I stormed out into the rainy darkness, a ring of heat encircling my neck where the Horcrux had lain moments before. Hermione shouted my name over and over, but there was no going back; no way I could stand the sight of them for a second longer with their jumping up and down over whatever the hell Phineas Nigellus had said and their oh-so-happy togetherness … The raindrops pounded against my skin but offered no relief from the chain’s burns or from the fire that had filled my chest at watching my best friend and the girl I loved carrying on as if I didn’t exist. A wrenching pain in the pit of my stomach made me hesitate at the edge of the protective enchantments that she had put up. Did I really want to leave? Stay or go? Hermione…
“Ron “ please!”
The sound of her pleas enraged me again as I rubbed the stinging at the back of my neck, turned on the spot, and Disapparated.
“No! Ron! Come back!” she cried, feet squelching through the muddy earth as they left the shelter of the tent.
And then I was gone.
I had no clear idea of where I was going, but even if I did, how could I have known what I’d run right into? There were five of them lazing against a fence. I recognized the spot almost instantly -- right at the end of Hogsmeade where we had once met with Sirius Black when he was still a man on the run, much like I’d become. I smelled the clear air, remembering all the past trips into the village with Harry and Hermione; the sky was overcast but not releasing any drops just yet. Just down the road, I could barely make out the Shrieking Shack and recalled a time when it was just her and me…
How could I have been so stupid? I kicked at the hard, frosty earth in frustration. How could I have left them like that? I had promised Harry…and the look on Hermione’s face - the corners of her eyes sparkling in the lamplight, her mouth twisting as she made her choice…. She had made her choice, damn her, and she chose him!
But of course she chose him. I tore at my hair and punched my fist into my hand. Hermione would never have left the job we set out to do unfinished. If it hadn’t been for the Horcrux, I would have seen that, wouldn’t I? I searched the blackness for an answer, noticing the mysterious way the clouds swirled against the dark backdrop. The wind had picked up , and I realized for the first time that my clothes were dripping and that a chill had worked its way up my back. I wondered if dementors were around and prepared to Disapparate.
What I failed to notice, unfortunately, was that the five young men, not much older than me, had spotted and taken an abnormal interest in me. They approached with wands drawn.
“Oi! You there! Just a bleedin’ minute! We want a word!” said one, stocky and bandy-legged with his wand clenched tightly in his fist.
My mind spun nearly out of control, but I held on to the hope that if I could manage to escape soon, I might have a chance of getting back to Hermione and Harry.
A second bloke, my height with curly, blond hair, came to stand right beside me and looked me over with a sneer. “Shouldn’t you be in school then? Hey, Orville, I think we’ve got ourselves a Mudblood on the run!”
The one called Orville, who stood head and shoulders above the one next to me and smelled loads worse than my ghoul, grinned to show rotting teeth. He spoke slowly, squeezing out each word as if it were a chore. “What’s your name?”
Fully alert now, I saw that two more had flanked me on either side, and I felt the point of a wand sticking into my sodden clothes. Fighting panic, I searched my memory for the name of someone who was already done with school, but not someone who would be in danger if it attention was brought to them. Someone not too bright... And then it came to me.
“Er…I’m uh…Stan. Stan Shunpike. I’m no Mudblood “ just er…taking a day off of work. I’ve been out of school a full five years already.”
“He’s lying,” said the bandy-legged man. “Written all over ‘is face, it is. Let’s take ‘im to the Ministry anyway and let them sort ‘im out. If he’s not a Mudblood, we’ll be long gone with the reward money.”
“No,” came a girlish voice to my left. “If we’re wrong, the next time we capture someone, the Ministry won’t believe us. We have to make sure.”
“Who has the list?” a deep voice from behind asked.
“That list is out of date,” said Bandy. “We should take him now!”
“Oh sure, you moron! Maybe we should just summon You-Know-Who directly. I’m sure he’ll give us an even bigger reward!” said Girly-voice.
“Look, it wasn’t my fault that your stupid brother messed up the last time “ ” Bandy retorted.
“Hey! Who are you calling stupid?” the huge oaf joined in.
I listened to all of this with a mixture of fear, disbelief, and even a touch of amusement. What stupid gits! The person to my left (I was unsure if it was male or female with that voice) suddenly lunged at Bandy , and I saw my opportunity.
As the smelly troll and the one to my right moved to break up the scuffle, I turned, punched the one behind me in the gut, grabbed his wand, retrieved my own with a well-placed spell, and Apparated away.
I landed with a thump in the north of nowhere with my last two fingers screaming bloody murder at me. Damn, I thought, Splinched again, but at least it was only two fingernails this time. No less than I deserved. Not only was I a bloody deserter, but I had also forgotten the Destination part of basic Apparition. “I must be near the mountains where the bloody giants live. Idiot!” I said to the chill wind before plopping down to think. I needed to find Hermione and Harry before they left that riverbank.
I spent the next several hours, straight through, past daybreak, Apparating and Disapparating along that river, hoping to find them. Finally, as the droplets slid down into my collar for the thousandth time, I knew I had failed: I had failed her; I had failed Harry; I had failed everything and everyone that had ever meant anything to me. There was nowhere to go.
So, I walked, trudging aimlessly through the rain and mud all day long. Hermione’s voice haunted me, and I kept hearing Harry’s words, “Go!” taunting me to run back to Mum’s skirts. But there was no returning home. How could I bear the look of disappointment and shame that would have been in Mum’s eyes? How could I withstand the jeering of my brothers or survive the rage of my sister? Honestly, I might just welcome the abuse; it would probably be less than the abuse I was heaping on myself.
I ended up at an old barn occupied by a sagging mare who could have been a close relative to a Thestral, a couple of lazy sheep, and a fat calico cat that reminded me of Crookshanks. I huddled into a pile of hay, trying to ignore the smell of dung, and stared up at the barn roof, waiting until morning.
It was before dawn when I decided that there was only one person I could go to: Bill. Apparating too close to his home would have been suicidal, so I got within about a half mile and walked the rest of the way. I knew that Bill was an early riser since he had to be at Gringotts before it opened, so I knocked on the door with numb fingers that were turning a grayish-blue and eyes that were barely staying open. The knot in my belly could have been from sadness or hunger but was probably a bit of both. There was a shuffling behind the door, and then a light went on inside.
“Identify yourself,” croaked Bill.
“It’s Ron. Bill, please…” What could I say? Help me? I deserved to be left out here to rot.
“Ron? What did Fred and George do to your teddy when you were a baby?” he asked.
“They turned it into a spider, and I’ve been terrified of spiders ever since.”
With a series of clicks, the door creaked open, and Bill’s eyes flew wide open. He reached for me. “Ron, what’s happened? Where are the others?”
I collapsed across the threshold.
Weeks and Weeks by Ravensgryff
Chapter Notes: Thanks so much to Marauder by Midnight and Vindictus Viridian for beta reading!