A/N
Out of the woods means to no longer be in danger or difficulty.
Written for season 10 semifinals of the quidditch league fan fiction competition.
Wigtown wanderers, Chaser 2
Main prompt: Taking a journey
Additional prompts: (Emotion) Afraid, (Emotion) Trepidation, (Time of day) 8:45 AM/PM
Out of the woods
Mid-October 1997
Right now he hated the locket and all of the other horcruxes more than he ever had during the last few weeks. Hermione was as right as ever; if he hadn't been wearing the locket he would never have said any of the things he said. He would never have said anything close to that to Harry. Never have left them. Never have left Hermione when she was screaming after him, begging him to come back to them; to her.
He kept telling himself all of the things he would have done differently if he hadn't been wearing the locket. He also told himself the one thing he would do when he was no longer wearing the locket; return to the tent and apologize to Harry. Tell them that he deserved to be left alone when they moved the tent as the next day dawned.
But here he was, alone in the middle of a forest, in the middle of the night with no clue as to where he was or where he was headed. The locket had left his neck a long time ago when he ripped it off before leaving the tent. The effects of its presence still slightly lingered in the air, but now he could finally think clearly. Too bad he wasn't thinking clearly twenty minutes ago when he still knew his way back to the tent.
The trees rustled ghostly, sending shivers up his spine. Would it be possible for a group of Death Eaters to just appear behind one of the thick trees? Ron heard a cracking sound and froze temporarily, afraid that his frightening thought would come to life. With a trembling hand he quickly pulled out his wand, jerking his head around, ready to aim a curse at whoever made the sound. Something cracked again and he looked down at the ground to realize that it was his own foot that cracked the stick–twice.
He cursed himself for being unaware of his surroundings. He was afraid that it would be real the next time it happened. What if he started hallucinating because he had been alone out in the wild for too long and You-Know-Who or someone started haunting him? What if they attacked him for real and he thought it was a hallucination? I would die. No, Ron. Bloody hell, calm down! You've been alone in the woods for… what? Half an hour? And you're already panicking? Great, now I'm talking to myself in my mind as if I'm another person. Stop it!
Ron sighed as he sat down underneath an enormous fir tree. It would hide him from any bad guys and protect him from the biting cold wind. He cast a few spells that Hermione had taught him just in case the tree didn't hide him well enough.
Ron grabbed two shirts from his carelessly packed bag. He shifted into a lying position as he laid the shirts on his legs and upper body to give him some kind of warmth. The bag got to function as a pillow. Ron gazed at the barely visible night sky, spotting a few little stars. He tried to think of Hermione to distract him from the cold, but it didn't work since thinking of her hurt just as much as the hard ground hurt his back, if not more.
The next morning he awoke, knowing that since he had woken up he must have fallen asleep somehow. Ron moved to sit beside the big fir tree. He put the shirts back in the bag and rubbed his hands against each other for warmth. He looked around before standing up and hauling the bag onto his shoulder. His back hurt from sleeping on the hard ground.
He started walking in a random direction, not knowing whether he was searching for the tent or escaping from it. As he wandered through the woods his eyes altered between searching the ground for blueberries or mushrooms and looking for dangers. After walking for a few hours he regretted ever complaining when all Hermione had found for them to eat was some measly mushrooms.
That night he once again slept underneath a fir tree. But this time he made sure the ground was mossy for he couldn't bear torturing his back through another night on frosty mud. Ron eventually lost count of how long he had been on his own. The days were monotonous and focused on finding food and a new place to sleep for the night.
One day he passed a muggle village where he managed to steal some bread and a bottle of water using a summoning charm. A few days later the weather changed slightly as he was met with icy winds more often than not. The winds whipped him in the face and bit at his cold, weathered skin.
He missed sitting by the fire and warming his hands when he came back from his watch. Hermione would occasionally keep him company as she read the book from Dumbledore. Sometimes she would smile at him from behind the book. These were the memories that accompanied him as he sat on a beach looking out at the sea.
