Work Text:
Autumn
by KateKintail
Ron Weasley had once loved autumn. As he walked down the twisting path, the thin layer of dry leaves crunching underfoot, he was reminded of the days of his youth.
He remembered the Burrow, in the years before he'd gone to Hogwarts. He and Ginny had delighted in raking leaves into the biggest piles they could find. It was always a painfully slow experience, and more than once Ron had wished they knew the spells their older siblings did. The rakes scraped against the ground, pulling a good amount of golden, orange, and red leaves along, but always leaving some behind. It took so long to gather all the leaves of the yard into a single pile. However, the sensation of jumping into that gigantic pile of leaves afterwards made every bit of effort more than worth it.
He remembered one autumn-time detention at Hogwarts, when he'd been charged with raking a good portion of the grounds the muggle way. Fortunately, he had experience raking before, but he still wished he could levitate the leaves to the bins with a simple swish and flick of his wand. Just as he was feeling something between overwhelmed and depressed, the twins showed up. Brief conversation quickly but inevitably evolved to a leaf fight. Throwing handfuls of leaves wasn't quite as easy as snowballs, but it was almost more fun since one did not have to factor in soggy clothes and frozen fingers. They ran about in the crisp air, as leaves rained down over them.
He remembered slow autumn afternoons with his two best friends at Hogwarts. Watching the Gryffindor Quidditch team practice. Sitting under a tree by the lake and listening to Hermione read from one of their text books so it actually seemed interesting. Trudging across the grounds to visit Hagrid and have a cuppa in his hut as the wind raged outside. Enjoying the annual Halloween celebration in the great hall.
The sun was just above the treetops now, setting the sky aglow in a fiery orange and red which matched the leaves on the trees. The light struck his face and red hair as he found his place, stopped in his tracks, and knelt down on one knee. At that angle, he had plunged into shade, though the shiver that ran through him had nothing at all to do with being out of the path of the sun.
His eyes flicked from left to right as he read. Then his gaze became unfocused. He blinked and reached up, running his hand over the top of the gravestone. Leaves fell this way and that, fluttering to the ground in a dull, brown display. He brushed off the ground as well, exposing dying, green grass.
Ron made a move to get his wand, then he thought better of it. Just centimeters from his wand, he paused and relaxed. The sun was setting, but he suddenly felt no need to rush. Ron resumed his ministrations, clearing away the leaves by hand.
end