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hillnerd · 6 years ago

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The Wonderful Won Won - ch 4

ff.net A03 beginning of story | previous chapter

Trigger warnings: disturbing imagery, cursing, hospital, medical injuries (blood, paralysis, brain damage, memory issues) , inappropriate jokes about one’s own disabilities

Chapter 4- Potions and Soup

The brain’s tentacles were ripping him to shreds and reality was warping around him as an unsteady pulse echoed in his ears. Spiders the size of houses walked over him while their young devoured his limbs, leaving him unable to move. Powerful convulsions constricted his chest and air bellowed over his shredded lungs. All he could feel was pain, a tangible darkness, and the sensation of being drowned, but backwards? The only real thing he could think about, besides the pain, was her. What was her name again?

The convulsions struck again and again. He longed to be able to lose himself in the darkness, but something kept tethering him to the unimaginable pain. He was drowning again, and his limbs were back, stiff as lead.

If he could only say her name one time, maybe all of this would end? It almost seemed like an answer to a riddle. He just couldn’t think what the riddle was or what the name was he should say. It was like trying to hold a fist full of sand, with each grain slipping through his fingers until he only had a few grains left.

The excruciating pain of flesh tearing apart made Ron try to gasp out, and fire seared through his nerves, flaying them raw.

“How long was he—”

Painful darkness swallowed him again. He tried with every bit of fortitude he could to open his eyes, to shout into the void, but the abyss consumed his voice and the air had become the icy waters of a Scottish loch. He wasn’t anything anymore, and everything shattered into a million stars. They burned bright, burning straight through his flesh, and nothing but dread filled him as the horizon grew closer, hotter, brighter. Then the answer appeared for him. Hermione. That was the name he’d been clawing his way towards. What was a Hermione? All he knew was that it meant he’d be safe somehow, he had something to fight for, he could fight his way through the exploding horizons, and tearing flesh, giant spiders, and—

“Mr Weasley?”

He could feel the sensation of his leaden arms and legs on the bed, his head pressing into a pillow. He tried to stir but couldn’t. Why could he not control his body?

His right eye was opened by someone.

“Follow the light without moving your head.”

Ron did as he was told, even though the light was so bright he could feel it throbbing in time with his heartbeat. A loud ringing tone pulsed in his ears, high and sharp.

“Can you open your eyes?”

He had to attempt it a few times before before he managed to pry his all too heavy eyelids open.

“Good, now follow the light with both eyes.”

He slowly blinked before complying. As his eyes adjusted he saw Madame Pomfrey standing before him, her starched apron reflecting the light into his eyes.

“Oh Ronnie, you’re alright!” he heard his Mum cry.

“Shhh Molly. She said not to interrupt.”

“Can you feel your arms and legs yet?”

Ron had to concentrate, but was able to barely wiggle them and they felt whole enough.

“Can I… Can I touch him?” his Mum ask Pomfrey, sounding teary.

“Yes. Gently. Just gentle touches, no compression.”

“Oh my Ronnie!” his Mum started weeping. “We were so frightened.”

Ron tried to form a word, any word, to say to his mother, but as soon as he could so much as rasp a coughing fit took him. It rattled and tore through him unlike any cough he’d ever had before. Dark red blood exploded from his lungs and splattered the matron’s apron. His lungs rattled as cough after cough shook his chest and tore through his throat.

His mouth was wrenched open and a vile tasting liquid was poured down his throat, though it was more fumes than actual liquid. The coughing ceased in moments, but the distinct coppery taste of blood still filled his mouth and nose. He tried to wipe the back of his arm across his mouth, but his arm just wouldn’t move off the bed, lamely twitching at his side. A slimy trail of sputum and blood oozed out of his mouth, but Pomfrey wiped it away with a handkerchief.

“He can’t respond well right now due to injuries, spells, and potions.”

“We love you, sweet boy. We love you so much,” his Mum said, holding his cold nerveless hand. He tried to squeeze back, but it was such a small twitch he doubted she felt it. A larger heavier hand gently squeezed his shoulder. He knew it was his dad but couldn’t see him well. He felt like he was wearing Harry’s glasses; everything blurry and filled with amorphous blobs of color.

Ron tried to form words again and found his mouth didn’t want to respond. He let out an unintelligible sound. He tried again.

“Urrhrl?”

Even though Ron’s mouth and throat seemed fine he couldn’t make words. His eyes widened in fear.

“Ron. What’s wrong? Something’s wrong,” said his Dad.

Ron began to panic as he tried again and again to make words. He couldn’t. Tears came to his eyes and he started to breathe hard.

“Oh no!” his Mum cried out. “Oh no! Is he ok? Ron?”

“He’s fine—” Pomfrey said perfunctorily. “Mr Weasley. Are you having trouble forming words right now?”

Ron tried desperately to say yes, but all that came out what a strange sound similar to the ghoul that lived in his attic. He tried to nod his head but it wouldn’t do what he said and just barely moved to the wrong direction. What was wrong with him? He was trapped. Trapped in his own body unable to say or do anything!

“Blink twice for yes. Can you not speak?”

He blinked twice. His mother let out a horrible mournful sob as his father tried to quiet her.

“Alright. Mr Weasley…”

He was distracted by the sounds, and how blurry everything was.

“Mr Weasley… Ron!”

His eyes again locked on Pomfrey.

“You are alright. What you are experiencing is temporary. You will be able to speak later. Maybe in a few hours. This is not permanent. The part of your brain that forms speech is injured, but will be healed - probably by the time you wake up tomorrow. You will regain movement in your body as well, but that might take longer before it’s completely healed. Do you understand, Ron?”

He blinked twice at her.

