Christmas Eve was a quiet affair and Ron spent the day mostly alone – Bill and Fleur had left for Fleur's parents after lunch and wouldn't be back until after dinner. They had left him leftovers but by the time it came to dinner time, he found he wasn't hungry. He decided instead to go for a walk before they got home and knew he would most likely be in bed early tonight. The air was cold as he stepped outside and he was glad he had put on a scarf before leaving the cottage. The rain had stayed off for the last few days and as Ron looked up to the sky, clouds threatened to dampen the dry spell they had been having. He sped up his pace as he walked along the cliff edge – not too close – wanting to get some walking done before it rained too much.
His thoughts turned to the next day and he remembered with a painful feeling all of his past Christmases and how good they had been. It had always been the presents he had looked forward to, especially when he was younger, and he never really appreciated what an important time it was. Christmas had always been a time when his mum would play Celestina Warbeck on repeat, Fred and George would come up with endless pranks and Ginny would complain when she didn't get the new broomstick she had wanted – when they were younger, anyway. But even Christmas at Hogwarts had always been special and Ron now longed for the sight of the castle done up for the holiday.
His walk along the edge of the cliff took him away and back towards the cottage, but the path he was on twisted around behind the house and through trees. He had walked it before – it eventually led back to the cottage and it never took him long. Tonight the trees he walked through seemed different – almost scary – and he found himself speeding up again.
Ron wondered what Harry and Hermione were doing for Christmas, if anything. It had never seemed that much of a special time before now. It had always been a time of food, presents and decorations, over in a day and not thought about until the next year. What he would give to spend the holiday with his friends and family this year.
His thoughts were depressing and he shook his head, focusing on what he was doing and where he was walking He was almost at the end of the path; the trees were starting to thin out and the sound of the ocean was getting louder with each step Ron took. The cottage finally came into view and he saw a light on, telling him that Bill and Fleur were back.
"It's me." He called as he opened the door and heard Bill call back from the living room. He came in to see the pair sat on the couch together, the radio on Bill's knee as he tapped it with his wand and muttered words every few seconds. "Is there another broadcast?" Ron asked as he sat opposite them.
"Lupin mentioned something about a Christmas broadcast so we're just checking." Bill explained and Ron nodded.
"Did you want something to eat, Ron?" Fleur asked and made to get up but he shook his head.
"No, thanks. You've done too much for me, Fleur." He said gratefully and Fleur smiled as she settled back down on the couch and took Bill's spare hand in hers. The gesture made Ron feel strangely lonely and he turned his eyes away from it. "How were your parents?" He asked politely.
"Oui, they we're tres bien – as good as they can be with everything that's going on." Fleur told him and he didn't miss the sad tone to her voice.
"Can you remember what they said the last password was, Ron?" Bill asked distractedly and Ron nodded.
"Scarhead." The radio lit up in front of them and cracked in to life at Ron's words and the three of them stared at it expectantly.
"Good evening listeners and welcome to this special Christmas broadcast. We'll be missing Romulus tonight as he is spending time with his family like he much deserves. We will however have a short word from Royal." It was Lee's voice again and it was somewhat comforting. Ron looked up.
"Kingsley." Bill said to Ron's questioning look and a second later a deep voice came across the waves.
"Thank you, River. I am happy to say there are no new deaths to report and that is something that is quite an achievement. It's good news first, however. It seems Death Eaters are not ones to celebrate Christmas and there were reports of several of them looting Muggle stores."
"Any particular reason?"
"None other than the usual – they think they're better than everyone else and that the Muggles deserve it. We have heard that some magical folk in the area are protecting Muggle stores with enhanced security measures and we encourage everyone to do the same if possible." Kingsley told them and Ron wished there was something he could do to help. Hearing what was happening to other people and the fact that he did nothing but sit in the cottage all day made him feel even more miserable.
"That's good to hear, Royal." Lee commented.
"Indeed it is, River. I think it shows how wrong these Death Eaters are that no one shares their views of magical blood above muggle blood. We are all the same." There was a quick silence before Lee spoke again.
"Thank you very much Royal, for your time this evening. I'm afraid that is the end of our short broadcast. I want to wish you all a Merry Christmas. Stay safe and take care. Goodnight." The lights dimmed and then died, Ron still staring at it.
