Author's Note: So here we are. Bill and Fleur's wedding, as seen through the eyes of Ron, as he and Ginny engage in a final round of sibling banter. Note the references to Muggle music by Ginny. ABBA is referenced, and of course, 'David' is none other than David Bowie. I of course hold no right to Bowie's work, including the song 'Heroes,' which is both a classic, and strangely relatable to the Harry Potter world at this point in the story.
Then we have the events of the ceasefire as seen through the eyes of both Ron and Ginny, such as the latter comforting the injured girl that Harry sees on his way to face Voldemort. Be warned, the story does get angtsy from here! It's definitely no longer a comedy fic.
As per some of my other fics, I tend to focus on keeping it consistent with the novels, but I do on occasion like to throw in a reference to the films as well, whether for mocking their portrayal of certain events, or because I genuinely love a concept they put forward. Overall, I sometimes feel that the filmmakers get undeserved flak from the fandom, but that's just me. As a result, enjoy the reference to the hilarious 'she's got nice skin' scene in the sixth film, as well as a small nod to the scene where Harry finds Ron and Hermione holding hands on the the stairs during the Battle of Hogwarts.
7:
Ron scowled as he took a seat with the Butterbeer he'd poured for Hermione and awaited her return. He'd spotted Viktor Krum gesticulating heatedly towards Xenophilius Lovegood and his robes. Even now, after he'd just been dancing with Hermione, at long last, the bloody git had to make a scene in front of him.
Then again, he mused, perhaps he should concentrate on the positives and be a little more grateful. He'd finally gotten a dance with Hermione for a start, no Death Eaters had so far ruined proceedings, Muriel was off and distracted somewhere away from him, and also no catcalls from the Twins whom, he'd noticed, had disappeared with a couple of Veela in-laws.
Of course, the fact that his brother and Fleur were now husband and wife would have to take the cake, he thought. It was funny what a wedding did to people. He'd felt as if every last awkward, impenetrable wall between himself with Hermione was being progressively demolished with every sway and beat. He knew he was hardly an optimist in this field, but he couldn't deny that relations with her seemed to be going in a direction he liked – closer. And to think he'd gaped at his now-sister-in-law like a gormless moron as recently as last year! Tonight, he couldn't care less. A couple of rock hits from the Weird Sisters and a slower ballad – 'Magic Works' – plus the overall atmosphere for the evening had Hermione sighing and leaning onto his shoulder. Almost intimately, even. To hell with whatever disgusting thing he'd done with his mouth the previous year, this was the real deal….
A blur of golden robes flashed by his only partially in-focus eyes. He felt a tap on his shoulder. He jumped and turned to face his beaming sister, who took the vacant seat beside him.
"Hey, twinkletoes," she teased. "I see both the book and those lessons I gave you in the last couple of weeks paid off, no?" Ron chuckled slightly and waved his hands casually – trying his best to not look too hyped and on-edge about what he and Hermione could be doing later that evening. Another dance; it was all too simple, just lean forwards a couple more inches….
"Like I said, you're lucky," she said far more sombrely, as a new, slower and more mournful tune came on.
Ron swallowed nervously and turned to face her, expecting to see a hint of resentment or irritation. To his surprise, he couldn't fathom the exact emotion on Ginny's face. Powerful, but what was it?
"I wish I could say sorry," he began hesitantly. "About what happened that day. But I can't. I was if anything just as much looking out for Harry, actually. He can't afford to be emotionally injured any more than necessary and….that…something like that would make it even worse for him, as it would for you."
Ginny's eyes blazed. "I don't care one bit about myself getting hurt. It's too late for me, anyway."
"But you care about Harry," Ron almost breathed, hoping to calm things down. Much to his surprise, her fierce expression crumbled, and she looked down glumly at the ground, then over to where 'Cousin Barney' was sitting, talking to a wizened guest fervently. "Nice music," he added lamely, hoping to take her mind onto more cheerful topics.
"It is, isn't it?" she agreed, smiling and nodding at Lee as he passed. "And Lee's a good dancer and always great for a laugh. Him and his Quidditch commentary back in the day….." She let out a chuckle and scanned the marquee to where Hagrid was slurping down another tankard of something strong beside Charlie. Ron too looked towards the dancefloor where his parents and the Delacours were gently swaying slowly in time to the unfamiliar tune.
…I, I will be king
And you, you will be queen
Though nothing, will drive them away
We can be heroes, just for one day
We can be us, just for one day
"Pretty bittersweet," Ron remarked, grimacing. "Who recorded this one?"
