FicWad

It all started with a dream about Hermione. Strange as it may seem, the dream couldn’t even be classified as erotic. In it, Ron and Hermione were just strolling across a green field, talking and picking flowers. It was that innocent. Nonetheless, Ron awoke from it feeling hornier than he could ever remember being. He had fancied Hermione before, but rather half-heartedly; those feelings couldn’t hold a handle to the overpowering desire that was now surging through his body. He got up, went to the bathroom and wanked, thinking it would settle the matter. And so it did. For a whole ten minutes. Then images of Hermione began to fill his head, and the python in his pants raised its head once again. This time his arousal was, if possible, even stronger. Ron spent the rest of the night fantasizing about Hermione. He got up while the other boys were still sleeping, made another trip to the bathroom, taking time to wank in the shower, then got dressed and went down to the still deserted common room. He took a seat in one of the armchairs by the fireplace and, for the lack of better things to do, began skimming through his Transfiguration notes, Hermione out of his mind for the moment.

Soon Gryffindor tower filled with the usual morning noises, and people started drifting into the common room. Ron waited until Harry came down, and they started off for the Great Hall.

“You all right?” asked Harry as they made their way to the portrait hole.

“Huh?”

“I don’t remember you ever getting up so early. You usually sleep like a log.”

“Oh, I just…uh…had a bad dream,” lied Ron. “Didn’t feel like sleeping after that.”

“Was it about – ?” Harry didn’t finish, but Ron knew he was talking about last summer’s events.

“Yeah,” mumbled Ron. He felt uncomfortable lying to Harry on the subject – Harry was still having a good deal of nightmares himself – but he didn’t want to admit he’d been mentally banging their best friend. If it had been some other girl…well, Ron probably would have lied anyway. Harry wasn’t in the mood for such talk, still grieving about his loss.

“Morning!” said a voice behind them. It was Hermione. She looked no different than the day before, but Ron was seeing her in an entirely new light. How come he hadn’t given proper attention to those breasts she had grown over the summer? Or her legs? The school robes weren’t very revealing, but Ron still could see her elegant hips moving underneath the black cloth. “Curse those robes!” he thought. “Why can’t they introduce something more modern, for Merlin’s sake? Twenty-first century is at hand, and we still dress like it’s the Middle Ages.”

“Ron? Is something wrong?” asked Hermione, raising an eyebrow.

“Huh? No, nothing!” said Ron with a flush as he realized he’d been staring.

“Are you sure? You had such a funny look on your face –”

“No, it’s nothing, really! So,” he added, hastily changing the subject, “how’s your Arithmancy going?”

Hermione gave him another suspicious look, but began telling them about her Arithmancy lessons, and by the time they got to the Great Hall Ron was already regretting that he hadn’t asked something else. Still, there were advantages. Ron had kept falling slightly behind to have a look at Hermione’s butt, and Hermione had been so busy explaining the finer points of Arithmancy that she hadn’t noticed.

Ron was careful to take a seat next to Hermione at the Gryffindor table. The feeling of her leg pressing slightly against his was delicious and tantalizing at the same time. She and Harry were discussing Voldemort and his Death Eaters (there had been several new killings recently), but right now Ron couldn’t care less about Voldemort. All he could think about was stripping Hermione of her robes and having sex with her right there on the Gryffindor table. He had to exercise all of his self-control to keep from putting this wonderful plan into action. He looked at her hands – they were so elegant, so soft, with thin, long-nailed fingers…Ron pictured one of those hands gripping his cock and came in his pants with a soft moan. Harry and Hermione stopped talking and looked at him with quizzical expressions on their faces.

“Ron, are you all right?” asked Hermione.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine,” managed Ron, going red as Voldemort’s eyes. “I…um, just excuse me for a minute.”

He got up hastily and walked away, leaving Harry and Hermione in complete puzzlement.

“He’s acting very strangely today, don’t you think?” said Hermione, looking after Ron.

“Yeah,” said Harry. “He got up very early this morning, you know. Said he’d had a nightmare.”

Things didn’t improve as the day progressed. Ron had to return to Gryffindor tower to change, and as a result, he was late for Transfiguration, earning an icy look from Professor McGonagall. They were starting Conjuring Spells that day, an important subject, and McGonagall was giving a long introductory lecture. Ron, however, soon found his attention wandering back to Hermione.

