InsaneJournal

H/R fic: Green
Title: Green
Author: BeMyGoodDay
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Character Death
Notes: A big warm Thank You to kerryblaze for being my beta (again).
Summary: Harry wore green. Somehow, it had become a symbol for everything he was fighting for...

Harry wore green. He remembered 7th year, they had taken a 'break' from the war for Christmas and for their sanity. Harry had opened the box from Hermione slowly, gingerly, expecting to find another reminder. He had expected a book of spells against dark magic, ointment and gauze, something practical, something Hermione would be able to list sensible uses for. Instead, he saw green. Harry pulled the jumper out of the box confused. He looked to Hermione, waiting for her to explain that it had protection spells on it, that it warded off evil, that it served a purpose. She said that green suited him and noted that it was cashmere. That was all and that's why Harry loved it so much. He assumed that it was the reason Ron loved it too.

Harry wore green. Somehow, it had become a symbol for everything he was fighting for - for the life that he hoped to have when it was over. He wore that jumper every chance he had, as if it might be the last, and to let others know that it wouldn't be - not without a fight. When he wore it, Ron would always say he looked brilliant.

Harry wore green. He wore green though the seams were giving and the color was faded. Mrs. Weasley had repaired it numerous times already, always advising it was time he let it go. Harry wouldn't let it go. It was too important. Ron understood. He would defend the jumper, and Harry in kind, saying that it still looked brilliant, even if a little worn - all the best things were anyway.

Harry wore green. Though eyes looked at him with disgust, he still wore green. It was the same look the Dursley's used to give him. A look to tell him that he was wrong, to tell him it wasn't ok because it wasn't normal. They didn't say anything to him though, not for the same reasons as the Dursley's. Not because he wasn't important, but because he was too important. They didn't want to tell him that he couldn't wear green. They didn't want to tell The Boy Who Lived that he shouldn't be wearing green. He silently wished that they would speak up, so he could tell them that it wasn't for them, it was for Ron. So, he could tell them that their looks and whispers didn't matter - Ron had taught him that.

Harry wore green. Now that the war was over, and the loses counted, Harry realized that the life he always imagined would never come. He wore green, now for the last time. Not to say that there hadn't been a fight. They had fought for their lives - with their lives. They had been fighting almost their whole lives, Harry just didn't notice till now. As they lowered the casket into the ground, it was time to admit defeat. The war might have been won, but they had lost the dream that drove them to victory. It was cold in the cemetery, and Harry suddenly realized that the jumper didn't keep him as warm as it used to. Ron was gone.

___


Harry wore grey. Harry wanted to fade into the colorless landscape the world had become without Ron beside him. He stood in front of the gravestone for the first time. The seasons had turned seven times since Ron had fallen. Two years with no tears. It wasn't cold like that day. It was warm and bright. Harry shivered anyway. He had been staring at the stone for ages until a small movement caught his eye. A single maple leaf had rolled to rest against the stone. It reminded him of Ron's hair and a single, silent tear escaped his eye. Suddenly his grey world shifted into vibrant colors, harsh and demanding to his worn eyes. He saw the flowers around the graves, red, pink, and yellow. He saw the sky blindingly blue with a bright white sun staring him back in the eye. He saw the grounds of the cemetery covered in plush green grass and sank to his knees. Harry couldn't help but let go of a sob and his tears began to flow freely without permission. Two years of guilt and anger and loneliness poured out of him while white-hot waves burned in his chest. He hoped that the tears would sink though the soil to Ron and that Ron would understand. He began to grab fists full of the offending green grass and pull it from the earth. He would get it all, every bit of it, he was sure he would. Time passed and Harry's fingers began to ache and his breathing came out choked and hollow. He had grass stains on his palms and he tore at his flesh trying to remove it. Harry suddenly sobered, glancing at the stone with a look of realization on his face, followed by a look of resolve. He whispered Ron's name as he ran his fingers over the lettering on the stone, before bringing them around his wand. The last thing Harry saw was green, as he made his way back to Ron.


~fin