Ginny shrugged her shoulders. "Not sure," she remarked. "Mum, Fleur and Bill did most of the music preparation, but Dad also suggested adding a few Muggle songs and enlisted Hermione to help. Apparently she'd packed a few records from her parents' place, given Dad had previously asked her about listening to some at King's Cross." Ron snorted loudly.
"Typical Dad. Did she say by who?"
"Dunno, there were a few old songs she mentioned, like a couple by a European Muggle band with two A's and two B's, plus some bloke named David. Why are you so interested?" Ron shrugged his shoulders. "Don't know," he muttered. "It's weird. It's…..kind of getting tome, I guess."
"Really good music does that," Ginny replied. "Though I hated some of the rubbish Seamus tried to play around Dean and I." As both fell into companionable silence, the squabbling between the older gentleman beside the disguised Harry and their insufferable Great Aunt drew their attention.
"Old bat," Ron muttered. "Thank Merlin she's no longer insulting the bride's nationality."
"She does like to do her bit for international relations, doesn't she?" Ginny agreed idly. "And poor Harry; first Voldemort, then Umbridge, then Scrimgeour and now Muriel." Ron snorted again as she continued with a grin. "The one thing we need is Fred setting off a firework or something in front of her and she'll never return. Except of course, to give you another big, sloppy kiss." Ron glared at her as he squirmed in his seat.
"Never remind me of that again," he shot back as he shuddered at the horrible memory. Turning slowly away from Muriel and Ginny's mile-wide smirk, his eyes fell upon a far more gratifying sight.
She'd sat down beside Harry, and was massaging her foot, having taken a shoe off. Maybe it was the lighting, or the occasion, or - Ron's heart skipped a beat thinking about it - just maybe, it was the experience of them dancing, but her eyes had appeared to be shining even more than usual. He'd marveled at how her normally wild hair had been tamed by the application of that hair potion she'd used, a few stray strands on the sides of her fringe combed back and held in place by a handful of clips, and the way her curls fell elegantly over her bare shoulders. Even with her hair slowly coming undone and more disheveled and her cheeks flushed with pleasurable exhaustion from all the dancing, she looked more stunning than ever. Then of course there was her smile, and the way she'd laughed and rubbed his arm when he'd made a lame pun….
"She looks nice, doesn't she?" commented Ginny, snapping him out of his reverie.
"Huh?" he said dumbly, realising with a horrible jolt that his mouth was hanging open slightly. Her smirk grew as she leaned forward.
"Well, she does have nice skin, doesn't she, Ron?" Ron scowled back.
"What the bloody hell…."
"Nothing." Still smirking, Ginny turned back to face Hermione and Harry.
Ron seized the opportunity for some revenge without hesitation. "And you stop looking at 'Cousin Barney' like that right now, it's disturbing." As soon as the words left his lips, he regretted them, wondering if he'd seriously wounded Ginny in what was meant to be a simple sibling back-and-forth. To his surprise, Ginny turned back to him and cracked an evil smile.
"We are Pure-Bloods after all," she replied matter-of-factly. "Got to keep up the old traditions, like the Blacks and Malfoys, not to mention other old wizarding families with Death Eat-"
Ron's thoughts about Ginny's appalling incest joke were promptly wiped out by a sudden bright flash, eliciting squeals and yells from several of the dancers. The silvery lynx that had produced the flash then settled onto its paws, right in the middle of the marquee, and spoke in the low, deep and controlled voice of Kingsley.
"The Ministry has fallen. The Minister is dead. They are coming."
As the Patronus vanished with another flash, there was all but two seconds of shocked quiet, then pandemonium broke out. Instinctively, Ron locked his eyes with Hermione, more than ten yards away, and nodded. Acting on a final impulse, he grabbed Ginny's arm as he disdainfully threw the Butterbeer aside with his other hand. Turning back to face Ginny, his eyes met hers.
"Keep Harry and Hermione safe," she called out over the din that had freshly erupted, giving his hand an authoritative squeeze of farewell. Ron nodded as he let go of Ginny's hand.
"And keep yourself safe," he yelled back. "For me, Hermione and Harry." Ginny nodded grimly and turned her back to him, pulling out her wand as she prepared herself for the attack that would surely be only seconds away.
As Ron fought his way through the crowd, navigated towards Hermione's frenzied yells of "Ron!" and grabbed her hand with a sigh of relief, before turning to see Harry grab Hermione's spare hand, he somehow found time to silently marvel at how much his sister had matured.
