The Wrong End of the Wand
A sick little story by VfangzV
Characters: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley.
Ron turned over in his bed for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. He'd been trying to sleep, but he wasn't feeling well. He was recovering from a mild form of the flu and his stomach was a little queasy. He decided to go outside for some fresh air; on his way he peered into the adjacent room. His sister was fast asleep there, but his girlfriend was missing. "Hermione?" he whispered, unable to find her anywhere upstairs. Ron walked down quietly, so as not to wake everyone else; then it occurred to him. She must be outside training again. Times had gotten tougher with the threat of Death Eater attacks increasing by the day. Hermione had taken up practicing some fairly dangerous spells so that she and her friends wouldn't be caught helpless if it ever came time to defend themselves. She would go outside at night to work on these hexes alone. Ron's heart rate increased; he didn't want her there out by herself.
Ron opened the front door and saw Hermione balancing a pale green energy ball at the edge of her outstretched wand. It rippled and teetered, and it appeared she was trying to steady it. Her brows were knitted with intense focus, and she was whispering to herself. Her eyes narrowed on the concentration of energy as she twisted her wand ever so slightly... "Hermione!" called Ron. Startled, she jumped and turned instinctively towards the voice. The glowing sphere detached from her wand and launched itself at Ron. It sank into his stomach and knocked the wind out of him; he fell to his knees a few feet away from the entrance to the Burrow. "Ron!" screamed Hermione, running to him. "Ron I'm so sorry! Are you alright?" Ron started stumbling as soon as he got to his feet; he would have fallen over if she hadn't caught him. "The spell makes you lose you lose your balance," she explained. "Here; sit down. It shouldn't last long." Ron sat down on the soft grass, holding himself up with both hands pressed to the ground. His face had turned a sickly pale color; he groaned in discomfort. "Hermione... I don't feel well..." he turned away from her, tilted his head down and spat on the ground. He clutched his throat... "I think I might be sick." Ron felt like his insides were turning liquid and being shaken violently. It was very unpleasant. He was almost afraid to move lest he throw up right there in the grass. "I'm cold," he muttered weakly. Hermione ran her hand through his hair and rubbed his back. "Let's get you up to bed, Ron. Sorry again..." she helped him up and they crossed the threshold, moving slowly towards the stairs.
They were about to walk up when Ron stopped and shook his head. "I can't," said Ron in a barely audible whisper. "What?" asked Hermione worriedly, leaning in closer. "I can't" he repeated, "I'll be sick..." he swallowed "...on the stairs." Ron started breathing heavily and his legs shook. He clutched railing feebly. "We'll stay down here then," offered Hermione. "I'll get you whatever you need. Come on." she helped him to the couch, pulled out her wand and said "Accio wastebasket!" The item slid over from the kitchen and positioned itself next to Ron. "What else?" she asked, leaning down to where he was sitting. Ron was motioning as if pulling a blanket over his shoulders. "Ah," she said, standing and pointing her wand at the ceiling. "Accio comforter!" The comforter from Ron's bed floated downstairs and, as if recognizing Ron's frail condition, wrapped itself gently around his body. Hermione leaned down again. "I can... go get your mum." she bit her lip at the prospect of explaining to Ron's mother that she'd taken her son's condition from mild to debilitating by carelessly wielding attack magic in front of her house in the middle of the night. Ron shook his head. "No," he muttered. "No... she worries... will wake everyone." Ron laid his head back and sighed. He was even paler now than before. Hermione couldn't stand to see Ron so ill; she sat next to him and wrapped her arms around his trembling frame.