They are in the classroom, alone. He grabs her and starts kissing her, devouring her mouth, his hands in her bushy hair, hers caressing his back. He can feel her warm body pressing against his, rubbing at his erection. His lips move from her mouth to her neck, his hands dropping down to grip her tight buttocks. Soft moans of pleasure are escaping her mouth. Her right hand is now buried in his hair, moving back and forth. The feeling is wonderful. He lifts her and sets her on a desk, and she wraps her legs around him. He puts his hands on the collar of her robe and rips it open down to the waist. She is completely naked underneath. Her breasts are full and ripe, with hard pale nipples. He cups them with his hands and squeezes them, hard. She smiles and gives him a slutty look that almost sends him over the edge. He feels her hand grip his aching cock through his clothes and growls with pleasure. He lowers his head and sucks at her nipple, then bites it gently. She grips his robe by the collar and rips it open, just as he did hers. The robe falls to the floor. His cock is protruding over the edge of his pants, crying to be released. She unbuttons his pants – her knuckle touches the frenulum of his penis, almost making him come – and they fall to the floor, too. An immense feeling of power is surging through him like an electric current. He presses her down against the desktop and pulls the remnants of her robe off her, stepping out of his pants as he does. She is wearing no underwear. The sight of the crevice between her legs is too much for him. He drives his cock inside her up to the balls just as she cries, “Mr. Weasley, could you please repeat what I just said?”

Ron blinked stupidly. He was in the Transfiguration classroom, and every face was now turned to him, including Professor McGonagall’s, who had asked the question.

“Er…” croaked Ron. He realized that his forehead was running with sweat, as well as his hands, and his mouth was as dry as the Sahara desert. He must have looked very comical, because several people laughed. Ron felt his insides turn to ice under Professor McGonagall’s murderous gaze. His cock collapsed inside his pants, as if a supporting rod had been removed from it, and began shrinking quickly. It would probably crawl as far back in its burrow as possible, if it had one.

“Well?” demanded Professor McGonagall.

“Mmm…” was all Ron could manage.

“This is unbelievable!” hissed Professor McGonagall, her nostrils flaring. “Not only do you come to my class two minutes late, but you don’t even bother paying attention when I’m explaining one of the most important topics of this semester! It is impertinence the likes of which I have never encountered! Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley, and next time it will be detention as well!”

Ron would rather face Voldemort and all of his Death Eaters armed with nothing but his bare hands than be in that classroom right now. His face was burning. Professor McGonagall gave him one final furious look and resumed her lecture on Conjuring Spells just as Harry hissed, “What the hell is the matter with you?”

McGonagall’s lecture was followed by a practical task: they had to conjure a napkin out of thin air. Needless to say that Ron failed, although he was among the majority.

“Make sure you practice in your free time, because next time such poor results will not be tolerated,” said Professor McGonagall at the end of the class. ”And you, Mr. Weasley, will also have to hand in an essay on Conjuring Spells, four feet long. And it better be a good one. Class dismissed.”

“How could you not be listening, this is one of the most important topics of the year,” Hermione was bugging Ron a couple of minutes later. “You had such a stupid look on your face, I swear I could have hit you if I’d been close enough. What’s gotten into you, Ron?”

“I, uh, feel a bit unwell,” mumbled Ron.

“Then go to Madam Pomfrey,” said Harry.

“No, it’s not that bad, I’ll manage fine on my own,” said Ron, trying to sound convincing. Harry and Hermione looked at him doubtfully.

Their next class was Herbology. This time they were trimming Mongolian Dragonheads, highly useful plants with vicious biting jaws at the ends of their prickly stems. Professor Sprout divided them all into pairs: one student was to hold the plant by its “neck”, while the other was clipping its sprouts. Ron got paired with Harry and was tasked with holding the plant because he was slightly stronger than his small and skinny friend. The Dragonhead resisted furiously at first, but then its thrusts and wriggles subsided because it must have realized the futility of resistance. And now that the plant wasn’t drawing all of Ron’s attention anymore, it again switched to Hermione, who was working nearby…

They are standing in the deserted greenhouse, both of them naked. He is groping her from behind, his penis rubbing deliciously against her buttocks. One of his hands slides down from her breast and snakes its way in between her legs. A shiver runs through her body as his finger finds her clitoris and starts massaging it, while two other fingers part the labia and slide inside her. It is hot and wet inside. Unable to take it any longer, she cries: “Fuck me! Fuck me NOW!”

