Disclaimer: I do not own the Characters. That should clear up the matter nicely.
AN: Part two is here and I hope you enjoy. It could be a week or so before I've got more to give you, so let me know if there is anything you didn't like or anything you did. Reviews (even harsh ones, are always welcome.) In the mean time, I'll just reiterate that I've never written a fan fiction before and hope this isn't too bitter a pill to swallow. Again; enjoy.
The sun had come up. A crack of bright morning light shone through a crack in the boarded over window in Ron's room. The light had landed in exactly the right spot on his face that he had woken up trying to bat away the bulb he knew had to be there. He know sat on the side of his bed looking at the door. He was casually flicking the deluminator against the inside seam of his pajama bottoms. He knew that today was going to be important for many reasons, the least of which was that he would probably have to sit around the library all day. He knew a thing or two about Hermione and Harry and how often they agreed with each other. Ron had so many things running through his mind that he could barely concentrate.
He knew that over the next few weeks or months or however long it takes that the dangers would be immense. He knew that his family would be devastated if he died. He knew all of this rationally. Deeper than ration he knew two more things;
Harry could not die. Ron would not let him. Ignoring all the better sense he had accumulated in the last few months he knew that he would not allow Harry to die. Not his best friend, not now and not ever. Even if it meant throwing himself before a killing curse Ron knew he would rescue Harry.
He also knew that Harry was in love with Hermione. And even if he hadn't known before he certainly knew after the argument he overheard in the hall the night before. That was the wrench in the works. Harry saw her as untouchable because Harry would do anything to spare Ron in the same way that Ron would do for him. What more Harry didn't know was that Ron was questioning his feelings for her. He didn't exactly ant to end it with Hermione. During a war seemed callous, also he didn't know if she was aware of her own feelings yet.
He didn't want to hurt her if she didn't know she was in love with Harry yet. Of course he had also thought that hurting her would be a great way to get her and Harry together, but he was terrified of ending it in a way that broke them all apart. He was also deep down struggling with the fact that he may or may not have feelings for her. He could never reconcile in his mind whether his crush was real, honest and pure, or if it was something else. Something like his age old jealousy of Harry Potter, or his proximity to her for so many years. He wished for the hundredth time in his life that he had never asked her out. She made things too confusing.
"Maybe if I let Harry have her she'll confuse him instead." He mused aloud, "Course that would mean Harry would be captured and killed. This situation keeps getting better and better." He added sardonically before throwing his body back onto his bed and staring at the ceiling for answers. He brought the deluminator to his face, "What would you do?"
* * *
Harry had spent the better part of the morning pouring over book after book in the dank old library at number 12. He was more and more certain that he was no closer to understanding RAB then he ever was or was ever likely to get in this dusty, moldy old place. However the more sure he got that they were getting off the beaten path the more sure Hermione was that they were getting closer to the answer. Harry had been reading the same line of text over and over again without realizing that he was doing it. He just kept letting his head replay moments when he made poor choices. He saw every order he ever barked and questioned the worth of them in the same moment. He built elaborate battle plans and thought up chain combinations for stringing together battle spells. When he was done with that he would look back at his tactics and chain spells for weak points. Endlessly dissecting his commands and plans until he was certain that he would arrive at the perfect plan. He never did.
Harry always saw some small flaw that could be exploited. Some tiny detail that he overlooked in planning that would bring down the whole house of cards and get everyone killed. If there was one thing he was sure of it was that he would never beat Voldemort by winging it. Perhaps it was because he was getting so frustrated, or perhaps because he was fighting off his standard boredom with dark, dank and books, but Harry's feet were keeping time with a rhythm beating in his head. Fast paced and with high crescendo, music fit to make someone anticipate action. Harry could hold his tongue no longer. Ron's head was trying to escape his hands clutch on his cheek in it's attempt to hit the table when Harry stood up.
"Harry?" Hermione asked.
"I'm.." Harry stared off into space for a second before answering, "I just need a breather." He walked out of the library and left Ron and Hermione staring at his wake.
Ron and Hermione stared at each other for a second in a kind of awkward but absolute silence. Neither knowing what to say to the other. Hermione buried her head into the book she was reading. Looking for something that wasn't there, why Harry had left the room. Ron on the other hand had always been something of a pragmatist. His was a path of far greater a number options. Instead of pining for Harry while hiding behind a book Ron could simply make a loud noise with his tongue and cheek and make some throw away small talk.
" You know, Herm, not to suggest that I'm trying to bail or anything." Ron said with a kind of coolness he reserved for sneaking off or asking people to let him copy their homework. "But I gotta say, a breather sure sounds like a great idea."
Hermione flopped her book down on the table with a cloud of dust and loud noise, "Whatever Ron. You go ahead and do whatever you want! God forbid you try and help your best friend." Hermione said as curtly as she could.
Ron had no reason to respond. He just got up and walked into the hallway. He looked up and down, but knew in his heart where Harry was. He followed his instinct down to the room that held the Black family tree. Sure enough that's where he found Harry.
Ron watched from the doorway as Harry sat and stared up at the scorched place where, once long ago, Sirius Black's face used to be. Ron knew that Sirius used to represent something very important to Harry. Something that had always been so important to Harry. More than just the hope of a family and the glimpse of what he was and where he came from Sirius had represented a kind of normalcy that Harry had never known. He painted a life in Harry's mind that was closer to the one he so envied in Ron and Hermione. Sirius was a chance for a stable home and someone that loved him. Something Harry had never really known.