As he felt Hermione twist ever so slightly, and his world disappeared in a howl of bright colours accompanying the nauseating feeling of being squeezed through a miniscule tube, the chaotic combination of relief that Hermione was okay, horror at Kingsley's news, and fear of what awaited himself, Hermione and Harry at the other end wiped out all other thoughts from his mind.
8:
Ron ignored all the stares from people in the Great Hall as he dragged himself away from the spot on the Great Hall's floor where George was fighting a losing battle against a struggling Percy, whose howls of grief filled the air around his family and Fred's prone form. Ron felt as if he was under some suffocating bright spotlight. Not caring about his uncontrollable shaking of his extremities, he did his best to suppress the searing pain in his lungs as his legs took him towards the nearest source of fresh air. Pain, death and hopelessness surrounded him on all sides. Feeling the urge to vomit as he passed the peaceful forms of Lupin and Tonks, their fingertips now locked together for all eternity, he tried to focus on his destination.
He knew the eyes of his grieving brothers, of Ginny, his parents and Hermione were on him, but he didn't care. None of them called out to him; for that he was grateful. Was it because they knew he needed solitude to process it all, or were they so cocooned in their own world of pain that his absence was soon going to be unnoticed?
Just like the haggard Parvati, Dean and Seamus, who were watching mutely as Madam Pomfrey feverishly applied Essence of Dittany to Lavender's lacerated tissue; Seamus was supporting her head gingerly while Parvati held her hand. None of them acknowledged him passing by. Neither did Ernie, Susan and Hannah, who were whispering words of encouragement as Justin Finch-Fletchley, clutching his ribs in agony while on a stretcher, was lowered gently onto a spare section of floor. A grimacing Michael Corner lay ominously quiet nearby, an ugly, deep wound straight as an arrow in his leg. Sectumsempra, Ron thought bitterly, as he lowered his eyes to avoid a gaunt Professor McGonagall's empathic gaze and headed into the badly damaged Entrance Hall. He made his way up two levels, ignoring the occasional student descending while bearing a stretcher with an obviously deceased individual.
He reached the corridor that for better or worse had defined much of their time in Hogwarts, and which had proved indispensable to defeating Voldemort mere hours beforehand. How innocent they had all been at the time he, Hermione and Harry had brewed Polyjuice Potion, he mused. Except for Ginny, of course, but that was unknown at the time. Sighing as he braced himself against a wall, he not so much sat as slumped, hungrily consuming the crisp night air emanating through the shattered window opposite like a drowning man.
It didn't take long for footsteps to reach his ears, amid a couple of tentative calls of "Ron?"
To hell with that, he thought savagely. He didn't need sympathy. What he needed was Voldemort, Bellatrix, and whoever else had been responsible for this deluge of grief, death and destruction, dead. He got to his feet more gingerly than he would have liked, his jaw clenched, and his breath was coming in short, sharp bursts.
"Ron," Hermione's voice was far more pronounced now. He took in another breath, and turned to face her dirt-encrusted and tear-stained face, a couple of very minor cuts visible, but otherwise healthy.
"You didn't have to leave us," she said, her lip trembling slightly as she looked at the ground, swallowed, then looked back up, her gaze blinding his.
"I need to be alone," he said bitterly to the night, addressing his words to the hole in the wall beside her. She scowled and moved determinedly towards him, pausing hesitantly once she was a foot away from him. Turning to scan the abandoned corridor that in previous years had been the source of so much terror, she finally switched her gaze back to him.
"Seen Harry yet?" she enquired hesitantly. Ron felt a shadow of his old insecurity and bitterness return. It was always about Harry.
"No." He let the solitary syllable hover in the air between them, awkwardly, infuriatingly. She peered at him more intently, and he felt a worm of apprehension and fear rise within him. Harry had been with his family the last he'd been aware of. Surely he hadn't….
"He'll be in Dumbledore's Office," he answered almost more to himself, happier that he'd found his voice properly and relieved that his memory was still functioning in this hurricane of pent-up emotions. "Looking at Snape's memories. We should…"
To his surprise, she took hold of his left hand, lacing her fingers with his as she raised a solitary finger from her spare hand to her lips. He squeezed her hand as she led him away, slowly, but with a determined, silent authority nevertheless. They reached the first step of the shattered staircase, and with a sigh, Ron sat himself down, grasping Hermione's hand with a firm grip as he leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. Only then did the tears begin to fall, silently, perspiration leaving tracks in the grime on his face. He heard a sniff from his left as she pulled herself in closer. Abandoning any dignity that remained, he buried his face in her lap, fighting against the howl of misery that was threatening to escape him. He let out another steadying sigh as she began to gingerly thread the fingers of her spare hand through his hair. Time itself appeared to dissolve as both mourned and did their best to comfort the other in total silence.
