Title:  Days of Awe
Author:  Lorien_Eve
Pairing:  Harry/Ron
Rating:  R
Genre:  Drama/Angst
Archive:  You’re more than welcome, just let me know!
Spoilers:  Just from OotP.
Disclaimer:  They’re all J.K. Rowling’s.  Sadly, not one of them belongs to me.  I promise, the books would have a much different rating if they did!
Feedback:  Yes, please!
Summary:  Harry and Ron are separated in a battle against an army of Death Eaters. Harry thinks Ron’s dead. Ron thinks Harry’s not coming back. They find consolation in other people and places. Lives are changed and loves are destroyed when they meet again.

Author’s notes: A huge thanks to Lena, who, only through dedication and a strong stomach, was able to beta some of the later chapters.

Warning: There’s a brief bit of het sex here– nothing graphic or anything – but I thought I ought to warn you.

Man has places in his heart which do not yet exist, and into them enters suffering in order that they may have existence.
-Leon Bloy


Ron arrived instantaneously to the flat that he and Harry shared in London.  The lights were off and it was dark, except for the few streaks of moonlight coming through the blinds.  Harry must be in bed, he thought.  It was fairly late, after all.  He tiptoed to the bedroom and flicked the switch.  He expected Harry to jump out of bed, but the room was completely empty.

“Harry?” he called. 

When there was no answer, he called again, louder.

There was still no answer and Ron started to get scared.  He ran from room to room, looking for Harry and calling his name.  Maybe he’s gone out, Ron thought, although it wasn’t like Harry to go out so late.  He could be at the Burrow.  He was no doubt worried about Ron, and maybe he was keeping Mrs. Weasley company.  Though he was anxious to see his parents, he was even more anxious to see Harry.  He knew it was late, but he Apparated to the Burrow.

****

Bill jerked his head up as soon as Ron appeared.  His face went pale, and he grabbed the back of a chair to steady himself.  The house was quiet, and the kitchen was empty except for Bill and Mrs. Weasley.  Ron gave Bill a confused look.  Mrs. Weasley had her head down on the table, buried in her arms.  She was crying.  Bill opened his mouth a few times, but nothing came out.

Finally he choked out, “Mum…it’s…Ron.”

Mrs. Weasley didn’t seem to hear him at first, and he poked her in the arm.  “Mum…”

She lifted her head. Ron could see that her eyes were filled with tears and her face was blotchy.  She blinked at him several times before letting herself believe that what she was seeing was actually real.  Her face went even paler than Bill’s.

“What…?  But you’re…” She started crying again and raised her hands to her cheeks.  “Ron!”

“Mum, I’m fine.  What’s wrong?” he asked, rushing over to hug her.  She clutched him tightly and sobbed loudly against his shoulder.

“We thought you were dead!”  Her voice was muffled by Ron’s shirt. “We hadn’t heard anything all this time.  We’d given up.”

“I’m not dead.  I’m right here.” He patted her on the back.  “Where’s Harry? I went to the flat, but he wasn’t there.  I thought he might’ve come here.”

Mrs. Weasley hugged him even tighter, and her sobs started again.  It was several minutes before she could compose herself enough to talk.  Ron looked at Bill with a furrowed brow, hoping to silently convey his confusion to his oldest brother. Bill shook his head but didn’t speak.

“Oh, Ron,” said Mrs. Weasley at last, “Harry’s gone.  He thought you had died and he couldn’t stand it, so he left.”

Ron pulled back from Mrs. Weasley.  “Where did he go?”

“We don’t know.  Bill just found this letter.” She handed the piece of parchment to Ron.  He read it over quickly before lowering it, letting it fall limply from his hand.

“You’ve got to have some idea, don’t you?  Did he go to see Remus?  How about Hermione?” asked Ron urgently.

“I think we would’ve heard something from them.  Everyone thought you were dead, and if Harry had turned up in a right state, I’m sure they would’ve owled us,” said Bill.

