Sacrifice

Sacrifice

"Yes..." said Ron softly, "it's the only way...I've got to be taken."

"You've got to make some sacrifices!"

They'd always known, of course. It had never really been about them, or Sirius or even Dumbledore. It had always been about Harry. Right from their first meeting, Ron had known that no matter what happened, Harry was the one who had to survive. Harry was the one who had to go on. After the truth of the prophecy came out, it had only reinforced this truth. Harry was all that mattered.

Not that this meant that everyone else was superfluous. Harry needed Hermione, with her cool logic and ready answers, even if they were sometimes wrong. Yes, he needed Hermione to steady him, to help him learn and to always be there to rely on.

But Ron...did Harry need Ron? He had never been sure, never seen his role in Harry's life and this had led to bitter jealousy and insecurity. He has always felt like an extra, the spare Weasley. There was Bill, cool beyond description; Charlie with his passion for dragons; Percy with his intelligence and ambition; Fred and George with a ready wit and imagination none could match and Ginny, special simply by being female, but also proving herself resourceful and determined. And then Ron. Average, unremarkable Ron, tagger-on to the Boy Who Lived. No wonder his fear of never amounting to anything sometimes swamped him.

Bitter feuds had broken out, Ron attacking both Harry and Hermione in his self-destructive panic, the friendship splintering and shattering until one fateful fight when all three had gone their separate ways.

Of course, it hadn't lasted more than a few weeks. Ron, raised in such a dynamic family, had always accepted that part of loving someone was having furious arguments and then making up; Hermione also recognised this in a colder, more sensible way.

But Harry...well, what did Harry know of love and relationships? Everyone he loved had left him, his parents sacrificing themselves for him and then Sirius, falling in battle because of his stubbornness...Harry, believing himself forever alone, had simply collapsed.

It had been Remus who found him, Remus who in knowing James and Lily so well had seen their traits in Harry and guessed what he might do. It was the only time Ron praised Harry's upbringing, for in ignorance of many magical solutions, he had used simple, Muggle methods and those were easily fixed.

Pale and terrified, Ron and Hermione had reconciled in the frantic flight to St. Mungo's and in that orgy of guilt and recrimination, gained a closeness they had both aspired to for many years.

Hermione had broken down at the sight of Harry, gaunt from blood loss, grey skin standing out against white bandages, seemingly a child in the huge bed. But it had been Ron Harry turned to, Ron who he begged wordlessly to stay. It had been Ron that he had clung to, and it was Ron whom he extracted promises from. Ron and Hermione's eyes had met and Ron had finally realised something that Hermione had always known.

Given the trauma and misery that had marked Harry's life, expecting normality from him was a little strange, yet they all had. But Harry was not normal, could not form normal relationships. As he entered the wizarding world, he had been given a choice, and he had chosen Ron. Later, he had chosen Hermione, and without their presence, their dual steadying power, Harry simply couldn't cope with the crushing weight of destiny he had to live with.

Hermione was his reassurance, with her logic and knowledge and steadiness.

But Ron was his passion, his emotion and drive and heart.

***

The darkness was absolute, yet Ron could reach out and unerringly trace the line of her jaw. He could picture her features, could sense the smile he could not see, and almost felt her touch before the fingertips grazed his lips. She was little more than a shadow, yet her presence seemed to fill the room. He felt her shift closer and stirred in response, inhaling the clean scent of her hair -

- the scream tore through the darkness, high and shrill like a wounded animal -

and they were rising, running, Hermione first into the next room where Harry sat bolt upright, eyes glassy, still trembling in fear. Hermione sat and pulled him into a maternal embrace, cooing and soothing, rocking him like a child.

The burning eyes blinked slowly, coming into focus and searching for Ron.

Harry shook Hermione off, who rose and stepped away without response. Ron took her place and Harry clung to him, hands tightening around his neck, burying his face in Ron's chest. Ron stroked the dark hair and felt Harry relax; but after a few moments Harry's body tensed again, this time stirring and pressing himself more tightly against Ron.

Soft footsteps indicated Hermione's departure, and Ron looked up from Harry to stare into Hermione's brown eyes as she hesitated at the doorway. Regret, sadness and resignation - a mirror of his own. Hermione left and Ron returned his attention to Harry, intent on pleasing and soothing this child of fate, this boy on whom everything rested.

In war, we must all make sacrifices.

Harry was the one who mattered.