Love Found

Ron was racing between trees, dodging in and out of bushes and branches and swearing to himself. Knowing that he was doing the right thing didn't seem to make it much easier. Not for his legs anyhow. His ginger hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat and he could feel trickles of it slipping down his back. It wasn't just from running for so long; he was scared out of his mind. Not only was he running for his life, but for the lives of all those in the Order, and running after the life of the one person who was jeopardizing them.

Only a few hours earlier, Ron had entered a tiny pub, one of the few where he wouldn't be recognized as a major ally of Dumbledore. He usually could pick up a little bit of information about Voldemort's movements in these sleazy pubs but every now and then he went simply to try to forget his situation. This had been one of those times. He was squinting at his reflection in the dirty, cracked mirror behind the bar. His hair was slightly matted and the circles under his eyes hung low and dark. He sighed and was about to ask the bartender for another drink when he heard a rasping voice from the table behind him.

"So kid, you thinking about joining up with us? It's not easy, not in the least," the voice was saying.

"Yeah I am, and I'm ready for anything you throw my way, I swear it!" Ron could recognize the perpetual squeak in that voice anywhere. It was Dennis Creevey, just out of Hogwarts now, but forever retaining his little boy look. Was he conversing with the enemy? It certainly sounded like he wanted to join Voldemort. Ron didn't have to wait long to find out.

"I'm tired of the way I'm treated by the Order, they don't give me the respect that I deserve! It's always about Dumbledore and Harry and Ron and Hermione; they never give me a chance!"

"I understand, I do. But we need proof that you're truly with us. You'll need to do something for us." Ron chanced a glance over his shoulder. Dennis's back was to him and Ron was entirely grateful that he wasn't in a position to recognize Ron's gangly form. As for the speaker, his hair was dull brown and greasy. There were age spots on the flesh that peeked outside of his robes and there were obvious breaks in the nose on his sallow-skinned face. He was dressed in dingy black robes, but they weren't dirty or worn enough to suggest that their wearer was involved in much direct fighting. He was most likely a mission man, one sent to find information or new people, not one of Voldemort's head companions. He was feigning a look of deep thought, his brow ruffled and eyes squinted. Ron knew that this recruiter had the whole conversation planned after choosing his target. And he had picked a great one. Dennis's flaw was that he was completely transparent; there was never any guessing at what he was thinking or how he was feeling. Now Dennis was eager, sitting on the edge of his chair. All of a sudden he spoke up, making the stranger's job even easier.

"What really gets me is that I'm around all the time and I get hardly any recognition but Ron is never around, supposedly spying but who knows what he does, and people are always talking about him, worried sick. Hermione's the worst, always crying at night and keeping that stupid picture of him in her pocket, God it's annoying. We get like one owl from him a month if that. How helpful is that? I'm at all the meetings, I know what's going on!" Ron's face was flushed a deep red. Hermione missed him? If only she knew how much he missed her, how he worked tirelessly not just for the good of the Order, but with her face in his mind as his prize for returning. Dennis's comment also caused him to slide down in his seat, trying to force his hair to be as inconspicuous as possible.

The man thought for a minute before speaking. "Well Dennis, Voldemort greatly appreciates spies, they get the highest honors with him. In fact, you are in the perfect position to do what we need you to, that is, if you are willing to accept."

"Of course I am! I will be as loyal a spy as you ever had! I have plenty of information!" Dennis pledged.

"Please, not so loud! Of course many of these folk our on our side, but you never know. We do get the occasional odd one." The rustling of cloaks and movement of the fuzzy forms in the crusty mirror told Ron that Dennis was quickly scanning the room for any tell tale signs of eaves droppers. Luckily for Ron, Dennis didn't turn himself all the way around, keeping Ron out of his range of vision.

"Listen to me, tonight, meet us at..." the gravelly voice trailed off into a whisper that Ron couldn't hear despite how hard he tried.

"Sure thing," Dennis responded firmly and the man was off without another word.

Ron's brain was working over time. What was he supposed to do? Dennis was such an inconsequential member of the Order that no one would ever suspect him of spying for a second. Despite his age, people still saw him wrapped in Hagrid's coat on his first day of school and felt slightly sorry for him. Ron's stomach flipped guiltily as he remember the times he had brushed Dennis off when he was trying to ask a question or assigned him the task of making jelly sandwiches while the rest of Grimmauld Place was making plans. They would all pay for their judgment errors now.

