A Horcrux's Fate

Chapter 10

Ron lay sprawled on his bed, one arm dangling off the side, as the warm afternoon sun filtered lazily through the curtains. The golden light wrapped around him like a soft blanket, casting sleepy shadows across the room.

He was just starting to drift into a comfortable doze when a knock broke the moment.

"Ugh," he muttered, rolling off the bed and dragging his feet to the door. When he opened it, Hermione stood on the other side, her arms folded, eyes sharp.

"Hey, Hermione." He gave her a quick smile. "Come in."

She didn't return the smile. That was the first red flag.

As she stepped into the room and settled into the chair near his bed, Ron felt the shift in the air. Hermione only ever had that tight, crinkled look on her face when something was really bothering her—like when she got a 99 out of 100 marks on a Charms essay or when Harry disappeared with the Marauder's Map for hours without telling them.

"You saw that look I gave you at lunch, right?" she asked, her voice clipped, straight to business. "You knew I was onto something."

Ron nodded slowly, the warm fuzziness of his nap now completely gone. "Yeah. I figured. It's Harry, isn't it?"

Hermione leaned forward. "He's hiding something. I could tell."

"Yeah," Ron said, rubbing his face tiredly. "He told Ginny he was just tired... said he was feeling better. But I heard him again—throwing up in the bathroom this morning. He doesn't want to take any of the potions."

Hermione's mouth opened slightly, her expression shifting from concern to shock. "He refused them?"

"Yeah. Said they weren't doing anything. But then he promised he'd take them if it got worse. The thing is... I don't think he meant it. He was just trying to get me off his back."

Hermione dropped her eyes to her lap. Her hands were trembling slightly, fingers twitching against her clothes. "Something's not right," she said softly. "He told me something a few minutes ago. Something awful."

Ron's stomach tightened. "What?"

She hesitated, then whispered, "He told me... he sometimes wishes he wasn't here anymore. That it'd be easier if he were dead."

The room went still.

Ron blinked. "He said that? Harry?"

Hermione nodded. "He looked so tired, Ron. Not just physically... like he's carrying something we can't see."

Ron ran both hands through his hair, tugging at it in frustration. "Bloody hell. I thought maybe he was just being stubborn. But that? That's not stubborn. That's—" He broke off. "We have to do something. He can't keep feeling like that."

"He doesn't see what we see in him," Hermione said quietly. "The way people look up to him. How much he's fought for everyone. He thinks he's a burden."

"Well, he's not," Ron snapped. "He's a bloody hero! He just... needs reminding. Maybe he needs a distraction. Something to break through his thoughts."

Hermione gave him a sceptical look. "Like what, exactly?"

Ron's eyes lit up, like a candle flaring to life. "Come on. You know what Harry loves most in the world."

"Treacle tart?" she guessed weakly.

"Well, that too," Ron admitted, "but I was thinking Quidditch."

Hermione stared at him like he'd suggested robbing Gringotts. "You want to drag Harry onto a broomstick when he's barely able to stand upright?"