“This is all quite a lot for you, so I am going to cast a spell to help you sleep until you’re more healed. We don’t want the stress of these sensations to impede your healing.”

She cast a spell and immediately his eyes felt very heavy. He closed them awaiting sleep.

He could hear his mother still crying. Dad asking questions. Pomfrey explaining things. It was all stretching and warping and becoming harder to understand, and sleep took hold of him.

Ron woke up with another fumey potion being put down this throat, no idea if a lot of time or little had passed. Coughs were quieting in his chest. Had he been coughing? A handkerchief was held to his face.

“I am going to press this against your nose and lean you back into your pillow. The bleeding will continue on and off again the next few days,” Pomfrey said, spelling away blood from her apron. She sounded like she was underwater, every word muffled to him.

“Wha... Wha habbened?” Ron let out as blood pooled in the back of his throat. He could just remember not being able to talk at one point.

“You were poisoned. Mr Potter shoved a bezoar down your throat just in time to keep it from being a fatal poisoning.”

“Where’s Harry?” His voice was lower than normal and impossibly hoarse. His throat felt stripped raw, and prickled in sharp pain.

“Asleep in his dormitory, I’m assuming. He, Miss Granger and your family were all here, though.”

“Hermione was here?” Ron asked, trying to sit up as quickly as he could. Instead his head rose off the pillow a few centimeters and he weakly collapsed back onto the bed. He gave another attempt to sit up, but the Matron of the hospital wing made it impossible to succeed.

“Don’t overexert yourself Mr Weasley. You need to rest,” she said, pushing him back onto his pillow.

“Did Hermione seem upset?” Ron blurted before realizing it was Pomfrey he was asking.

She seemed to find this amusing, and nearly smiled at him. He didn’t like that one bit.

“Yes, they were all quite upset. You need to rest, though. It is four in the morning and you are very ill still. The bezoar kept you from dying, but it will take a long time for your body to recover from the effects of the poison. Expect to spend, at minimum, a week here in the hospital wing.”

The sound in his ears came rushing back full force, and the whole room felt like it was lurching to the left. His head ached as time seemed to slow down and speed up and bend around him. He began to blink his eyes open again. What time was it? Where was he?

“What happened? Why am I here?” Ron asked, blinking a bit as the lights seemed to brighten.

“You were poisoned,” said Madame Pomfrey before running a diagnostic spell on him. “You’ll have some neurological effects for a few days at least. Your heart stopped, and you weren’t breathing for a few minutes, so it might take a bit for your memory to be back to normal. You’ve been given potions that will undo that damage over the next few days, as long as you don’t over do it, they’ll work their course.”

She gave him a sheet of parchment.

“You can look here and all your questions will be answered,” she said. He looked down to see a variety of questions and answers.

What happened? Why am I in the hospital? Who visited? Who poisoned me? Will I be ok? Was Hermione here? Where are everyone? Was Hermione upset? Is everyone else ok? Where’s Harry? When can I leave? Will I be able to play quidditch? What potions do I have to take? Where is Hermione? Should there be all this blood? Are you sure this is normal? When will I be able to walk again? How am I going to the bathroom? Did anyone but my parents see me when I couldn’t talk? When will I be able to sit up on my own? Why can’t I use my hands? Do I still have to do my homework? Can’t I drink more water than that? When can I eat? Can Hermione visit me again?

“You’ve already asked these questions, and I’ve answered them each about five times now.”

“I have?” Ron asked, his head beginning to hurt.

“Yes. Don’t worry, it’s normal after such a poisoning,” she said fluffing his pillow and slowly pushing him back again. “But for now, you need to sleep.”

A potion was put to his mouth, and he swallowed it without complaint. It tasted like blue cheese wrapped in a musty fart, but within moments he was asleep again.

“No… You go on to practice. I want to stay here a bit longer,” he heard the sweetest voice say.

It had to be Hermione. He willed his eyes to open, which took considerable effort and a lot longer than he expected. He heard the door close, but could just make out her brown hair, looking wild as ever.

“‘Ermione?” Ron let out. He coughed and felt some blood beginning to make its way down his throat. The coughs increased until a bottle was placed at his mouth, the vapors calming his breathing.

“You’re awake!”

“You’re here,” he rasped, seeing Hermione staring at him.

“I’m here,” she nodded. How could one person look so perfect and make him feel magically better? Well, better besides the feeling that he was choking on blood and couldn’t fight off a possessed scrambled egg if he had to.

“Mr Weasley, put your head back down on your pillow and put press the cloth against your nose until the bleeding stops,” Madam Pomfrey commanded. A handkerchief was thrust into his hand, and this time his fingers were able to feebly grasp it. The unpleasant taste of blood filled his mouth as he held up the cloth, but he couldn’t help but smile. He made sure it was a closed mouth smile, though. Last thing he wanted was the sight of bloody teeth sending Hermione away.

“Do you remember what happened?” Madam Pomfrey asked as she shone her wand into his eyes.

Ron could vaguely recall reading something about a poisoning, so nodded, hoping that would leave him alone with Hermione.

“Well that’s a sign your mind is finally healing, then,” she said, doing a diagnostic spell. “Yes much better than before. You’ll have some memory and cognition issues a bit longer, but you’ll be back to yourself in no time. No over exerting yourself, though! Not even sitting up yet, Mr Weasley. I’ll not let you have guests if you over do it.”

He forced his head back into his pillow, hoping that showed enough complicity. Madam Pomfrey spelled the bed to bend upward so he was almost in a completely seated position, but completely supported by the bed.

“Now if you have another coughing fit, take some of this potion,” she said indicating the small black hexagonal bottle that never seemed to have much liquid in it. “Once you breath in the vapors it should help with the coughing. If there’s blood, again, handkerchief and head back.”