"Harry! Harry, wake up!" Harry's halfway-opened eyes revealed a blurry image of Hermione standing above him. She was shaking him by the shoulders, "Come quickly, I've made Ron ill by accident and it was only supposed to last for a few minutes but it's been over an hour and it's getting worse..." Harry grabbed his glasses, put them on and blinked a few times. "Come on Harry, please, I need your help. Just don't wake any of the others, he won't hear of it." Harry followed her downstairs, where a very sick-looking Ron was lying on the couch under his blanket, sweating and quivering. "I tried to get him to bed but he's too ill to walk," said Hermione, looking scared. Harry knelt down to talk to Ron, "Y'alright, mate?" he asked. Ron was absolutely flabbergasted "Do I look alright?" he asked in a creaky, high-pitched voice, "I've never been so ill in my life. You know if you were cross with me, Hermione, you could have just told me-" "I didn't do it on purpose!" she shrieked. "Just be quiet, the both of you!" ordered Harry, and felt Ron's forehead before quickly pulling his hand away again... "Oh... that's... not good." "What?" exclaimed Ron,"I've got a fever? Have I got a fever on top of it?" He looked terrified now, sitting up suddenly. As soon as his head lifted off of the couch, Ron's stomach turned and a wave of sickness overtook him. He held his hand up to his mouth. "Harry..." he mumbled through his fingers, "I'm going to be sick." Harry realized he was kneeling in front of the trash can and quickly leapt out of the way, narrowly avoiding a gush of green liquid. Hermione helped Ron collect himself before she went to consort with Harry. "What are we going to do?" she asked, "I know he was ill before but not nearly this bad. I've tried every alleviating spell I know and it's only made it worse!" Hermione explained how Ron came to be hit with a vertigo curse. "Isn't there a reversal?" asked Harry. Hermione stamped her foot "No, that's the problem! You've got to let it run it's course, which is supposed to only be a few minutes, and don't you think I would have used it already if there was one?" "Alright, alright," said Harry, thinking hard, "Maybe it's not a spell, maybe he needs... a potion?" Hermione gasped "That's a brilliant idea, Harry! Why didn't I think of that? Let me get my books." Hermione started to run up the stairs, calling "Look after him, Harry!" As if she needed to emphasize that. Poor Ron, always ending up on the wrong end of the wand. His greenish pallor and frightened expression reminded Harry of the time Ron had been defending Hermione's honor and a spell aimed at Draco Malfoy backfired on him, causing him to vomit slugs uncontrollably. That spell had to run its course as well, and it took hours for Ron's nausea to subside. Harry knelt down again; Ron was looking at him, helplessly, before suddenly grabbing Harry's collar: "Harry, am I going to die?" "No, Ron!" scoffed Harry, "Don't be ridiculous! Of course not!" "Ok, alright..." said Ron in a dazed whisper, slowly lying back down again and pulling the covers up higher. Hermione came down the stairs carrying a large stack of assorted books on potions. "See, Ron," said Harry, "we'll fix you right up."
Ron was on a ship. It was raining bollocks and lighting was crashing all around. Hermione was at the helm, looking out to the horizon. She was wearing a deep purple scarf around her head; her hair was flowing around her shoulders and coins dangled from her short skirt and snug pirate jacket. Ron's jaw dropped upon seeing this stunning vision. The waves were rocking the ship violently. Harry was hoisting the mast, looking into the distance with a telescope. "Rough waters ahead, Captain!" he called. "I'm aware!" replied Hermione, not taking her eyes off her destination. The further they went, the more the ship rocked. "I think I'm getting seasick!" yelled Ron, clinging to the side of the ship. "Hang in there, mate, we're almost to land!" said Harry. Ron's stomach was following the motion of the waves; up and down, back and forth, up and down... "I don't feel so well,' he said, weakly. His mouth filled with the sharp juices of illness, like a warning that he was about to lose control. Ron leaned over the side of the ship, looking down at the black, fast-moving water...
Ron woke up heaving, bent over the edge of the couch, hanging onto the living room coffee table. He managed to lie down again to keep him self from vomiting. Ron sighed, regretting waking up. Apparently, he would be sick either awake or asleep but at least in his dreams he got to see Hermione dressed as... where was she, anyway?