He forces her to the ground, on all fours, and drives his cock deep inside her. The cold, hard floor underneath his knees contrasts wonderfully with the wet, hot tightness around his penis. He is still for a few seconds, savouring the moment, then starts thrusting, first slowly, then faster and faster. He grips her by the shoulders to pull her towards him, trying to penetrate her as deeply as possible while she gasps, “Oh, Ron, oh, Ron, oh, Ron, what are you DOING?!”

Ron started. Everyone was looking at him again. He realized that the Dragonhead had gone strangely limp in his grasp and, looking down, he saw its head dangling lifelessly from his fist. It seemed that he had strangled it.

“Mr. Weasley, what have you done?!” shrieked Professor Sprout. ”It was a very valuable plant! Fifteen points from Gryffindor!”

Ron wanted to die at once. If in Transfiguration the Gryffindors had been more amsued than anything else, now they were looking at him with outright hatred. He had lost their House twenty-five points in the space of two hours. The Hufflepuffs were whispering something to each other and sniggering. Luckily for Ron, the bell rang at that moment signifying the end of the class.

“Uh, Harry? I think you’re right, I’ll go to Madam Pomfrey,” mumbled Ron, avoiding Harry’s gaze. “I’m really not feeling so well. Tell Hagrid I’m in the hospital wing.” Ron could imagine what Malfoy would say when he heard this, but the prospect of enduring his classmates’ hateful looks for another hour was even worse.

“Okay,” Harry said, giving him a troubled look.

Naturally, Ron didn’t go to Madam Pomfrey; there was nothing she could do for him. He went to the dormitory instead and slumped on his bed with a groan. He had to do something about this, and quickly, or he’d put Gryffindor House in the last place in no time, not to mention ruin his academic progress. But what? The first, and most natural way out was to seduce Hermione, but this was easier said than done. Hermione didn’t seem interested in sex at all – spoke about it with disdain, as a matter of fact – plus, she was now going more or less steady with a boy from Ravenclaw, which would make Ron’s already seemingly impossible task even harder. No, that wouldn’t do. He’d have to resort to magic. Ron was quite sure that there existed a lust potion; if he managed to obtain some and slip it to Hermione, his problem would be solved. He suspected that there also existed a potion that alleviated one’s lust, which would also be a solution, but Ron didn’t like it, because he enjoyed being horny, for all the problems it caused him. That left the lust potion. To brew one, Ron was going to need a recipe, the ingredients, a cauldron, and a place to do it.

The latter two were relatively easy. Ron wasn’t taking Potions anymore, but he could buy a cheap cauldron in Hogsmeade, and as for the place, he could use Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. The recipe and ingredients, however, presented a problem. Ron was pretty sure that the recipe for a lust potion could only be found in Most Potente Potions, a book they had borrowed from the Restricted Section of the library in their second year. But presently they had no teacher dim-witted enough to give a student a note of permission for a book from the Restricted Section just like that. He’d have to sneak in, and that meant using Harry’s invisibility cloak, which Ron wasn’t at all sure that Harry would lend him. Finally, the potion was bound to require some ingredients that could only be found in Snape’s office, and breaking into Snape’s office would be very difficult and dangerous even with the invisibility cloak. But here Ron decided that he was putting the cart in front of the horse and that he’d better go to the library and check out the potions books in the general section.

Dictum – factum. Ron got to his feet and hurried off to the library; he wanted to be done before the other Gryffindors had finished their lunch and come to the library, too.

Once in the library – that was, to Ron’s relief, almost deserted – he headed for the potions section. He knew where to start; standing on his tiptoes, he reached up and pulled a thick black volume entitled A Potions Index from its shelf. The book contained the names of all known potions with references to books where they were mentioned. Ron had feared that the lust potion might go by some other, more fancy name, but he was lucky; it was listed in the Index by that very name, coming right after Love Potion. The entry was followed by a list of reference books; Most Potente Potions was there, just as Ron had expected, along with several others. Ron scribbled down the titles on a piece of parchment and was about to put the volume back on its shelf when an all-too-familiar voice asked, “And what might you be doing here, Mr. Weasley?”

Ron whipped around. Snape had just come round the corner and was now eyeing him suspiciously.

“Looking for some information,” said Ron. “That’s what the library is for, after all.”

“What kind of information might you be looking for in A Potions Index? You are not taking my classes anymore, and I find it hard to believe that you have become suddenly interested in my subject. You are probably going to brew some illicit potion,” said Snape, his eyes narrowing.

“I – ”

“I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Mr. Weasley,” said Snape. “Now get out of here. You have no business in this section of the library.”

