Disclaimer: I did not write the Harry Potter series. I do not get money off this scribble. I own nothing! It is called fan-fiction for a reason, people.

In The Last Moment

Ron and Hermione were on a mission to find Harry. Now they had apparated in the middle of a battlefield. Crouching down so as not to be hit by the spells hurling through the air, the swiftly hid behind a large desk, which was made of solid oak.
Ron assessed the situation. They were in the lobby of a hotel, and he was hiding behind the front desk. On the opposite side of the lobby was a breakfast set-up, which three or four Death Eaters were using as their trenches. In the other corner was what used to be a sitting area. A coffee table had been overturned, and behind that was Harry. Ron nudged Hermione, who had been watching the Death Eaters.


“There he is,” nodding over at Harry.

“All right, he seems okay right now.” Hermione replied. “But there are five Death Eaters over there, we’ve got to get out of here. With Harry.”

“Since when does Harry run from a fight?”

“Yea, I know.” Her brow furrowed in thought. “Wait here a sec- and don’t fire. I don’t think any of them saw us.”

“Wait, what are you-”

But it became clear when Hermione disappeared from his side and reappeared at Harry’s. Ron alternated between watching them and the Death Eaters, who didn’t seem to notice that their spells were no longer being returned. Harry and Hermione talked for a few moments, though to Ron it seemed forever. Finally Hermione returned to the front desk.

“Yea, he doesn’t want to leave without capturing Dolohov, and he finds capturing and/or killing the rest an added bonus.”

“Guessed he’s still pissed about our last encounter.”

“Yea.” She sighed, frustrated. “There’s nothing for it. We’re going to have to fight.”

“Are you mad?!”

“Well, have you got any better ideas?”

“If we fight, it’s not going to end well- for us.”

“We don’t have a choice!”

“Ahh- damn you! Stupefy!” He yelled, pointing his wand over the desk. As much as it irked him, Hermione was right. Unless they were willing to leave Harry- and that would have defeated their purpose- they were going to have to take a stand.

Beside him, Hermione was firing off her own curses and hexes. Now three of the Death Eaters had turned their wands to the receptionist desk, and the other two were still focused on Harry. Fighting like this, seemingly evenly matched, they were going to be here a while.

At least, they would have been there a while, had more back up not shown up. Kingsley, Remus Lupin, and Bill Weasley arrived, and they quickly got into the game. Now the Death Eaters were outnumbered, six to five. One by one, the Death Eaters fell, knocked out by the various spells shooting their way. At last, it was over.

The Order members emerged from their barriers carefully. Still walking slowly, they approached the unconscious masked men. Bill knelt down next to the one called Dolohov, checking his vitals.

“Out cold, for sure.” He nodded. “Lets get them round up, get the Aurors in so they can tag these guys.”

Harry grinned, apparently pleased. Hermione glared at him.

“You think you did good, do you?” she said in an accusing manner.

“Well… yea.” Harry said, still grinning. It felt good to win. Bill snorted.

“I’ll go get the Aurors.” Bill said. Pop, gone.

“Harry- you are an idiot.” Hermione said walking away.

“Oh, come on-”

“No! Don’t talk to me.” Now Ron laughed. She turned her anger on him.

“You shut up too.”

“Hermione-”

“He went after five Death Eaters, single handed, without telling anyone. Excuse me for being pissed.”

“Oh, bloody hell-”

Then the peace ended.

0o0o0o

One of the Death Eaters had been faking. When he was sure their guard was down, he had quietly woken three of the other Death Eaters, who were not badly hurt. Now the four leapt up, firing deadly curses. Instantly the others went back into action. But not before Hermione was hit.

Hermione had already pocketed her wand, and had her back turned on the Death Eaters. One of the spells had slashed across her neck. Without a sound, she dropped to the floor, unnoticed by others.

