Lament

Lament

Ron Weasley stood silently beneath the baring branches of a staunch elm tree, hands casually tucked into the pockets of his jeans. A chilled gust of autumn wind whirled past him, tousling his ginger hair and causing him to turn the collar of his black fleece jacket up around his neck. He returned his hands to his pockets as he stared despondently across the surface of the vast black lake, not really seeing, barely feeling.

To the casual observer, he was simply a young man taking in the view, perhaps lost in quiet contemplation. But those who knew him, looked into his cornflower eyes, could see a sadness as deep as the lake whose shores he was currently standing on.

A slender pair of arms encircled his waist from behind, catching him unawares, but producing the briefest flicker of a smile on the young man's face. He knew instantly that those arms belonged to the one person in the world who could still make him smile.

“Hi,” he croaked, barely above a whisper.

A young woman - attractive, slender, blonde - laid her head against his back.

“Hi,” she answered in return. “I'm so sorry,” she said softly, her voice full of emotion. “I know how much you miss them. I wish I could take away your pain.”

He gently pulled her around in front of him, enclosing her in his arms, holding her tightly to him.

“You help me every day,” he told her. “You're the only one who can.”

There was silence for several minutes.

“Tell me again, Luna,” Ron finally choked. “Tell me they're really gone, that you can't detect them, can't feel them. Make me believe. Maybe then I can move on.”

“I can't tell you anything different than I already have, love. I can't sense them on this plane. I can't find their magical signatures. But, as I've also told you, I can't speak in absolutes. By the time … everything happened, they'd both become pretty proficient at masking their signatures. Which, by the way, is almost unheard of. I wish I could give you what you want, give you your definitive answer. But I can't. And I won't lie to you.” She was still trying desperately to understand what he was going through.

“Is it really so bad to have hope, to be able to hold on to them?” she asked.

“It is if the hope … is based in hopelessness,” Ron sighed. “I can live with memories. It's trying to hold on to the reality of them that tears me up. I know most everyone else has let go, moved on. But I can't. I need closure, some sort of finality.”

The girl cupped his face in her hands, gazing compassionately into his eyes, seeing the heartbreak in them reflected back at her.

“I'm sorry I can't give that to you,” she acknowledged sadly. “I just can't.”

There was once again a long silence.

“They could have had it all, you know,” Ron began, breaking the silence. “The perfect life. It should have been theirs. The house, white picket fence, dog, cat, kids. I mean, can't you see it? They'd have been that ideal family.

I can picture it - Hermione working in her flower garden, Harry playing in the back with the kids. They had the love. Merlin! The way they loved each other.” He stopped, his voice catching in his throat.

“They should have had their `happily ever after',” he added pensively, his voice breaking. Luna embraced him tightly, her heart aching for him.

“Somehow, love … I really believe, wherever they are, that they have just that.” She smiled up at him, determined to do what only she could, to make him smile.

“Their kids,” she stated, smiling thoughtfully. “Imagine them. They'd be beautiful, naturally. Smart, strong, powerful, happy, healthy. Perfect.”

“Except for the hair, of course,” Ron interjected with a smile. “Pity the poor tykes that.” They both chuckled.

“Well, no one's completely perfect,” Luna stated, smiling up at him. “Except in our dreams and memories.”

Ron smiled at her in return, keeping his next thought to himself.

`Except for one memory - the one where it all went wrong.'

Flashback -

For weeks, Voldemort's forces had been hammering away, attacking wizard and muggle targets alike in an attempt to divide and conquer. But the Ministry and its allies kept matching him blow for blow. Then the day had come. Voldemort launched a major offensive - an all out attack on Hogsmeade and the surrounding area, including the borders of Hogwarts. Staff, students, and house-elves - all came to the defense, joining with Ministry and allied forces in battle.

That day was gray, almost black, as thick smoke from countless fires and explosions blanketed the area. Visibility was at a minimum. The Dark Mark hung ominously in the sky over Hogsmeade.

Ron, Harry and Hermione were, of course, in the thick of it. Harry had wished desperately that Hermione would stay behind, knowing full well that she never would. She had committed herself to him a long time ago. So instead, they fought side-by-side, never more than a meter between them, often performing as a single unit - to the amazement of any who saw them.

The three of them had been successfully decimating the ranks of a horde of Death Eaters when Harry suddenly stopped, stiffened, looking over his shoulder. He looked first to Hermione, his face grim. She gave him a barely perceptible nod. Harry then turned to Ron, his eyes conveying a lifetime of thoughts and emotions in that one glance. Ron met Harry's gaze, nodding in complete understanding.

Hermione turned to Ron, giving him a smile, but in her eyes he saw sadness. She turned and followed Harry, clasping his hand as she caught up to him, the two of them disappearing into the haze. That was the last time Ron ever saw his two best friends.

Ron had continued to fight, having no concept of time, of how long it had been since Harry and Hermione had walked away. In the distance, the sky was suddenly lit with a bright green light. A loud CRACK, like a lightning strike, reverberated across the entire area. A moment later, a pair of blue lights was seen, accompanied by simultaneous crackles.

Ron heard blood-curdling screams. He looked around fearfully, only to realize that they were coming from the remaining Death Eaters in his vicinity. Some had dropped to their knees, as though in agony. Others were disapparating, their faces masks of fear.

Ron attempted to run toward the area where the lights had been seen, but all that his battered, weary body would allow was a painfully slow trot. About halfway to his goal, he came upon a familiar form - Severus Snape. The potions master lay on the ground, one leg obviously broken. When he saw Ron approaching he raised one arm, pulling back his sleeve to expose his forearm. The mark of the Dark Lord was quickly fading away.

Ron nodded gratefully, resuming his journey. He reached the area from which the strange lights had originated, scanning the area desperately, his heart in his throat. He forced his feet to move, his eyes searching for a sign of his companions. At the top of a small rise, he found evidence of what he was looking for. A large area of grass had been scorched. In the center was an elongated pile of ash, over top of which lay a black cloak- all that remained of the creature whose true name was Tom Riddle.

Ron's eyes searched the area once more, but saw no sign of Harry or Hermione. Perhaps he had missed them in the heavy smoke. He took several steps forward, scanning the area for a pair of figures. His eyes were drawn to a strange sight several meters in front of him. A patch of ground glowed with an eerie luminescence. As Ron approached, the light seemed to fade, until it was gone completely.

Ron felt his throat constrict as hot tears stung his eyes, blurring his vision. He angrily wiped them away, staring again at the ground in front of him. For there, in place of the strange glow, lay two slender shafts of wood - one holly, eleven inches, phoenix feather core; the other vinewood, ten and one-quarter inches, dragon heartstring.

No one ever saw the pair again. But Ron Weasley knew that wherever they were, whether still somewhere in this existence or off to the next great adventure, they were together. And that was as it should be.

They were heroes - the saviors of the world. The rest of the wizarding world would remember them as such. Her - brilliant and strong. Him - noble and powerful. Both of them braver than most. But Ron would never forget his two best friends - the girl with bushy brown hair, and the boy with the lightning-bolt scar.

-End-

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