….
Ginny's heart was pounding as she made her way up the stairs. Too much and too many had been lost. Colin, her former Charms partner, snuffed out in an instant by a Killing Curse meant for Cormac McLaggen. Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks, who merely hours earlier had never before looked as healthy and whole. Fred, his face still frozen, perhaps poetically, in his final laugh.
Not that there was anything poetic about war and death, Ginny thought savagely. Harry was missing, unable to be found in any of the places she'd thought of searching. And where the devil were Ron and Hermione?
And then she saw them, huddled together at the top of the ruined staircase. Together.
A weak flame of warmth filled her insides, promptly snuffed out by her number one worry as she rushed her way up the stairs towards them. She lost her footing as she approached the half-way mark, swearing loudly as her backside landed on a broken shard of marble.
The noise saw Ron and Hermione break apart from their silent embrace with a jump.
"Ginny!..." Hermione was the first to recover, wiping her hands on her jeans and hiccupping as she rushed to Ginny's aid. "Are you…"
"Fine as can be," Ginny answered primly, nodding at Ron as she got back to her feet gingerly. She paused to look at her watch, then exclaimed in alarm.
"Listen, we've only got thirty minutes until Voldemort's ultimatum, and Harry's disappeared on us. Have you seen him?" She searched their faces hungrily, desperately, her mind screaming at her that Harry was somewhere safe, that he'd just need a quiet, solitary moment like Ron and Hermione to process the loss….
"He'll be in Dumbledore's Office," she heard Ron reply, with his optimism only slightly dented with a quiver at the end. How foreign the phrase felt to her. Dumbledore's Office. After the year of tyranny with Snape in charge.
She froze in horror, her hyper-slow brain finally processing fully the implications of Ron's words. He didn't know. And what he'd said had pierced her like a sliver of ice, because…
"I've checked everywhere," she replied in an unfamiliar, foreign whisper. "He's not there." Her curiosity of why Harry would want to go there specifically was overwhelmed by a surge of panic as she made a decision. To hell with it, she had to check, and perhaps she could do some good in the process, like help Neville, Oliver Wood and others recover people. Not bodies, people.
"Where are you going?" she heard the most-surprised Hermione exclaim.
"The grounds," she answered back honestly, her back turned to them. Another panicked thought hit her as she whirled round to face Ron and Hermione.
"It's only…" she checked her watch again, "…Twenty-eight minutes. Stay right there until I get back," she added, with a touch of desperation.
Pausing only to acknowledge Neville at the foot of the staircase as they both peeled off into the darkened grounds in different directions, Ginny felt like a Bludger had hit her in the gut as she passed the prone form of Colin nearby, his mousy hair still waving animatedly in the gentle breeze. Fighting back another lump in her throat, she shook her head and stopped where she was. Her focus was on the living. Her ears were on alert for any sound, whether it be a cough, a moan, or a feeble rustle of the grass caused by movement.
Snap.
A branch, invisible in the gloom, splintered with a noticeable crack at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and she dropped to her knee, pointing her wand in the general direction the sound had come from. Not for the first time, she had the feeling she was being watched by multiple sets of hidden eyes. Ginny had (completely involuntarily) explored many mysterious areas of the Castle in her first year, but tangling with the likes of Dementors, Greyback and Acromantula in the gloom was hardly top of her agenda. She'd take facing Voldemort, his pet Basilisk and his Diary again any day over this. Or would she?
Then she heard something else as Hagrid's cabin began to loom in the foreground out of the misty night.
A most faint, pitiful cry for help.
Banishing thoughts about the mysterious noise and of her history with Tom Riddle, she lit her wand, not caring who saw her. They still had time to recover and recue people, though the time for finding Harry was in short supply now. Not to mention the horror Voldemort would unleash within fifteen minutes on Hogwarts' embattled defences. A knot tightened in her stomach at the thought of what would happen to the injured inside the Great Hall once battle resumed.
The she came across the owner of the sound. The victim, clothed in Hogwarts robes, shielded their eyes feebly from the bright light, and Ginny extinguished it as she leaned in closer.
"Mum?" That sound produced more horror in Ginny than any other single event that evening. Tearing her thoughts away from her own mother, presently immobilized with grief in the Great Hall, Ginny knelt down. There were faint whispers from two people from far behind her, but she shut them out.
