008.
October
He stood by the window watching the wind blow the last of the orange leaves from their branches, watching the rivulets of water run down the glass pane. The summers they used to spend here, before so many lives hung in the balance, seemed so far away. So much had changed - it hardly had begun and he couldn't help wishing that it were already over. It had been eerily quiet over the past few weeks, neither sight nor sound from any Death Eaters (save Bellatrix LeStrange, and that was only to further Harry's torment). Hermione was calling it their calm before the storm; she told them all that this was the time for them to train, to figure out plans of action, and to figure out how to survive. He reckoned she was right, because she's always right (and he'd found that it was comfort knowing so).
Luna and Neville were meticulously reading over and studying tactical spells and approaches. He couldn't help but notice that she just wasn't the same after they murdered her father. He would know; he's spent significant amounts of time with her since she'd arrived, letting her confide in him for whatever reasons she chose to, and confiding in her little-by-little the things he normally would've kept hidden below the surface. He wasn't sure why, but there was a certain trust between them. Besides, he'd changed, too; he wasn't the same person anymore.
"Ron, are you alright?" Luna's voice floated over to him much like it had during their time at school. He thought it must be hard to mask her pain in front of everyone but him, when they were alone.
"I think I will be," he replied, turning away from the window. "You two alright if I go up to see Harry for a bit?" Neville and Luna both nodded, and he could see the concern in her eyes; he let her know silently that everything would be fine.
Outside Harry's bedroom door he felt a sharp pang in his stomach - maybe it was jealousy, or maybe it was regret. At this point it didn't much matter anymore - he would have to let go of both. He could hear them both talking and hesitated a moment before knocking. "It's open," he heard Harry call from the other side of the door. He opened it slowly, seeing Harry and Hermione sitting closely together on his bed.
"Hey," he said quietly. "You think you have a few minutes?" Harry and Hermione exchanged glances before she rose.
"I'll go," she said to Harry and he nodded. "You two need some time." She looked at Ron as she made her way to the door. He stared mostly at his feet until she stopped beside him; he looked at her then. "Please," she said softly, taking his hand. "For me." For a moment or two the air in the room felt impossibly still, and then he nodded.
"For me, too," he said quietly. "I need things to be ok, too." He could see tears shining in her eyes as she nodded, squeezed his hand, and then she was gone. The door closed quietly. "I just wanted to talk," Ron said quietly. He noticed that Harry was wearing an old orange tee shirt that used to be Fred's.
"Okay."
"I wasn't ok with this at first, but…" he looked away from Harry for a moment, finding an invisible spot on the floor to stare at, finding this difficult to do.
"I'm sorry," Harry said before he could say anything more. "Ron… we never meant to hurt you. I just… I love her so much."
"I know you do," he replied quietly and Harry stood. "Maybe I'm not in love with her - maybe I just thought I was, I don't rightly know to be honest, but I do love her, Harry."
"I know - she knows, Ron," he replied quietly.
"Just… take care of her, alright?" Ron said, looking at his feet, the knot in his throat powerfully tight. "Be good to her."
"I will," he promised. "You know I will, Ron."
"Don't hurt her, Harry," Ron said quietly.
"Never," Harry replied, quietly as well. "I couldn't."
There was a moment's pause, and Ron swallowed hard. "Don't let anything happen to her, Harry."
"I'd die first," he replied solemnly. They held eye contact for a moment and Ron nodded slowly. Harry remembered their fourth year, the first row they ever had. He remembered what it felt like then, to feel like he'd lost his best friend - what they had now was even stronger, they were closer, and he didn't think he could stand it if he'd truly lost Ron. "Ron?"
"Yeah?"
"Are… Are we ok?"
Ron gave him a lop-sided, sort-of-smile that didn't quite seem to come so easily anymore. "Always, Harry."
"Good," he replied. "Good."
Ron turned to leave slowly, and for just that moment everything felt like it used to - he forgot about death and war, forgot that nothing at all was as it used to be. And the moment faded, like it always did. He turned in the doorway to look at Harry. "You know, you'll make it through this, Harry," he said. "We'll see you through this."
Harry nodded slightly. "Everything will be ok again, Ron, I promise. You'll all be ok again." Ron nodded, unable to speak around the knot in his throat. Something in him ached when Harry didn't say it, when he didn't say he'd get through it - it wasn't right that for all of them to live he could have to sacrifice his own life. That' wasn't how it should be. He didn't want to have to think that Harry was so willing to die for them all - he shouldn't have to.
He passed Luna's room to find she was sitting on her window sill, knees drawn up to her chest. The look in her eyes was distant as he made his way to her and her face became visible in the semi-darkness. They could hear the low, ominous rumble of thunder in the distance. "Luna, are you ok?" he asked softly. She turned toward him then, and something in her eyes was painful, frightened, and it caused that ache in his chest again.
"Storms devastate, Ronald," she said softly, distantly, the old mistiness of her voice replaced with that of something resembling fear and hurt. The knot in his throat returned and tightened. He knew what she meant, somehow, and knew that no one else could have understood in that moment.
And he remembered: Everything is going to change now.
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