"I think we're going to head to bed." Bill said quietly and Fleur nodded in agreement, standing up and smiling at Ron.
"Goodnight, Ronald." She said and Ron smiled at her as she walked out of the room. Bill stood up too, nodding to his brother goodnight and leaving Ron alone. He sat there for a moment, feeling tired but knowing sleep wasn't going to be easy tonight. He could either sit here and think about anything and everything, or he could lie in bed and do the same thing. Bed would be much more comfortable.
The door to Fleur and Bill's room was already closed and Ron could hear them talking softly as he climbed up the stairs and went into his own room, closing the door quietly behind him. He sighed loudly as he lay on the bed, not bothering to get changed out of his clothes; sleep was not going to come to him easily tonight, he knew that already. His thoughts were running around his mind like crazy and he couldn't catch one to make sense of it. Hermione's face swum in front of him and he longed to hold her, tell her truthfully how he felt. Harry's angry face came next and Ron wanted nothing more than to make up for what he had said to him, apologize and make things right. It was the same thoughts that plagued him every day but now that it was Christmas Eve they seemed ten times worse. The guilt and regret that followed him around swallowed him whole and he felt tears sting his eyes before he realised what was happening. Wiping them away angrily he turned on his side and screwed his eyes shut, desperate to fall asleep and forget about everything.
But he was right in thinking that sleep wasn't going to happen. No matter how hard he fought to keep his mind off of his two best friends, all he could hear was their voices and all he could see were their faces. They tortured him, twisted his mind and made him think horrible things; what if one of them were dead? Not killed by Voldemort, but what if some terrible accident had happened. They could still be in hiding and no one would even know. The thought of Harry or Hermione dead and the other surviving – or not surviving – alone almost killed him and he felt hot tears slide down his face and no matter how much he wiped them away, they kept falling. The saltiness of them tasted like the regret Ron felt everyday and for a moment he thought he might throw up. After a few deep breaths, he stopped crying and dried his face, feeling incredibly stupid.
Emotional exhaustion took over then and before he realised, he was falling asleep. It wasn't an easy one however and he found himself waking over and over again through the night, only to turn over and go back to sleep. By the time his eyes opened and he knew he wasn't going to get back to sleep he guessed he had only had a few hours sleep. Glancing at the clock he saw it was almost five am and he sighed loudly. He looked around the dark room, his eyes slowly adjusting to the light before he reached for the Deluminator out of his pocket and staring at it. The useless object sat in his hands, doing nothing at all and Ron wanted nothing more than to throw it across the room. What was the point of it? He had barely used it at all and even now as he began to wake up properly, he found he didn't want to see it. Shoving it back in his pocket he decided to listen to the radio and climbed out of bed quietly, not wanting to wake his brother and Fleur.
The stairs threatened to creak under his feet but after staying there for a few weeks, he knew which ones to dodge and they were silent as he descended them. The radio sat on the table in the lounge and Ron picked it up, darting back upstairs and into his bedroom, flicking his light on as he passed the switch and lying on the bed with the radio balancing carefully on his stomach. With his wand he tapped it and it lit up, a song bursting out of it and Ron hurriedly turned it down. The song was a fast paced one and it annoyed him instantly. He set to turning the dials until he found one that was playing classical music and though he knew he would be teased mercilessly if anyone ever knew, he kept it there and let the bars of music float over him, closing his eyes. The music almost put him to sleep until he heard a voice that shocked him wide awake once more.
'..Ron? When he broke his wand..' Ron sat upright in the bed and looked around, though he knew she couldn't be in his room. Hermione's voice had been crystal clear and he realised suddenly that it hadn't come out of the radio as he had initially thought but his pocket and with a jolt, he pulled out his Deluminator again and stared at it. When it didn't do anything, he clicked it and his bedroom light when out. At the same time, a light appeared through the window out in the garden and Ron felt his mouth fall open in shock. It was a round, blue light and seemed to be pulsing, matching Ron's heartbeat as he stared at it with excitement welling inside him.
Scrambling off the bed, Ron reached for his shoes and shoved them on his feet, picking up his bag and leaving the bedroom. Once down the stairs – he had not bothered to skip stairs, instead running down them and stopping in the kitchen. He took a few pieces of fruit from the bench, a bottle of water and a block of chocolate and stuffed them in his bag. Finding a pen and paper on the bench, he scribbled a note to Bill and left out the front door, his excitement now taking him over. He had no idea what the ball of light meant but there was something that told him that this was important and as he stepped out into the crisp morning cold, he knew he was doing the right thing.