Ron had always loved the feeling of warm sand against his skin in the summer. The late autumn beach was a completely different experience with chilly winds and wild waves. He filled his fists with the cold sand before opening them and letting the sand fall to the ground just to repeat the action.
It was nice to be out of the woods. The trees, moss and barely visible sky was bound to drive him mad. He had no idea where to go next. His idea had been to just walk through the woods and see where it took him. But what now? I'm out of the woods now. I can't just walk along the beach for weeks and I certainly don't want to go back into the woods.
A voice interrupted his miserable thoughts. Wait- a voice? No one had said a word to him since he left the tent. It almost felt unreal.
"Did you hear me?" asked a deep voice.
"Sorry, could you repeat it?"
"I said, you probably shouldn't be out here all alone at this time of the night," repeated the man.
"You're right, I shouldn't," Ron admitted as he stood up. "What is this place called?"
"This beach right here is out in the wilderness. But a village called Tinsworth is one or two kilometers away from here."
Tinsworth. The name sounded familiar. He looked up to meet the man's light blue eyes who gazed back at him with recognition.
"What is your name young man?" the stranger asked curiously.
You shouldn't tell him your name. He told himself. That man could very well be a Death Eater. Ron studied his face for any cruel intentions, but he couldn't find any. The man spoke again before he had a chance to answer.
"I've seen you in a family picture at my good friend's house," he was told. "Is the name Bill familiar to you?"
He nodded slowly.
"Well," the man leaned in to whisper, "Sometimes the bad guys hang out around here. So if you trust me we'd better get going. I could spare you a warm bed for the night, Ron."
"How did you know my name?" Ron asked, widening his eyes.
"I told you, Bill is a good friend of mine." He winked. "If you trust me enough to follow me to my house, I could take you to your brother's place tomorrow."
"You could be lying about the family picture," he began. "But I would be a fool to decline a warm bed right now."
"Come on then, we can chit chat behind closed doors. I expect what landed you in this situation would be very interesting information to said bad guys."
Ron slung his bag over his shoulder before checking that his wand was still tucked into his pocket. It was dark outside, but the man seemed to know where he was going. The walk was spent in complete silence. Therefore, Ron was startled as the man spoke again.
"My name is David," he said, holding out his hand. "Seems fair that you know mine as well."
"Thank you for helping me, David." Ron smiled, shaking his hand.
He let go of David's hand and surveyed his surroundings. It was first then Ron noticed that they were standing outside of a small cottage on the edge of the forest. David opened the door and gestured for him to step inside.
The space was small and cozy, reminding him of the Burrow. Something that stood out to him was the many picture frames covering most of the walls. Ron recognized some of the people from the order.
"Do you trust me now?" David asked, motioning to the pictures.
"I think so," he answered hesitantly. "Do you know about—"
"The Order? Yes, I joined the Order a few weeks ago."
Ron flashed him an approving smile. He took off his jacket and hung it on the coat holder. Instead of its original beige color it had turned a muddy dark brown from his journey through the woods.
"Would you like some tomato soup? I have some left over from my supper," he offered.
"Yes, please."
He put his bag on the floor before taking a seat at the kitchen table. David was magically warming the tomato soup on the stove.
"So, what are you doing here in Tinsworth? Bill mentioned that you and—" he hesitated. "Miss Granger are helping Harry Potter with a task from Dumbledore."
"I'm not sure how much I'm allowed to tell you about the task," Ron started. "What happened was we had a fight, me and Harry. It was all my fault."
"May I ask you what the fight was about?" David poured the soup into a green bowl and handed it to him.
Ron quickly ate a few spoonfuls of the soup. Finally real food and not just berries and dry bread. Then he told him all about the fight and he listened.
They talked for a long time, exchanging stories from the Order and from the months on the run. It was nice to finally talk to someone after being on his own for so long. When David yawned loudly, Ron took it as his cue to end the conversation.