Ron pulled up a chair next to Mrs. Weasley and sat down with a heavy sigh.  The only thing he had been thinking about was getting back to Harry.  It was his motivation for getting better and leaving the Clares.  Now Harry was gone and Ron had no clue where he was. 

Mrs. Weasley clasped Ron’s hand painfully.  “I can’t believe you’re here,” she sniffed.  “Bill, go tell your father and owl the rest of the family, and Remus and Hermione.”

Bill leaned down to hug Ron.  “We’re glad you’re okay,” he said, giving Ron a warm smile before leaving the room.

“Where have you been?  What happened to you?” Mrs. Weasley asked him, speaking hurriedly in her anxiety for an explanation.

Ron told her what he could remember about the fight near Brighton, and explained how the Clares had taken him in and cared for him until he got better.

“But what about Harry?” he asked when he had finished his tale.  “Surely someone knows where he went.”

Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth to speak, but Mr. Weasley came rushing into the room.

“Ron!” he yelled, dashing over to him and engulfing him in a hug.  “We thought we’d lost you.”

“I’m fine, Dad,” he said distractedly.  “What about Harry? Mum says he’s gone.”

Mr. Weasley looked over to his wife.  “This is the first I’ve heard of it.  Harry’s gone, you say?”

“Yes, Arthur.  Bill found this note in Ron’s room.”  She picked the letter up off the floor and handed it to her husband.

“Hmm,” murmured Mr. Weasley once he had read the letter.  “I was afraid something like this might happen.  He was having a really tough time.  And you’ve no idea where he went?”

“No,” said Mrs. Weasley and Bill together.

“I’ll owl the Ministry, see if they can find him,” said Mr. Weasley.  He gave Ron another hug before he left the room.

Ron, Bill, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat in the kitchen until the pale yellow rays of sunrise began to lighten the room, waiting for word about Harry.  Ron was exhausted.  His trip had taken more out of him than he had expected, and hearing that Harry was gone did nothing to lessen his fatigue.  He paced back and forth across the kitchen floor until Mrs. Weasley grabbed him carefully by the arm and led him back into a chair.  A few owls flew in—one from Fred and George, one from Charlie, one from Percy, and one from Ginny—expressing their astonishment and gratitude that Ron was alive.  Each of them said they’d be coming to the Burrow early tomorrow, but none of them had seen or heard from Harry. 

Ron’s head began to bob up and down on his shoulders and he finally lay down on the table, his head propped against his arm.  He had barely started to doze when Mrs. Weasley roused him.

“Ron, dear, maybe you should go upstairs and sleep.  You must be tired.  Your bed will be much more comfortable.”

Ron raised his head, his eyes barely open, and pushed himself up from the table.  He started wavering, and Bill caught him around the waist.  Bill supported Ron as he walked up the stairs and all the way to his old bedroom.  He collapsed in a heap on the bed, and Bill took his shoes off and covered him up.

“We’ll find him,” he said, “Don’t worry.”

It had been a long time since Ron slept in this bed.  He and Harry had lived in London for years.  The last time he had been there, Harry had been next to him.  They had complained jokingly about the small bed, and about how there wasn’t room for both of them.  The problem was solved with them lying meshed together, arms and legs intertwined.  The bed seemed strangely big now.  Ron hadn’t slept alone since his fifth year at Hogwarts.  He would sneak over to Harry’s bed and cuddle with him, once the other boys had gone to sleep. 

Ron wadded up his extra pillow and buried himself in it, hoping that when he woke up, it would be Harry.

****

Ron was rudely awakened the next morning by a heavy pile of bodies.  He jerked his eyes open and blinked furiously, trying to figure out which red head belong to which Weasley.

“Get off!” he roared, though he was laughing.

When the assortment of bodies stood up, he could see it was Charlie, Fred, George, Percy, and Ginny.