The walk around to the side of the house took seconds and he was thankful to see the ball of light still bobbing there. Slowly, he walked towards it but it started to move away. Ron followed it quickly, desperate to keep it in sight and as it disappeared around the side of the shed, Ron took the few steps to follow it there. He watched it for a moment before it came towards him and in a rush of warmth, it went straight into him. The effect was instant and he didn't even have to think about it before he turned on the spot and Disapparated.
The ground crunched beneath him as he landed and he realised it was snowing. The cold penetrated his close instantly and he shivered, the warmth of the light not as strong now. He glanced around, wishing that Harry and Hermione would appear before him as if by magic but he knew at the same time that it wouldn't be that easy, finding them wouldn't be that simple. The snow was light and he raked his eyes over his surroundings, searching for any sort of clue that would lead him to them. He realised he was on the side of a hill but that was no clue as to where he was at all so taking a deep breath, he used his voice.
"Harry! Hermione!" Ron screamed it as loud as he could, desperation heard in every word he yelled but he kept going, repeating the two names and moving slowly across the land and passing by trees. No matter how hoarse his voice seemed to get, he kept yelling. If they were here, surely they would hear him? He knew how clever Hermione was and that her protective spells blocked anyone from hearing the sound they made, but did it block sound coming in? He had no idea, and so kept yelling. The snow swirled around him and he was glad it wasn't thick as it would have only made it harder for him to see. "Harry!" His voice carried across the landscape but disappointment was starting to sink in.
If they could hear him, they would have shown themselves already. His voice wasn't as loud and was starting to hurt his throat to keep yelling. Ron had put all of his hope on the ball of light that had brought him here and he was still sure they were here. It was a strange feeling because he knew he was in the right place but at the same time, doubt was starting to creep in; where were they? After one last yell of both their names, he pulled his sleeping bag out of his bag and curled up against a tree, his eyes peeled for any sign of movement. Thankful that he had had Hermione as a friend over the years, he muttered a spell to keep himself warm and the snow off, and settled in for the morning.
Ron knew from his time with them that they would most likely leave in the early hours of the morning and so had to fight of the sleep that threatened to overcome him. The lack of sleep the night before was catching up with him now and his eyes wanted to close with every blink. He was tempted to pull out his wand to try and do something that would keep him entertained but he had no idea what he could do. He settled for thinking about Hermione, as painful as it was, to pass the time.
In a rush, every memory he had of her came back to him and he found himself smiling at the thought of her. He remembered everything about her; her voice, her hair, the way she moved. The little things like how her nose scrunched up slightly when she was really concentrating on what she was writing or how she got so upset over Ron's spelling mistakes. He almost laughed at that one – the sight of Hermione frowning as she went over an essay of his was something that happened regularly and he found he missed it. He remembered the beginning of their fourth year when Hermione had been staying with them for the Quidditch World Cup and he had bumped into her on her way out of the bathroom. Her cheeks had turned pink but they were no match for Ron's which turned a flaming shade of red. He barely had time to mutter a 'sorry' before she dashed off in her towel. He later questioned as to why she was coming out of the bathroom without her clothes before realising she must have forgotten them. His cheeks had turned slightly pink at the memory and he wondered if that was when he had really started to develop feelings for her.
The Yule Ball came back to him suddenly and he sighed deeply. His jealously over Hermione going with Krum had shown him – and probably everyone else – that there was something between him and Hermione, he just had no idea what it was. The memories started to pain him as he remembered all the arguments they had had over the years, especially as most of them were his fault.
Sitting in the cold snow, despite the spells he had cast, his pain he felt at missing Hermione now felt like a physical pain and he shivered. It seemed crazy to him to feel so strongly for her but with each breath, he missed her. With each moment that passed that he wasn't with her it now felt as if there was some part of him missing and sitting in the cold fighting to stay awake was not doing anything to help make him feel better. Ron leaned his head back against the tree and sighed deeply, letting his eyes close for just a moment and before he knew it, he had fallen into an uncomfortable sleep.