He Knew

AN-I wasn't sure whether to do another chapter or not in Grieve, but a few of the reviewers wanted to see more, or expected more, so I did a companion piece instead. That way, if you wanted it to end with Grieve, let it! If you wanted more, here's Harry and Hermione, and how they got together. Please tell me if I'm over-doing it. Flames are welcome. My best friend's a pyro; she can read them for me.

Warnings- Uh…Don't play with fire, kids? Don't talk to strangers? Oh, yeah, about the fic! Uh…One character death, (neither Harry or Hermione,) and extreme angst.

Disclaimer- opps, I forgot it before. I don't own anything.

Over the years so many things changed, including the trio. Friendships were strengthened or broken, and Ron, Harry, and Hermione actually became average-household names, as the three became a bigger part of the war.

And even though to the outside view, things were the same, Ron wasn't as oblivious as people tended to believe. He saw the changes going on between his two best friends. He saw the side-ways glances, the understanding silences, and the exasperated looks. Slowly, the number of talks like the first half-hour one grew, from once a month, to one a day. And even though he knew eventually, the trio would be broken because of it; he wasn't about to stop them.

There was a reason, too. They needed each other more and more throughout the next two years. When Hermione lost her mother, and her father was in the critical condition, only Harry managed to stay awake through the whole night…

***

March 16^th, 6^th year

“Hermione…”

“Harry? You're still up?” Eyes still red from crying, and voice cracking from lack of sleep and worry, Hermione wiped her face as turned to her best friend.

Harry's eyes were still adjusting, because the lighting from Hogwarts had abruptly disappeared when he had taken the emergency portkey, but the outline of her slumped and defeated posture revealed that she'd been crying. Feeling guilty for taking so long, he replied, “Of course, Hermione. I would've come sooner, but-“

He was cut off abruptly as Hermione flung herself at him. Stunned, he took a moment to react and wrap his arms back around her, but when he did he felt her shaking. “Oh, `Mione…”

After a minute, Hermione stopped crying to look up at him. “What did you call me?” She asked, looking stunned. Blushing, Harry murmured,

“Uh, `Mione. I didn't mean to insult you, it just came out.”

Hermione was silent for a minute before saying, “My mom used to call me that.” Her voice cracked at the last syllable, and Harry's arms tightened around her again.

“I'm sorry, Hermione.”

“It's all right. Call me `Mione. Please.”

Ron heard the whole conversation, both the spoken and the unspoken. There was a reassurance in just sitting there with each other that wouldn't have been there had he been awake. As it was, he pretended to sleep awkwardly on the chair in the waiting room, ignoring the steadily growing pain in his back and neck, and watched unnoticed as the two comforted each other.

***

Tonks. Kingsley. Sprout. Seamus. Neville. Trelawney. The list went on and on, as people were lost in the war. There were traitors on both sides. Old war veterans came back to fight again, and Harry was once again a large target.

It clearly scared the life out of Hermione every time he left to fight with the Order, at what was supposed to be a surprise attack but no longer was because of one of his dreams, or when he had to go into hiding because of how many people were after him.

And Ron watched quietly as Hermione comforted Harry after each new loss, making each new fresh wound a little less painful, a little less raw. He watched as Harry, without even thinking about it, or talking about it, (to his knowledge, that is. The two talked without his knowledge so often, however, he wouldn't have been surprised if they had discussed it before.) began to teach Hermione to depend on herself, cook for herself, clean for herself, things her family had once done for her.

Ron knew that eventually, as the list grew, he would one day be on it. He had long-since accepted that the trio would at one point be ripped apart. And when he was gone, (because he was sure he would be the first to go of the three,) Hermione and Harry would need each other.

He knew when at the end of sixth year, Hermione gave Harry a kiss for good luck before going off to battle…

***

“What's happening?” Ron asked, as Harry came rushing in. The DA members, who were at the moment wondering why they weren't the HA, were gathered around Harry much like a troop would gather around it's leader. After all, they were acting quite a bit like Harry's Army.

