews were deleted, but thank you very much for taking the time to review it. Very much appreciated.
The Fate of a Friend
Famous Harry Potter. Boy-Who-Lived. The Chosen One. No doubt about it, wizards and witches all around the world marvelled at this young phenomenon. Even his best mate, Ron Weasley, couldn't help the awe that struck him every time Harry's name appeared in the papers.
Despite being the public figure everyone sought after, Harry always found time for Ron. He was always understanding of Ron's predicaments no matter how trivial compared to Harry's. Above all, he was a true friend, someone Ron cherished in anonymity. He didn't mind being in Harry's shadow.
That admiration eventually mutilated into something sinister, something Ron knew was morally wrong. The thought scared him. Mates were only mates, after all. It was probably just a strong case of teenage hormones. He'd get over it in due time.
But he didn't. As time wore on and the two shared more life-bonding incidents, it became more difficult to deny it. The stuttering speech, racing heartbeat and angst of what shouldn't be were more of an indicator than any solidification below the beltline. Ron had indeed fallen in love with the great Harry Potter.
Some relief came with the shocking realization, now that his vice had been identified. Despite Harry's accepting nature, Ron knew this was something that should never be acted upon, regardless of the temptation.
On that particular day, Harry had come back to the Gryffindor common room after a disappointing Quidditch defeat. For once, the roles were reversed and Ron was the one to console his friend.
"I could feel the snitch in my hands, I really could," Harry choked out, the corners of his eyes stinging with hot tears. "But just before I could reach out and grab it, Malfoy elbowed me hard in the ribs and snagged it for himself. It was my fault that we lost. What kind of captain am I?"
Ron nodded sympathetically as he patted Harry's shoulder. He couldn't help but admire the smooth arch of Harry's neck. He could almost imagine his fingers trailing the soft skin.
"We haven't won a game all season," continued Harry, immediately sobering Ron up. "At this rate, we'll be dead last in the league."
The last statement seemed to hit Harry with uncomfortable brutality. He closed his eyes and let the anguish all out in one expressive tear.
The emotions of the moment affected Ron to an extent he could never really explain. He couldn't stand watching Harry cry. He wanted to comfort him, to ease his pain. Without thinking, or considering the repercussions, Ron leaned in and seized Harry's mouth with his own.
He was in an ecstasy far beyond human comprehension; the union of their lips, the merging of their souls, and the reward after his long anticipation of the sweetest taboo.
It lasted all but two seconds. Whether Harry had become conscious what was happening first, or Ron realized he'd accidentally crossed the unspoken border, it ended rather forcefully, when Harry pushed Ron back from his eager kiss. Ron turned his head the other way, unable to look at the accusation that lined Harry's eyes.
"Why did you do that?" was the charge against him.
Ron focused on the hem of his pant leg, incapable of replying. He knew Harry was staring at him, wondering precisely what had just transpired. The guilty lump at his throat seemed to grow larger and larger as the seconds ticked by on his wristwatch.
"You, uh, didn't mean anything by it, did you?" Harry asked awkwardly, with an evasive glance over at the fireplace.
Ron shook his head numbly, still avoiding eye contact.
"Erm, okay then," said Harry, sounding slightly appeased, all traces of the Quidditch agony extinguished from his voice. He let out a shaky breath. "I'm going to bed now. G'night." And he flew towards the dormitories, not bothering to ask Ron if he were coming, despite sharing the same bedroom.
Ron collapsed onto the sofa head first, forcing his face against the rough upholstery. He knew he shouldn't have done that. He knew he should have never done that. They were mates, and only mates. Ron had gotten too greedy at that particular moment, taking advantage of Harry's vulnerability.
For the first time since he had come to Hogwarts, Harry had not understood Ron. And for the first time since he had come to Hogwarts, Ron cried.
The next morning, Harry awoke with a strange feeling of foreboding in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't register why he felt this until he noticed that Ron's bed was empty. It was unlikely that he had gotten up early. Ron wasn't much of a morning person. Harry reluctantly got up, made a quick pit stop at the bathroom, and descended to the Gryffindor common room.
There was Ron, on the exact same couch as the night before. He snorted in his slumber. Harry couldn't deny the unmistakable puffiness around Ron's eyes, which involuntarily sent his own eyes watering. He didn't mean to make Ron upset. But he didn't mean to make Ron kiss him either.
