I know I should not be posting another story when I have so many I need to work on, but couldn't stop myself writing it and once the first chapter is written I can't stop myself from posting it.
Besides even if it takes me a year to finish the story at least it should bring attention to my Ron Crusade. Look on my profile to see what that is.
The man had rather long unkempt red hair. It used to be an orange red, but now as if stained by the blood of his enemies it was a deeper brighter red, a bloody Gryffindor red. Ron Weasley had never hated that color more. He stood in a battle field and he waited wand steady for the next one, but they did not come.
He scanned the area at chest height for anymore attackers and as he pricked his ears for a familiar sound. He didn't hear it and his blood ran cold. After Hermione had died years ago, he and Harry had never fought apart. If Harry wasn't fighting at his side it was because they were guarding each other's backs. He couldn't hear Harry breathing. He knew before he turned around.
Harry Potter lay just behind Ron guarding his back in a pool of his own blood, quite dead. This time Ron did not scream. This time he did not see red and feel red until he destroyed everything around him until he was red. This time unlike with Hermione he sank to his knees and took inventory.
Hermione was dead long ago as was Bill, Charlie, the twins, Percy, Ginny, and his parents. With Harry's death there was no longer a reason to live. The the last reason he had to stay on this earth was in a broken heap by his side missing some body parts no doubt. Was there another to live? Was there a mission to accomplish? Was there, he thought of the long dead Headmaster, a greater good to accomplish? No. This was the last battle. The last battle of the last people on earth. It was over.
He remembered something Hermione said once. Quoting someone. About the dying in the last battle, of the last war, from the last bullet. Something about how that was how true warriors wanted to go.
"You did that then. You won and got to home to them… What about the last man alive from the last battle, from the last war, on earth. What about him Harry. I get to die a coward's death then? No you would never think that of me. I'm sure no one will be anger at me. I'm sure no one will mind if I come with you just a little early."
"You should have waited you know. You should have waited for me to see you about to go and we could have gone together. Now I guess I'll to catch up."
He didn't use his wand. He used a knife and he slit his throat. As he went he tasted his own blood. As he left he left in red.