"No, I'm not your mother," she whispered back, kneeling beside the injured girl and ignoring the cold soak her knees were getting; there was icy dew on the blades of grass, perhaps put there by Dementors. With a dull, detached feeling of surprise, Ginny noticed the silver and emerald colours of Slytherin House.
"I'm so cold…." The girl whimpered; Ginny could see isolated spots of scarlet beside her, but there was no obvious wound visible on her. "Can you feel any pain?" she whispered back in reply.
The girl shook her head; it seemed to take an eternity. She let out a wet, raspy cough. More spots of scarlet stained her dangerously pale, almost blue lips. Ginny felt her throat swell again; it was difficult swallowing as her vision began to blur. She was the farthest thing from a Healer, but even she knew the lack of pain in a case like this was bad news. She turned away to briefly wipe her eyes. The girl didn't need to guess from her behaviour how bad her condition was. If she could even see properly anymore, that was.
"Mum?"
Composing herself, Ginny turned back to face her patient. Her eyes had slipped closed and there was an almost-smile on her face as her fingers blindly reached out for comforting contact.
"No, I'm not your mum," she repeated softly, not entirely succeeding in keeping the wobble out of her voice as she brushed the girl's forehead gently. It felt cold and clammy. The girl opened her eyes again; the blissful look had been replaced with fear and melancholy.
"Don't leave me out here," she pleaded.
"Never. And you'll see your mum very soon. It'll be all over soon." Ginny dabbed at the corner of her eye. Only the last part of that answer she knew to be true, she thought. One way or another, it would all be over.
"It's all right," she added. "It's okay. We're going to get you inside."
"But I want to go home," the injured girl pleaded, in a whisper so faint that Ginny had to lean in very close to have a hope of hearing it. "I don't want to fight any more!" Ginny appraised her nearly-prone form. She definitely wasn't going to be fighting any more, she mused, as hot tears stung her eyelids.
"I know," she whispered as she took one of the girl's hands into her own and tried to ignore how cold it was. "It's going to be all right," she added, and let the tears fall for not the first time that day, determined to not produce a sob.
As the injured girl slipped towards total unconsciousness, muttering weakly to someone who was not present with them, Ginny heard – or was it felt? – the presence of someone else. There was the faint rustle of leaves from a few metres to her right, and she looked around to find….absolutely nothing.
Apparently.
Then the faint sound of something being dragged over the surface of the grass reached her again. In fact, it sounded for all the world like a certain special someone's infamous invisibility cloak.
"Harry," she whispered to herself; some part of her at the last second prevented her from calling out to him, if that was who the sound had belonged to. Probably, she reasoned, the same part of her that had with a minimum of fuss accepted his decision to end their relationship.
Namely, the part of her (was there any other part?) that was absolutely, blindingly, infuriatingly in love with him.
For whatever reason, he had decided to meet Voldemort, and nothing could change that. Why was another matter. She closed her eyes and threw herself back to the time, aged eleven, where she'd woken in the Chamber from a real-life nightmare that was doomed to be her last, only to be given a second shot at life. Harry had done that back then. He was going to do it all again. For all of them. Then it came to her.
He was going to kill Voldemort. He'd kill Voldemort, just like he'd destroyed the Diary, and it would be all over. She told herself that over and over again as Oliver Wood took the unconscious girl away from her. She told herself that again as she crossed the threshold of the Castle, as she took the stairs two at a time to get back to Hermione and Ron. Even as their remaining time ticked away to zero, she told herself that.
If only she could actually, fully believe with her heart what she was trying to tell herself.
….
"Ron."
He felt her tug on his jacket, but he scowled and launched a more determined effort to rush after Ginny.
"But Ginny's left, and Harry's out there…"
"Ron if you'd just listen…"
To hell with listening. He'd help his sister rescue and recover victims, and then once that was done, he could think about punishment. Of all the cowards that lay in wait for his best friend in the middle of the Forbidden Forest. Just like they'd waited for the perfect moment to blow up that corridor, and sent that wall crashing down on his brother….
The grief had gone, replaced with a scalding fury that was boiling inside him, longing for an exit. What a pathetic bunch the Death Eaters were; why hadn't he seen that before? Cowards, who would wait until dark to launch their attack, and slay schoolchildren without a second thought. All in blind, sniveling obedience to a man who had no concept of reciprocal loyalty, of friendship, of love or loss.
