Once Upon A Dream - H/R - PG-13
Title: Once Upon A Dream
Author: shocfix
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A Masked Ball isn't always a happy occasion.
Words: 1650

For the Masquerade Challenge at TQP and Phoenix Rising, which is now over, so I can post non-sikritly.

Many thanks for the sikrit beta from belovedranger.


Once Upon A Dream
****
The music played, the wine flowed and the candles threw their soft light across the room.

Ron stood in the shadows, watching the masked witches and wizards dancing.

People flirted, gowns were low cut, hands wandered.

Ten years ago, he'd sat in this very room, watching Hermione dancing with Krum and making an utter fool of himself.

His heart ached.

Ached for Hermione, killed in the vicious attacks on the Muggleborns; ached for his stupid fourteen-year-old self, whose biggest problem was being jealous of Viktor.

Ached for the boy who'd sat beside him.

Harry.

He missed Harry so much.

He'd disappeared when the Dark Lord swept to power; some people said he was a coward, some people said he was dead.

Ron didn't think Harry was dead.

Ron knew Harry wasn't a coward.

He knew what it felt like to be a coward: to take the job that Percy had found for him; to keep his head down and work at the Ministry; to wear a mask every day, not just at the Ministry's Masked Ball.

To come to this stupid ball because his mother was afraid that people would talk if he didn't. She'd lost enough sons; she'd take Percy's protection, and force Ron and George to do the same.

So he put on his best robes and his mask; he stood in the shadows and the past, watching everything he'd ever cared about being mocked and desecrated.

An excited whisper swept the room, making Ron's skin crawl: the Dark Lord was here, at Hogwarts; he was going to put in an appearance, at the ball.

Ron picked up another drink and slunk round the edge of the room.

He didn't think he could do it.

He tried to be invisible at work, ignoring the taunts from Death Eaters.

He was called blood traitor and he didn't care; it wasn't his pure blood that he had betrayed.

He faced the Slytherins he'd hated at school, and he ignored their petty insults, for his mother's sake.

But not Voldemort.

How was he supposed to be in the same room as Voldemort and not do anything? After all they'd been through, how could he insult Hermione's memory by politely clapping as the Dark Lord appeared to his loyal followers?

How could he let Harry down by doing nothing?

He put his hand in his pocket and fingered his wand.

But there was nothing he could do; he wouldn't get anywhere near Voldemort before being struck down, and then what would happen to his mother?

He should have dyed his hair; maybe a masked, tall, skinny bloke with dark hair could get close enough to Voldemort to hurt him. But what use would that be, anyway? Ron had no way of knowing if Voldemort knew that they had destroyed his other Horcruxes, but he still took such good care of Nagini, so there was no point in trying to kill him.

Not that Ron had seen the giant snake. It was rumoured Voldemort kept her with him at all times, that she slept in the Minister's office, but Ron was never going to be allowed to get that deep into the Dark Lord's territory to find out.

But he was the only one who knew that Nagini was Voldemort's vulnerability; he should try and do something.

He necked his drink and blinked back tears.

The music stopped, abruptly, and a fanfare rang out.

A wizard stood in the doorway, his sparkling mask not hiding his shoulder length, pale blond hair.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he drawled. "I am honoured to introduce to you our host for the evening, the man we have to thank for the peace and prosperity our world is experiencing: the Dark Lord."

A wave of applause swept through the crowd, followed by a squeal as the people at the front of the crowd stepped back onto the toes of the people behind them.

Ron was tall enough to see over heads.

To see a masked figure, with a giant snake curled about his feet.

He clenched his fist, desperate enough to do anything, willing to die if he could only make a difference.

He could kill the snake; no one would expect him to kill the snake.

But what good would that do? Voldemort would realise he'd known about the Horcruxes, he'd check on the others. Would he be able to make more, to keep himself safe? Was there enough of his soul left in his body? Was that how the blasted things worked?

He might never be this close to the snake again, he had to do something.

But then the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he turned slowly on his heel.

Standing at his shoulder was a painfully thin man, in a black mask.

Ron didn't have to meet the green eyes behind that mask to know who it was.

His whole body ached and he swayed towards him, as if being drawn by a magnet. His heart was in his throat and he mouthed Harry.

Harry's hand closed on his wrist like a brand, and he nodded.

