Title: Aftermath
Author: kaly (razrbkr@juno.com)
Homepage: the shadowland - Kalynn's Fan Fiction: http://www.geocities.com/kalyw
Rating: G
Archive: is there one?
Classification: short story, angst
Spoilers: SS
Warnings: angst
Timeframe: Set late in Sorcerer's Stone. Starts before Dumbledore talks to Harry in the infirmary.
Summary: Ron and Harry each react to what happened to the other while trying to save the stone.
Feedback: please
Thanks: to Nix and Sheltie for reading, cheerleading and betaish things :) y'all rock.
Notes: Been trying to break a writers block for two months and then I saw Sorcerer's Stone on Friday. I'm such a sucker for Harry and Ron, that the chessboard spawned a bunny that wouldn't be ignored. :)
Disclaimer: Do I really need to tell you that I'm not making money here? I thought not.
Aftermath
When Ron woke up in the infirmary, the first thing he noticed was that he was in one piece. He had to admit he'd been worried about that for a bit. He shut his eyes, willing away the memory of the queen approaching him. Ron wanted to forget how scared he had been. Wouldn't do to admit that, Fred and George would never let him forget it.
He looked around, his hands clenching and unclenching in the blankets as he tried to forget the feel of the horse beneath him. It was dark in the infirmary. The candles that lined the walls had been extinguished and no moon shone through the windows. Ron swallowed audibly; it was a bit unnerving. It was a bit too much like the chambers beneath the third floor.
Hearing someone moving along the far wall, Ron grimaced and struggled to sit up in the not-quite-comfortable bed. It took a few moments of staring at the blackness, but he was rewarded with the sight of someone in a bed similar to his own. A second later he recognized the figure.
"Harry!" Ron cried, barely remembering to choke the sound into a whisper. Ron's heart lodged in his throat and he fought to breathe.
A quick look around revealed no one near and a dull roaring noise filled Ron's ears. What had happened?
He fought against the blankets that were piled upon him, managing more to tangle himself within them than be rid of them. Pausing, short of breath, Ron looked at Harry, who was so unnaturally still. He pushed at the blankets more franticly until he managed to pull his legs free.
His eyes not leaving Harry, ignoring the stitch in his side, Ron he put his feet onto the cool stone floor and grimaced. Sucking in as deep a breath as he dared, Ron slowly stepped forward. There couldn't be a single place on him that didn't hurt somehow, he decided. *Stupid git. Knocked cold at chess.*
"Mr. Weasley!"
Ron jumped, nearly falling onto the floor as a light flared to life, joining the shrill voice. Heart pounding, he barely caught himself on the edge of the bed. Ron curled in upon himself, irrationally hoping the witch might pass him by -- ignore him so that he could see Harry.
Glancing up through lowered lashes, Ron blinked against the light. He recognized the witch who had startled him and for just a moment he wanted little more than to disappear and wake to find himself in the boy's dormitory.
Daring to look away from Madame Pomfrey, Ron focused on Harry. No, he decided, he didn't want to be in the dorms right then. The flickering light cast odd shadows across Harry's face, adding to the bruises that weren't quite healed even with the witch's attentions. Ron's fingers twitched, twisted within the sheets beneath him, wanting to ignore Madame Pomfrey and go to his friend's side.
"I would appreciate it if you would stay in bed and give my work a chance."
Ron ignored her for a long moment, chewing on his lower lip. Not looking away from Harry, he asked, "Is he..."
Shaking her head as she manhandled him back into the bed, Madame Pomfrey let out a long breath. "He'll be fine. Now, to sleep with you Mr. Weasley."
"What happened?" Ron asked, needing to know even as the witch piled the covers over his legs once more. "Where's Hermione?"
She shook her head at the questions and must have murmured a spell, for the next thing Ron knew he was sliding into darkness. Fighting the pull of oblivion, against the healer, Ron struggled to stay awake.
To stay near Harry.
What if something happened? Something else, some part of his mind amended sluggishly. He needed to... "No, don't." Ron pushed against Madame Pomfrey's hands, but was fast losing the fight. "Want to stay." He yawned as his body betrayed him. "Awake."
Even as he struggled, Ron couldn't think of what he might be needed for. He'd not been of any use been when Harry was hurt, obviously. But that didn't matter. He needed to be with Harry. He heard the witch muttering, and although he ignored her, there was nothing Ron could do but surrender to the spell and the slumber it brought.
Harry's shadowed form was the last thing he saw.
~~~
Even though Dumbledore had assured Harry that Ron was fine, he couldn't completely relax until he had seen his friend for himself. And even then it was far too easy to remember only the sight of Ron crumpled on the edge of the giant chess set. Clenching his bandaged hand into a fist, he mused that neither of them had escaped completely unscathed.
