"When the End Comes"
Title: When the End Comes
Characters: Ron and Harry.
Prompt: #016: Farewells.
Word Count: 301
Rating: 12
Summary: Regrets are the only thing he has left, now, as the darkness encroaches.
Notes: Written for 100quills.
When the End Comes
His hands are pressed to his stomach, and his mind is fogged as he lies in the dirt. He can taste blood in his mouth, and that makes him tremble.
Pain throbs through him, and he shakes.
He hears a shocked shout, and then a black-haired man crashes to his knees beside him. “Ron!”
Fingers touch the wound in his stomach, and he cries out.
He hears a curse. “Lie still,” the black-haired man orders, his tone quietly authoritative. “Focus on me. It’s going to be okay - I promise.”
“Harry?” he chokes out, and he hates the way his voice shakes.
A hand clasps around his shoulder. “Quiet.”
Somehow, he knows that he is dying, but that knowledge doesn’t frighten him as he thinks it should. It confuses him, but he is not afraid. “Harry,” he whispers, and his black-haired companion stills. The wounded man releases the pressure he has been keeping on his stomach, and he keens with pain as the blood flows fresh.
“Ron, what are you doing?”
The fingers of his right hand drag themselves to his left, and they close around his wedding ring.
“Ron, no.” The black-haired man’s voice is a whisper, a pained whisper. “Don’t.”
He presses the blood-stained gold into his friend’s hand. “Hermione,” is the only word that he can manage, and blood trickles from his lips as he speaks it.
There is a catch in the black-haired man’s voice. “It shouldn’t end like this.”
Maybe. It’s a thought, not a voice, but he doesn’t seem to be able to speak.
His ring shines in his best friend’s hand, and it seems to be the only bright object left in the world.
Life dims around him.
Hermione, he thinks absently, and his only regret is that he never bade her a final farewell.
~*end*~
Characters: Ron and Harry.
Prompt: #016: Farewells.
Word Count: 301
Rating: 12
Summary: Regrets are the only thing he has left, now, as the darkness encroaches.
Notes: Written for 100quills.
When the End Comes
His hands are pressed to his stomach, and his mind is fogged as he lies in the dirt. He can taste blood in his mouth, and that makes him tremble.
Pain throbs through him, and he shakes.
He hears a shocked shout, and then a black-haired man crashes to his knees beside him. “Ron!”
Fingers touch the wound in his stomach, and he cries out.
He hears a curse. “Lie still,” the black-haired man orders, his tone quietly authoritative. “Focus on me. It’s going to be okay - I promise.”
“Harry?” he chokes out, and he hates the way his voice shakes.
A hand clasps around his shoulder. “Quiet.”
Somehow, he knows that he is dying, but that knowledge doesn’t frighten him as he thinks it should. It confuses him, but he is not afraid. “Harry,” he whispers, and his black-haired companion stills. The wounded man releases the pressure he has been keeping on his stomach, and he keens with pain as the blood flows fresh.
“Ron, what are you doing?”
The fingers of his right hand drag themselves to his left, and they close around his wedding ring.
“Ron, no.” The black-haired man’s voice is a whisper, a pained whisper. “Don’t.”
He presses the blood-stained gold into his friend’s hand. “Hermione,” is the only word that he can manage, and blood trickles from his lips as he speaks it.
There is a catch in the black-haired man’s voice. “It shouldn’t end like this.”
Maybe. It’s a thought, not a voice, but he doesn’t seem to be able to speak.
His ring shines in his best friend’s hand, and it seems to be the only bright object left in the world.
Life dims around him.
Hermione, he thinks absently, and his only regret is that he never bade her a final farewell.
~*end*~