Ron left, shooting Snape a dirty look. Not that he would have stayed even if Snape hadn’t said anything. He didn’t feel like being alone with Snape, let alone giving him more clues as to what he might be up to.

Ron didn’t go far, though. He halted three rows down the aisle and stood there listening. When he heard Snape walking away, he returned to the potions section, took out his list and scanned the shelves for any of the books mentioned in the Index entry. Of course, it would be easier to ask Madam Pince, but Ron felt he had already aroused more suspicions than necessary. As he had expected, none of the books he needed seemed to be there. That only left the Restricted Section.

His work done, Ron quickly left the library and headed back to Gryffindor tower. He went up to the dormitory, lay on his bed and was off for another trip to the wonderful land where no one existed but him and Hermione, and where fucking was the only thing on Hermione’s mind.

When he couldn’t resist it any longer, Ron jacked off, squirting the dormitory floor. He cleared away the traces of his daydreaming with his wand and flopped down on his bed, feeling exhausted. When his heartbeat had dropped back to normal, and his head had cleared, Ron thought he’d better make a start on his Defense Agaisnt the Dark Arts essay while he was still able to think of anything except Hermione. He was in the middle of writing it when the door opened, and Harry and Hermione came in.

“Oh, hi,” said Ron.

“How are you?” asked Hermione.

“Better, thanks. Madam Pomfery gave me something to drink, and I felt better at once. How did Hagrid’s class go?”

“Everyone was still in one piece when the bell rang, so I guess it went fine. Well, if you’re all right, I’d better get going, or I’ll be late for Ancient Runes.”

“Okay. Thanks for dropping by to check on me.”

“You’re welcome. See you.”

Hermione left.

“You really don’t look too well,” said Harry. “You sure you’re fine?”

“Yeah. Say, Harry,” said Ron, running his hand through his hair and avoiding Harry’s gaze, “could you do me a favour?”

“Sure, mate. What is it?”

“Could I…could I borrow your invisibility cloak for tonight?”

“Borrow my invisibility cloak?” repeated Harry, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “What for?”

“I, uh, need to look something up in the Restricted Section.” Ron’s ears were pink now.

Harry’s eyebrows were now almost meeting his hairline. “What on earth could that be?” he asked.

“Well, I, um, can’t tell you right now,” said Ron, shifting uncomfortably under Harry’s stare.

“You can’t tell me? Why?”

“Well, it’s sort of hard to explain…”

“I thought we were friends,” said Harry, sounding hurt. “I thought we could trust each other.”

“I do trust you!” said Ron. “It’s just that…I can’t tell you. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Maybe I will, why don’t you try me?”

“No, I really can’t, Harry. Please, mate…it’s very important…”

Harry thought this over.

“Oh, what the hell,” he said finally. “We are friends, after all. I’ll lend you the cloak, but you want to be careful. I almost got caught when I sneaked into the Restricted Section, remember?”

Ron beamed.

“Thanks, mate,” he said, getting up and giving Harry a rough hug. “You’re my savior.”

“Well, well,” Harry said, laughing, “that really wasn’t necessary.” He looked at Ron with playful suspicion. “Say, you aren’t going to find out how to turn me gay, are you?”

“Of course not. I know you’ll be in my bed the moment I ask you.”

“Fuck you,” said Harry, nudging Ron in the ribs.

“I know you’d love to, but I have more traditional preferences.”

“Why, you – ” Harry lunged at Ron, and they had a mock fight. They ended up on Ron’s bed, panting and laughing their heads off, just like good old times.

“Lumos,” said Ron, and the tip of his wand ignited, casting a bluish light onto the shelves of thick old volumes.

His trip to the library had been quite uneventful; he had encountered no one but a couple of ghosts. Now he was at his destination – the Restricted Section.

“All right, then,” muttered Ron, producing the list of the books he needed and starting to scan the shelves, using his wand as a searchlight. The Restricted Section wasn’t very big, and very soon he was already pulling Most Potente Potions from its shelf. He opened it with some trepidation – what if it started screaming or something? – but nothing of the kind happened.

“So far, so good,” muttered Ron, turning the pages. And there it was – a recipe for the Lust Potion. Ron brought his wand closer to the page and read it. Most ingredients looked quite common to Ron; he was sure he would be able to buy them all in Hogsmeade. He would also need something from the person (that wouldn’t be a problem; he could always pluck a hair from Hermione’s mane) and –

“Dragon sperm,” muttered Ron. “They definitely don’t sell it in Hogsmeade – and even if they do, I’ll never be able to afford it. Oh shit, that’s what I was afraid of. I’ll have to break into Snape’s office.”

