How about we switch things up a little bit? Say, a little bit of Ron's POV, shall we?

Chapter 13

Ron had lost count of how many weeks they had now been on the move, the days blending into a never-ending blur of walking…and walking…and more walking. He spent nearly every spare moment with one of the radios that Hermione had grabbed from his dad's shed before the wedding, listening to the familiar voices of Lee Jordan and Kingsley Shacklebolt coming in over the staticky broadcast of Potterwatch.

He just knew that someday soon he was going to hear his mother's name listed among the list of victims. Or his father's: or his sister's: or one of his brothers'. It had become a compulsion, one he couldn't stop even if he had wanted to, which he didn't. For some reason that he couldn't fathom, however, this harmless habit seemed to annoy Harry to no end.

'Probably because all he cares about anymore is those fucking Horcruxes,' he thought bitterly.

Harry didn't seem to understand Ron's all-consuming fear and worry for his parents, his brothers, and his baby sister. Ron would have thought Harry would have been more concerned for them all considering how his family had taken him in as one of their own. Not to mention the fact that Ginny had been his girlfriend, and the two of them had only broken up to protect her while Harry was on the run, at least according to Harry. But clearly, Harry had his own priorities that did not include the safety of people who loved him. Sometimes Ron thought he could understand his friend's preoccupation, but at other times he was gripped by an inexplicable, uncontrollable rage.

Even worse than Harry, however, was Hermione. He could hear her crying in the night, every single night, and it was slowly driving him insane. If he had to hear her whimper that tosser Malfoy's name one more time in her sleep, he would no longer be responsible for his actions.

The final straw, however, had been the previous night. He and Harry were supposed to be asleep, and it was Hermione's turn to take watch. He had been awoken by quiet voices outside the tent, however, and made his way to the opening to see the two of them whispering in front of the small fire that sat a safe distance away. He watched as Harry wrapped his arms around Hermione and pulled her into his arms; watched as Hermione sank further into Harry's side and rested her head on his shoulder; watched as they continued to whisper softly to one another under the cover darkness and solitude that the night provided.

Ron felt an irrational fury rise up inside of him with the force of a deadly wave of Fiendfyre. That was supposed to be him with Hermione. She was supposed to be in his arms! They were supposed to be together, and Harry was supposed to be his best mate. Clearly, though, he wasn't wanted or needed here anymore; he was just getting in their way.

The next morning, he woke early, leaving Harry and Hermione sleeping in their bunks.

Clearly, they're just exhausted by their late night together, he thought, the now-familiar bitterness rising up once again and swamping him.

Roaming the woods for a few hours, he had hoped to calm his temper. The more he had thought about what he had overseen last night, and over the last few days even, the more his rage grew. Storming back to the tent, he stopped at the flap as he heard Hermione and Harry speaking inside. Hermione was talking excitedly about some way to destroy the Horcruxes, and he made his way inside only to be completely ignored by his two supposed best friends.

"…the Basilisk venom impregnated the Sword of Gryffindor; it made the Sword a Horcrux destroyer! That's why Professor Dumbledore left it for you! It was so you would have a way to destroy them as you found them!"

"You're brilliant, Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, and Ron watched as he grabbed her hand and squeezed it affectionately. "The only problem though, is that…"

"The Sword is missing," Ron interrupted, his voice flat and devoid of all emotion.

Both Hermione and Harry startled at his words, and he felt a nasty smirk twist his features. Once again, they had completely forgotten all about him, leaving him out of the loop, and with that his decision was made. Clearly, he was useless to them, just a nuisance at this point. Well, if they didn't want him to be there anymore, then he would leave.

"Oh, yeah? Forget about me again? Well, I'm still here."

"Okay," Harry said, rising to his feet and moving closer to where Ron stood. "What's the matter with you?"

"Oh, nothing at all," Ron said sarcastically. "Just sitting here, day in and day out, trekking around the countryside on what was supposed to be a hunt for the Horcruxes but now…well, I don't know what the fuck this has turned into because we certainly aren't any closer to finding any Horcruxes, now are we?"

The resentment and fury that he had been bottling up for weeks now finally escaped from his control and, with every word he spoke, his voice grew louder and angrier.

"Ron, please," Hermione said, trying to stop him from talking. The problem was that he didn't give one single shit about what she wanted to say to him.

"And the two of you," he interrupted her, looking from her to Harry and back again. "Just bosom buddies, figuring out everything on your own and snuggling together by the fireside. Fuck Ron, right?"

"Alright, Ron, if you've got a problem, why don't you just come out and say it?" Harry said, his voice now rising in pitch, as well, the anger and frustration clear to hear.

"I FUCKING WILL! I'm tired of putting myself and the people I love at risk for you! I'm done with it! I thought when we started this that you had some idea of what you were supposed to be doing."

Hermione stepped between the two of them, who were now less than a foot away from one another. Her hands came up, resting one on each of their chests, and she attempted to push them back away from one another, but Ron batted her hand away aggressively.

"Please, Ron," she said placatingly, "just take the Horcrux off and we can talk about this when you haven't been wearing it all day."

"I don't need to be lectured," he yelled, "by a traitor who fell in love with a filthy Death Eater!"

He watched as Hermione jerked away from him as if the words had struck her like a physical blow.

"Leave her alone, Ron!" Harry yelled, coming immediately to her defense. "It's none of our business who she decides to love, and if she says Malfoy – Draco – is different now, then he is. You don't get to take out you anger on her! If you really want to leave that badly, then take off the fucking locket and leave! Go back to your mother and the Burrow and your happy, perfect little life and just forget about everything that actually matters right now. Just go!"

Ron, infuriated, yanked the chain from his neck and chucked it onto Hermione's bed behind him. He quickly gathered his things together and made to storm out of the tent. Before he could leave, however, Hermione was there: in his way yet again.

"Ron, don't go," she pleaded with him, grabbing ahold of his arm. He could see the tears in her eyes from the barb of his earlier words, but still she begged him not to leave. "Please, just stay with us."

Unmoved by her tears and deaf to her pleas, he jerked his arm from her hold and stormed out of the tent, ignoring her voice as she called out after him. He made his way toward where he knew the edge of the protective barriers were, her voice following behind and growing more frantic as she raced to catch up with him. His legs were so much longer than hers, however, that he reached the edge before she'd had even a hope of catching up to him. As soon as he passed the barrier, her voice disappeared completely, masked by the Muffliato that she had cast over the space upon their arrival the day before. He twisted on his heel and Apparated away, no clear destination in mind.

He landed somewhere that he vaguely recognized and realized that he was not far from the Burrow. As soon as he had left the forest, though, it was like the haze that had covered his mind for weeks now had suddenly been lifted. The reality of what he had just done hit him with a stunning clarity. He had just abandoned his two best friends to face the elements, and You-Know-Who, alone. He sank to his knees on the cold, wet grass with a moan, burying his face in his hands as hot tears of regret fell from his eyes.

"Oh, dear Godric… What have I done?"

Song Inspiration: Cry Me a River – Michael Bublé

This fic is in no way intended to be a Ron-bashing story, I just want to portray his character in what, for me, is a believable arch. Hopefully you all agree, and I hope you liked the change in pace with a Ron POV chapter.

sbz