A student was brought in with a tentacle beard, so Ron was finally left alone with Hermione. She shut his front curtains so they could have privacy. That or she wanted to murder him with no witnesses. He hoped it was the former.

“You’re really here,” Ron smiled hopefully. He thought he’d never have Hermione to himself again. She was biting her lip with worry, but she was there. She was beautiful, though a bit paler than usual. Was she in the hospital wing because she was injured? “How are you feeling?”

Hermione let out a watery laugh, and shook her head.

“Better, now that you’re awake.”

Her hand gently made its way into his, sending a thrill through him like the first time he’d ever ridden a broom. He tried to squeeze it hard back, partly to ground himself that this was real, and partly to let her know something of how happy he was to see her, but all he could manage was a limp clammy hold. She didn’t say anything to him, simply putting another hand on top of his one weak one.

“So… I kind of lied. I don’t entirely remember what’s been going on… I just wanted to see you,” Ron said quietly. Normally this would gain him a playful smack and one of Hermione’s classic grumpy eyerolls. Instead her eyebrows knitted together with worry and she let go of his hands.

“Oh shit! Please don’t leave. I’m so glad you’re here. It’s fine… I can catch up on this crap later.”

He honestly didn’t care if he sounded pathetic or desperate. She was the one thing he could hold on to when time was bending, and he wasn’t sure of what was real and not.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said firmly, yet kindly. If it weren’t for the threat of Pomfrey sending visitors away he thought he might have been able to literally jump for joy. “I just wanted to grab this piece of paper. Do you remember it at all?”

“Vaguely,” he said looking at the parchment. “It had some questions on it?”

“That’s right,” she said with a tight smile.

“Sorry I’m so stupid right now. I just can’t seem to keep a hold of things in my mind for long.”

“You’re far from stupid,” Hermione said with her trademark scowl, and he grinned at that. “You were nearly killed. You had anoxia, where your brain didn’t get enough oxygen. It’s literal brain damage.”

He almost laughed at being brain damaged, but tears began to pool in her eyes.

“If it weren’t for magic you might not be able to remember anything ever again, or talk, or move, and could have been mentally infirm the rest of your life. It wouldn’t have been temporary. You’d not be yourself and I just — I just can’t stand the thought that-that someone as alive and as - as wonderful as you could ever be struck down and unable to be yourself and I was so so afraid I was going to lose you and the last things I ever said to you were-were horrible, and I just —”

“Oh, Hermione, don’t—” he said while weakly raising his arms as high as he could so she’d come into them. She didn’t fully embrace him, probably afraid she’d hurt him or some tosh, but sat beside him and let him put an arm around her. Hermione needed facts and figures to comfort her. “Hey, according to this parchment, I’m going to be ok, right?”

She gave a great wet sniff and nodded, though she looked even paler than before. He’d have to humiliate himself a bit to get her to laugh, but it would be worth it.

“And apparently there are some spells in place, so we don’t have to worry I’ll wet myself in the bed, even though I’m so mentally infirm,” he said with conspiratorial grin.

She let out a small laugh.

He pushed aside the frightening memory of being unable to talk or move. He was glad Hermione hadn’t been there for that. Or had he been like that in front of her? He couldn’t remember. It had scared him more than anything, being trapped in his body and unable to use it. He still was weak as a newly hatched puffskein, but he could function on some level at least.

He scanned the parchment of questions and answers, and somewhere near the bottom he had asked about who saw him when he had been unable to talk. It seemed only his parents had seen him at his worst. Good.

Looking at the parchment more closely he noted how many times he’d asked about Hermione and blushed a bit, knowing Hermione had probably read through this list a dozen times. If there was something to read, Hermione will have read it a few times and memorized it, if she could. She hooked her hand in his again and looked as if she were about to say something when the hospital door opened with a loud bang.

“Madame Pomfrey!” he could hear a girl cry out. Wait, that wasn’t just any girl. That was Lavender! His girlfriend! Lavender! And here he was holding hands with Hermione. Oh shit! Oh shit! Hermione’s hand left his, and he just knew this was going to thrust everything back to how it had been, with Hermione shunning him and Lavender trying so hard to fill that void, and he didn’t know what to do.

He could hear Lavender working herself into a tizzy across the hall, and Pomfrey shushing her. All the lights seemed too bright in the room and his head began to throb as panic set in.

Quickly he looked at Hermione and grabbed her hand just for an instant.

“Don’t go. Swear you won’t go,” he whispered with more intensity than was probably medically advisable.

“I—” Hermione began glancing in the direction of the doors. “Alright. I swear.”

“Good,” he said with a sigh.

“Well no one told me!” he heard Lavender practically yell across the hospital wing.

Ron looked down at the parchment with questions, many of which were about Hermione, and none of which were about Lavender. It practically announced his obsession with Hermione! He promptly thrust it under his pillow.

“I’ve been asleep!” he desperately said to Hermione, before hitting a button on the bed that laid it flat with an unpleasant clank, a painful shudder going through his system. He would have cried out in discomfort, but the curtains opened and it was somehow very important that he pretend to be asleep.

“Oh! Oh Ron!” Lavender let out, throwing herself on the bed and tightly holding onto his chest. It took a great deal of willpower not to hiss out in pain. “Oh Won Won!”

“Miss Brown,” Pomfrey intervened. She must have physically drawn Lavender away from him, because he could suddenly breath a little easier. “He’s been seriously incapacitated and needs to be treated gently.”

“Oh no! I didn’t do any damage did I?” Lavender sounded close to crying. For a moment Ron felt like he should wake up and comfort her, but he was so scared to break the newfound peace he had with Hermione, he didn’t dare.

