Right and Easy
Chapter Two: Consequences
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just borrowing it.
AN: I know there isn't much on Harry or Hermione here, but before anything else can be done, don't you think we need to deal with poor Ron? FYI There's plenty of guilt and shame to go around in this chapter.
OOOoOOOoOOOoOOOoOOOoOOOoOOOoOOOoOOOoOOOoOOOoOOOoOOOo
Ronald Weasley had extraordinary analytical abilities. He prided himself on his ability to strategize many steps ahead of his opposition, whether it was in chess, or on the battlefield. This outstanding ability was moot however, when Ron's emotions got too involved in a situation.
Ron thought about all this idly as he was vaguely aware of chaos all around him.
Distracted, he remembered a time at the Burrow when he was seven years old. His mother home-schooled her children until they were old enough to go to Hogwarts. For five hours a day she diligently taught the kids math, reading, and all of the other subjects that were assumed taught to children before Hogwarts. Ron always sat next to Ginny during these lessons because he was closer in age to her than the twins. Every day however, he would look longingly over at the older boys, wishing he could learn what they were learning. He was sick of always being paired with the girl in the family, and really wanted to be as cool as his older brothers seemed to be, sitting at the other table.
One day, when he and Ginny were supposed to be working on a spelling assignment, he decided that he'd had enough. Ron stood up from the table with his head held high, and walked across the room to Fred and George. The twins looked up at him from their reading, a question on both of their faces.
"I'm going to study with you," he claimed, proudly. He was so excited. Now he'd finally get what he wanted for years. He'd be able to be on Fred and George's level!
Fred sneered. "You don't belong with us. Go back to the little kids table."
"Yeah," chimed in George, "You're still a dumb little kid."
The seven year old wizard was devastated. He was hurt and angry, and didn't know why things never seemed to go his way. So he did the only thing he could do. He pulled his arm back and punch Fred squarely in the nose. He was just turning to hit George as well when his mother walked in the room.
"What in Merlin's name is going on in here?" she demanded, hands on her hips. The three boys froze on their mother's entrance. She caught sight of Fred's nose streaming blood and Ron's hand, and sent Ron to bed without supper. He wasn't even allowed on a broom for a week.
Ron learned a powerful lesson that day, though he supposed it was not the one his mum was trying to instill in him. Whenever he got close enough to his dreams, they would always end up being unceremoniously snatched away from him. It never seemed to matter that he was the one wronged. As soon as he reacted, Ron was always the one punished.
Ron was broken out of his reverie by strong arms tugging him upward. At his feet lay the unconscious crumpled form of his best mate. He felt oddly detached as he looked down at Harry's face. It was hardly recognizable, beaten beyond belief. Ron had to glance down at his own blood-smeared hands to realize that he was the one responsible. In vain Ron wiped his hands on his dress robes, not caring if he ruined the fabric. He just needed the blood off of his hands.
A dull ringing in his ears caused Ron to realize just how deathly silent the lawn was. It took all the Gryffindor courage he possessed to raise his head and look out at the onlookers. An empty mass of mostly toppled white chairs met his eyes. The cherubs had been banished, the rose petals trampled. There were a few broken cameras left laying in the media section. Ron assumed that his family had thrown the photographers out, in a vain attempt to stifle the story from hitting the press. Throbbing arms reminded him that someone was still holding him back.
"Sighing, Ron croaked, "You can let go of me, Fred."
His older brother dropped Ron's arms, and Ron fell down in a heap, eyes focused on Harry. He rubbed his face with is hand and watched his mum and dad rush over to the injured wizard and cast a row of spells to stabilize his breathing. Ron couldn't even feel jealous that both his parents had run to Harry instead of himself. He knew he deserved it. He also knew that he would have killed Harry if Fred hadn't pulled him off.
Ron could feel a twin sit heavily on either side of him. The air was so stifling that Ron thought he'd pass out if someone didn't say something anytime soon. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him.
"Hermione?" he asked.
"Ginny took her home," answered George. "She's pretty shaken up."
Ron nodded.
From his other side, he could hear Fred say quietly, "You've really buggered things up this time, brother." His only response was to drop his head heavily.
With his knees drawn up to his chest, and his forehead on his knees, Ron looked like a man defeated. Ron felt like a man defeated, for that matter. There was nothing else he could do, so he took a great shuddering breath, and let it out, choking out a sob. As his parents apparated Harry away to St. Mungos, Ron could hear distant muttering as Fred and George cleaned up the ruins of his wedding day. The happiest day of his life, wasn't it supposed to be? After a long time, Fred and George apparated away with their distinct crackles. As dusk fell over the Hogwarts grounds, a lone redhead sat unmoving in the middle of the empty field. The only sounds coming out of him were small sobs.