"Hold it down!" yelled Harry, trying to grab the squeaking creature's claw. "I'm trying!" said Hermione. "Ow! It bit me!" she screamed. Harry and Hermione had finally found the recipe for a potion to cure unintentional, long-lasting, magic-induced stomach sickness. The only problem was that it had some pretty strange and unappetizing ingredients, such as: "One ground squirrel claw per afflicted witch or wizard." "Sorry, little guy..." Harry cringed as he tore out the claw; the feel of it ripping out of place made his stomach turn. "Alright," he gulped, "I've got it." Hermione released the squirrel, who darted off at high speed. "That was bloody awful," he said, putting the claw into a pouch for safekeeping. "I know," agreed Hermione, examining her trickling bite wound. She turned a little pale and looked away, pulling out her wand to do a quick healing hex. "I can't stand the sight of blood," she admitted, "by the time we get back to Ron we'll be as ill as he is!" "Lucky that's the last ingredient we need," said Harry, looking a bit pale himself. "Let's head back."
"Hi, Ron," said Hermione tenderly, "are you alright?" It was something of a rhetorical question: it was quite obvious that Ron had gotten far worse in the past hour. He was trembling uncontrollably, had turned deathly pale, and was no longer complaining. "W..water..." he muttered breathlessly. Harry rushed to bring him a cup; Hermione held it up to his lips, and Ron managed to sip some of it. "We've go the remedy brewing right now, Ron," said Harry, trying to sound optimistic, "you'll be alright." He looked down at Hermione; her lips were trembling; she was clutching Ron's cold hand, clearly fighting back tears. "Come on, Hermione, let's finish up that potion," said Harry, helping her up and leading her into the kitchen. As soon as they got past the door Hermione hugged Harry and burst into tears. "It's all my fault, Harry! What if this doesn't work?" "Don't think like that, Hermione," said Harry, gently grabbing her shoulders and looking her in the eye. "It was an accident, and this will work, and Ron will be fine. Have you got that?" Hermione sniffled and nodded her head. A moment later they were hard at work on the potion.
The mixture was thick, lumpy and gravy colored. It bubbled lazily as it turned a shade of repulsive mauve brown. "Ugh... how can that make anyone want to stop throwing up?" asked Harry, wrinkling his nose. "I've no idea," said Hermione, "I'm getting queasy just looking at it. And it smells awful!" They both turned away from it to avoid feeling any sicker. "Reminds me of that polyjuice potion we made as second years." said Harry. "That's right!" recalled Hermione, "Ron and I both took a drink, said we were going to be sick and ran into the stalls." "And you turned into a cat!" chuckled Harry. "Let's just hope he can keep this stuff down long enough for it to cure him," said Hermione, looking over at the potion. It had turned a gross yellowish-green. "It's ready," said Harry.
"Alright, mate!" Harry called cheerfully, carrying a goblet filled with the potion. Ron seemed to be doing a bit better. He was still very pale, but he was sitting up. "Time for your medicine, open up..." Ron took one whiff and turned his head away. "Are you mad?" he asked, "I can barely keep water down! There is no way..." Harry and Hermione looked at each other, wordlessly agreeing on what needed to be done... Hermione held Ron's head as Harry forced the potion down. Some of it spilled out, dripping down onto Ron's shirt. After a huge gulp, Ron started coughing uncontrollably. He put one hand on his stomach and started convulsing... They were all sure he was going to be sick. Just as Ron leaned forward and opened his mouth, the color returned to his face. He took a deep breath and sat upright, completely surprised. He looked around for a moment. Harry and Hermione smiled... Ron started to laugh and Hermione rushed to Ron, hugging him. "It worked! Oh Ron I'm so glad you're alright!" she kissed Ron passionately; his eyes widened. "I'm so sorry!" Then her face changed and she yelled "Don't you ever come up behind me when I'm practicing attack spells! Ever!" She hugged him again. "Oh, Ron..." "Welcome back, Ron," said Harry, patting him on the back. "Ya, I was nearly gone for a bit there," said Ron. He sounded rather tired but he was no longer ill. "What are you guys doing down here?" They all looked up and saw Ginny standing at the foot of the stairs. "Er... nothing," said Harry." "Nothing at all," seconded Ron. Hermione rolled her eyes. "We couldn't sleep," she said, "is that why you've come down?" "Ya, I don't feel well, sort of sick-ish in the stomach," said Ginny, "I might have caught what Ron's got." "Believe me, Ginny," said Ron, "You won't get it nearly as bad as I have!" There was an awkward pause before Harry and Hermione laughed, happy to have Ron back to normal again.