Disclaimer: ti nwo t'nod I. gnilwoR KJ ot gnoleb sthgiR.

The Last Scream of the Night

A shudder ran through his body. He was too late. Her cries had rung through his ears for hours, but he could do nothing. He was alone, for now. The Death Eaters took her. He had had one chance of escape, but he blew it. He had been heard screaming for her. Harry was taken, Luna was chained, and Ollivander was sitting, barely alive, in the corner.

The rattling breaths and hacking coughs were still for a moment, and all Ron could hear was the sound of his tears, dripping to the floor. Each silver shard was a remnant of a broken heart. His voice was silent, broken from hours of endless screaming, although he bore no wounds.

Ollivander began to rasp something to him. "Go- take my wand, pick the lock, save her, save them all-"

And then he was silent.

Ron stumbled over, lost in grief. Olivander was too unwell to know- too unwell to realise that she was dead.

Gone. Dead. Lost.

The words pounded into his head and he felt as though all the happiness was gone from the world.

It was worse than a Dementor, because this time no amount of chocolate could heal him.

He picked up the wand. He couldn't save Hermione, but Harry-

He couldn't let himself hope. Not after her...

He did as the old man had commanded; he picked the lock to his cell, deep below the Malfoy's Manor.

He escaped. He went to Luna's cell, only to find her broken form lying spread eagled on the floor. Blood dripped from her stomach, and her eyes, usually so distant and innocent, stared unseeing ahead. They looked too sad to be Luna's eyes, too haunted, too understanding. But they were hers, the veil lifted moments before her death.

Another lost. Another.

He swallowed and moved on to the heavily guarded cell that was Harry's. He took out the guards silently, and opened the door-

-Only to find Harry leaning heavily on the wall, a knife in his gut. "Go. Run. While you still can!" Harry forced out, and Ron ran over. He held his best friend in his arms, refusing to believe him dead. "Go, Ron."

Then Harry's haunted verdant eyes lost their spark, still gazing, unseeing, at Ron.

Ron screamed, a terrible scream of pain and misery-

And he shot up in bed as Fleur woke him. He remembered: he had abandoned them if a fit of jealousy.

How he wished that had never happened, as tortured dreams permeated him.

He reached into his pocket and fiddled with his Deluminator.

A voice, crowded out by static, said his name.

"Ron..." It was her voice, whispered and quiet.

He grabbed his knapsack and left Shell cottage, the Deluminator guiding him.

He would never leave them again. He knew what would happen should he not return now.

Jealousy wasn't worth their lives.