“We thought you were dead,” said Ginny, her eyes filling with tears.  “It’s so good to see you again!”

Charlie punched him roughly in the arm.  “Yeah, we’re glad you’re okay.”

Percy seemed to have lost all dignity, and he hugged Ron clumsily, his usually neat hair frizzing around his head.

“I’m not dead,” said Ron.  He was getting tired of telling people that.  “I’m just fine.  Have you heard anything about Harry?”

“Nope, nothing,” said Charlie.  “Mum told us he was gone, though.”

Ron bit his lip.  He really had expected to hear something by now.  Mr. Weasley had the Ministry of Magic looking for Harry, and Ron was sure they could trace any kind of magical activity.

Percy seemed to sense Ron’s apprehension, and said, “He only left last night, Ron.  I’m sure we’ll hear something soon.  Mr. Fudge has a lot of wizards on the case.  If anyone can find him, it’ll be Mr. Fudge.”

“C’mon, Ron,” said George, grabbing him by the hand, “Mum’s got breakfast ready.”

George tugged him off the bed and down the stairs, with a parade of Weasleys marching behind them.

The kitchen was warm and bright, a stark contrast to the way it had been when Ron arrived the previous night.  The table was full of dishes and plates, but Mrs. Weasley was still bent over the stove, cooking even more food.

“Thought you might be hungry, Ron, dear,” she said, beaming at him.  “Sit down and help yourself.  There’ll be more in a minute.”

Ron was famished.  He sat down and loaded his plate with sausage, bacon, eggs, and potatoes.

“Save some for us, would you?” joked Fred.

“Ron can have as much as he wants, Fred!  Don’t you harass him!” Mrs. Weasley scowled.

“I was kidding, Mum,” Fred told her.

Ron stuffed his face with food, and came back for second and third helpings.  Mrs. Weasley was perfectly delighted to see him eating, and she seemed to have a never-ending supply of whatever he asked for.  He crammed the last bite of biscuit into his mouth, and heaved a contented sigh.  He was full to the point of busting.  He leaned back in his chair and patted his stomach.

“That’s more like it,” he said.

His attention was immediately diverted from his bulging stomach when someone Apparated inside the kitchen.  It was Hermione.

“Ron!” she squealed, rushing over to him and smothering him with her arms.  “We thought you were dead!”

“I know,” said Ron blandly.  “That’s what everyone’s said.”

She still hadn’t let go of him, so he pulled back slightly, hoping she’d take the hint.  She did, but she didn’t move her arms from around his neck.

“It’s wonderful to see you!” she said.

“Have you seen Harry?”

Her face fell.  “No, I haven’t.  I haven’t heard from him, either.  I visited him when he was in the hospital, but that’s the last time I saw him.”

Ron’s shoulders sagged.  If the Ministry couldn’t find him, and Hermione, Remus, and the other Weasleys hadn’t seen him, they were quickly running out of options.  Maybe he had gone back to their flat, Ron thought.  It was the most obvious place, so no one would probably think to look there.

“I think I’ll go to the flat and wait for him.  He might show up there.  Want to come?” he asked Hermione.  He couldn’t bear the thought of sitting alone for hours and hours, anticipating Harry’s return by himself.  He didn’t even know if Harry would go there.

Hermione shrugged.  “Sure, I’ll go with you.”

****

“Harry?” Ron called, as soon as his feet hit the carpet.  There was no answer.  “Harry?” he called again, even louder.  Still no answer.  He walked through each room, just as he had done the night before, but Harry was obviously not there.  Nothing seemed to have even been touched.

Hermione felt so bad for Ron.  She had seen Harry in the hospital, and knew how much he had been hurting when he thought Ron was dead.  Now Ron was here, alive, but Harry was gone, and she presumed that Ron was feeling almost the way Harry had felt.

She sat down on the couch, and patted the seat next to her.  “Ron, come over and sit.”

