The Calm Chaos of Nothing

Part I: The Realizations

Note: This first installment is Ron's view as he looks back on events where he should have noticed things and ones where he realized. This is how depression can impact an "outsider" that doesn't know, doesn't realize, or doesn't want to.

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Present - 2007

Ron could still clearly remember the days he made his realizations. He was only twenty-six, after all, and all the realizations involved his best friend. As such, it wasn't difficult to recall any of the occasions. Whenever he reminisced, he couldn't help but berate himself for being such an arse and so stupid. He had thought he was over his doubt and jumping to conclusions after the war.

After the war, things had slowly healed in the wizarding world. The people were even slower to heal, Harry among them. Ron had always pictured life after the war, and had imagined everyone whole and perfectly happy. He had been so beyond wrong, especially in regards to Harry, though, he had been too stupid to realize until it was nearly too late.

He stared into the fire with a slight frown as he reclined on the sofa. He was pulled into memories as the dancing flames hypnotized him.

Eight Years Earlier - 1999

"To fallen friends and family who will never be forgotten," Ron toasted, holding up his glass with everyone else. "To one year later."

"One year later," everyone else echoed and clinked their glasses lightly together, creating a somber song.

"I can't believe it's already been a year," Ginny said, her voice despondently wistful.

"It's been hard but we've pulled through," Arthur Weasley said. "We're still healing but we're getting happier."

Everyone smiled at his words and at each other.

It had been exactly a year to the day that Voldemort had been defeated and the war had ended. There had been more deaths than survivals. Harry and Ron were the only ones of the Golden Trio to survive as Hermione had died on the battlefield. Alongside her was every seventh year except for six.

Harry, Ron, Dean Thomas, Draco Malfoy, Neville Longbottom, and Hannah Abbott were the only ones that remained from their year. Several sixth and fifth years had died as well, but the numbers were nowhere near as extensive as the seventh years.

Every professor at Hogwarts except for McGonagall, Hagrid, and Snape had died. Percy and Charlie had been lost from the Weasley family.

Most of the Death Eaters had been killed and the rest were in Azkaban or the psych ward at St. Mungo's.

All in all, the wizarding world had severely suffered in pursuit of victory and freedom.

The losses made their victory, even a year later, feel hollower than they anticipated.

"Speaking of a year later, Harry," Ginny said, and Ron looked at his sister. She was looking across the table at Harry who was sipping his water, a distant look in his eye.

"Not now, Ginny," Harry muttered and she huffed.

"You say that every time I bring it up," she said.

Harry shrugged. "Sorry."

She glared and turned to Fleur instead. Harry just stared into his water.

Ron frowned at the interaction and his friend's behaviour. "You alright, mate?"