"NOOOOOOOOOO!" Ron was screaming. Running towards Harry as he fell. Tears were streaming down his face, but he didn't notice. He had seen what was coming, but was too stunned to stop it. As his friend fell, all other thoughts were banished from his mind.
Ron skidded to a stop beside his friend. He rolled Harry over, still sobbing.
"Come on, Harry. Don't do this. Come on, wake up. Wake up!"
A moan came from behind him.
Suddenly Ron remembered Voldemort. He spun around, one hand still on Harry's ominously still chest.
The Dark Lord was on the ground, writhing again. Only this time, he wasn't screaming. His chest was heaving, and he was moaning in pain. A smoke-like substance seemed to be rising from his body.
Ron knew he was defeated.
He turned back to Harry.
"C'mon mate. Snap out of it. You can't be..." he choked back a sob. "You c-can-can't be d-" He just could bring himself to say it. "HARRY! Come on, please? For me?" He shook his friend slightly. There was still no response.
Ron gazed into his best friends face. His skin was incredibly pale. His mouth was slightly open, and there was a small spot of blood on the corner of his mouth. His hair was limp and bedraggled, lying across his forehead. But what Ron noticed was the half-open eyes. The green could still be seen, though there was no life in them anymore- no hidden flame that everyone admired, no small twinkle of humor.
Ron sat there in shock, not knowing what to do, no clear thoughts running through his mind.
He was suddenly surrounded by loud popping noises as people apperated all around him. Ron no longer knew if he was crying or not, no longer knew if he was sitting or standing or laying down. He seemed to be floating. Nothing mattered anymore; the only thing that registered in his brain was his friend's blank stare. He hardly noticed as the people surrounded him, gasping, talking, crying. Someone pushed forward to Harry. The man bent down and placed a hand on Harry's neck. He said some quick words to all the people gathered, who immediately sprung to action.
Someone picked Ron up, but he hardly even registered the motion.
Everything became a blur to the boy as he was transported away from the graveyard. At some point, his exhaustion overtook him and he passed out, welcoming the warm embrace of unconsciousness.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When he opened his eyes, it took a moment for his surroundings to come into focus.
He was in a bright room. The walls were white, and there was a window against one of them.
He squinted his eyes against the light.
Ron realized he was in a bed with warm blankets covering his body.
He turned his head to the side, and almost at once he felt sore all over his body. He closed his eyes again and groaned. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who had been at Ron's side since he was brought in jumped up at the sound; they had been asleep in their chairs.
"Ron?" Mrs. Weasley stroked her son's face. He opened his eyes again, and found himself staring into the worried gaze of his mother. Behind her, his father stood, looking immensly relieved.
"Mum?"
"Oh, Ron!" His mother gathered him into a tight hug.
"Ow!" Ron winced. "Mum, that hurts."
She relinquished her grip on him, but still held onto his hand, as if he would slip away if she let go.
"How do you feel, son?" Mr. Weasley asked, stepping up next to his wife.
"Like I've been beaten up by a troll." Ron moaned. "What happened?"
His parents froze for a second, then smiled sadly down at their son.
"We're so proud of you, Ron." Mrs. Weasley whispered.
"What're you-" Ron stopped. Image after image raced through is brain, and before he even realized what had happened, he felt his mother brushing the tears away from his cheeks.
"It's all going to be okay, Ron." Mr. Weasley said quietly. He had somehow moved to the other side of the bed, and was now holding his other hand.
"How? How can it be okay? Harry's- Harry's dead." This last word was hardly above a whisper.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchanged a confused look.
"Ron," Mrs. Weasley started, but she couldn't seem to find the right words to say.
"What your mother's trying to say, son, is that, well..." He trailed off.
Ron sat up a little, ignoring the pain in his limbs. "What?"
"Harry's alive."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Remus Lupin paced outside of the hospital room door.
Hagrid sat, stuffed into one of the uncomfortable chairs set against the wall. Next to him, looking tired and worn, sat Hermione.