The day had passed in a blur, since Madame Pomfrey had released him from the hospital wing. He had barely had time to see Ron and Hermione -- to see for himself they were safe -- before he was rushed by the other students.
Ever since the day Hagrid had taken him to Diagon Alley Harry had been wary of his apparent celebrity. It had only been worse when they'd arrived at Hogwarts. Even some of the professors seemed determined to remind him of it.
Taking a deep breath, Harry waded through the mass of bodies, wanting only to reach the Gryffindor common room. Maybe there he could escape. Moments later he realized he was wrong. Passing the Fat Lady, Harry was once more bombarded by chattering students with question upon question.
Yes, it was frightening. No, he hadn't done it all alone. Yes, Dumbledore had spoken with him already. Yes, there was a Sorcerer's stone. Yes, it had been destroyed. No, he wasn't sure exactly what had happened to Professor Quirrell. He crossed his fingers mentally at the lie. It had to be easier than answering the unending questions that would spring from the truth.
He pressed forward as he spoke, his eyes focused on the stairway that would allow him to escape the well-wishers. However well intentioned, Harry wanted nothing more than to retreat to a place where he wasn't the "famous" Harry Potter, but rather just Harry. He could think of only two people who might grant him that. And nothing against Hermione, but the only one Harry wanted to see right then was Ron.
Reaching the boy's dormitory Harry slammed the door shut behind him before falling against it, breathing heavily. Looking toward the ceiling, Harry let out a long breath which ruffled his hair. Finally, he'd escaped.
"Harry?"
Harry jumped, looking to his left. Nearby stood Neville, not quite hidden behind the drapes of his bed, looking warily at him.
Well maybe escaped was too strong a word, Harry amended.
"Yes Neville?" he asked, stepping away from the door.
"Are you," Neville hesitated, daring to take a step forward. Remembering the last time he had seen Neville, rather an odd shade of blue and solid as a rock on the floor, Harry couldn't begrudge him the nervousness. He had, however, hoped to avoid more questions. "Are you alright?" Neville asked a moment later.
Harry smiled, relived. That was one question he had heard precious few times from all the others. "I'm good." Harry walked away from the door, crossing the room to reach his bed. "Are you feeling better?"
As he eased toward the door, Neville nodded. "Yes, I'm better. Madame Pomfrey said so." Reaching the door, Neville pulled at the handle, sparing a last glance at Harry. "I'm going to be going now. I'm glad you're okay."
"Thanks, Neville."
Seconds later, with the echo of the door slamming, Harry fell back onto his bed. Closing his eyes he snuggled down into the warmth for a moment, allowing himself the small luxury. It was more than he was likely to get come the summer. It was short lived, however; foremost in his mind was finding Ron. Although he was at a loss where the other boy might be.
Sitting up, Harry straightened his glasses and looked around. Where might Ron have gotten off to? He barely had time to stand when the doorway to the room opened just a bit -- hardly enough for a person to slide through it. Harry watched as a familiar red-head-topped cloak slipped through the crack.
"Ron!" Harry exclaimed. Ron jumped at the voice, much as Harry had moments before, causing Harry to grin as he jumped up from the bed. "Where've you been?"
"Blimey, Harry. Give me an attack, why don't you?" Ron said, pushing the door closed behind him. Dropping his pack onto his bed, Ron turned back to Harry. "Where've I been? With Hermione, she's bloody mental over these exams. It's all history this, and potions that." With something that sounded like a growl, Ron dropped onto his bed.
Grinning still, Harry moved to stand next to Ron's bed, leaning against on of the posts. "She's really all that bad?"
When Ron glared at him, but stayed silent, Harry laughed. It only lasted for a moment, though, before he grew serious. Taking a seat beside his friend, Harry picked at the edges of his robe. "Ron... about what happened."
Ron glanced at Harry out of the corner of his eyes before standing. "What did happen, Harry? I mean, I heard the gossiping..." Ron paced several steps, stopping in front of the window before turning back toward Harry. "But is that what *really* happened?"
Harry almost looked away, the seriousness of Ron's gaze taking him by surprise. It wasn't so much he thought Ron couldn't be serious -- he had seen on the chessboard how wrong that thought was -- but the depth of emotion there caught him off guard.
"Probably. I don't know." Harry shook his head. He had heard scraps of the story that was circulating around the school, heard the oddest questions and comments. But how much truth there was to them, Harry had yet to figure out. "I hope not," he added in a whisper.
Ron walked across the room, sitting beside Harry once more. "Why do you hope not?"