Had no understanding of what living felt like, beyond simply existing as an evil, hollowed out shell of his younger self. He would never understand the love of siblings, of brave parents like Tonks, Lupin, his parents and Harry's. Would never understand the surge of indescribable pain that accompanied a loved one's loss. Would never experience the joy, terror, humour and exhilaration that came from falling in love with your best friend.
Were his implacable rage not coursing through his whole body, he might have had the ability to feel sorry for the pathetic, frightened individual that considered himself a lord above all including Death.
"I won't let you do this, Ron." Her voice was now sharper, more instructive. The pleading had been thrown out the window. At that, he whirled on her.
"Won't let me? I'm a free man, Hermione. And I'm going out there." He felt Hermione tug at his sleeve, but this merely served to open the conduit of rage fully as tears poured onto his cheeks once again.
"Fred is dead! My sister could be too in the next few minutes, Harry is out there, probably trying to give himself up to him and you want me to stand here and look cute. DON'T YOU?"
He felt an enormous surge of guilt as he turned to see Hermione's eyes fill with tears again, but it was simply beyond his control to stop now he'd started.
"HOW MANY OTHERS ARE WE GOING TO LOSE? NOT HARRY, IF I CAN HELP IT," he roared, his surprisingly shaky voice echoing like a clap of thunder through the abandoned corridor.
Much to his surprise, Hermione let go as he stomped down a few steps, then turned, his heart pounding away. "Are you coming?" he called out. "Are you coming or are you staying?" In a detached, distant corner of his mind, this reminded him of the day he'd stormed out on Hermione. Except the circumstances involving Harry couldn't be any more different.
But he wasn't prepared for her next words.
"We can't do anything, Ron," she said wanly, her eyes cast down. Ron had never seen her look so utterly defeated in her life, as he felt his anger begin to ebb.
"Of course we can," he retorted. "Come on." But Hermione bit her lip, looking pensive.
"Not in terms of killing Voldemort. We need to kill the last Horcrux – the snake - before we can do that. I….I can't stop you," she added as Ron glared at her, giving him an intense look which intimidated him a little, "but if you go on some, s- suicide mission, I'll have no choice but to follow. And no-one else knows about the Horcruxes if we go now."
Ron hadn't even registered that she'd approached him step by step as she took his calloused, bruised hand in hers, and gave it a squeeze. He looked back in horror as he recognised the implications of her words. No way was she dying as well, and certainly not because of his own stubborn actions.
"You're too important for you to do that, Ron," she whispered. "For me, Harry, and Ginny. Your whole family."
After what seemed like an interminable period, Hermione leaned in and gingerly planted a soft kiss on his forehead, lingering on it.
Ron's mind was in overdrive.
Fred was dead.
Hermione was alive.
Harry was probably sacrificing himself to give them more time as they spoke. His best mate, likely dead.
Hermione was alive, and so was Ginny and the rest of his family.
Tonks and Lupin were dead.
Most of his family was unharmed, and so were Neville and Luna.
Hagrid was missing.
Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout and Slughorn were alive and well.
Lavender was gravely injured.
He, Ginny and Hermione were not.
Harry had left them.
Hermione was right here with him.
He scanned her, marveling that she was still with him after the last few hours. And Malfoy Manor.
But it might not be so for much longer, said a most unwelcome voice in his brain. He looked at his watch. Here they were, with the seconds to probably the end of their lives whittling away. What a waste….
"Time's up," he muttered in resignation. We'll just have to keep our eyes open, and hope…." As he tailed off, his eyes locked with Hermione's.
In a heartbeat, they lunged for each other, Ron ignoring the pain in his chapped lips, the taste of dirt on hers and the tickle of her skin on his stubble as he kissed Hermione with a desperate intensity he never thought was possible. One hand curved up to cup her cheek while the other slid down to the small of her back, pushing them closer together as he deepened the kiss. Judging from the way Hermione returned each brush of the lips with favour and the way one of her hands got caught in his too-long hair, her mind was thinking along exactly the same lines as his was, holding onto the one constant in their lives at that point of time. Harry was missing, Fred and dozens of others were dead, Voldemort was not yet killable, and they were both there, but had no idea of how long they both had to…..
….
Ginny couldn't believe her eyes as she came to a halt at the foot of the staircase. Her brother, snogging Hermione Granger in a warzone as if his very life depended on it, both their arms wrapped tightly around each other as they leaned from side to side, vainly hoping to press closer together. Yet again, she felt her vision blur. It was so unfair; now they had decided to commit themselves to express their feelings, and with so little time left for most likely any of them too…. She was mightily tempted to simply keep drinking in the scene, even if she that she was intruding on a private moment of intimacy, but business was business.