Not that it was a horrible kiss. The moment had left a permanent stamp in Harry's memory. He remembered soft lips and a tender embrace. There was a certain charm to it. Harry had always thought only a member of the opposite sex could provide that kind of comfort. He wasn't sure what his sexual orientation was, he'd always figured that he'd have years to decide. He knew in his heart that being with a guy wasn't completely wrong.
But it was wrong, because it was Ron. They were mates and only mates... or so Harry thought. Had Ron been harbouring something within himself for years that remained unbeknownst to Harry all that time? The idea made him shudder slightly.
Ron stirred in his sleep, finally awake. With one glance at the boy in front of him, he uncurled himself from the fetal position, yawned, and in a small voice, said, "Hi."
Harry wrinkled his nose. It was such a simple greeting. So simple, he even couldn't fathom how to respond. He almost laughed at the predicament. It was just so... unusual. But in an unsettling way, Harry knew their friendship would never be the same again.
"Hi."
The silence hung thick in the air, choking, suffocating, asphyxiating.
"Did you sleep well last night?"
"It was okay," Ron replied in a tired voice. He rubbed his eyes.
They continued like this for a few minutes, asking each other basic conversational questions and responding politely. Anything to escape what really needed to be said.
Just when Harry was running out of things to say, Hermione emerged from the girl's dormitory, to his relief. The three walked down to The Great Hall together for breakfast.
"What is up with you two today?" Hermione couldn't help but notice the lack of interaction. Harry left his gaze from his scrambled eggs to steal a glance at Ron. He poked absentmindedly at a rash of bacon, his eyes concentrated on the plate.
"We're just tired," Harry replied, yawning in effect. It wasn't a complete lie. The kiss seared forever into his recollection was the main cause of a less than refreshing night.
"Well then, you'd better have at least some toast. We've got a lot of studying to do."
Studying on a Saturday wasn't exactly Harry's forte, and even less so for Ron. Typically, he would use the weekends to help train Ron in Quidditch with the aspirations that he might be good enough to rejoin the team as keeper. Harry opened his mouth to speak.
"Yeah," Ron seized a slice of toast to his hands. "I've got a ton of questions. Do you mind helping me with my Potions assignment?"
"...Sure, of course, I'd be glad to!" Hermione beamed, probably thinking Ron had finally begun to take an interest in his homework.
Harry watched Ron gobble down his breakfast, and waited until he had finished chewing before asking, "Ron, could I talk to you outside for a moment?"
"No," Ron snapped quickly, almost harshly. "Hermione and I have a lot of studying to do." Harry could have sworn he saw Ron's eyes glaze slightly.
The ignorant smile remained plastered on Hermione's face. She set down her fork. "Let's get started then!" She stood up, quickly followed by Ron. "Care to join us, Harry?"
Harry gawked in disbelief. He'd known Ron to do a lot of things to avoid what was inevitable, and schoolwork was definitely not one of those things. It served more as a deterrent than a distraction. "No thanks, Hermione," was all he could muster.
"All right then, suit yourself." With one last bite of sausage, she grabbed Ron's arm and hauled him towards the library before he had the chance to reconsider.
With a heavy sigh, Harry gathered up his things and headed for the Quidditch pitch alone. Things between he and Ron were definitely never going to be the same again.
"Ron... Ron... Ron!"
"Huh?" With his chin cupped in his hands and a far-away look in his eyes, Ron's head was anywhere but in his studies.
Hermione tapped at the textbook with her quill. "You're supposed to be reading this passage. It's an important element for your Potions' paper."
Ron nodded vaguely and focused his eyes on the text. The letters barely registered. The only thing he could really think about was last night.
He wanted nothing more than to eradicate that memory from his mind forever, but it was plainly obvious that that would not happen. Ron's head was swimming with mismatched recollections and unsettled thoughts, from Harry, the friend that had always appreciated him, to the one who had rejected him so callously.
But at the same time, that behaviour was expected. Had Harry ever expressed more than friendly affection? No. Either way, Ron couldn't help but feel hurt and humiliated, not to mention anguishing over what was probably a lost friendship.
"Ron!"
He was just about to tell Hermione to piss off just as she added, "Harry wants to talk to you."
Ron slowly looked up from his Potions book and, sure enough, Harry was standing in front of him, clad in his Quidditch uniform and wearing an expectant expression on his face. Ron swallowed.