Ron turned to her, and she could see that his eyes were brimming with tears.  She knew Ron hated to cry, but when it came to Harry, nothing was sacred.  He slumped down next to her, and she took his hand.

“Look, Harry’s okay, he just needed to get away from things.  He was horribly depressed when he thought you were dead.  He’s got family and friends here.  Once he feels better, he’s sure to come back.”

Ron tried to smile, but the corners of his mouth never made it upwards.  The tears that had been sitting in his eyes started to fall, and he leaned into Hermione’s shoulder.  She rubbed his back reassuringly, and let him cry for a few minutes.

“I know,” she said at last, though more to herself than Ron. “I lost both of you.  I understood what Harry was going through, and I understand what you’re going through now.”

Although Ron had had his share of arguments with Hermione throughout the years, he appreciated her more now that he ever did.  She knew both of them almost as well as they knew each other.  Though Harry had been close to Ron’s family, they never quite identified with Harry the way that Ron and Hermione had.  Other than Ron, Hermione had been Harry’s best friend, and other than Harry, she had been Ron’s best friend, too.  She was the first one to know about their relationship, and she was more than happy for the both of them.  She never seemed jealous that they shared something she couldn’t be a part of.  She was always there when they needed her, and made herself disappear when she thought they wanted to be alone.

Ron pulled himself away and looked at Hermione.  “I just want him to come back,” he said.

“I know, I do, too,” she told him.

Ron stared at her for a few minutes. Then he leaned forward and kissed her.  For years, Harry had been the one to comfort him when he was upset, and it always led to kisses and touches.  It had been slow and calming, and invariably made Ron forget.  He didn’t know any other way.

Hermione drew back sharply, and Ron watched her with a look of discouragement.

“Ron, I don’t think…” she started. But Ron knew what she meant.  He knew he’d been out of line.  He had forgotten for a moment that she wasn’t Harry.

“I’m sorry,” he said slowly.

“Don’t be sorry,” she said, before giving him another hug.

****

Weeks passed, and there was still no sign of Harry.  He hadn’t owled anyone they knew, and the Ministry had no luck in locating him.  Ron moved back into the Burrow. He didn’t want to stay alone in that empty, echoing flat.  Losing Harry was like losing the most important and essential part of himself, but he was slowly and reluctantly becoming accustomed to that empty hole where Harry should’ve been. 

Ron hadn’t gone back to work.  Facing the office where he had worked for years with Harry, always keeping an eye on him and constantly worrying about whether or not he was okay, took too much strength and Ron just didn’t think he had it in him.  He stayed in his room a lot, and slept.  He’d go downstairs to the kitchen to eat, but he was always done before everyone else and was always the first to leave the table.  Mr. and Mrs. Weasley gave him his space and tried not to bother him, although they were both concerned about his withdrawal. 

Bill, Charlie, and the rest popped in a few times a week to see him, but all he would ever ask them about was Harry.  Of course, they hadn’t heard anything, and Ron knew full well that the second they heard something, they would’ve let him know. 

Hermione came to see him almost daily.  She taught Arithmancy at Hogwarts, but nearly every evening after her classes, she would stop by.  He enjoyed her visits more than anyone else’s, though he wouldn’t dare tell his family that.  He knew they all meant well, but they had this sympathetic air about them that annoyed him.  He didn’t want sympathy; he just wanted Harry. Since that wasn't possible, he looked for someone who would understand.  Someone who wouldn’t badger him about how he was feeling, who would just let him talk.  They stayed in Ron’s room for hours at a time, and Ron silently wondered how Hermione had the stamina to teach all day, comfort him in the evenings, and be ready to teach a class full of students again the next day.  He wished he could’ve been as tenacious as she was.

