Everytime

Chapter 12 – Eight of Nine

Everything was white. The whiteness was all-encompassing and surrounded me, making me feel a little claustrophobic. Where on Earth was I? The last thing I remembered was Harry's final curse against Voldemort before he threw himself in front of the Killing Curse meant for Hermione, followed by my own rage against Voldemort and then...nothing.

I struggled to get up and move around but found my arms and legs strangely nonfunctional. It was as if they simply didn't exist. Almost as if...

Wait. Was I dead?

No, Ronald Weasley, I can assure you that you are not dead.

"What the hell?" I struggled to shout, but nothing came out. Something extremely strange had happened to my body, that was for sure. Body parts that I had been certain that I had, such as my mouth, arms, and legs, would not respond to my mental commands. If I was not dead, then where was I?

Then came the voice again. You need not speak to ask me questions; simply think them and I shall answer. And in response to your first question, you are...in limbo. In a place not here nor there. Between your plane and mine.

What the bloody hell? I simply did nothing for several minutes, attempting to process what had just happened, but my mind remained in shock. It took quite a while for me to work up the nerve to ask another question, but when I was finally ready I took the strange being's advice.

What do you mean, 'between your plane and mine'? Where am I?

Some call it purgatory, responded the voice. It is nothingness, neither good nor evil. It is simply blank, empty.

I had been slightly religiously educated by my family, but I knew enough (my mother's family being Catholic) to understand what I was being presented with. And I began to freak out.

Then—then—no w—then who are you?

Please calm down, Ronald, responded the bodiless voice. It will be much easier to hold a conversation with you if you do not panic.

I couldn't stop panicking. Something far, far beyond my understanding was occurring at that moment, and nothing that I had done in my entire life could have begun to prepare me for it. Who are you? I asked again, a hint of desperation in my voice.

That is a difficult question to answer. I go by many names—the One, Yahweh, Allah. God. Brahman. I am everywhere and everything in every universe, and I cannot be defined in mere words.

That was it. I must have died; died and gone to heaven. There was no way I was speaking with God. Maybe if I somehow found a way to wake up from unconsciousness, the strange hallucination would end and I would be free to return to normal life without going too crazy. In real life, I could see Hermione again...although not Harry. Harry, the poor boy thrust into a destiny that he neither wanted nor deserved. Harry, the hero trapped in a scrawny boy's body. Harry, my best friend. He was gone. There was no bringing him back.

Harry...

Ronald, I must ask that you calm down, said the voice—God, I guess—and an ecstatic feeling fell over my very being, happiness so strong that it countered the depression created by watching my best friend die. I was eleven and sharing a corned beef sandwich with Harry. I was twelve and flying above the clouds in my dad's illegally enchanted Ford Anglia. I was thirteen and making up Divination predictions with Harry in front of the common room fire. I was fourteen and at the Quidditch World Cup. I was fifteen and dueling by his side at the Department of Mysteries.

Now, Ronald, I must insist that you ask me another question.

Why am I here? I asked, calmed by the flood of positive memories.

Your case is extremely unique. Since you accomplished the task set to you, you will be permitted to return to the world of the living in a few moments.

World of the—what are you talking about? Lord? I asked, remembering who I was talking to and beginning to feel uncomfortable again. The flood of positive memories had its effect, however, and soon I was completely calm again.

You do not remember, said God, because you are not permitted to. Once the task is done, the tried cannot be allowed to remember his or her situation in the case that he or she lives.

So I had to complete a task? I asked, strangely complacent.

Yes, you did, came the prompt and succinct answer. You succeeded.

What did I do?

You have lived through the final battle with Voldemort four times, came the disembodied voice, and once again I felt shocked, but only for a moment. Later on I would see just how effective the flood of good memories was in keeping me from becoming confused or sad.

How is that possible? I asked, struggling to maintain my composure.

You had several second chances, came the response, this time with a slight tinge of humor to it.

At life? Why me?

Because Hermione Jane Granger, the woman who is in love with you, sacrificed her life for yours, setting off an ancient form of blood magic. But that is not all. You are also a distant heir of Godric Gryffindor, and he was strongly vouching for you during your attempts.

Why didn't the curse rebound upon Voldemort, like Harry's mum's sacrifice caused Voldemort's Avada Kedavra to that day when Harry was one? I asked confusedly.

Simply because you had more to do on Earth. Your unique situation—your ancestor being who he was—afforded you several one-of-a-kind opportunities as well.

And the most recent was the last one? I asked. Why couldn't I save Harry's life if I had that many chances?

Because it is not as easy as it sounds to change the future. The first three times, you insisted on continuing to pretend that you were not in love with Hermione. For this reason, you failed to learn the lesson that you were meant to and were allowed to continue.

My mind was swimming. Everything that had happened was too overwhelming; the flow of good thoughts was barely maintaining my composure and sanity. I struggled to pick one question out of the deluge of them coming from my mind, but at last I decided on one.

How was I able to kill Voldemort? I asked, unloading the one thing that had been on my mind ever since the battle. I thought that the prophecy stated that only Harry could kill Voldemort.

The prophecy stated that 'neither can live while the other survives', came the response. But after Harry had died—and consequently the final Horcrux destroyed, for Voldemort made Harry a Horcrux after trying to kill him at Godric's Hollow—anyone could kill Voldemort.