Kinsley, Remus, Harry and Ron were hard pressed with the four Death Eaters, who fought with a renewed determination. They danced across the lobby, spreading out, each with a personal opponent. Ron was the first to beat his adversary. Triumphant he turned around- and saw Hermione on the floor, blood everywhere.

There are moments in every person’s life when time slows down. For a few, they experience a moment when time stops. Ron was experiencing that now. He rushed over, and though she wasn’t ten feet away, it took an eternity to reach her. Trying to stay clam, he brushed her hair off her white face. Her eyes were closed, and her robes were covered in slick blood. Ron thought she was dead.

For one horrible instant, Ron stared at Hermione’s still form, thinking she was gone. Years of fights and bickering ran through his mind. Fights about… what? Homework and teachers, appearances and muggles. Yule Ball and Krum. Why had he done that? What had come of it? He had never told her…

Then Hermione’s eyes flickered. Ron sucked in air, not even knowing he had stopped breathing. She was alive. If she was alive, then she would be okay. It would be fine.

“Ron?” Hermione said weakly. She didn’t say anymore, because it hurt too much. Slowly, painfully, she reached her hand up to feel her neck, but Ron gently brushed her hand away.

“Don’t” he said. “Don’t touch it.” The tears were pricking at his eyes, obscuring his vision. Her neck was bad; one of her arteries had been cut, pumping blood out of her body. Ron didn’t want her to feel that. It made him sick enough for the both of them.

“What-” Hermione struggled to speak. “What happened?”

“One of the Death Eaters woke up. But don’t worry. We’ve got it. Just- just try to relax, okay?” Ron couldn’t say anymore, his throat had closed up. He pressed his hand harder on the wound, trying to stem the flow. Even Ron knew too much blood loss was bad. And Hermione had been bleeding a long time.

Hermione looked at his face, and knew. It was one of those things. Even if Ron hadn’t admitted it to himself, she knew. She was dead. Dead soon. She could feel it, in the darkness closing in on the corners of her vision, and the slow loss of feeling. Moving her hand around, she grasped Ron’s fingers. He took a better grip of her hand, and squeezed.

“Tell- tell my parents-”

“Oh god. No. No, I wont tell them anything.” Ron said, losing some of his control.

“No. You have to.” Hermione said firmly, as least as firmly as she could. “Tell them I love them, and to not… to not cry too much.” She held his gaze, making sure he was listening. Ron was still shaking his head, but didn’t look away. His jaw was clenched tight, as if trying not to vomit, and his breathing coming in spastic bursts.

“And Harry… I didn’t mean what I just said, about him… being an idiot.” It was getting harder to speak, and she could hardly see. She had to hurry. “Don’t let him blame himself. Not his fault.”

Ron didn’t say anything. He just stared at her, the tears starting to flow.

“And Ron?” Hermione said, barley above a whisper. He leaned closer, their faces inches apart. Ron could see the tears clinging to her eyelashes.

“Hermione,” he said, cutting her off. “No, you can’t okay? You have to be fine. You’re too… We need you here; I need- ” Ron searched for the words. Then the truth hit him. “I love you.” He whispered.

Hermione gave his a smile, etched with pain. Ron tried to smile back. “Ok, you hear that? I love you. So you can’t…” but he couldn’t finish.

Hermione tried to focus on his face. All she could make out was a mop of red hair. “I love you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” Were the tears on her cheeks her own, or his? He couldn’t tell.

“Same here.” She said, the blood gurgling in her throat. “Oh, Ron, I love you. I love…” Her hand shook; Ron gripped it tighter. Hermione took a final breath, then went very still.

Ron searched her face, looking for a sign that was not there. “No, oh no. God, please. Please!” Her fingers relaxed in his hand. He gathered her in his arms, careless of the blood. “No… no, God, not now… I just found her…”

When the battle was over, Harry and the others turned to the hunched form of Ron. His head was bent over the motionless figure, and all that could be heard in the stillness were his cries.