Ron didn't have much time. Dennis had already risen and was gathering his cloak. Ron stayed hidden until Dennis reached the door then casually sauntered after him. He waited a few moments after the door had slammed shut before slipping outside. The air was warm and hung heavy with moisture. The night was scented only with dust and heat, not the flowers, grass and food Ron was used to at the burrow, back before the war forced his permanent residence to be the dark, dismal Grimauld place. Ron shook his head, he couldn't let memories of his home and the people he loved distract him. He stole after Dennis, who was headed down the dirt road to woods that loomed large and threatening in the hazy evening.

As he hurried along he tried to formulate a plan. He wanted to believe that he'd be able to sway Dennis, but he also knew that once Dennis had his heart set on something, it was difficult to persuade him otherwise. Like when he had been convinced that he should be the test subject for all of Fred and George's new products. Everyone warned him that he was making a stupid mistake, but as many times as he was hurt, sick or transformed, he never complained once. Not even when he was puking up purple slugs during his potions final. And now, even more was at stake then Dennis's well being, although Ron was sure that Dennis would be killed as soon as he told the men what they wanted to know. He was much too weak and vulnerable to be of any use to Voldemort.

By the time he had reached the forest he had almost caught up with his target. Ron prayed silently for safety and courage and, as he always did before a mission, sent his love to Hermione. She didn't know that he loved her of course. But then he remembered what Dennis had said. She cried over him? Maybe there was a chance that--crack. Someone, someone behind Ron, had stepped on a twig. He stopped and slowly turned. He didn't see anyone but heard heavy breathing. When Ron spun back around Dennis was staring at him in fright.

"RON!"

"Dennis, please! We're being followed!" Ron said as harshly but as quietly as he could. But it was too late. Footsteps started behind him so Ron took off after Dennis.

"He's chasing me, help!" yelled Dennis to the people behind Ron.

'So they're Voldemort's men,' thought Ron. 'Great.'

So now he was running, tripping really, through the forest, trying to get to Dennis and trying to get away from the Death Eaters. He was gaining on Dennis when the path turned weedy and disappeared. Dennis tripped on a root and fell, giving Ron just enough time to tackle him. Ron was straddling Dennis, sitting on his chest with his hands on his shoulders near his throat, prevent him from moving. Dennis was gasping for breath.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Ron said through clenched teeth. "You can't turn on the Order like this! Think of what Voldemort has done to so many people, everyone he's killed! We need you at the Order Dennis, please! You can't do this!" The footsteps drew nearer with every word Ron spoke.

"This is what I was meant to do Ron," Dennis spat. "They will appreciate me; I'll do great things!" Ron shuddered.

"After you tell them what they want to know, they will kill you like they've killed all their other informants, Dennis. I'm trying to help you!"

Dennis growled and shoved Ron off of him. Ron jumped back. He had to make a decision. He only wanted to survive this war and for all of his friends and family to survive. He knew that Dennis would give up the information no matter what--information that kept the Order safe. There really was only one thing that he could do. He would have to face the consequences later, and the emotional turmoil would follow him forever but it was the best choice, the only choice.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!!!!!" Ron shouted at Dennis's back. Time seemed to stop for Ron as he saw the green light emerge from his wand. Dennis's knees buckled as it hit him and he fell forward, his face smashing on the hard dirt floor. Ron's heart was in his throat and he felt like he was going to pass out. What had he done? But he could ponder this question no more because time hadn't stopped and he felt hands grab his arms roughly.

"He killed the kid," the voice from the pub said, sounding shocked and a little impressed. Ron was fighting to get away but he couldn't think straight. He was exhausted and Dennis's face kept floating in his mind. "Maybe we shoulda thought about asking you to come with us!" The man laughed harshly and snatched Ron's wand right out of his hand. "Want to do the honors Blake?" he asked the other man.

They were going to kill him, Ron thought. He barely had the energy to move, let alone to run away. His mind was clouded with what he had just done. Was it the right thing to do? Hadn't it been the only thing? If he hadn't killed him but just detained him, Dennis would have gotten back to Voldemort as soon as Ron left him. Or, if he were alive and not bound at all, Dennis would be rattling off hiding places and plans right now. Ron had made the right choice, didn't he? He couldn't think. He just wanted to be home, at the burrow, in his bedroom, a place he hadn't been safely in so many years.

"Why aren't we taking him to Voldemort?" Blake asked.