"Ron?" she began timidly, and both Ron and Hermione split apart, looking from Ginny to each other and turning pink. In spite of the dire situation, Ginny almost felt like laughing, or crying for that matter.
"After all this time?" she whispered. Ron locked eyes with her, and much to her surprise, he didn't blush like a tomato. He merely nodded and smiled in a somewhat bittersweet manner.
Ginny only narrowly avoided abandoning her dignity and wrapping them in a bear-hug as the reason she'd come back popped back into her head.
"Didn't see Harry," she said breathlessly, "but I think he's gone off to face Voldemort."
"Ginny," Hermione began. "I'm so sorry…" But Ginny folded her arms with a scowl.
"He's not dead Hermione," she said sharply. "He can't be. He….he'll have something figured out."
But Hermione shook her head mournfully. "You don't understand, Ginny. To kill Voldemort…you need to kill his snake first." At that, Ginny noticed, Ron had shot Hermione a glare.
"Sorry?" she replied. "To kill the snake….." a thought popped into her head. "Do you mean it's like the Diary?" At that, both Ron and Hermione shot each other guilty glances, but to her surprise, it was Ron who answered her.
"Yes," he said resignedly. "And Harry know that too. He's…."
The voice boomed through the walls of Hogwarts, sending dust pouring from the ceiling above.
"Harry Potter is dead….."
At that, Ginny's mind dissolved into a whirlpool of agony, the likes of which she'd never even begun to feel before. It was all over.
….
Ron froze at Voldemort's magically enhanced voice, despair washing over him once more. Harry was dead. The only thing that was left now was to resist, and hope in vain that one of them could get close enough to kill Nagini.
Could Voldemort have been lying to them? As much as he wished it, he knew Harry well enough to know that wasn't the case. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that if Harry had felt the battle was lost, he would sacrifice himself. "For the greater good," he muttered bitterly, kicking a piece of rubble down the stairs with unadulterated fury. The same effing slogan used by Dumbledore and Grindelwald that had caused so much mayhem.
He watched as his sister's face crumpled, then hardened. She spun on her heels and marched determinedly down the stairs, pulling out her wand from a sleeve. It took all his willpower to not surrender his mind to the same burning passions as he made a decision.
"Ginny…" he raced after her, Hermione grabbing his arm as she followed.
"Ginny!" Hermione suddenly let go and charged ahead of him. "Please stop – we can't take him on singlehandedly."
"He's a liar," Ginny spat with utter contempt, her lip trembling as she determinedly refused to face them. "He's never stopped lying."
Ron grabbed his sister's arm as they neared the First Floor, recalling with detached irony that he was now stopping Ginny from making the exact same mistake he'd been about to make. "What good will it do Harry if you throw yourself in front of…"
"He's not dead!" Ginny cried defiantly, whirling around to reveal tears beginning to stream freely. Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance. She was inconsolable. They all were.
"Harry wouldn't want this," he said breathlessly.
"….The battle is won. You have lost half your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you and the Boy Who lived is finished."
At this, all three looked at each other, then, as one, began slogging their way down towards the survivors in the Great Hall and Entrance Hall, the first blushes of pale pink penetrating the inky darkness outside. Ginny led them, followed by Ron, Hermione pressing herself against his side and wrapping an arm around his shoulders as she buried her head in the side of his neck. He felt oddly numb; it was as if his body needed visual proof that Harry really was gone, even though he knew with a fatalistic certainty it had to be true. Voldemort's voice continued echoing throughout the largely abandoned corridors like that of the monster that had stalked them merely five years previously.
"Anyone who continues to resist-" - Ron gave Hermione's shoulder an instinctive squeeze – "man, woman or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family."
Upon seeing Luna and Neville at the foot of the stairs, Ginny launched herself at them with abandon, wrapping them both into a tight embrace. Neville closed his eyes, and Ron could hear him murmur "I'm so sorry." Luna smiled sadly, removed herself from the hug, and stepped in behind Ginny to rub her back tenderly. Neville opened his eyes again and nodded weakly at Ron and Hermione. Tearing his eyes away, Ron noticed with a shock that the Entrance Hall was unexpectedly more crowded than usual, and most had looks of grim determination as they stared out towards the grounds to face the arriving threat. He turned to face Hermione.