OoooOooOooOoooOoooOooooOoooOooOOoOOooOoOo
The giant squid was floating lazily on the top of the lake, tentacles skimming the surface of the water. On the edge of the Forbidden Forest, a pair of Thestrals nibbled at some mossy grass. Next to them sat the empty hut of Hagrid. No one had really had the heart to tear it down after Hagrid died in the war. No one really came near it anymore either. It stood there year after year, unchanged and unnoticed.
Ron opened his eyes slowly and stretched out his limbs. He had somehow fallen asleep on the lawn the night before. Still wearing his crumpled robes from the night before, Ron stared up at the grey sky above him. The dark clouds looked as miserable as the wizard felt. He got up and slowly began to walk unconsciously in the direction of Hagrid's hut. As his eyes rested on the half giant's lonely hut, he felt a sudden empathy for the empty house. Sure, he felt angry, no - pissed off was more like it, for what Harry did, and he felt guilty for beating the other man up, but more than anything, Ron felt a distinct sense of loneliness. He reached the small building and was surprised to find it unlocked. It was empty inside with a few small exceptions. The wooden table and bench was too heavy and too large to move, and so it remained. Next to it was the equally large wooden bed. Both were covered in dust. Ron wiped off an area of the bench and sat down. He noticed that it was his usual seat, and half expected Harry and Hermione to come sit across from him like usual. Ron snorted. Harry and Hermione on one side, and him on the other, like usual.
An odd thumping sound broke his depressed thoughts and caused Ron to jerk his head towards the door. He was entirely unprepared for the sight that met his eyes. Luna Loovegood was standing in front of Hagrid's hut wearing nothing but a pale blue nightgown and hiking boots. With her right foot, she was rhythmically kicking a large grey stone on the ground. Noticing Ron staring at her, Luna took one last kick for good measure and glanced up at him, and then at her surroundings. Her pale blonde eyebrows shot up in surprise as if she had no idea how she got where she was.
"Where are your clothes?" was the only thing Ron could think of to say.
Luna gazed up at him unblinkingly. "Oh hello, Ronald. How are you doing?"
Ron scratched his head, stumped by the witch in front of him. "How am I doing?" he asked. "Well, let me think. Yesterday, my best friend breaks up my wedding to my other best friend because he's in love with her. I decide it's a good idea to beat him up within an inch of his life. Then, I fall asleep outside all night, and to top the whole bloody deal off, I'm still covered in his sodding dried blood. So, all in all, I'm doing pretty damn horribly."
Frustrated, Ron turned around from the strange girl and began to go back inside. He paused at the sound of loud laughter. A confused frown adorned his face as he looked back.
"Are you laughing at me?" he asked, perplexed, and a little offended.
Luna couldn't answer. She was doubled up, laughing, with her arms around her midsection.
Ron cleared his throat. "Well, it wasn't really supposed to be a joke, you see. It's the truth."
"Let's go inside, Ronald." Luna had stopped laughing, but kept a vague smile on her face as she steered him inside. Ron sat down again at the large table, waiting for Luna to join him. Instead, he was surprised to see her run back to the porch to give the rock another solid kick.
Seemingly satisfied, Luna joined Ron at the table, and conjured a cup of tea for each of them.
"Er, Luna?" Ron asked.
"Yes, Ronald?" She replied languidly, watching the steam rise from her cup.
"I have to ask. Why were you kicking that rock?"
The blond girl blew a strand of hair out of her face and stared at Ron very seriously. "I was being followed by a Pogrebin."
Ron could not figure out how he was supposed to respond to that. Half of the time he couldn't tell if Luna was putting him on, or serious. Noting that Luna's silvery eyes were still staring at him unblinkingly, Ron decided she was serious.
He laughed and said, "Alright. I'll bite. What's a Pogrebin?"
Smiling slightly, Luna responded. "It's a demon that follows you around. If you don't stun it or kick it, then it will follow you around until you're overcome by the futility of it all, become lethargic with despair, and it devours you. So you see, I had to beat it before it could beat me." She paused, reaching to clasp Ron's hand across the table, and Ron had a feeling she wasn't talking about the demon anymore, but he couldn't be sure. "It's up to you to kick it and overcome the Pogrebin before it can overcome you."
Ron always knew that Luna wasn't as crazy as everyone made her out to be. She just had a very odd way of looking at things. He smiled to himself, thinking about the metaphorical Pogrebin that he had to deal with. Distracted by his thoughts, Ron didn't even notice Luna stand up until she was right behind him.