“He’s a tough one. I’m sure he’s fine,” said Pomfrey, with something akin to fondness in her voice.

“He is a tough one! He is!” Lavender proclaimed, now holding his hand. “Will he wake up soon?”

“He’s been in and out of consciousness. He suffered a bit of brain damage that—”

“Brain damage!” Lavender wailed.

“Lavender it’s not permanent. He’ll be ok,” he heard Hermione break in. Lavender dropped his hand like a hot potato and any crying completely ceased.

“What are you here for? Come to finish the job?!”

“Of course not!” Hermione hotly replied. “I’m his friend and—”

“You have some nerve calling yourself that, the way you’ve been treating him!”

“Miss Brown…” Pomfrey began, but Ron knew Lavender was just getting started.

“No! You shouldn’t be here at all!” Lavender said firmly, and much louder than was necessary. “You’ve been treating him worse than dragon dung for months, all because he was dating me instead of you, and I’m sick of it. We’re all sick of it. You’ve been so cruel, and you weren’t much better before I started dating him. None of you were!”

He could hear Lavender stomp her foot on the ground.

“He’s always sick with worry and none of you even try to be nice to him or pay him any attention, and it’s horrid! He's barely had friends the past few months! I come around, and you both disappear like a pair of demiguises! You and Harry hate when anyone else spends time on Ron, but won't bother to show a hint of appreciation when you have him. Did he really have to nearly die for him to be interesting enough for you? You've come to gawk at him the moment he's down, but where were you when he was well? Hmm?”

There was a great awkward pause between them all that made Ron infinitely grateful he was pretending to be asleep and didn’t have to participate.

“If you’re quite done, Miss Brown!” Pomfrey barked. “Keep your voice down, or I will have to ask you to leave.”

“It’s alright. I’m leaving. I have no interest in being around her,” Lavender snidely finished. Ron felt a sudden trembling sensation in his throat. A suppressed fit of coughs began wrestling its way through him to break free. He held his breath, and gave every effort he could think of to hold in the hacks.

“I’ll b-be back later to check on Ron again. I’m his girlfriend,” Lavender said, sounding somewhat wobbly again. “I c-care, and I should have been t-told…”

He could hear her sobs echo off the walls, and travel all the way down into the hallway. Ron felt terrible guilt fill him, but his body wouldn’t let him dwell on that as he broke out into a series of bloody coughs. Head throbbing, he blindly reached out for the potion bottle from earlier.

But then his hand was stayed. His head was tenderly cradled, small cool hands weaving into his hair. Eyes watery from the coughs he could just make out Hermione holding the potion bottle up for him, uncapped and ready. He put his unsteady hand around hers and weakly guided it to his mouth. His coughing subsided, and he only had to fumblingly hold a handkerchief to his mouth a short period of time before the bleeding stopped.

“Can I—?” Ron’s vocal chords grated together making it difficult to speak. “Water?”

Pomfrey nodded, and a cup of water with a straw was put into his hands. He gratefully drank it down, and mourned how little there was, until it magically refilled.

“Thanks,” he rasped out, leaving him alone with Hermione again. Her hand was still gently stroking his hair in a way she’d never touched him before. His stomach swooped, filled with snitches at her tender attentions. How could such a small thing cause him to feel such bewildering excitement, but also bring him such peace? He closed his eyes a moment and let the feeling of comfort wash over him. He was sick and tired, so he could indulge in the sensation without being judged.

“I’m not here to ‘gawk at you’,’” Hermione murmured, her fingers playing with his hair.

“I know.”

“I’ll… I’ll try harder to be... Lavender was right, even before the fight, I —”

“No, she wasn’t,” Ron protested, but Hermione’s hand fell from his hair. He opened his eyes to see her hands twisting together as they did when she was particularly anxious. He couldn’t have that. “C’mere.”

For once, Hermione didn’t argue, and she came close to him. He put out his hand and she silently held it.

“I think you’re plenty nice,” Ron said, looking her squarely in the eye, taking both her hands in his.

“I’m not! I haven’t been. I’ve been—”

“Fine! The last few months you were a terror.”

All her worry turned to a flash of anger.

“You can’t get mad at me, I’m brain damaged,” he said. It was inappropriate to joke about it, he knew, but it got a snort out of her so he wasn’t too fussed. “Please don’t beat yourself up over what Lavender said. You’ve been plenty nice most of the time.”

“I haven’t though,” she answered, her brows creasing again. He gave a sigh. What was he supposed to do with her? He didn’t want to risk vexing her, but he also couldn’t let her beat herself up.

“Last year… When my Dad nearly died, you were on a skiing trip with your parents. You took a knightbus all the way across Europe to get to us.”

Ron had secretly hoped it’d been just for him. It had felt as though it were his own Christmas gift, to have Hermione hugging him close to her, looking very green faced and wane from the long Knight Bus ride she’d endured for hours and hours.

“You gave up Christmas with your parents and a fancy vacation, and replaced it with a grotty old mansion and a bunch of gingers losing their shit. Made the whole holiday turn around for me — everyone else… If that’s not nice, I don’t know what is. You’re more than nice, you’re good.”

Hermione gave a sniff as if she were about to cry.

“Of course,” he said, scrambling to find something to stop her tears, “maybe you just really wanted to spend time with Kreacher. Either way, you were making someone’s Christmas. There, that do?”

She gave a tight smile. Anyone else who didn’t know Hermione as well as he knew her would call it a cringe.

Ron reached out to her hand and took her warm one in his cold one. “So how ‘bout we start over? Both try to be friends again?” he asked.

Hermione looked down, as if weighing something out in her mind, her eyebrows knit together. He almost joked that she’d better hurry or he might keel over, but he knew this time he should give her space.