"How the-"
"That was Slughorn," came a misleadingly casual Irish lilt. Ron spun to face Seamus, bruised and battered, with one eye almost swollen shut, but otherwise looking attentive. He jogged up the stairs to where he and Hermione were standing, both frozen on the spot and unsure of their next actions.
"He's just brought in reinforcements from Hogsmeade – anyone we can get, really. We're fighting," he said determinedly, clapping Ron on the back. "Neville's agreed, no matter what." Ron nodded mutely as he and Hermione gave each other a raised eyebrow. It was somehow uplifting to know that no matter what would happen in the next few minutes, he and Hermione would not be alone.
"…kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live, and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together."
Neville and Ginny broke their embrace as they both glowered at the magnified voice of Voldemort.
"Like hell," the latter snarled, as Neville waved his hand for Ron, Hermione and Seamus to join the circle.
"Right, he said, drawing a steadying breath. "I've talked to Kingsley and Slughorn, and both said we can fight on, if we are able to. When the timing's right," he added with a bite to his voice, as he noticed Ron's hand reaching for his jacket pocket. He then looked gloomily at the ground. "I'm sorry…I'm not good at this."
"Give me a break," muttered the gaunt-faced and puffy-eyed Ginny, craning her neck to see if Voldemort and his Death Eaters were arriving, before turning to face Neville, blowing her nose. "You've helped keep as many of us alive as possible, Nev."
"They're coming!" came the voice of Parvati from beside the remains of the main doors. "Looks like it's him and he's got Hagrid."
In spite of everything, Ron felt the coils around his heart loosen ever so slightly. Neville dropped his voice to a whisper. "I saw Harry just beforehand – " he paused to let the collective inhalation of surprise by Ginny, Ron and Hermione fade – "and I told him we'll keep fighting, no matter what." At that, he nodded to Ginny, Ron and Hermione.
"He knew what we'd do. And he also told me to kill Voldemort's snake. We kill it, as it's key to defeating him."
"He knows," whispered Hermione to his left, apparently breathing a sigh of relief. They'd kept the secret of Voldemort's Horcruxes to themselves for too long. With Harry gone, someone else had been given the mantle. And given any one of them could die, it only made sense to tell other people like Luna, Ginny and Seamus what to do as well.
"He's here!" came the voice of Minerva McGonagall. "Anyone who can fight, prepare yourselves and follow me. Anyone who can't, get yourselves inside the Great Hall now! I'll cast a shield if it's necessary."
"Okay," whispered Neville. "Good luck, everyone." With that, they all made their way to the Entrance Courtyard, and Ron's eyes fell immediately upon Voldemort and his repulsive snake, followed by his eyes finding Bellatrix. His hand coiled around his hidden wand as he stared at Voldemort's crazed deputy with pure loathing. When the time came….
But then Ginny made a startled exclamation to his right. "Tell me who Hagrid's carrying," she said to no-one in particular. Trying in vain to peer over Seamus and Neville's shoulders, she cleared her throat. "Neville, who is it?"
Ron's heart ached at the desperate urgency in his sister's voice, put there by neither curse nor physical injury. His hand found Hermione's again as they waited for confirmation.
"NO!" The grief-stricken scream from his former Transfiguration teacher and Head of Gryffindor tore at him. And then, with another dull blow to his gut, he saw it for real.
Harry. Eyes closed and limbs flopping uselessly in Hagrid's grasp. He heard Bellatrix let out a triumphant cackle of sadism and felt him lose control of his emotions altogether as his sister let out a sound that he never knew she'd been capable of making.
It really was bizarre. He was shaking uncontrollably, his vision had blurred, and his throat was tearing at him, but everything sounded as if he was blissfully, peacefully underwater. The sound of Hermione's uncontrolled sobbing from beside him echoed distantly, and what must surely have been a roar from the crowd itself was nothing more than a distant rumble.
And here they were. Himself, Ginny, Hermione and dozens of other people, united in the searing grip of collective anguish.
But not yet ready to give up.
Author's Note 2: I feel that Bonnie Wright was given a hard time for her portrayal of Ginny (which I feel was Kloves' fault, not the actress's.) However, her performance during the scene where Voldemort gloats about Harry's 'demise' was chillingly realisitc. To this end, I paid tribute to it in this chapter with the insertion of a line from the final film. As for Ron's emotional meltdown, it was in part inspired by HalfASlug's portrayal of the character in the fantastic 'Seven Simple Years.' (Go check it out, if you have time!)
Yes, it's been a long chapter, but the next one will be festive and optimisitc with a touch of late Christmas celebrations/commemorations at Godric's Hollow, as well as good news on the marriage front.