"Good luck, Ronald. I have to go tie up some loose ends, and I'm sure you do as well." With a kiss on the
top of his head and a small pop, she was gone.
Stunned, Ron sat thinking of what the odd, mysterious girl had said to him. He realized that she was right, and he did need to find closure, with either Harry or Hermione he was not sure, and deal with what had happened. Without a second thought he apparated himself to the front door of the woman he loved for so long.
He grabbed hold of the door handle, and thought better of it. Instead, Ron knocked frantically on the smooth wood until the door opened and a shining mass of red hair met his eyes.
"Ginny, let me in please. I have to talk to her." Ron's eyes darted over Ginny's head, looking in the room for Hermione.
Looking him up and down, Ginny sighed. "I don't know if this is a good time, Ron," she replied, frowning."
"I'm not leaving until you let me in." Ron was resolved. He would stay there as long as it took to see Hermione. "I have to make things right."
"Have you taken a good look at yourself lately?" Ron shook his head, and his sister conjured a mirror. She held it out in front of him. "Look, Ron," Ginny said, firmly.
He looked into the mirror, and took in his appearance. His eyes were small and puffy, and entirely too bloodshot. He had blood, Harry's blood, on his robes, hands, and where he had rubbed his face. The dress robes from the night before were rumpled and wet from sleeping on the ground all night. He looked as if he had come back from fighting Voldemort again. Ron looked back at his sister, pleading with his eyes for her to please understand, he needed to talk to Hermione. Ginny was firm. She would not let him in.
"Think of how she's feeling right now, Ron. She's tired, confused, and really hurt. By both of you. Go home and clean yourself up. She'll see you when she's ready." Ginny gently took him by the arm and steered him away from the door. "I'm your sister and I'll always love you. Remember that. And remember, she's your best friend, and she'll always love you too."
Ron, suddenly drained, just nodded blankly at Ginny, and did the only thing he could do anymore. He went home.
It wasn't until he got home that he realized what Ginny said.
"She's your best friend, and she'll always love you too."
He knew Ginny was one to choose her words carefully. She hadn't said fiancé, she hadn't said girlfriend, she said best friend.
Hermione was his best friend, and she would always love him like Ginny did.
Like a sister.
Horrified, Ron immediately knew he couldn't be alone. He had to sort this out, which meant talking to Harry. So for the third time that day, Ron apparated. He ended up at the entry to St. Mungo's. It took some pleading for the receptionist to allow him up in Harry's room, but after thirty minutes of constant begging, he finally managed to convince her that it would be far less bothersome for everyone if she just let him go.
Upon opening the door, he found a wide awake Harry reading the latest Quibbler. He looked up at hearing the other man, and eyed Ron.
"You look like hell," Harry said bluntly.
Ron had to laugh. Here was Harry, who just hours ago was mangled up beyond belief, and yet he still looked infinitely times better than Ron, still in his bloody robes.
He shut the door carefully and walked over to the chair by the other wizard's bed. Both were quiet for some time. Finally, Ron broke the silence.
"Why did you do it?"
Harry looked as if he had expected this question. "I don't have a good explanation. I couldn't just let her go like that." He paused, thinking. "I've loved her for a long time, but I was so caught up in doing the right thing that I didn't even realize that the right thing was passing me by. I didn't want to hurt you."
Both men knew the last sentence was an empty statement.
"But you did. You had to know that would kill a wizard," Ron said. "Why didn't you say something earlier, like maybe before the actual wedding?" He was starting to get angry, and knew that would be the worst way to continue the conversation, so Ron stood up and began to pace the room to let off steam. "I mean, would it have been that hard to say, `hey mate, I know you have a crush on Hermione, but I think I like her too,' before we were involved? " His voice rose angrily. "You don't do that to your BEST FRIEND!" Shaking his head, he repeated quietly, almost to himself, "you don't do that…"
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his bed. He looked at Ron straight in the eye. "I'm sorry. I can't say anything other than that. I never wanted it to get this far. I hope that you can forgive me."
Ron walked over to the door and rested his forehead against the cool glass. "I can't. I know that we've been through a lot, but you broke something huge here, Harry. I can't forgive you today, or in a week, or even in a month. I don't know if I'll ever be able to really forgive you for this."
As he opened up the door to leave, he could hear a quiet, "I understand," from the other wizard.
Turning back slightly, Ron sighed. "I will try, though Harry. Just don't ask me to right now." With his shoulders just a little bit lighter, Ron walked down the white hall and out of St. Mungo's.
-->