“I’d… I’d like that, Ron.”

She said his name. She’d said it loads of times over the years, but right now it burned through him and made his body feel light. He realized he’d been smiling at her a bit too long, and unclasped his hands from hers. He didn’t want her to think he was completely mental.

“So! What day is it? Do I have loads of homework you have to catch me up on?”

“You’ve only been out a day and a half. Today’s Sunday. No homework I can help with yet,” Hermione said, sagging in her seat. “I can go, if you need to rest… Come back when I can be useful.”

He’d noticed how pale she was the moment he woke up, but now that he sat and really looked at her, she looked frail and so tired.

“I like it when we don’t have any homework and it’s just us. I’ll take you whenever I can.”

She flushed and looked embarrassedly pleased as she sat beside him.

He was vaguely aware that this was more than he should say to her. Maybe it was the potions thrumming through his body, or the near death experience, or just the enthrallment of having Hermione at his side again; but he didn’t care. He had Hermione back, and that meant everything in the world.

He spent the next half hour enjoying Hermione’s company more than he had his entire life. They only spoke of innocuous things like the Twins showing up for his birthday with gifts, what they thought about Apparition lessons, and Crookshanks’s latest ‘adventures,’ but this time he really relished it, for he finally knew what it was to be without her company. He wasn’t the same kid who could be without Hermione for a month or so over a spat. The hole her absence had left this time around had been too much for him, and he hadn’t even realized it. He needed Hermione Granger in his life to feel whole.

“Lunch has arrived,” Pomfrey said, a metal trolley magically following her to his bedside. He was worried Hermione would have to leave, but Pomfrey had been kind enough to make sure Hermione had a meal as well. He decided Pomfrey might not be such a hard-nosed old bird after all.

While Hermione had a sandwich and delicious looking sides, Ron was left with a disappointing looking broth. He hadn’t realized just how impaired his limbs were until his first attempt to scoop a spoonful of broth to his mouth. What had always been a simple task he took for granted made his hand seize, shake and jerk as soon as he held the spoon tight and rotated it toward the bowl. After the third attempt he knew it was useless. There was no way he could navigate a spoonful of liquid to his mouth.

“That’s due to the nerve damage from the poison, Mr Weasley. It will get better. Until then I can feed you myself, or use an alternative method to get you the nutrition you need. Those methods are not the most pleasant, and I typically do them when the patient is sedated, but they get the job done.”

If someone as hardcore as Pomfrey said something was unpleasant, he’d rather avoid it if he could. He felt utterly useless lying in a bed unable to use a spoon. It wasn’t as bad as the scene he’d endured with his parents, but it was too uncomfortably similar for him to ignore the same frightening sense that he was imobile and being strangled by a brain again. The sense of hopelessness and being trapped made him feel sick to his stomach.

Would he ever have dignity again? It’s not like he had that much to begin with, but this was too invalidating. He was about to sign up for one of the ‘unpleasant’ methods, to avoid the humiliation of being hand fed, but his comment was cut off before he could make a sound.

“I can feed Ron,” Hermione volunteered, before looking at Ron. “That is… If it’s ok with you.”

Ron goggled at her. Why would Hermione sign up for such a task? Lavender’s comments must have rattled her and she wanted to assuage her guilt by punishing herself. Ron wanted to protest, but stopped himself. The thought of it was completely humiliating, but she was looking at him with a mix of hope, sadness, unease and something else he couldn’t define. Perhaps it would make Hermione not look so sad to say yes?

She never signed up for something she didn’t feel very compelled to do. And Ron couldn’t deny that on some level, deep down, there was something a tiny bit alluring and intimate in the thought of Hermione feeding him. He’d much rather it be grapes or something under a tree as they kissed and she played with his hair, but Ron’s life had never given him much poetry or romance before. He had to take his parodies of intimacy as they came.

“Er… If you’re sure…”

“I am!” she declared, that challenging glint in her eye. He was too tired and weak to even contemplate fighting her. She’d probably wrestle the spoon out of Pomfrey’s grasp, barricade the door and force-feed him with a funnel if he didn’t say yes.

“Then... yeah, ok. Thanks.”

It was awkward at first, Hermione spooning food into the great useless lug he’d become. He felt utterly broken, but they found their rhythm, and he discovered he was able to gaze upon her without fear of repercussion. It took the sting out of the infantilization, and almost made it enjoyable.

He made sure she took the time to eat too. She was prone to getting lost in tasks and forgetting to feed herself. He enviously eyed her sandwich, but the scent of it made his stomach lurch, and he realised he needed to stick to broth. The potions roiling through him made even the broth a bit hard to keep down.

They were almost done with the broth when Harry and Ginny came to visit after Quidditch practice. They looked morose as they opened the doors, but their faces both broke into mad grins upon spotting Ron and they ran straight at him.

“You’re awake!” they chorused, laughing together.

“I’m awake!” he laughed right back, but he regretted the enthusiasm he had used, for it earned him a coughing fit and a scolding from Pomfrey for getting overexcited. The two sobered up as they watched Ron with his handkerchief he could barely hold straight.

“Stupid bloody cough,” Ron muttered.

“Literally,” Harry added, though he didn’t look amused.

“Har har, very funny,” Ron replied. Head back to let the blood drain down his throat, and not having to look Harry in the eye, he decided now was as good a time as ever to thank his best friend. “Harry, mate. Thanks for, y’know, saving my life and everything.”

“I didn’t really… It was because I’d read the Half-Blood Prince’s notes…”

“Did the book put that bezoar down my throat, then?”

“Well no…”

“Then take my thanks, mate.”

“Course,” Harry muttered. He started fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve as he always did when people made a big deal of him. Ron knew that was as good as they could get with other people looking on. Ron would corner his friend later and make sure he knew how much he was appreciated, without belaboring the point or embarrassing Harry.

