But that was a long time ago, when we were children. These past five years your bravery has been extraordinary, rivalling the legendary courage of your long dead uncles, the Prewett brothers. You've saved so many lives, Ron, and it still makes me frustrated that you think of yourself as my shadow. At least Hermione agreed with me, and had the nerve to confront you about it. Remember that day when she screeched out that you were one of the bravest men she knew? And the kindest? The strongest? Everyone at Grimmauld Place heard her shout. Then there was a silence, before you came down into the kitchen and told us all that you were getting married, your head held high even if your ears were practically scarlet.
Hermione.
I wanted to comfort you when she died, but I didn't know what to say. What could I have said? What words would have been of any use? She was my friend, and it felt like my heart had been shredded when we heard the news. My head was numb and cold and disbelieving. Ten years, I'd known her, and then she was gone. But what I'm trying to say is, if I felt like that, how much worse would you be feeling? How much pain were you in? I didn't blame you when you hated me for a while. When you blamed me. Everything you said was just what I was thinking as well. If she hadn't been my friend, she wouldn't have died. Luckily Ginny was there to help me through it.
You shut down for a while, into a deadly calm which terrified the rest of the Order. You took risks no one else dared to, were insane for revenge. I knew what you were doing, of course. One night you were so injured we all thought you were going to die. I went to your room and just couldn't stop tears screwing up my face. You cried too. The first time since she died. We must have looked a right pair of prats, but it didn't matter. I told you I couldn't carry on without you, now we'd both lost Hermione. My best friend, your wife and lover. She was always there to look after us, wasn't she Ron? I told you to stop trying to get yourself killed, or you'd just end up in Heaven and get sent straight back down again by her, she might be dressed as an angel but she'd still have her prefect badge pinned to her robes. We laughed chokingly through the tears, and remembered our years with her. Remembered her sacrifice. There was no way she could have got out of where they were holding her, but she blew it up with magic mixed with Muggle explosives, took the entire place with her. She made her own choice to join this battle, and her soul would have grown bitter and stunted and small if we'd kept her out of it.
Sorry Ron I'm getting all choked up again. Got tears on your forehead and everything! I wipe them off your skin, which is getting cold, you really are ill. But it's certainly easier to express feelings when you're asleep! I know I've always been a bit closed off, a bit distant, but neither of us has ever been good with the whole sharing emotions thing. And it gets hard, when we've lost so many comrades, to share grief. When this war is over, we'll have to finally accept that all the people who've died really aren't going to come back, at the moment it doesn't seem real. Sirius. Dumbledore. Hagrid. Seamus Finnegan. Colin Creevey. Neville Longbottom. Charlie. Luna Lovegood. Hermione...The list is just too long, Ron. I have to stop this. Before the list grows longer still.
Yeah, I suppose I have to admit that's the reason for this long, maudlin ramble of mine in the dead of night. Tomorrow I'm going to confront Voldemort, and I'm afraid I won't come back. And I'm afraid I will. It sounds terrible, but there are times when I envy the fallen. At least they don't have to cope with the endless pain of grief and mourning.
God Ginny would kill me if she heard me say that! I don't truly want to die, you know that. Just having Ginny in my life is enough to live for, it just slips my mind sometimes on dark nights like these.
I tried to keep Ginny at a distance, you know that Ron. I wanted to protect her. But she just wouldn't take no for an answer, and I'm eternally grateful for that. Oops sorry mate, I suppose you don't want to hear about her practically ravishing me, but you know what I mean.
I can hear a girl crying outside the room, it worries me because so many of the Order were injured yesterday, and I know someone's going to die of their injuries. I hope and pray it isn't Lupin. That would be just too cruel, too unfair, to have him ripped from the happiness he's finally found with Tonks. You have to have hope, Ron. If Lupin's managed to survive so much grief and loss, yet still remain gentle and good and find love, you can too. No one will ever replace Hermione, to either of us, but you have to have faith that love will come to you again.
I should be moving soon, get some sleep, there's no point me confronting Voldemort while exhausted. I can still see that smudge on your nose. You look so young Ron, as you sleep. And yet you're older than me, by a few months. Always played that card, didn't you? I can't believe we're twenty four. I don't want to leave you here, lying alone in the candle light. Perhaps I can persuade Ginny to watch over you, and keep her out of the final battle. I doubt it though. I can't believe you won't be at my side tomorrow. I always thought you'd be there, at my right hand. But then I thought Hermione would be there too.
Ginny has just come quietly into the room, Ron. Her eyes are puffy and red, but she still looks beautiful.
'Harry?'
Her voice is hoarse with the tears she's shed over the night.
'Harry, he's dead. He won't wake up. You know that.'
Yes, I suppose I do know that. I've tried to forget, but I have to accept it. What I've been doing tonight is saying goodbye. I start to pull the white sheet over your cold, pale face. Goodbye, Ron. You'll see Hermione again. I love you. Tell her I love her too.
I wipe the smudge of your nose, then turn to Ginny and bury my head in her shoulder, pouring out my grief.
Dead men naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.'