One Last Phone Call

Survivor's Guilt

"Hi, Harry."

The greeting is soft, unnatural with the boy's deep, baritone voice. Ron took a few steps forward, the autumn leaves crunching underneath his black sneakers. "You would not believe the day I just had."

He sunk to his knees in front of the grave, knowing that the grass would stain his jeans, but not caring. "This guy - Blaise or something - kicked Malfoy's arse today at lunch. Literally." Ron paused, to let out a forced chuckle at the recollection. "He really had it coming to him."

The silence that greeted his ramblings stung more than he thought it would. He supposed that he had gotten somewhat used to it over the past few months, but it seemed to hurt no less each time.

"I missed you today," Ron inhaled shakily, forcing the corners of his mouth into a pained smile.

His voice caught in his throat, as he tried to speak again. "T-the team did awesome at the match today," he whispered, vision blurry with tears. "Ginny caught the snitch in ten minutes. It's all because of you, you know, with your training.....But they'll never be half as good as they were, without you."

Ron combed his hand through his ginger hair, starting off gently, before tugging. "God, Harry," he muttered through a broken laugh, tears sliding down his cheeks. "Do you even have any idea how bad you got me fucked up?"

He clutched the bouquet of roses tighter, pressing it against his chest. "I brought you flowers," he murmured, gingerly placing them on the frosted grass in front of the tombstone. His gaze shifted to read the letters engraved on the grey slab for the thousandth time.

In Memory of Harry Potter, 1980-1996, Age 15. There are some who bring a light so great to the world, that even after they have gone, the light remains.

Ron's breath hitched in his chest. "Fuck, you don't know what I'd give to see you again. It's been months, but I still can't get over the fact that you're g-gone."

The wind blew across the deserted cemetery, masking the sound of footsteps approaching. Ron didn't notice, shining blue eyes still locked on the gravestone. "I miss you so much..."

The breeze seemed to whisper in his ear, mumbling words of consolation.

"He's in a better place, now. He's happy."

Tears pricked the corners of Ron's eyes, as he eyed the roses in his hand. "I know that. I just wish...you would have thought being with me was better than d-death."

The red of the roses contrasted starkly with the faded background of the cemetery, a clump of dried grass, dirt, and leftover ice. Almost a flicker of hope in a world drained of it.

Everything had been so cold, so frozen, so dull ever since he had left.

Since he had left. Because he wasn't coming back. Ron's heart nearly stopped as the thought occurred to him; he's not coming back.

His breathing grew shallow, as he let out a gut-wrenching yell, bursting into a fit of angry sobs.

"Harry, Harry, you were mine, and you're gone-" Ron choked out, chest heaving with every word he spoke. "YOU'RE NOT COMING BACK!" He collapsed onto the ground, shirt soaked with tears and body shaking uncontrollably. "Y-you're not c-coming b-back-"

His throat closed up, leaving him to fall apart in the middle of an empty field.

The dull ache in his chest spread to every fibre of his body. Every part of him screamed, desperate for any kind of miracle. Something - anything - that would bring his Harry back to him. To go back to the way things used to be when, when...