“Should we finish up your soup, Ron?” Hermione said, to bring the attention off Harry. She usually wasn’t very good at redirecting like this, but he supposed she must have improved over the past months without Ron running interference.

Neither Harry or Ginny took it upon themself to comment on the renewed friendship between Ron and Hermione, and he was very grateful for it.

“Yeah sure, let’s finish the soup,” he said, a bit chagrined to be spoon fed in front of his mate and little sister, but he wanted to give Harry an out.

Hermione had just filled the spoon and was holding it up for him when Ginny let out a snort.

“You’re such a lazy sod, getting Hermione to feed you.” Ginny said with a laugh, while Harry smirked at her. “You act like you’re handicapped.”

Hermione’s serene countenance immediately turned hard and she dropped the spoon back into the bowl with a clang.

“Are you both really that thick?” Hermione hissed, vehemently glaring at Harry and Ginny. “He has nerve damage and can’t so much as hold the spoon without his whole arm spasming, so yes he is as bad as all that! He nearly died not two days ago, and is so lucky he won’t have permanent injuries! Your brother almost lost the ability to speak or ever move his limbs again. He needs to eat, so I’m going to bloody well feed him if he needs it!”

Ginny and Harry blanched, while Ron beamed at Hermione cursing on his behalf. ‘Bloody’ wasn’t real cursing, but for Hermione it was practically an f-bomb.

“It’s fine, Hermione; she was just taking the mickey. S’what siblings do,” Ron said as Hermione jabbed the spoon at him. She clearly didn’t find it funny, but no one wanted to upset the new peace that had settled between Ron and Hermione.

Harry and Ginny lamented about practice, and how terrible McLaggen was, and how they missed Ron. That alone made him feel better than any potion could, but he had to admit, as the soup was finished off, he was feeling exhausted. He was trying to blink away the sleep and pay attention to them all, but before he could say anything Pomfrey bustled in with a tray of potions.

“Now that you’ve eaten, we need to give you your potions.”

“Will I be able to use a spoon soon?” he sleepily asked.

“Maybe by tomorrow’s breakfast,” she said, giving him a teaspoon of liquid that tasted like someone had blended chalk, lawn clippings, and petrol together. He had to fight not to vomit up all the broth Hermione had fed him. A few other rancid potions later and his battle to stay lucid and awake had become near impossible.

“Mr Weasley will be going to sleep soon. If you want to come around dinner time, he should be awake then.”

His eye lids were drooping, and the whole room seemed to grow fuzzy.

“We’ll be back late this afternoon, mate,” Harry said with a tight smile.

“Yer a good frieen’,” Ron slurred back.

“You are too. I’m so glad you’re ok,” Harry said, looking oddly emotional.

Ginny held Ron’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Love you, you lazy sod.”

“Live ya’ toooo, midget.”

With that, Harry and Ginny left his side. That or they were part of the dark blur that was taking over his vision.

Hermione was the final one to approach. Her fingers grazed his hair, swiping it to the side of his forehead.

“I’ll stay here, if that’s ok.”

“Don’ hafta...” he said with eyes closed.

“I know… I want to, though. I can read and make sure you’re really alright.”

“M’ok. Gotchoo back. M’great. Live you ‘ermione…” he sighed out as comforting darkness took him off to sleep.

When he awoke again it was starting to get dark outside, with the sunset casting a pinkish glow about the ward. Hermione sat in a chair with a small desk she’d either spelled into existence or Pomfrey had provided. Her chair also looked a lot more cushioned than the usual chairs he’d seen in the Hospital Wing.

“Hey,” he said, voice sounding rough and still weirdly deep to him. He only let out a short cough, but this time he didn’t need a handkerchief or potion. There was only a small hint of the blood taste this time.

“Oh!” Hermione let out, casting aside a long scroll, and scrambling to extricate herself from the little study barricade she’d made herself. They contentedly beamed at each other.

“So, do you remember everything?” she asked.

“I don’t know… Who are you again?”

For a split second she seemed to take him seriously, but then he laughed and she joined him.

“Don’t joke about that!”

“Hermione, I have a very small amount of time that I can make jokes about this. Don’t take what few comforts an invalid like myself has!”

“But really, do you remember everything?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Do you know what day it is?”

“Of course I do!” Ron laughed, but as he thought, he wasn’t entirely sure he did know what day it was. It was a silly thing to have trouble remembering, but he’d forgotten the day of the week enough before the poisoning, so it couldn’t be anything worth mentioning.

A moment later Harry came through the Hospital Wing doors, looking put out, but he seemed to perk up once he got near them.

“Ginny coming?” Hermione asked.

“In a bit. She was, er, saying goodbye to Dean… It got prolonged so I went on ahead.”

Hermione had a keen look in her eye as he said this.

“How are you feeling, Ron?” Harry asked sitting on the edge of his bed.

“I haven’t been coughing up blood, so alright?” Ron said testing out his hands. He rotated them and they felt a tiny bit stronger. They still shook though when he twisted them, and his fingers still felt hard to manipulate.

Ginny stormed through the doors looking angry even after she reached them.

“You ok?” Harry asked.

“Apparently there was no point to my cutting dinner short to visit my brother because Ron is all fine!” she groused, before looking at Ron with a twinkle in her eyes. “See the things I do and sacrifice for you! Best appreciate it.”

“Oh yeah, cutting dinner short one time. I’m really grateful. We’ll be giving you a prize for you humanitarian work soon,” Ron teased back.