“Will you really, Mr. Weasley?” said someone behind him.

Ron let out a scream, dropping both the book and his wand. The wand’s light went out, but a second later another wand ignited, blinding Ron. He threw up his hand to shield his eyes and squinted from behind it, already knowing whom he would see. He felt despair drowning him, as if a Dementor were neraby.

“Well, well, what have we here?” said Snape, his voice triumphant, his eyes glinting. “A student out of bed, in the Restricted Section of the library, looking up a recipe for the Lust Potion and planning to break into a teacher’s office to steal a valuable substance. Oh, this is RICH.” — He advanced at Ron, who was cowering at the base of the bookcase. — “This time I’ll have you thrown out, Mr. Weasley. And maybe not just you. I see Potter’s invisibility cloak, which makes him your accomplice. Oh, this is just WONDERFUL.” Snape let out a cold, cruel laugh.

“Please, Professor…” whined Ron. “Please, I’ll do anything you want… anything… just don’t tell anybody…”

“Anything?” repeated Snape, tracing his chin with a finger. His eyes glittered with ugly anticipation. “Very well, then… why don’t you lick my boots, for starters?”

“What?” gasped Ron.

“You heard me, Weasley. Lick my boots, or we’ll go straight to the Headmaster.”

Ron slowly lowered his head, his face screwed up in disgust, and quickly stroked Snape’s boot with his tongue.

“Now, that won’t do, Mr. Weasley,” said Snape. “I want you to do it slowly and methodically. I want you to POLISH my boots with your tongue. Now do it!”

Ron complied, keeping his eyes shut and trying to think of something else. Snape was watching him with savage pleasure.

“Yessss,” he hissed. “Oh, how I wish it were Potter here instead of you... go on, go on, Mr. Weasley…I want them to SHINE.”

“I want you DEAD,” thought Ron, going about his less-than-pleasant task.

“All right, that’s enough, Mr. Weasley,” finally said Snape. “Now put the book on its shelf and follow me.”

“So this isn’t over?!” Ron thought in horror, doing as he was told. Snape picked up the invisibility cloak and Ron’s wand, grabbed Ron by the scruff of his neck and pulled him along. Ron felt so miserable and humiliated that he was hardly registering where they were going. Finally, he found himself standing in front of an oak door in the dungeons. Snape touched it with his wand, and the door swung open.

“This must be Snape’s private chambers,” thought Ron as Snape pushed him inside. He had time to catch a glimpse of a tastefully (and expensively) furnished living room before Snape grabbed him again and dragged him toward another door. A moment later Ron found himself in Snape’s bedroom.

The bedroom was dominated by a huge four-poster bed covered with silvery silk sheets. Snape dragged Ron toward it and threw him on the sheets. Ron lay there, looking at Snape with utmost loathing. Slowly, Snape pulled off his robes and threw them aside, revealing a pale, bony and very hairy torso and the black silk pants (“What a ponce,” Ron thought with disgust) he wore underneath.

“And now, Mr. Weasley, I want you to apply your wonderful tongue someplace else,” said Snape. He leered at Ron. “You know what I’m talking about.”

For a moment Ron stared uncomprehendingly at Snape, then disgust contorted his face as he cried, “No way!”

“Very well,” said Snape. “In that case, I’m taking you to Dumbledore. I’m sure he’ll be very interested in your potion-making exploits.”

“I’ll tell him all about what you made me do!” screamed Ron.

“And you think he’ll believe you?” sneered Snape.

“I think he will!” said Ron, although he wondered.

“Well, suppose he does,” said Snape with a twisted smile. “If you think he’ll sack me or something like that, you are gravely mistaken, my boy. I am his eyes and ears in Voldemort’s inner circle, and he can’t afford to lose me. A reprimand is the most I’ll get from him. You, however… Even if you aren’t expelled – and I’ll try and see to it that you are – you’ll have covered yourself with disgrace. Points taken from Gryffindor… a detention… and people pointing, whispering, sniggering. ‘Here goes the boy who thinks with his cock…’ Your friend Potter will suffer, too, because he gave you the cloak. I don’t think he’s going to be exactly grateful for that, do you?” — Snape smirked at Ron’s desperate and hateful face. — “By the way…” added Snape and peered intently at Ron. For a moment everything swam in front of Ron’s eyes; when it came into focus again, he saw that Snape looked more delighted than he had ever seen him.

