In The Fight To Survive (Golden Trio Era) {4}

After The Clash

"Do you want to talk about it?" Mikayla asked quietly as looked down at Ron, his grip on her waist tightened momentarily before he nodded his head. "You're going to hate me. It was a stupid tiff that I completely blew out of proportion." Ron whispered as if he was afraid that someone would hear him admit his guilt. "I could never hate you, Ron, ever." Ron opened his mouth to argue Mikayla's statement, but one warning look from Mikayla quickly stopped him. Instead, he gave her a play by play of what happened between him and the others.

How the horcrux drudged up ever single one of his insecurities and festered in his mind. How he created fictional scenarios in his head which it convinced him were reality. How he saw things not as they were but as what would hurt him most. That his own jealously poisoned every innocent situation as his mind spiralled to torture himself as much as possible. How his frustration with their lack of direction grew into anger because he felt like he wasn't seen as a valuable member of the Horcrux hunting team.

Mikayla didn't say a word as Ron spilled the burdens that had built over the past couple of months, and how much he hated that he let the Horcrux corrupt his mind and fight with his best friends. He went on to tell her exactly what was said, how he knew what would hurt Harry the most as the Horcrux's voice got louder in his head. Ron was disgusted with himself, saying that the look on Hermione and Harry's faces before he took off had been the worst thing he had caused, it had shook him to his core.

The tears rolled down his cheeks, he began hyperventilating as he struggled to swallow his sobs while describing Hermione's devastated expression and how he believed that he ruined his chance to ever be with her. Mikayla tightened her grip, pulling him out of his meltdown by taking in her own exaggerated breaths as a guide for Ron to settle his own. His eyes screw shut, his body shaking with distraught while keeping a tight hold on Mikayla, finding refuge in his adoptive sister's arms.

The blonde whispered him reassurances, reminding how loved he is and that he will make an amends with both Harry and Hermione. It wasn't long until her words began to fall on deaf ears, Ron had cried himself to sleep listening to Mikayla's grief stricken heartbeat. Ron has had his low moments but Mikayla has never seen him in this much of a state. She never expected to see Ron, someone she perceived as unbreakable, completely fall apart.

For a few minutes, she stared at the vulnerable side of Ron that she rarely bared witness to, the tears that had unknowingly fallen felt heavy on her cheeks. Her heart ached at the defeated expression that Ron wore in his tear-induced sleep, magically removing all evidence of both of their brief breakdowns. Her buries her face into the mop that makes up Ron's hair, letting the familiar scent fill her lungs and lull her into a deep sleep.

Over the next few days, Harry and Hermione could both feel the obvious shift in the air that followed Ron leaving. The first morning, Harry had childishly hoped that he had dreamed up the whole fight, that Ron would still be with them. Reality destroyed his hopes almost instantly when he turned his head on his pillow, met with the sight of Ron's deserted bunk, demanding his acknowledgment of Ron's absence. Hermione was silently unpacking the Mála Bia bag, tears rolling down her cheeks when there was two breakfast plates, instead of three.

The didn't share a greeting that morning, both struggling to accept that Ron was gone, a mantra that played in both of their heads as they wordlessly got through the day. They had hoped that the repetition would dull the sadness that sat heavily on their chests, that the truth would soften the blow. It did the opposite, it felt like they were sharpening the imaginary dagger that pierced their hearts. They packed up their belongings, getting soaked by the heavy rain that had been feeding the flooded river overnight, as they took off towards the forest for cover and escape the rushing water on the verge of bursting it's banks.