But Harry was becoming good at all of this. He knew where each person would be suited best, what each person's strengths were. And no one was fit to run off into battle. At least, not where they could be seen… “All right, listen up! Mr. Weston-“

“Who?”

“Weston. The new minister! Don't you read the paper?”

“Oh.”

Harry waited patiently for the talking to stop before saying, “Yes, Mr. Weston and the committee supporting him was holding a small speech today in Diagon Alley.”

“Small being how many?” Susan Bones asked.

“A few hundred important rich snobs, all the press you could ask for, and any civilians that wanted to attend.” Harry replied, wryly. It was the biggest `small meeting' Ron had ever heard of. “I suppose you already have figured out what's happening?”

Everyone was silent, realizing that the meeting had been attacked.

“But I thought that was why Dumbledore was out there. Because it could be attacked! So why are they canceling classes?” Hermione asked.

That was why the group had gathered, after all. The teachers had rushed down to the Great Hall during breakfast, made a quick announcement, and bolted back up the stairs. As soon as the announcement had been made, the DA had begun to swarm to Harry.

“Because they need more help than they had thought they would. Voldemort hasn't done anything we've actually seen him in the act of doing for a while. The last time he attacked in the open was last year, at the Ministry, so we didn't know how many followers he had gathered since. There was no way to know how many we would need to fight.”

“So the Order needs help, huh?” Ron asked, smiling.

“Harry! Do you remember the last time we went out of the school on a crazy mission to rescue someone? Do you remember how that ended up?” Hermione asked, a look of horror on her face. “Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean-“

“It's all right, Hermione! Relax!” Hermione, who had her arms around Harry's neck, in an apology hug, gave him a kiss on the cheek. No one commented on this, as it had become normal for them.

“Another year older, another year wiser, Hermione.” Harry replied swiftly, making Hermione let go of him to hold his shoulders and ask,

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means, this year, we won't go charging in head-first. This year, we'll be…on top of things.”

So they were. They were on top of the chaos inside of Diagon Alley, watching people run around from the rooftops. It seemed earlier on, there had been a few members of the Order up here, but they had long since thrown themselves into the fray.

“What now?” Someone asked, quietly watching the mess below with horror.

“Now, we start stunning.” Harry replied. “Anything that moves is your target. No one will get hurt, but if we don't calm the people that aren't in the Order down and stop the Death Eaters from moving, there won't be a point in coming. Got it?”

“But the people-“

“A stunning spell won't hurt them, and let's just face it, they're panicking too much.” Ron cut in. “I agree with Harry.”

They never left their position from the rooftops, and because of everything happening below, no one could figure out who was shooting everything off. But eventually there were twelve deaths, over fifty injuries, and eight captured Death Eaters, curtsey of the group that was now determined to call itself the HA. There worst injury on their behalf had been when Parvarti had tripped on the way and scraped up her knee.

But that wasn't the fun part. After the group had tied up it's eight stunned Death Eaters, and talked Hermione into making another illegal portkey, so that they could go back the way they had came, they dragged the Death Eaters through Hogsmeade, where they had ended up outside of the Hogwarts barriers. No, what made the whole thing worth it was…

The look on McGonagall's face when she had realized that the students had done what she couldn't in bringing back eight Death Eaters. Everyone had to agree…that had made it all worth it. ;) That combined with Malfoy junior's look of horror, as Malfoy senior, who had escaped from Azkaban that day, was thrown back in.

Ron watched as Hermione gave Harry a victory hug, something that seemed to embarrass him just a little, while Dean next to him asked, “Are they ever going to get together?”

“I don't know.” Ron replied. But he did know. He knew one day they'd be together.

***

He knew when Harry told the prophecy to Hermione…

***

Christmas Eve, 7^th year

Firelight played off of her features, and lit the book balanced carefully on Hermione's lap. Ron, popping a chocolate frog into his mouth, leaned over from his position on the couch to beat Harry in chess for the sixth time that night when he noticed something.