“Miss Granger!” said Snape, sounding as though he had just made a great magical discovery. “Oh, my… What a rich imagination you have, Mr. Weasley! I think Miss Granger would be very interested to see this – ”

“NO!!!” shouted Ron, horror etched in every line of his face.

“Then suck my cock!” snarled Snape, and Ron felt something finally break inside him. If there was one thing he could never bring himself to face, it was Hermione finding out. He’d never be able to look her in the eye again… Slowly, he bent forward and began undoing Snape’s fly.

“That’s my boy,” said Snape with an odd caress in his voice that was somehow more revolting than his sneer. Ron shuddered. Finally, with the last button undone, Snape’s pants fell down. His package looked just as bad as Ron had expected: extremely hairy and foul-smelling.

“Couldn’t you… couldn’t you at least take a shower?” asked Ron, feeling more than a little nauseous.

“Of course… after you’re done,” Snape said nastily, making the look of slight relief on Ron’s face vanish instantly. Ron thought that, at that moment, Snape’s face looked even worse than his genitals. Screwing his eyes shut, he got hold of Snape’s flaccid member and took it in his mouth. With a moan, Snape buried his hand instantly in Ron’s hair, and to Ron it felt like the scabbed, slimy hand of a Dementor. He had never been more revolted in his life.

“Faster, you slut!” spat Snape, and Ron complied, his mind fixed on one thought, “Get it over with, get it over with, get it over with…” When Snape finally came with a bestial growl, he made Ron take it all in his mouth. As soon as Snape finally let go of him, Ron doubled up and vomited all over Snape’s expensive shag rug.

“Scourgify,” Snape said lazily, pointing his wand at the barf. For a few moments he stood leaning against the wall, looking at Ron, who was kneeling on the carpet trying to catch his breath. Then he stepped forward, grabbed Ron once again by the scruff of his neck and dragged him out of the bedroom. Opening the oak door, he gave Ron a kick, sending him sprawling on the stone floor. Then Ron felt something hit him on the head and, looking around, he saw it was his wand.

“Now get out of here,” said Snape with contempt. “Oh, and by the way, I think I’ll keep the invisibility cloak. Tell your friend Mr. Potter I might find a better use for it.”

With an evil laugh, he slammed the door shut.

For some time – Ron didn’t know how long – he just lay there, feeling dazed. Then it all hit him at once, and he let out a groan. Sobs began to escape him – few at first, then more and more, until he was wailing, more like a wounded animal than a human. Filch, who was passing nearby, heard him, but thought it was a ghost shrieking – it sounded so eerie. He hurried away, frightened, because those wails had stirred a strange and unfamiliar emotion inside him; it was not until he was far away that he realized it must be pity. To Severus Snape’s ears, however, Ron’s sobs sounded like music.

Finally, when there were no more tears left, Ron simply sat there on the cold stone floor – again, he didn’t know for how long. He felt empty. All his life seemed no more than a dream to him now, something that had happened to another person – the person that Snape had murdered. That person had had emotions, dreams, ambitions – the person that Ron was now had none of that.

Ron got to his feet and set off – not because he had any particular place in mind, but because he was tired of sitting on the floor. He had left his wand behind. He walked, not noticing and not caring where he was going. He stumbled upon a door and went through it. There was a winding stair behind it, and he mindlessly began to ascend it, until he found himself on top of the Astronomy Tower.

The view was breathtaking, as usual. The sun was rising in the East, suffusing the grounds with warm golden light. The sky was clear, save for a few clouds that glimmered in the sunrays. The air was so clear and fresh it almost hurt the lungs to breathe it. Ron wondered distractedly how he could ever have enjoyed such meaningless things. Indeed, he wondered how he could ever have enjoyed anything at all.

“Maybe it’s different on the other side,” whispered a voice in his head. “You have nothing left to do here…Why not check it out?”

Why not, indeed, thought Ron. It was an idea as good as any. He approached the battlements, climbed atop them and stood there for a few moments, looking around for something that might be worth staying for. But there was nothing. He stepped forward.

He fell slowly, his body relaxed, his eyes taking in the surroundings in a detached sort of way. When there was less than twenty feet left to the ground, he suddenly remembered Hermione and felt something stir inside him. He threw his hands out, groping for something to hold on, but it was far too late.