Strange Connection (A Ron Weasley Love Story)

Chapter 22 - Buried

RON'S POV

It has been 7 weeks since that day.

I have barley eaten.
I have barely slept.

I am a very different person than I once was. I'm about 30 pounds lighter. Hermione chides she can count my bones. My attitude towards life has changed dramatically. I'm finished.

I used to laugh, I used to laugh until my sides split at her jokes and her prodding and teasing me.
I have flashbacks of us running around the lake, playing tag and other childish games until we fell down laughing and exausted...
Am I a fool for loving one I've known for such a short time? Am I immature or blinded by infatuation?
No. I'm not.
She was a part of me, and was since we were born. The fact that we have only just met doesn't change the fact the universe made us for each other, and connected us now.
We were supposed to have more time.

When I have tried everything, it is in vain, broken into shambles. I used every resource to get to her. I've tried every method of communication.
I don't know why she won't respond, it hurts my feelings quit a bit.

She's not dead... I know she's not dead, that's not even a question...

We put her body in the ground on April 27th.

She asked me to bury her by the lake, if it were to come to that, so I did just that.
Every afternoon I go and talk to her there. I kneel by her and catch her up on the classes she's missed, since she can't make it to them anymore.

I always give her the assignments from the classes she's missed, because I know she wants them.
She hates being behind in schoolwork....
The teachers always give me the most sympathetic look as they hand me a copy of every assignment....
I would almost say it were a look of pity?
I always laugh and thank them for their sympathy, but tell them that she would be back soon.

The piles of work under the shade of the tree were becoming almost unnerving to me... she's not even attempting the most simple of problems on her potion calculations, and hasn't even opened a history book... they're just gathering dust....

The school year is drawing to a close....
I hope she'll be okay over the summer... She seems to want to stay... Her voice is getting harder and harder for me to hear in my head, and the image of her face is fading, which finally brought me to tears...
She's not gone...
She's just being quiet....
maybe she's upset with me?

Upset I couldn't get to her in time...

"You're a gifted writer, Ron," Lupin's voice made me jump as he looked over my shoulder at my journal, "but your state of mind has me worried,"
I closed my journal with a snap, putting my quill on the grass, and laying the journal on the ground next to me. I gazed out at the lake from my spot under the tree, and Lupin took a silent seat next to me. The two of us sat for, what seemed like, a millenia...
"I have to say, Lupin..." my voice was rough, being the first true words I've said in a long while, "...how are you handling this all so well? You've known her much longer than I have..."
He sighed, and took a seat next to me, "Because she's strong. She's a fighter. She'll make it all the way, and I know, deep down, you know that, even though your surface emotions have given up. I know this has been hard for you, but have some faith in her,"

I sighed audibly, and choked out, "She would be so ashamed to know I've given up on her so easily!!"
"Ron, calm down... she wouldn't blame you... she's been under for a full week, with regular transfusions..." he said as he subconsiously rubbed his sore left arm, where there was a small puncture wound surrounded by a purple bruiseon his inner elbow, "...but she's not dead. She's actually quite far from it. Her heart rate is becoming increasingly steady, and there are good signs she is going to come out of it soon..."
I clutched the binded journal in my hands, a single tear dampened the leather cover. Lupin stood up, and offered a hand to me, which I refused by dropping my head.
"Ronald..."
I flinched.
"...come see her. It will make you feel better..." he said, glancing nervously at the book in my hands which, I knew, held our fate.

Then I stood up, and made my steps towards the castle... towards reality.