Harry hadn't made the losing move yet.

“Where'd this come from, mate?” Ron asked, amused. Harry had spent a good fifteen minutes pondering where to place the pieces he had, but normally by now they would have moved on to their next game.

“I dunno.” Harry replied quietly. “Maybe Dumbledore's lessons are finally paying off.”

“Why do you have to go to them anyways?” Hermione asked, voice almost in a monotone from behind the dusty pages of what appeared to be a tome.

When Harry didn't answer right away with the usual and expected `I dunno,' Hermione looked up from behind her book and absently placed a bookmark in and scooted over next to him. Unsurprised to find Harry picking absently at the hem of his robes, she sighed. Determined, she put on finger under Harry's chin and lifted his head. “Something you've been aching to tell us?” She asked.

But somehow, Ron knew. He knew that when she said us, it should have been `me.' Still, interested, he too stared intently at his best freeing until Harry said, “Yes, as a matter a fact, there was…”

“Well, then out with it!”

“Give him a minute, Ron!”

“I'm not the one who demanded he tell first!”

“Would the two of you give it a rest?” Harry asked, but relief was in his voice. The bickering was a welcome reminder that some things simply couldn't be changed, and it seemed like they needed more and more of them every waking day.

But instantly, Hermione and Ron sat up and shut up.

“I've known for a while what I need to do in this war, and it's the reasons for all of the extra classes, and studies…but it's so hard to say.” Harry started quietly. “But everyone has a part to play, a role they have to do. Dumbledore is head of the Order, and Snape a spy, and me… I have to defeat Voldemort.”

“Don't be stupid, mate.” Ron replied, shaken. Harry didn't seem to be joking, and Harry certainly wasn't stupid. Over the last year, one would think he could easily compete with Hermione when it came to knowledge. “Dumbledore will take care of him.”

“He can't. He's the head of the Order, like I said. There's only so much he can do. There's only so much all of us can do. A lot of it's eventually left up to me. There was a prophecy that said so.”

Silence reigned. For the longest moments, no one said anything, until Hermione said, “You're sure?”

“Yes. There's no way around it.” Again, Ron felt like he shouldn't be in the room. He knew they wouldn't do anything, (they wouldn't even admit to him that they liked each other,) but somehow he felt invisible, and didn't like the feeling.

Hermione leaned against Harry, wrapping an arm around him, and burying her head into his shoulder. Her frame wracked with sobs, as she realized the seriousness of the situation.

Harry, for his part, comfortingly wrapped an arm around her to, a movement they had grown gradually used to. After Hermione cried for several more moments, she pulled herself together, and sat back up.

Blowing her nose on a tissue, she asked, “What now?”

“Now, I train. I work harder. You help me. I win.”

They were off in their own world again, a.k.a. each other's eyes, so Ron said something or another about being sleepy and wandered upstairs. But it wasn't until then, in that moment, that Ron knew that they would remain together, and he realized that he might not be around to see it. It had been known before, ever since the summer before sixth year, but now it was with a sudden clarity that he understood; Harry and Hermione would be together one day without him.

Because it was like he had said before. Harry had to win, no matter what the sacrifice was.

***

The sacrifice had been his life. Ron Weasley had given his life for the cause he believed in, falling in the final battle, as it became, ironically to save Hermione Granger.

It wasn't quick, or painless. It was the winter's kiss curse, which eventually froze your blood. Eventually meaning, you had minute left to live. “Hermione…” Ron had called, from his position on the ground. “Listen. There's no time.”

“But I don't know the counter-curse!” Hermione replied, as though he were being ridiculous. They had found themselves in similar situations so many times before, that it was hard to realize that maybe one day their amazing sense of good luck, (ironic, considering bad-luck was often what got them there in the first place,) might not hold out.

A look of dawning comprehension lit Hermione's face. “Ron, you're being a prat!” She choked. Already the tears were forming.