Hermione frowned, never quite able to understand his relationship with Ginny. To outsiders he could see they’d think he and Ginny didn’t get along at all, but most of them were just only children like Hermione who didn’t get that giving each other shit was part of it. They didn’t yammer away like a pair of prepubescent girls, but they were able to support each other when the chips were down; especially if no one else was around to bare witness.

Pomfrey arrived with the food trolley again, and Hermione was given a tray again.

“You’ll have to get your meals in the Great Hall from now on, though.”

Hermione nodded, looking disappointed as her cheeks colored. Ron was again given broth, but this time it was accompanied with some rolls.

“Do you need help again?” Hermione asked, looking to the broth.

“You know, why don’t you conjure a mug and a straw. I can just suck from that,” replied Ron, sure he did not want share the intimacy of being spoon-fed by Hermione with the likes of Harry and Ginny sitting by. Hermione did as he asked, and as she took her time preparing his soup, Ron decided now was as good a time as ever to thank his best friend. “Harry, mate. Thanks for, y’know, saving my life and everything.”

“Yeah. It’s no problem,” Harry said ducking his head. “You don’t have to keep thanking me.”

“It’s the first I have. You should take my thanks, mate.”

“You thanked him already,” said Ginny, looking at him with squinted eyes.

“Did I?” Ron asked. He felt fine and clear headed.

Hermione set down his bowl with a thud.

“Ron… What day of the week do you think it is?”

Agitation coursed through him as he realized she’d asked this already.

“Why does it matter?”

“Because we talked about it earlier today, and now you can’t seem to remember that. Or thanking Harry.”

“You’re having trouble remembering things?” Harry asked. It felt like everyones eyes were on him.

“I’m fine! I’m doing just fine,” Ron said, almost more to himself than the others.

“Do you remember who visited you earlier today?” Hermione pressed.

“You did,” Ron said, then he remembered they said he’d already thanked Harry. “And Harry did.”

“I was there too,” Ginny said, looking concerned.

“And Lavender visited,” Hermione added. He could vaguely recall pretending to be asleep for that.

“Should we get Pomfrey?” Harry asked, but he wasn’t looking at Ron, he was addressing Ginny and Hermione.

“I don’t know. There is supposed to be memory issues… I’m not sure if this is not more of the same. I mean his brain damage is being healed. Madame Pomfrey said it should heal fine.”

“But he couldn’t remember me at all,” Ginny said, looking pale. “He was able to remember other people. What if he starts forgetting people?”

“Did… Was I too late getting the bezoar to him?” Harry croaked out, which made Ron sit up tall in his bed.

“Stop talking about me as if I’m not here!” Ron yelled, but the force of it made his lungs protest with a series of the ugly coughs he was already getting used to. Blood ruptured out of him before he could stop it. He tried to catch the blood so it didn’t run down his chin and chest, but all it did was flow between his fingers as he futilely looked for a cloth to sop it up. The other three were staring at him in alarm, frozen in place.

Pomfrey rushed in, looking angry. She quickly had a cloth in Ron’s hands, and had spelled him clean of blood.

“What’s going on here?” she demanded.

Ron slouched as he knew he’d been too loud, but she wasn’t glaring at him. Pomfrey was glaring at the others as if she’d throw them out any moment.

“Ron can’t remember what day it is, or that he thanked Harry already, or that Ginny and Lavender were even here!” Hermione immediately answered.

“Oh, and here I thought he was asleep for the encounter you had with Miss Brown,” she said very dryly. Ron snorted, but his friends and sister looked just as alarmed as they had been.

Pomfrey set her shoulders and gave a great sigh.

“This is part of the healing process. He will have moments where he can’t remember things, and bringing attention to it and acting as if it’s the end of the world will not help him. It will just increase his stress and inhibit his healing. If Mr Weasley would like to do a memory assessment after dinner to assuage any fears that he’s relapsing or something in the healing process is not happening, I am happy to do that at his behest. For now, write down anything else he needs to remember on a new parchment, if you like, so he can remind himself later, if he thinks it would be helpful. Respect the patient.”

The three looked thoroughly chagrined by the end of her speech.

Ron gave a hum and slurped down some soup through a straw.

“And Mr Weasley, don’t make me sedate you,” she said, making his small victory less enjoyable.

He tentatively reached towards a roll. It was still warm, and the scent brought him back to the rolls his mum made at home. He fumbled it, nearly dropping it onto the blanket on his lap before his fingers finally worked, shaking slightly in holding it. He tore the bread and brought a small bit to his mouth. His stomach gave a grateful grumble for solid food, and he almost moaned at the taste of something that wasn’t disgusting potions.

The other three were watching him closely, as if afraid he’d explode in a bloody heap from the bread. All of them were people of action, and when they didn’t have something to occupy themselves with, they were pretty damned useless. He couldn’t do much to entertain of distract them himself. He needed all his energy for eating bread, as pathetic as it felt.

“Why don’t you catch me up on what I missed the last few days again,” Ron said, knowing giving them each a task would put them more at ease, and maybe even make them stop staring. They enthusiastically went into the task of catching him up, and he was allowed to not fully engage with them.

Having them describe things, only bits and pieces of what he’d forgotten came back, but he wasn’t too fussed. He happily enjoyed his meal as his favorite people caught him up on everything.

Apparently Lavender had come a second time when he’d actually been sleeping that afternoon, but Hermione’s presence seemed to convince her to leave. She did not like the vigil being taken over by Hermione, and Hermione seemed to almost revel in it. It was a touch unfair to Lavender he supposed, but Ron was not about to intervene. He’d not make either girl happy by sticking his wand into the situation.

The feeling of having real chewable food in his stomach was comforting, but sleep inducing, and he was quickly needing to sleep again, much to his disappointment. To his surprise, they all seemed to be sad about it too.

