Nothing Left to Live For by phoenix_trills
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to the fantastic J.K. Rowling, and to the fantastic J.K. Rowling only. A/N: I'm sorry if you find this story depressing, as it is, alas, very depressing
The grief was all-consuming. It filled his brain, allowing nothing else to enter. He felt as though he was gliding through heavy fog. His senses were relaying what he was hearing and seeing so slowly, he could not comprehend anything.
Ron was dead. That same, heart-wrenching thought continuously flowed through his mind. Ron, his friend for so many years, since that first fateful train ride to Hogwarts; Ron, who always managed to make him laugh, whatever was happening; Ron, his best friend in the world, was dead.
He couldn’t believe it. Just moments ago Ron had been fighting like he never had before. Now he was gone. All life had been removed; all the memories they had shared were wiped from his mind forever.
He had to look away. The fight was still happening around him. Ron may have been removed from the battle, but he wasn’t. He had to stay fighting.
He tore his eyes away from the sight that made his heart throb with sorrow to survey the battle around him. Bodies were scattered across the dust-covered floor, some for his side, some for the opposing. There was everyone he loved, fighting side by side with him, for him.
Hermione was still on her feet, throwing spells right and left through hacking sobs for Ron. Her bushy brown hair was flying all over the place, almost crackling with energy and rage, but she did not brush it away. It seemed to only spur her to fight even harder against the inevitable.
He watched as she hesitated, a fatal mistake. He saw, as though in slow motion, a jet of green light soaring in her direction, and she hadn’t seen it.
“Hermione!” he cried, but his voice was lost in the clamour of battle. He had to save her.
He hurried toward her with one thought in his mind: Don’t let her die! But he was too late.
There she was, spread eagled on her back, rather like a cloak that had been carelessly tossed to the ground and forgotten. Her brown eyes, usually so bright and focused, were blank and expressionless. The whites were still red from crying. Her hair was strewn around her face. There was no life left in her.
This wasn’t right; it wasn’t fair. How could this be happening? Why was this happening? Was there anything, anyone left?
“Yes,” he thought, as out of the corner of his eye he saw a head of fiery red hair dodging jets of light, as well as throwing some of her own. It was Ginny. She did not yet know that both Ron and Hermione were gone. He was not going to be the one to tell her.
Even through his grief, he couldn’t help his spirits lifting a little just looking at her. She was beautiful. A small smile played around her lips as she taunted the Death Dater duelling her. Her vivid Weasley hair danced along her shoulders as she dodged the curses flying in all directions.
He loved her. He had never admitted it to her. He had never even said it out loud. He had made a vow to tell her if they both got out of this alive. But it was not to be.
As he watched, she leapt aside to escape a curse that was thrown in her direction. She lost her footing and stumbled. The enemy took advantage of her moment’s mistake to toss a final, deadly curse. She fell sideways to the ground.
His mouth went dry, and he felt the color drain from his cheeks. He stumbled toward her, unaware of the shouts and flashes of light all around, praying this was all a nightmare, a horrible nightmare. There was a loud pounding in his ears; his heart was throbbing in agony. She wasn’t dead--she couldn’t be dead!
She was. He fell to all fours beside her and clasped her hand tightly. It was still warm. He held it to his heart, stroking her flaming red hair. It was soft and silky, much like he remembered it had felt in happier times.
He felt a burning behind his eyes. He tried to suppress the flow that was screaming to burst through the wall he had placed there, but failed. The tears streamed down his pale cheeks. He couldn’t stop them.
He cried for all that had happened, all that was happening. He cried for everyone who was no longer with him. He cried for the Weasleys, and his friends, and for everyone he knew or didn’t know who had become mixed up in the greatest war Wizard-kind had ever seen.
Then out of the rubble and lingering dust, a tall figure approached him. Blood red eyes shone hungrily from the figure’s pale, flat, snakelike face. It was moving slowly toward him, wand outstretched.
He closed his eyes, forcing them to stop smarting, and rose to meet the figure. They faced each other. The figure smiled a wicked smile. It pointed its wand directly at his heart.
“Are you prepared to die?” it asked, a slight hiss in its voice.
He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. He felt numb all over, drowning in grief.
“Are you not going to answer me?” asked the figure.
Still he said nothing. He felt as if he were to open his mouth, nothing would be heard except a scream of pain.
“Very well,” said the figure. “I suppose I shall simply have to kill you.” It screeched the most lethal curse Wizard-kind had ever known. He didn’t even try to block it.
The scene seemed momentarily frozen. The jet of green light streaking toward him appeared to stop halfway there.
His life seemed to be on fast forward behind his eyes: Dudley beating him up, receiving his letter from Hogwarts, learning the truth about his parents, meeting Ron and Hermione, thrusting a sword into the basilisk, meeting Sirius, fighting Dementors, saving Ron from merpeople, the graveyard with Cedric, the Department of Mysteries, the prophecy, Ginny, the white tomb… image after image flashed past… Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all dead…
As these pictures entered his mind, he felt, once more, the pain and despair of loss. He would give anything to be with the people he loved most again.
Time began once more. He watched the curse soar toward him. A sudden peace engulfed him, as though everything was all right.
He realized that everyone he loved had left him, and the only way to see them again would be to depart this world as well. Here was the perfect opportunity. He faced the light of speeding death, a smile forming on his face. It was the last thing he did. “After all,” he thought, “there’s really nothing left to live for….”
Chapter Endnotes: Yes, I know. I'm sorry if you hate me now. Reviews greatly appreciated.