Ron's face was twisted in pain. “Hermione!”

Slowly she lowered herself to his level, kicking the Death Eater that had caught her off-guard and nearly killed her, instead hitting Ron, away with her foot. She pulled him up to her and said, “ Look, I can drag you to the Hospital Wing! I know we can get there in time! I-“

“Hermione!” Slowly she slumped, him still in her arms, and started crying, cradling him protectively. “Please, tell my family exactly what happened. And Harry, though that didn't need to be said. And-“ He was momentarily distracted as he saw a bright light come through the window. “And I think there really is a light…I saw the light…”

“Ron, you prat!” Hermione yelled, half-crying, half-smiling, looking out over the grounds. “It's Harry! He's glowing with something! I think he's winning! He's…yes, he's won! It's over!” She sighed in relief and then, looking down, said to him, “Ron? Ron!”

Ron Weasley died smiling for a cause he believed in. No, not the war! His best friends. Ron Weasley believed in his two best friends.

***

There were reports from some people that said that Hermione danced through Hogwarts' halls when the war was won. Some people think McGonagall did cartwheels. Or that Rubeus Hagrid started singing.

Everyone knows that Harry Potter just stood there for the longest time, staring at the place where Voldemort's body had been, even after it somehow became ash, due to his complex spell. There were pictures of it, and it appeared in all of the papers, and on the chocolate frog cards, and became an all-around famous picture.

Harry Potter knew none of this, though. The picture had been spread all over for the last few days, but he hadn't been out to celebrate.

Ron, his best mate. His first friend. Dead. It hurt too much to think about, but think he did. Hermione and he thought for a long time, often actually sitting on the grounds in the exact spot where Voldemort had been destroyed. And all they did was think. Words weren't necessary. Words couldn't have said it properly.

The first words spoken on the topic were Hermione's. “He knew. He knew something like this would happen to him.”

“I know.” Harry murmured, looking down. “I think all of us did. Things were too-changed, too different.”

“What happened between us?” Hermione asked. “Something big must have happened.”

“I don't think it was all of a sudden. I think it took all of the years we've known each other for it to happen. And I think Ron might have seen it.”

“We have to go.” Hermione said, in monotones. “It starts soon…”

The funeral service was steady, everyone from the minister to close family coming to say goodbye. Harry was one of the last to approach the open casket, and looked inside at his best friend of seven years.

Pale and solemn, Ron's face didn't look natural. His normally sparkling blue eyes were closed, and wouldn't ever open again, and his expression was a minor frown. Still, just the sight of his friend in the wooden box broke Harry.

“I figured it out, Ron. I know now, what happened between us. The three of us, I mean. It was love. I fell in love, Ron, and I didn't know it until now… but you always knew, didn't you?” Here, Harry choked up and placed a lily on the grave, the flower only he used at any funeral. Gently, he also set in the casket a quaffle, signed by the team last year, before Quidditch had been banned because Hogwarts had been in too dangerous of a position to play in an open field with hundreds of spectators. Written in large, glittering, magical gold, were the never-fading words, `Weasley is our KING!'. Ron had been so happy that they had won he had forgotten how poorly he had played. (He hadn't improved much as Keeper.)

“We won, Ron. I defeated him right as you died. `Mione says you knew…I hope you did. But if you can hear this, Ron, then you should know…I haven't won yet. But I'm going to tell `Mione tonight how I feel about her, and see if she feels the same. We won't be together for a while, because it'll hurt too much with you gone…but she'll know, and we'll just have to see, huh?”

Other people were pushing to get to the front, so Harry looked back before turning quickly one last time to stare at his friend's face, then said, “See yah in Heaven or Hell, mate. The three of us will be back together again sometime, and we know now what you always did, so this time no one will have to die.” Here, his voice cracked again, and he moved on, after saying a simple `goodbye', that didn't nearly cover enough.

But he could swear, as could everyone else watching, that Ron Weasley was buried smiling.

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