“I’ll be in as much as I can,” Harry said, putting a hand on Ron’s shoulder, reminding Ron of his father somehow. It was a different dynamic, as Harry wasn’t much of a caretaker, or much for touching people. He cared of course, but it was usually Hermione and Ron seeing to Harry like this. Harry had been pale and dispirited all night, and Ron worried something was going on with his best mate.

“And I will make sure Harry doesn’t go broody while you’re in here,” said Ginny, giving Ron a very gentle hug. Ron was grateful for her insight. He worried for Harry’s state of mind when he didn’t have someone to pull him out of his doldrums. Hermione was a genius and wonderful at so many things - but that was never her strong suit. Ginny was good enough at it. It was a shame the two of them had never gotten together, because Ron felt like they could do well. He liked Dean a lot, but he wished she’d never dated him so maybe she and Harry would have had a chance.

“I’ll try to visit before class, and will make sure you aren’t behind. I’ll bring your notes every day, and tutor you in anything you’re feeling the least bit uncertain about,” Hermione swore to him, looking so earnest and worried he could have kissed her, but he knew that was definitely out of bounds.

“Thanks everyone,” Ron said, making sure to give Hermione’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

Harry and Ginny went on to leave, but Ron help Hermione’s hand a bit longer. Harry and Ginny smiled in some sort of knowing way that Ron didn’t like, but then they left him and Hermione alone.

“I might not be able to remember everyone and everything well, but I wanted you to know, I remember a lot of you from today,” Ron said, pushing through the encroaching sleepiness. “I’m… I’m really glad to have you back.”

“I’m glad to be back,” she said in a small voice.

“You’ll look out for Harry, right? He looked peaky and in one of his moods.”

“I think he’s still a bit out of sorts over what happened to you. When we were worried about your memory he immediately thought he’d somehow failed you and hadn’t gotten the bezoar in you in time. Frankly, he’s been very shaken by it. We all were. But he described it, and it sounds like it was a very traumatizing sight for him. The rest of us were spared seeing you like that, at least, but he lived through seeing you nearly die right in front of his eyes.”

“Experiencing nearly dying wasn’t a treat either,” Ron muttered, feeling a hint of bitterness.

“Oh I wasn’t meaning to dismiss you!” she fretted.

“You didn’t,” he reassured her. He tried to disarm his momentary lapse with a casual grin. Their peace was so new that she was worrying herself trying to make it go smoothly. He wanted to say more, but he was just so bleeding tired. He gave a yawn. “I’m looking forward to seeing you. I want a full report of at least two fun things that aren’t school work related.”

“I’ll do that,” Hermione smiled. She gave a soft goodnight, patted his hand and went for the doors.

Pomfrey descended upon him a moment later.

“I know you’re tired, but we have some potions and spells to administer. Do you want the memory assessment?”

“No… No I think I’m remembering all the important things ok enough. I’ll write down bratty little sisters and dramatic girlfriends though. And apparently have a calendar and journal laid out so they don’t go barmy again.”

Pomfrey actually gave a small smirk.

“Yes… Loved ones can get a bit excessive in these situations. They don’t have the training to help and it’s very disorienting for them,” she said gathering the bottles and spooning him potions one by one. “Some loved ones ignore the patient, others smother, some will start trying to Heal on their own, some become rather alarmist and alert me at the drop of a hat. I had a special case of a loved one who didn’t do any of that, though.”

“Oh yeah?” he said as he gagged down a potion. She was being uncharacteristically talkative. Perhaps it got lonely in the Hospital Wing when there was only one patient to see to.

“Yes. Had him in here a few times. When the patient was asleep, their loved one was very hard to manage. He’d practically yell at me for answers and wouldn’t stop until every single one was answered, and he had to know exactly everything about every treatment I would be administering. So that was not all that pleasant for me.”

“Well it makes sense. You don’t want to be pushing the sick person to tell you everything,” Ron said with a shrug.

“That is true, I suppose. Well, he was good at reporting to me anything I should know without alarming the patient, so he was helpful in that, at least. That same young man was very different with the patients though.

“When the patient was awake he would spend the whole time making the patient feel at ease. He’d tell funny stories, distract them from their injuries, and make them have a sense of normalcy, but very slyly the whole the time making sure the patient was taken care of and following medical orders. Ideal for helping a loved one, really.”

“Wish I knew the guy, perhaps he could help calm down my lot,” Ron said as he settled into the bed.

“Unfortunately the young man is currently a patient himself,” Pomfrey said, fluffing his pillow.

Ron looked about the empty ward a moment then realized who she meant. She meant him. He was the young man she was talking about, somehow. When did he do all of that for someone else? Did he do that for Harry? Hermione? Both? Someone else? He couldn’t excavate that memory for anything.

He wasn’t sure how to feel. Then again he had so many potions coursing through him, he practically felt like he was floating out of his own body.

“Concentrate on your recovery, young man. You might have to be woken in the night for some new spells. I’ll try to keep from disturbing you if I can.”

“Uh huh…” Ron breathed out as sleep curled around him like a warm embrace. His friends and bratty sister all meant well, so he couldn’t stay annoyed with them.

Pomfrey was right. He needed to concentrate on his healing. Plus Hermione was back in his life, and having Hermione Granger in your life could cure any ill.

[NEXT CHAPTER]

Big thanks to everyone who has reviewed/encourage thusfar! I really appreciate your feedback! If you liked it, or even if you didn’t, I’d love a review! Or reblog it- so more people might read it and give feedback. :)

And an even BIGGER thanks to my amazing beta, @diva-gonzo. Amazing human and you should all go read their fics!

#romione #ron weasley #hermione granger #fan fic #hp fan fic #harry potter #hinny #the wonderful won won #my writing

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