What had drawn Ron to Quidditch was not fame and glory, but Harry.
"Erm, sorry," Ron flipped to a random page in his textbook and stared down determinedly. "Hermione and I are studying."
"I am, but you're not," Hermione clarified with a snort. "It's not like you're accomplishing much right now. You can talk to Harry." She returned to her parchment without another word.
With no other explanation to escape the inevitable, Ron had no other option but to comply. He followed Harry to an empty section of the library.
"This is hard to talk about," Harry began with apprehension, again looking around evasively. He coughed a few times and continued. "I just want to say that yesterday wasn't a big deal, right?"
Ron nodded mutely.
Harry seemed almost eased. But after a grimace and a sigh, he finally ventured with, "Is there something you want to tell me? Anything at all?"
Never in his life had Ron desired to tell Harry everything, but approval wouldn't come easy, if at all. "No. Nothing."
"Oh, come on Ron," Harry urged, sounding much more casual. "I promise I'll keep an open mind."
That's all he'd ever been, Ron thought to himself. He took a slow intake of breath and began to speak. "Okay, there is something. But I'm scared you're not going to understand." Just like last night...
Ron saw Harry visibly wince, but reassured him nonetheless. "We're friends, aren't we? You can tell me anything."
"What if I told you that..." he was choking down tears while he was choking out words. They had to come out. "...I was in love with you?"
Harry blushed slightly. "Well..." The silence hung thick again. He was searching frantically for words, lip bitten tensely and Ron secretly apologized for setting Harry at such unease. "I guess I would ask you why."
Why? A more appropriate question would be why not?
"Because you're perfect," Ron answered in a barely audible voice.
"Perfect?" Harry repeated in disbelief. His blush deepened. "I'm hardly perfect... I snore when I sleep, for one." His joke was followed by a nervous laugh.
The trepidation in his voice was undeniable. Ron would rather have not spoken at all. But if wishes were to be granted, he would have never wanted to fall in love with Harry.
"But you are," Ron blurted out unintentionally. "You're..."
At that point, it was an all or nothing situation. Before he could stop, he found himself inching closer to Harry, allowing his fingers to touch that forbidden skin. He could feel Harry trembling as he took the smaller boy in his arms, and Ron was trembling too. Very gently, he allowed their lips to touch.
There was a fraction of time where no struggle ensued and the kiss seemed consensual, giving Ron a false sense of hope. That immediately was shattered when Harry once again denied him of the one thing he wanted, breaking the merger. Ron held him, still shaking.
"Ron, I'm sorry, I can't..."
His words cut like a knife. The tears broke and were racing freely down his cheeks as he released Harry from his hold and took off. He ignored the shouts of his fellow classmates and the threatening tone of the librarian as he ran. No particular direction, just anywhere than where he was.
Harry still hadn't left the same position, barely able to move, hardly able to think. He had, in the back of his mind, anticipated something to that degree, but it still shocked him nonetheless.
He didn't want to think about what Ron was probably thinking that moment. He didn't want to think about what Ron was probably doing that moment. The thought of what pain a friend would experience was enough to bring Harry into a state of anguish as well.
What could be done? If Ron's feelings were true, how could they continue being friends? He couldn't help but feel slightly angry. Why did Ron have to decide he loved Harry? Why did everything about their relationship have to be ruined? Why did he have to lose his best mate over something as trifling as this?
It was futile. These were questions with no answers.
"...Harry? Ron? Where are you guys?" Hermione's voice became more and more perceptible as she neared. She peeked over the bookshelf and had located her friend. "Hey Harry, what did you and Ron talk about?" She couldn't help but notice the unusual paleness of his face. "Harry... what's wrong? What happened?"
"I... I don't know," Harry responded truthfully.
She surveyed the area with two turns of her head. "Where did Ron go?"
Harry just shook his head numbly. He didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to reopen the wound that wanted and needed to be healed.
Hermione fixed Harry with a bold stare. "What's going on?"
"Hermione," Harry began, hot tears clouding his vision. "Please don't make this harder than it already is!"
"Harry, what on earth are you talking about? Tell me, what's the matter?" she squeezed his hand comfortingly, but he would have none of it. He jerked his arm away and stomped off. Was it possible to be experiencing so many emotions at once?
"Harry... Harry!" Hermione was in a jog trying to keep up. "What's wrong? Please tell me what's wrong. Maybe I can help."