Several other members from the Order had come and gone, all wanting to check up on the two teenagers now residing in the hospital.
It had been two days since the final battle between Harry and Voldemort.
No one knew what had happened during that battle except for Ron, and he was currently unconscious, though he was in much better shape than Harry. The doctors expected him to wake up sometime today.
Harry, on the other hand, well, no one really knew just what was wrong with him. His left arm had been completely torn apart, and the healers were hard-put to mend it. It still hadn't healed much, which led the staff and those in the Order to believe the wounds were caused by some kind of curse.
That was about the only thing they knew for sure, though they didn't even know what curse had been used. As far as they could tell, Voldemort had invented the spell. He seemed to have a knack for inventing his own spells. After Hermione had told them everything she knew about the strange scar on Harry's back, they concluded that it must have also been a spawn of the lunatic's mind.
The healers had conducted test after test, and they had still not come up with any way to reverse the curse.
When the Order had shown up at the graveyard, they had found Ron sobbing over Harry's body. They had all thought him dead. Remus had ran forward and had checked for a pulse. After what had seemed like ages, he had found one, though it was thin and weak.
Moody had gone up to the dying Voldemort, and on seeing the smoke slowly rising off his body had immediately captured all his essence in an enchanted box and transported it to the Ministry of Magic. It was now being held in the Department of Mysteries under top security.
They had transported Ron and Harry to St. Mungo's at once, and while Ron had been easily stabilized, Harry had needed constant attention.
"Hermione?"
She opened her eyes and sat up, looking around her. Apparently she had fallen asleep.
She glanced around, then saw the twins standing over her. They were both smiling slightly.
"What is it?"
"He's awake." They both said at the same time.
Hermione immediately looked towards Harry's door.
"No, wrong 'him'." said George sadly. "Yeah," added Fred. "We'd prefer Harry over Ron anyday. He's much cooler. But Ron'll have to do, eh?"
Despite their joking, they both looked greatly pleased to be giving this news.
"Ron's awake?" Hermione jumped up.
"Yep. We've just been to see him. We figured you would like to know too."
Hagrid and Remus were both watching them, both obviously extremely happy and relieved to hear this.
The twins looked toward the two. "Mum told us to tell you that she doesn't want anyone questioning him yet. He's still really shaken up. He thought Harry was dead. So, as soon as Dumbledore and McGonogall come out of there," Fred motioned to the door behind them as George continued. "make sure you tell them. They can come visit him, though."
The twins looked back towards Hermione- but she was gone.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ron and his parents all jumped as Hermione burst through the door to the room.
Ron barely had any time o react as Hermione threw herself into his arms. "Ron! Ron! Oh, Ron! I'm so happy you're okay!"
He tried gathering his breath again as Hermione hugged him. He patted her on the back, a bemused expression on his face.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley beamed at each other.
After what seemed like ages to Ron, Hermione unlatched herself from him. Her face was red, and she had tears in her eyes.
Ron looked up at his parents. "Uh,"
"Say no more!" Mr. Weasley said happily as he pushed his wife out of the room.
Ron blushed.
He looked over at Hermione, his expression suddenly going serious.
"How is he?"
"He' s in some kind of coma. No one can really figure out what's wrong with-" She cut off as Ron buried his head in his hands. "Ron?"
"Hermione," Ron's voice was muffled, but Hermione could tell that his voice was cracking.
"What is it, Ron?"
Ron mumbled something that Hermione couldn't hear. "What was that?"
"He killed himself, Hermione. That's how he defeated Voldemort. He used...he used...Avada Kedavra."
Hermione gasped. "But...how? He's...he's alive."
Ron looked up at her, his eyes red. "Hermione?"
"Yeah Ron?"
"Could you say that again? Please? I need to hear it."
Hermione brushed the hair out of Ron's face, then leaned forward. She looked into his eyes and said slowly, "Harry is alive. He'll be okay, Ron. He's not dead."
Ron fell into her, and she held onto him tightly. They hugged, supporting each other in the bright room.