Tears sprung to Ron's eyes and it was all he could do to stay where he stood and not throw his arms round his friend.

He put his free hand over Harry's and squeezed hard, and Harry's strength flowed into him; he felt more alive than he had in two years.

"You OK?" Harry breathed.

Ron nodded, swallowing unsteadily.

"I heard he'd be here, with the snake," Harry murmured, his lips barely moving, his eyes burning into Ron's.

"Yeah."

"It could be my only chance, Ron. Are you with me?"

"Of course," Ron whispered fiercely, his nails digging into the back of Harry's hand. "You don't have to ask. What d'you need me to do?"

"Come with me," Harry said. "I have to face him, Ron. I know him, he'll mock me, he won't let them drag me away. Just before I attack, you have to kill the snake. OK?"

"Of course," Ron said. "I… Harry."

"I know," Harry murmured. "I'm so sorry; I couldn't come back, it was too dangerous to see you."

Ron shook his head. "Don't you dare apologise," he said. "Not to me; never to me."

Harry's hand slid up Ron's arm, into an awkward one armed hug. "Let's do it," he murmured, into his hair.

Ron breathed him in and nodded.

They threaded their way through the crowd, who were bowing and curtseying and fawning over Voldemort.

"We're dead, aren't we?" Ron murmured, following the slender figure of his best friend.

"I expect so, yeah," Harry whispered, barely turning his head, but reaching behind him, for Ron's hand.

They broke through the ring of spectators, finding themselves mere feet from Voldemort and his familiar.

The crowd behind them melted away and several dark robed wizards bristled and moved in their direction, but stopped as Harry removed his mask and Voldemort raised his arm and blocked their path.

Ron stopped at Harry's shoulder and reached up with shaking fingers, to remove his own mask.

One of the wizards opposite took a step forward, and Ron was aware of Percy's red hair out of the corner of his eye, but he was watching Harry.

Voldemort laughed. "I heard you were dead, Potter," he said.

Harry shrugged a shoulder. "Apparently not."

"I never heard you were this stupid," Voldemort sneered.

"What better place to end it?" Harry asked, casually gesturing round the Great Hall with his wand.

Voldemort balanced his own wand between elegant fingers. "What on earth do you hope to achieve, Potter?" he said. "Weren't you better off being dead?"

"We will all be better off, once you are dead," Harry said conversationally.

The Dark Lord's entourage surged forward, but he waved them away. "Leave him to me," he murmured.

"But the Weasley boy?" the blond at his shoulder asked.

"He's yours, Lucius," Voldemort said carelessly.

Malfoy raised his wand and pointed it at Ron, who looked frantically back and forth, between him and Harry; he couldn't go for the snake until Harry's signal, but he couldn't die and leave Harry up to his neck in trouble.

Then there was a disturbance amongst the wizards behind Malfoy and someone grabbed his arm, just as he threw a curse.

The beam of green light flew past Ron's shoulder, someone behind him screamed, Malfoy whirled on his attacker, Percy fought back, Death Eaters surrounded them, no one was watching the snake.

"Now," Harry whispered, stepping forwards.

Voldemort's eyes followed him, not realising that Ron had cursed his snake until it was too late.

He looked back and forth between Harry and Ron and the snake, his hand tightening desperately on his wand until it shook.

He took another step forward, swirled his robe around him as he turned on the spot, and staggered and fell to his knees.

"You cannot Apparate within the castle," Harry laughed. "Haven't you read Hogwarts, a History?"

And his curse cut the Dark Lord down, leaving him smoking and writhing before hundreds of his closest supporters.

In the stunned silence, Ron grabbed Harry's hand and ran for the door, pushing past screaming women, ducking the hands that reached for them and the criss crossing spells filling the Hall.

"Gonna die, gonna die, gonna die," Ron muttered.

"No, we're bloody not," Harry hissed, pulling him behind a tapestry and down a hidden corridor. "No one here knows the castle like we do; passageway to Honeydukes, OK?"

They didn't stop until they'd slithered down through the hole behind the One Eyed Witch and closed it behind them.

As Harry got to his feet, Ron pulled him into a tight hug.

"Fuck, Harry, you did it!" he gasped.

"We did it," Harry murmured into his neck, then, taking Ron's hand, he turned on his heel and led him down the passageway, to safety.