He laughed bitterly. "You can't." That much was true. For the first time since Harry had known her, she was rendered useless in a situation.
"Fine," Hermione huffed with exasperation. "I was just trying to be a friend."
Friend, what a word. But she had a point. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude to you. I've just got some things I have to work out, I guess, if it's possible..." Harry trailed off uncertainly.
"That's all right," Hermione nodded forgivingly. "If you don't want to talk about it right now, it's okay. Whenever, if ever, you want to talk, I'll be happy to listen." She flashed a helpful smile.
"Thanks 'Mione, I'll keep that in mind," Harry returned the smile half-heartedly. He knew he'd never speak of this to her.
There was nowhere to be alone, Ron realized. The school was filled with students. Even in his own room, there would be up to four other occupants. In the moment when he most needed to collect himself, there was not a place to go.
He finally concluded that outside was the only alternative. While exiting the castle, he contemplated the places he would most likely find seclusion. The lake would be full of happy couples holding hands. The courtyard would be full of cheerful students enjoying the morning daylight. What was left was by the whomping willow, which suited him just fine.
The clear blue sky and bright sunshine drastically contrasted his mood. Ron scoffed indignantly. Even pathetic fallacy was not on his side.
Ron made his way there, and sat a fair distance away from the tree as it attacked passing birds and insects in the most violent of ways. He couldn't exactly describe why, but watching it made his heart ache a little less.
A memory struck him just then. He remembered back in second year, when he and Harry had taken his father's bewitched car, flown to Hogwarts and steered carelessly straight into the whomping willow. Despite almost losing his life that day, he couldn't help but break into a grin. It was during a time when he was happier, only seeing Harry as nothing more as a companion. How he wished to revive that ignorance.
The conclusion had been formed. Harry didn't feel the same way, and that was no surprise. Why settle on Ron? All those years, he knew. But confirming it was more painful than he had forecasted. He'd always hoped, somehow, those feelings could actually be returned. Of course this wasn't the case.
He lain on the grass contently, allowing the painful sting of his eyelids to close. It wasn't long before he had fallen asleep. It was only in his dreams that he found happiness.
"Harry, could you love me? Could you love me?"
The boy in question pulled Ron into an embrace and kissed him tenderly. "Love, of course I could. I couldn't love anyone more than I do you, Ron."
For the first moment in a long time, Ron had found the will to smile. It was all that mattered in the world. No other words could make him happier. "What if you stopped loving me? What would happen then?"
Harry shook his head, a soft expression crossing his face. "Nothing would happen, because I would never stop loving you. I'll be yours forever, in life and death."
Positively radiating with pleasure, Ron was inclined to ask. "And if I died? What would you do?"
Harry's protective arms tightened around Ron. Hot tears sprang down his cheeks. "Ron, if you died, I would die with you."
He awoke with a start. The whomping willow had just flung one of its victims, a raven that had lost its way, into Ron's lap. Angered, he took the bird by its neck and slung it as far as he could. It didn't matter that the animal was already dead.
That same exact dream had occurred more than once in his sleep. But this time his subconscious yielded new revelations. The tears were welling up again, and he made no attempt to stop them. It would be the last time he would cry about this. Or ever.
The reality was clear. If Harry didn't love him, nothing in the world mattered anymore.
There was no other opportunity better than this, without another wizard in sight. He wouldn't be missed. Choking down a sob, he pointed his wand at his own temple. Now the only thing that remained was the courage to execute.
"I checked the washrooms, he's not there," Harry told Hermione at the front entrance of the school. "Not anywhere in the Gryffindor tower, either."
"Maybe he went outside for a walk," Hermione suggested. "It wouldn't hurt to check."
Harry agreed whole-heartedly and the two descended down the steps. "The Hogwarts grounds are pretty big. He could be anywhere. How do we know where to find him?"
"If Ron is hiding somewhere," said Hermione uneasily. "Maybe he really just wants to be alone. Maybe he doesn't want to be found."
Harry hadn't taken that into consideration. It startled him.
A new sense of conviction fortified. "He will. Don't worry, he will." He grabbed Hermione's arm and lead her out of the castle. "C'mon, let's start looking."
"Oh, hold on," Hermione blurted out suddenly after an inspection of her book bag. "I left my Transfiguration notes in the library. I have to go back for them. I'll catch up with you in a sec, all right?"