"Cause he's too dangerous. We were always told if we caught anybody but Harry or Dumbledore to just do em in on our own. And we can't let word of this get out to the other side...otherwise they'll close up tight and we won't be able to persuade another spy for a while. So, you wanna do it, or should I?"

"Eh, I never cared much for doing it, just watching."

"Here goes then," the pub man said and shoved Ron to the ground. He hit his head, causing his vision to go fuzzy for a few moments. But he still heard the man's voice.

"CRUCIO!!!" Ron's body was racked with pain and he began to scream. But it was over after only a few seconds. He heard a laugh and then the curse again. It lasted longer this time and Ron writhed on the ground holding his stomach then his head. His own cries filled his ears and he waited for death to come. But then the pain subsided. He was too weak to open his eyes and he heard the man comment to Blake, "He's done for. The kid was so worn down anyhow it didn't take much. He's probably dead already, but just to be sure, loquintum denasal." Ron recognized in his hazy state the death curse used even more frequently by death eaters than avada kedavra. It was a curse for a certain but slow death.

Now all Ron had to do was wait. He couldn't believe he had been taken down this way. He could hear the men laughing and tromping off through the forest. They were headed for the pub where they were going to have a drink, then come back for Ron's body. How could they do that? Kill someone then run off like it was nothing? It was different, Ron supposed, since he was their enemy, while Dennis--Dennis was a, well had been, a friend. Ron could feel any last strength escaping him. He was losing the energy and even the desire to breathe. Then he remembered her. Hermione. His eyes flew open and his heart beat faster. She was at home, waiting for him.

'I never told her!' Ron's thoughts were jumbled and he struggled to get words straight, even in his mind. 'I love her. So much. Her hair. Her eyes are...brown? Yes brown. She always has a smile in her eyes. Even when we fight. She tells me the same thing every time I leave, the same thing. 'Be careful Ron, and come back.' Hug. She gives me a hug. Everyone does. Hers is different. I think. Tighter. Deeper.' His eyes tried to close. He forced them open. The stars winked at him through the treetops and he felt warm. He wanted only to hold her. 'I never got to kiss her. She kisses me. On the cheek. When I come back home. 'Safe until tomorrow,' she says. I miss her.'

His heart ached and he pictured his orange bedroom again. His bed was kind of lumpy but in a soft and comfy way. He pictured his mother calling him to breakfast. He would never see her again either. Never smell the fresh laundry on the line. Never de-gnome the garden after getting in trouble. He would never see Fred and George or eat one of their horrible Wizard Wheezes. His father was so sought after by the Death Eaters because of his love of muggles...Ron hoped that he would live to see the end of the war. He swallowed painfully. Ginny was beautiful now. It would be up to the twins to fight off the young men who would be scrambling to marry her. Ron was too exhausted to cry. Bill and Charlie were always going to be big and handsome and working hard. Ron had been looking forward to getting to know them as men, rather than just as his older brothers. Percy, Percy had turned on them, and they hadn't spoken in years. But Ron forgave him now, wishing he could hear his stern voice echo again in the stone halls of Hogwarts. What about wizened old Dumbledore? What would happen to him? He was getting so old, but still so powerful. He would help take care of everyone, Ron knew. Hagrid had been the first casualty closest to Ron. He had been such a good, kind man. He never meant anyone harm and was more loyal than anyone Ron had ever met. At least Ron would get to meet Hagrid in whatever waited for him beyond the veil. That's how the Order had come to refer to death. They felt it gave too much credit to say that the Death Eaters killed someone. Plus, the memory of the person would always live on, so it seemed as if they were always just out of reach, around a corner, behind a veil. They had Sirius to thank for that idea. With the thought of Sirius came many of Harry, his best friend. Ron would never fly with him again. Would Harry ever come to terms with the loss of his parents? What kind of life would Harry lead after the war? The two of them had had plans to get a flat together, to live the easy lives of bachelors for a few years. Now, that would never happen. They wouldn't even laugh or make fun of Malfoy together. If there was even such a thing as laughter after the wretched war. And Malfoy, why was Malfoy alive while Ron was dying?

Ron stopped his mind from going further. It wouldn't do any good to be bitter he told himself. He was losing consciousness quickly and surely didn't want his final thoughts to be of Malfoy. He had to concentrate on happiness and beauty. He focused again on Hermione as his eyes closed for good. He held her in his arms and whispered his love into her hair. She smiled at him and he kissed her.