Emerald

Ron's mouth was hanging open as he stared down at the letter in his hands. How could this be happening? The words seemed to blend together, as he tried to process what was happening. He had been having a normal day at work. He was late this morning because he wanted to cook breakfast for Harry, and his boss had razed him about it. His thoughts had been elsewhere since lunch, though, as he was planning a fancy dinner to ask Harry to marry him then and there.

Ron threw the letter back on the table, almost running from the room as he made his way to the fireplace. He snatched a handful of dust from the mantle, bringing it down into the flames as he called out his destination. The world was spinning as Ron made his way through the floo, finally coming out in a wizard bar down the street from Hermione's house. He was furious. He could not get her words out of his head as he stormed through the street.

'He kissed her...'

'...your happiness...'

'...given time to explain...'

He knocked furiously on the door, calling out her name as he looked in the window beside it. His heart was racing as he continued to bang, as hard as he could, on the wood. There was a rustle behind it, and slowly it opened. Neville stood there, a forced smile on his face. Ron took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, but barely seeing anything but red. He was livid, unsure what to do, or what to say.

"Hey! Ron, how are you?" Neville asked politely, but Ron didn't have time for niceties. He took a step forward, but was blocked by the other Gryffindor. Ron looked him up and down, wondering if anything would play differently to the last time Neville tried to get in his way. Ron reconsidered using magic, as Neville had come very far since first year, and might now be a terrifying opponent.

"Longbottom, where's your wife? I need to speak with her," he said, his voice shaking in anger. He was fuming, heartbroken, and felt completely betrayed. Ron looked down to see Neville's hand hovering at his pocket, which Ron could only assume held his wand.

"She's in the kit-" he began, but was cut off as Ron barged through the door. He wasn't sure what he wanted from this visit, but needed something, anything – he had no idea where Harry went, but maybe Hermione did. She met him as he entered the kitchen, her wand in her hand.

"What do you want, Ronald?" she said calmly, not sure how he would react. Instead of answering, Ron took a deep breath. He didn't want to act too rashly, knowing that if he let his anger go he might hurt someone he really didn't want to. As he paused, he saw Neville come up behind him, watching his every move.

"How could you do that?" he seethed, his eyes almost falling closed. Hermione stood her ground, her face changing from reservation to indignation.

"Me? How could I?! Merlin, Ron! You cheated on him and you have the balls to judge me!"

"It was my business!"

"He's my best friend!"

"I thought I was your friend!?"

They both stared at each other, breathing heavily. Ron felt his heart constrict, tears forming in his eyes. He didn't say anything else as he turned from the room, vanishing from the house without another word. Hermione watched as he went, wanting desperately to yell some more, but unable to find the words.

Harry stared at the ground as he walked, his shoes grazing the grass as he made his way down the worn path. There was so much quiet surrounding him, suffocating him, that he thought for a moment he would combust. His eyes fluttered closed as he continued on his way, knowing every step, every turn. Harry could not stop replying the last day in his mind, picking small moments, watching his heart break again and again. He didn't know where else to go, and he didn't know who to turn to. He had considered trying to reach Ginny, knowing she would have something to say about it - but it just felt wrong, running to the sister of the man who had just broken his heart. He knew Hermione would be able to help, but he wouldn't know what to say to her. She was so smart, so kind. If it were her she wouldn't have been so blinded by love not to see what was right in front of her. She is probably incredibly disappointed in me, he thought to himself, as he kicked a stone, watching it tumble away.

Ron had made him breakfast that morning. He never does that. Harry remembered that he had come home late last night smelling like something he couldn't place, but in his exhaustion he didn't care. How could I have been so blind? Harry let out a small sob as he tried to hold back the tears. All of his family was Ron's family, and he couldn't burden them with this, he couldn't do that to Ron – no, it was Molly – it would break her heart.

He conjured a small bunch of flowers as he always did, placing it softly over the worn grave of Arianna Dumbledore. He liked to pay his respects to her whenever he felt the world was too much to handle; the day after he was fired, after a particularly hard bout of nightmares, when he found out Hagrid had passed. He never spoke, not sure exactly what he would say to her, but he felt that she understood. His fingertips grazed the stone, a feeling of warmth spreading through him.

He continued on his way through the graveyard, finally coming to rest in front of his parents' grave. There was something soothing about coming to see them, like all of his problems were meaningless if he was with them. It was still hard, he'd have to admit, coming here. Every time he did, his heart hurt but at the same time it was so full of happiness. He couldn't explain it to anyone else, no one quite understood the feeling – except maybe George, who had the same look in his eyes when he visited his brothers' grave.

Harry knelt down in front of the stone, his fingers softly running along their names. He pulled out his wand, slowly waving it over the dirt. A wreath sprouted from its tip, laying down over the date of their death, as if concealing it. His lips quivered as he thought of what to say, how to tell them. He pulled out a photograph and laid it on top of the stone. It was well worn, the edges bent and the colour distorted. But the smiling faces of the couple within were as vibrant as ever.

"Hi," he began softly, his voice shaking as he spoke, "it's been a while." He looked up to the sky as he spoke, trying to stop the tears as they ran down his cheeks. "I wasn't sure what to do, I don't know how to deal with this." The people in the photo stopped dancing, their faces falling as they watched him.

"Who do you go to when your best-friend betrays you? Who do you turn to? Who do you trust?" Harry's head hung as he took a deep breath. "Why does it hurt some much!?" He let out a soft cry, his hands flying to his face. The couple in the picture watched as his shoulders shook, his breathing uneven and shaky.

There was movement behind him, but Harry didn't turn. He knew who it was, but he didn't want to face them yet. The footsteps grew closer, any second and they would be upon Harry. He wiped his face roughly, not wanting anyone to see him in this state. A hand came to rest on his shoulders, the warmth of its touch sending a wave through him. He couldn't stop as the tears started to fall again, and arms wrapped around his shoulders. Hermione whispered comforts into his ear, rocking him slightly.

"It's okay, I'm so sorry," her voice was strained as she spoke, knowing her friends pain was her fault. "I'm so sorry."

They stayed that way for some time, until Harry felt he couldn't cry any more. They stood, their hands entwined as they once more moved from the graveyard. Harry looked back at the stone as he slipped the photograph into his jacket.

"Thank you," he whispered, one final tear leaving his eye, "for listening."

A/N: Words - 1,444