Harry nodded brusquely and made his way to the Hogwarts grounds alone. One thing acknowledged about Harry Potter was his undying devotion to his friends. If this was what Ron wanted so much, then the least he could do was pretend for him. For a little while, anyway.
Ron was still standing, eyes squinted, wand raised at his own head. An undetermined amount of time had passed, and he still had not summoned the nerve to act.
It wasn't as easy as it looked at first glance. He wasn't even sure if he had enough magical skill to accomplish the task. That thought, more than anything else, disturbed him most of all. Without it, there would be no other means of escape.
"Ron, there you are! What..." Harry froze. He had seen, and broken into a run towards him. "Oh Ron, don't!"
Everything came flooding back. All the rejection, hurt feelings and torment lurched within and ached his heart. It was too much for him now, too much for anyone.
Ron had suddenly found his motivation, massing all his concentration with the most fervour that he had ever taken to. A simple incantation of two words later, all mind, spirit and life had exited Ron Weasley.
Ron's body wilted and collapsed onto the grass. Not a drop of blood spilt, or any unsightly wounds. A fitting demise for such a tortured soul, or so it would seem.
Harry halted to a stop and crumpled at Ron's side. He was numb, too much in a state of shock to scream or cry.
Through glazed eyes, he glanced over at Ron's features. With his eyes closed and a contented look on his face, he could have easily been mistaken as asleep. Harry took Ron's hand with his own, still warm from a death that had occurred not long ago, but lifeless nonetheless.
On a sort of obligated impulse, he leaned in and softly kissed Ron's lips one last time. It was what he would have wanted. But this time, it lacked the same kindness he had felt when Ron had done it. Harry would never be able to experience how it felt to be a part of Ron ever again. There was no pretending this time.
"Ron, I love you."
It didn't matter, as a friend or as a lover, he did love Ron. But its knowledge had come painfully too late.
He had to tell him, somehow. Harry owed him that much. Without Ron, the world had no purpose. There was only one way that that would be possible.
Very gently, Harry took the wand out of Ron's limp grasp. With a renewed sense of certainty, he aimed it at his chest. "Adava Ke-"
"Expelliarmus!" another voice screamed over Harry's, almost hysterical. He felt the wand shoot out of his fingers and bounce harmlessly onto the ground.
"Harry! What happened?" Hermione's wand arm was shaking badly, her voice quivering and uneven. She galloped at top speed to her two friends, one deceased, the other robbed of the opportunity.
The floodgates finally opened and the stream of tears ran down his face without shame.
Hermione was crying too. She pulled Harry to her and closed her arms around him. "Harry, I'm sorry, you have to tell me what happened."
"I can't," he barely managed to say though violent sobs.
They remained like this for a long time, not knowing what else to do. Finally, Hermione tried to pull them both up. Harry, who still hadn't let go of Ron's hand, refused.
"Harry, you have to," Hermione prodded Harry's fingers, which had been forcibly intertwined into Ron's, out and brought him up. "We have to tell someone."
"I don't want to leave him, I can't," Harry fought desperately against Hermione's will.
"I know," Hermione whispered, her voice still cracking. "I'm upset too. We were all close friends. But we have to tell Professor Dumbledore about this. He'll know how to properly send Ron to peace."
"He didn't die in peace," Harry spat out, knees giving way. Had Hermione not been clutching him for support, he would have collapsed. It didn't matter; his composure had been willingly discarded long ago. He couldn't stand it, knowing it was he who created all the pain, the suffering for Ron. That agony was now mutual. "I have to go with him!"
Hermione pulled him back again when he tried to break free. "No, Harry, that's not what he would have wanted," she insisted. "He wouldn't want one of his friends to die for him."
Harry wasn't sure if he agreed, but he allowed her to lead him back to the castle. To walk away from Ron when he knew Ron needed him, it was the most awful experience. What was worse was knowing that he, unlike Ron, would have to live through the grief. Alone.
Ron had had the privilege of death. Harry just wasn't as lucky.
The End
Author's Note: Hopefully you picked up on the fact that absolutely nothing happened the way Ron wanted it to, right down to his own death. Hence, his and Harry's downfall.
As this is my first angst fic, I'm anxious to hear what you thought of it. Not enough angst? Did it come off as cheese? Too many tears? Was Ron too emo? Story idea overused? (Begs shamelessly for reviews with constructive criticism and swoons graciously for the wonderful readers who take the time to submit them.)