Do you have any more questions? asked the voice—God—when He had finished His explanation.

Just one, I replied, feeling in my soul the white place around me beginning to crumble. How was I able to wield the power needed to take out all those Death Eaters and Voldemort in the final battle?

Ronald Bilius Weasley, you are a very distant descendent of the Gryffindor line, and Godric Gryffindor held extraordinary powers, which he passed along to each member of his ancestry. In the last five hundred years, the powers have been dormant in each heir, but under considerable physical or mental stress the powers tend to awaken. Your stress was enough to activate them during one of your first attempts.

The white place around me was shimmering now; everything was falling away. I heard one last voice echo throughout my mind.

Good luck, Ronald Weasley, and well done, said God before the world collapsed altogether and I fell into blackness.

- - - -

I groaned. White light was falling into my eyes, tugging me out of the peaceful sleep that I had maintained for almost two days. I shielded my face from the sun with my right arm, glancing around sleepily. The weightiness of the situation hit me only after my eyes made the rounds around the room several times and discovered that I was now lying in a hospital bed at St. Mungo's.

I had defeated Voldemort. Not only that, but Harry was gone. And he was never coming back. Voldemort, the bastard, had made sure of that. How was I going to get by?

I suddenly jolted back to attention as I heard a rustling on the other side of my door. The door opened and Hermione entered, her brown hair gently framing her face, concern for me seeping out of every inch of her body.

Upon seeing me alive and conscious, she burst into tears, throwing herself at my arm, which was resting on the side of my bed, and hugging it fiercely. I looked at her, eyes watering, trying desperately not to let me see what bad condition she was in, her flowing down her face, and suddenly everything made sense.

"Shh..." I whispered softly to her, and her eyes rose slowly until they met mine. "It's okay, 'Mione. It's okay."

"You promise?" she asked, sniffling and pulling my arm closer.

"I promise," I said, with more confidence than I had felt at any other time in my life. "I'm not going anywhere."

I was Ronald Weasley.

I was in love with Hermione Granger.

And that was enough.

- - - -

A/N- (Strong Bad impersonation) It's over! It's also incredibly ironic how well "Eight of Nine" by The Ataris fits this chapter. I looked for the lyrics because I remembered the recovery from disaster theme, and at the very end of the song I find:

Appreciate the good times,

But don't take the worst for granted

'Cause you only get so many second chances.

One of the themes of this story. Anyway, on that fitting note, here ends Everytime, my first attempt at a romance fic and, although not the best, somewhat review-garnering. At the time of this post, I have 57 reviews for 11 chapters, which is pretty good. I want to dedicate this chapter to my most loyal reviewers:

EE's Skysong (Looked forward to your review every time!)

Gylfie (Seriously, I don't think I'm as good as you make me out to be, but thanks!)

To everyone else who reviewed, it's not like I don't appreciate it, it's just that if I responded to each and every one of you I'd probably be reported to mods and they'd have this story taken down. Anyway, I doubt this story is going to have a sequel, but if you think it should please review and tell me!

I've chosen this part of the story to add a few more author's notes that I thought you readers might find interesting. If you want to skip this, there's no more story down here (it's not like I put deleted scenes at the end or something...or did I?). Anyway:

Each of the chapters in this story is named after a song that I thought fit the mood. Following is a list of all the songs and their artists.

Chapter 1 – The Future Freaks Me Out – Motion City Soundtrack

Chapter 2 – Second Heartbeat – Avenged Sevenfold

Chapter 3 – Just a Simple Plan – Piebald

Chapter 4 – Inside Out – Eve 6

Chapter 5 – Waiting – Green Day
Chapter 6 – Thoughts before Me – Amber Pacific

Chapter 7 – Everytime – Simple Plan

Chapter 8 – Epiphany – Bad Religion

Chapter 9 – The Everglow – Mae

Chapter 10 – Wonderwall – Oasis

Chapter 11 – Hands Down – Dashboard Confessional

Chapter 12 – Eight of Nine – The Ataris

The initial idea for this book (and the main plot point) was taken from the young adult science fiction novel Rewind by William Sleator. In it, a boy named Peter is hit by a car and killed on the first page. However, he arrives at some strange place, in which he is given a second chance at life. He decides to fill the car's gas tank with sugar in order to stop himself from dying, but he is only hit by another car instead. He's given another chance, and this time he decides (since he is killed after running out into the road and the reason he did so is because his parents disapproved of his enthusiasm for art) to get more into sports and try and please them. But that doesn't work either, because as it turns out he argues with his parents about something else and gets killed again. Finally, at the end of the book, he realizes that the only way that he can live is to be satisfied with who he is, and he throws himself into his art project, actually garnering some praise from his intolerant parents. Because he doesn't have the argument or get mad, he doesn't run out into the road, thus allowing him to stay alive.

I used this premise as the basis for this fic. My idea came when I was thinking about how, in Half-Blood Prince, Ron and Hermione are obviously on the verge of getting together, but they are both so stubborn that I thought it might actually take an act of God to bring them together. Well, Ron got his act of God, and, like Peter in Rewind, he learns that the only way he can save himself is by being satisfied with who he is and how he feels.

Well, that's it with the author's notes. I hope you enjoyed! And, one final time, this is KaiserMonkey, and...

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