Ron followed David to a simple guest room upstairs. He allowed himself to shower, washing away the endless grime from his body. Exhaustion overflowed him as the warm water trickled down his back. He didn't know when his tears began mingling with the water, but he let them fall for the first time in months.
They left the cottage after a quick breakfast at around 8:45. David said that it would be safer to walk along the beach to Bill's place instead of through Tinsworth where both wizards and muggles lived. The sea breeze was almost unbearably cold. Ron distracted himself with imagining what his older brother would say to him when he heard what he had said to his best friends. David had been understanding and given him advice on how to resolve the situation once he met them again. Bill's reaction was a mystery to him.
"That is Shell Cottage," David told him, pointing to a house with many triangle shaped windows and a roof made out of seashells.
Ron sighed and followed David to the door. He knocked on the door with trepidation over what his older brother would think. Bill opened the door and smiled at him, like he had known he would come. He let go of a breath he didn't know he was holding.
"David owled me yesterday and told me a little bit of what happened," he explained.
"It was nice talking to you yesterday, Ron. I'll leave you two to sort things out now," David told them, bidding farewell.
Both brothers waited until he had apparated away before stepping inside the cottage.
"Bill, I really messed up this time," he said, hiding his face in his hands as he sat down on a couch.
"I'm so glad you're here." Bill sighed with relief before sweeping him into a tight hug. "We've been worried about you three since the day you left. Why did you have to leave them?"
"The lo—" Ron started, but realized what he was about to say and cleared his throat. "I, um, was in a really bad mood. I started complaining about how we hadn't made any big progress since we left and blamed it on Harry. I told them that I miss the entire family and worry about them when I listen to Potterwatch. Then—" he hesitated. "Then I told him, or rather screamed, that he doesn't understand how it feels because his parents are dead."
"Yeah, you definitely messed up. Do you regret what you said to him?"
"Of course I regret what I said. I told you, I messed up!" Ron said, confusion clear on his face.
"Do you have any idea where they are?" Bill asked him.
"No idea. We moved the tent every one or two days. They're in the woods somewhere in England, that's all I know."
During the two months Ron stayed at Shell Cottage he got to know his sister-in-law better. She no longer affected him with her veela allure, which was a relief for both of them. In the beginning he helped her make dinner to be helpful. After a few days he found himself enjoying cooking with Fleur and he was getting quite good at it.
After dinner he and Bill tried to come up with a way for him to find his way back to Harry and Hermione. Sometimes they played wizards chess together. None of them were better than the other.
Members of the Order visited more often than not. It was good to see them again even though he had to explain to everyone why he had left over and over again. He couldn't tell them about the locket and it's effects. He could feel them judging him. The family; Mom, Dad, Fred and George, were understanding. The twins teased him about missing Hermione.
Ron left Shell Cottage about a week before Christmas. A group of Snatchers found him almost immediately. He lied about being Stan Shunpike. They didn't believe him, so he called them unintelligent.
He managed to distract them by suggesting that one of them had troll blood. They all focused on the Snatcher that was supposed to have a trace of troll blood. Meanwhile, Ron seized one of their wands and escaped.
It felt nostalgic to once again wander through the woods, alone. To his favor, he found a small wizarding village. Ron looked around in case any of the Snatchers had followed him before slipping inside a pub. It was a big dark room lit with creepy candles.
He considered finding another hiding place, but the bartender flashed him a genuine smile and offered him a free drink. He sat down in a secluded corner and gulped the drink in one. The alcohol sent a welcoming warmth through his body. Ron laid down on the couch and played with the deluminator for a while before falling into a slumber.
Ron woke up to the sound of a voice. Her voice. Hermione, calling his name. For a few seconds he thought he was back in the tent before the reality of the last few weeks crashed into him. He realized that the voice came from the deluminator. Ron opened it, not knowing what else to do.
A bolt of light flew out of it and through his chest. The light slowly floated out of the pub. He followed the light and Hermione's guiding voice. The deluminator was guiding him back to them.
He was finally Out of the woods.