A part of Ron's heart hurt when he watched Harry stare at the wall. Ron would give anything to be able to erase the horrible past Harry had come from and give him something more fitting. Ron thought that Harry's life should have matched Harry. Harry according to Ron was always a tough subject for either person to broach. There were times when Ron was jealous of Harry for things Harry couldn't possibly control. Harry was famous and Ron would always be just another Weasley. Harry was such a natural at so many things that Ron had to work so hard at. Harry was his best friend and that meant that Ron would ever be living in his shadow.
But for all of that Harry was something else entirely. He was kind to everyone. Everyone. He never let social standings or race color his perception. One of his greatest friends was a house elf after all. He was funny, and though it was something that Hermione might not appreciate as much Ron thought that being able to make a joke was the single truest human virtue. Harry once made him laugh so hard he thought for a second that he would never breathe again. Harry was genuine. He never lied about who he was, and he never expected anyone else to have to do the same.
Then there were the things they had in common. Of course they both loved to laugh and make others laugh in turn. They both had the same interests and they both found pleasure in the smaller things. Ron would die for Harry and in turn Ron knew Harry would do the same. That's what made their friendship so remarkable. No one shared a bond quite like theirs.
"So." Ron said wading the waters and testing the silence of the room.
"Yeah. She's something, huh?" Harry said agreeing to an unspoken statement.
"She's obsessed." Ron answered back.
"This is true." Harry mused with a slight smile. Ron decided to go for the joke.
"If they had her when they were inventing fire, man. She would have made a damn lighter out of spit and dirt." Ron smiled.
"Only problem is she would have made it so boring man would never have come out of caves." Harry said with a widening smile. The pair broke into laughter. Good laughter. Three parts nervous tension and ninety-three parts companionship.
Ron walked over and took a seat on the floor next to Harry. They didn't talk about what was troubling him, they didn't examine the bad situation they were in, and they didn't tell each other fun lies about how easy this would be once they figured it out. They just sat and stared at a blank wall until they both spaced out. For the first time since they had fled from the wedding they were at peace.
It was shattered, as it must be, when Kreacher sauntered in talking to himself in his normal way. All mud bloods this and blood traitors that. Harry looked at Ron and Ron looked at Harry. They both broke out laughing for no reason at all. This was what Harry had needed and Ron knew it.
"Hey, man?" Ron threw out I a non-committal way.
"Yeah?" Harry answered back with the same subdued laziness.
"Let's get outta here. Kreacher's staring a hole in the back of my head." Ron answered.
"Yeah. He's been doing that since we got here." Harry said just loud enough for Kreacher to cough as if he wasn't listening to them.
Harry and Ron got up and walked slowly back to the Library only sort of dreading it. When they got back Hermione silently condemned them for taking so long before making them read the books she set out. Ron spent the remainder of his time there sending Harry dirty jokes on floating pieces of parchment when Hermione wasn't looking. Harry spent his time trying to suppress laughter and exchanging looks with Ron every time they were almost caught. Eventually they all packed up their things and went down to make dinner.
* * *
Harry was staring at the ceiling thinking about things. The cryptic message inside the snitch, R.A.B whoever that was and what he was going to do in all this. He somehow had to become both a leader and a hero and was succeeding in neither. He didn't see it going down like this. He always thought it would be a series of epic battles. Sure he figured he would probably die early on, but he saw it that way. He just didn't think it would be him and his friends on the run. Then again ideally he had hoped it would just be him and Voldemort in an open field with only enough time for one well chosen spell in a wizard's duel. Voldemort ruined all that with these goddamn Horcruxes.
"R.A.B" Harry said as he stared past his hand to the ceiling. On the face of things he was a different guy. He was this hapless amateur magician leading a pack of more talented and knowledgeable magicians. Hell if he was going to be completely accurate he would say that he was a kid leading some kids to their death. Pleasant thoughts like this kept him up most nights.
"Rudolf Aaron Bag-shot?" He mulled it over, "No. Ridiculous. B. Benson, Barry, Bruce… BLACK!" With that Harry tore out of his room and down the hall headed straight for room he knew his answer would be in. He knew he had seen a name that began with an "R" on the wall in the room that housed the Black family tree. He just had to know what the middle initial was. He could almost feel that he was right.
In his hurry he tripped over Kreacher causing the little house elf to spin out of control against a wall and Harry himself to land flat on his face snapping his glasses at the bridge. He got up and pressed forward, ignoring the broken glasses, the noise and the wailing house elf. He had to be sure. He didn't have time to be distracted. As he rounded the corner he whipped his wand from his back pocket and shouted "lumos!" much louder than he had intended to. He ran through the door way and shoved his nose against the wall and his wand against his nose. He began to scan the wall frantically for the name he was certain he would find.
As soon as he wound his way around to the scorched out portrait of Sirius he saw that Sirius' brother's portrait was also blackened against the shade of the wall. He thought that odd. He had remembered Sirius saying that his brother was considered the good son, and in a family of muggle haters that would mean his portrait should still be intact. Suddenly his heart welled inside his chest. There was only one reason old Lady Black removed a portrait. This was looking like the first big breakthrough.
Sure enough under the scorch mark was inscribed the name "Regulus A. Black." Harry took pause and backed slowly from the wall. There could be no other answer, this was the guy. He was sure of it. He just had to find out where the real locket was. Just that moment he heard Hermione from the doorway.
"Harry? Your glasses?" She was holding the shattered remains of his specs in her palms. A curious look plastered across her face. Ron arrived shortly afterward equally puzzled. Harry just pointed his glowing wand at the wall. Taking the hint they gathered around and stared at the spot he was pointing at. Slowly comprehension dawned on their faces, but Hermione, his perfect Hermione, was the first to say it.
"Oh my god. R.A.B." She said with her hand placed slightly over her lower lip. Ron gave Harry a hard, confident look. Harry nodded back and moved his eyes to the wall.
"Nox"