One evening while Hermione was visiting, there was a knock on Ron’s door, but he didn’t immediately answer it.  He and Hermione had been talking about the Polyjuice Potion they had brewed in their second year at Hogwarts.  It had been extremely dangerous, and it was just now, looking back on it, that Ron realized how stupid they had been.  He jokingly admonished Hermione for sneaking into Professor Snape’s restricted supplies.  Hermione laughed, surprised at herself now that she was a professor, too, that she had done something so completely illegal.  He told her how he and Harry, posing as Grabbe and Goyle, had gotten into the Slytherin common room with Malfoy.  Hermione knew this story well enough to tell every word of it herself, but Ron seemed so happy in telling it that she let him continue.  When he mentioned Harry, his eyes grew red, and his voice broke. 

The knock came again at the door.  He sniffed and said, “Come in.”

It was Mr. Weasley.  “Sorry to bother you,” he said, almost absent-mindedly.  “But, well, we received a letter from the Ministry of Magic, and—”

Ron immediately cut him off.  “They found Harry?” he asked, his eyes full of anticipation.

“Um, no, Ron, I’m sorry, it’s not about Harry.”  Mr. Weasley looked over to Hermione.  “I’m not sure how to tell you this,” he hesitated, “but it seems that your parents have been murdered.”

Hermione looked at him dumbfoundedly.  “Wha…?” she trailed off.

“You-Know-Who knows that you’re friends with Harry,” Mr. Weasley explained.  “He’s had his Death Eaters watching you for years, you know.” 

Hermione nodded.  She knew this all too well.

“You’ve been protected since you’ve been teaching at Hogwarts and they couldn’t get to you.  A lot of Aurors were killed in the fight where we thought we’d lost Ron,” he continued, “and the Death Eaters wanted to strike while the iron was hot.  We’re sorely lacking in defenses right now.  If they couldn’t get to you, they wanted to get to your parents.”  Mr. Weasley finished his sentence slowly, and looked at Hermione with sad eyes.

Ron clasped Hermione’s hand.  He had lost Harry, and now she had lost her parents.  Both their lives had become distorted and senseless.  She had consoled him, and now it was time to put his hurt on the shelf and be there for her.  She was an only child, and with her parents gone, she had no family.

She seemed to still be in shock.  She turned to Ron with her mouth open, and he could see the tears welling up in her eyes even though they hadn’t fallen yet.

“They’re dead…?”

Mr. Weasley nodded solemnly.  “I’m really sorry, Hermione.”

Realization seemed to hit her at last, and she buried her face in her hands, crying to the point of hysteria.  Ron scooted over to her on the bed, and put his arms around her, pulling her to him.  Her shoulders heaved up and down between his embrace.  Mr. Weasley felt the tension in the room and excused himself silently.

“Hermione,” Ron started, but his words were lost. 

At last, he said, “We’ll find the ones who did it, and they’ll pay.”  Ron meant this just as much for Hermione as he did for himself.  It was because of Voldemort’s Death Eaters that Harry had left, and now it was their fault that Hermione’s parents were dead.

She removed herself from him, and stared vacantly across the room at the empty, algae-producing aquarium.

“Listen, I meant what I said.  We’ll find them,” he said, grabbing her by the face, and looking intently at her.

Without warning, she circled her arms around Ron and kissed him furiously.  Ron hadn’t been prepared for it, but he didn’t push her away.  It was how Harry had rescued him from the horrible visions he saw, and he knew Hermione was seeing things equally as terrible.  There was no lust in the kiss, only kinetic desperation.  He kissed her back, just as absently as she was kissing him.  They seemed on autopilot, both wanting to get lost in something, and not caring what it was.

Before Ron knew what he was doing, he had unbuttoned Hermione’s blouse.  She reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Soon they were both naked on the bed that Ron had slept in with Harry in their early years.  The sex was meaningless and devoid of any kind of passion.  It was grief that brought them both to completion.  Ron rolled off Hermione, and curled himself in a ball, facing the opposite direction.  Harry would understand, he thought.  Harry would forgive him.