"It was..." Harry shuddered, not quite knowing how to express what he felt in the final chamber, facing Voldemort. "It was horrible, really. Seeing Professor Quirrell, seeing how Voldemort," Harry paused, it was impossible to miss how Ron flinched at the name. "Sorry, how You Know Who was using him."
A silence fell on them then. But it was not a heavy silence, as there had been in the moments before Quirrell had revealed the dark wizard who possessed him, Harry noted with relief. Rather it was comfortable, warm. It was as if Harry had found one person with whom there were no questions, no doubts or second guesses.
He would miss that warmth when he was trapped on Privet Drive once more.
"Blimey, Harry." Harry's attention was jerked back to the present by the words. Ron was shaking his head, staring at him almost... sadly. "When I saw you in the infirmary, I wondered what had happened, but... Blimey."
"You saw me in the infirmary?" Unsure why he was surprised, Harry couldn't help but ask.
Ron nodded, though he cast Harry an odd look at the non sequitur. "In the night. I woke up and you were there." Scrunching his nose, Ron tilted his head. "I can't remember how I got there, but there I was. One minute the Queen is about to have her way and the next, darkness."
"Darkness?" Harry asked, his breath catching in his throat. Countless images sprung into Harry's mind, each one more disturbing than the one before it. He wasn't sure what he was imagining. Maybe they were his own nightmares after Voldemort's final attack.
"In the infirmary," Ron answered, and Harry felt the air rush out of his chest with relief. "There were no candles and I could barely see you there. I couldn't get to you, find out if you were okay. I didn't know what had happened after... Anyway, no one would tell me anything. Madame Pomfrey just forced me back into bed and made me sleep."
His words tumbled forth, one on top of the other until Harry wondered how he could continue without stopping to breathe. Eventually Ron shrugged, not looking at Harry. "I felt... helpless."
And at that, Harry understood what Ron was trying to say completely.
"The chessboard."
Ron blinked, looking at Harry as though he had sprouted a third eye. Which, Harry had to admit wasn't beyond the realm of possibility at Hogwarts, or so it would seem. He couldn't help but notice Ron looking even more uncomfortable at his words. "What about it?"
"That's how I felt. On the chessboard." Harry stared at Ron for several seconds. "Helpless."
Ron looked confused, which confused Harry in turn. How could he think Harry would have felt any differently, watching his best friend being mauled by a chess piece? As Ron shrugged, Harry could almost swear Ron was blushing. "You had a... a destiny, Harry. You had to save the stone. I was just... there. And scared out of my mind, to boot."
"Scared? You knew what would happen when you made that move. Yet you made it anyway, Ron. " Harry shook his head, confounded by Ron's continued confusion. "When I saw you thrown across the room, not knowing if you were...
"We couldn't move yet, we had to finish them game before we could even see if you were alive or..." Harry couldn't finish the thought. It was as if saying it might make it happen, even still. "I felt helpless, seeing you there and knowing it was because of me."
"Are you really okay?" Ron asked after several long moments, his face serious.
Harry blinked, startled. There seemed to be no end to his being surprised all of a sudden. Not missing the fact that Ron was changing the subject, he nodded. "Yeah." He nudged Ron's leg with his knee. "Are you? Dumbledore said you were fine, but..."
"Yeah. I am. He said the same thing to me, you know. That you were okay."
"You didn't believe him?"
Ron glanced at Harry before smiling, the edges of his lips just turning upward. "Did you?"
Harry grinned slowly, recognizing the familiar humor finally back in Ron's eyes. "Mostly. I guess I had to see for myself."
"Me too," Ron replied, just above a whisper. His smile faded somewhat. "I had to know for myself."
"I'm sorry."
Ron looked troubled. "Sorry? What for?"
Harry shrugged, not looking at Ron. "For dragging you into all of this."
"I'm not."
"What?" Harry asked, looking at Ron incredulously.
Ron smiled. "Would've been a bloody boring year without it. Without you."
Harry felt himself blushing and turned away. Seeing Ron's book pack, he decided it was his turn to change the topic. "So what does Hermione say about the exams? She'd know, wouldn't she?"
"Does she ever," Ron muttered, falling back onto the bed and staring at the drapes covering it. "I barely escaped her, I tell you. Watch out, she'll be after you next."
"That bad?" Harry asked, laughing.
Ron covered his face with his hands, not quite hiding his grin. "No. It was worse."
End
Author: kaly (razrbkr@juno.com)
Homepage: the shadowland - Kalynn's Fan Fiction: http://www.geocities.com/kalyw
Rating: G
Archive: is there one?
Classification: short story, angst
Spoilers: SS
Warnings: angst
Timeframe: Set late in Sorcerer's Stone. Starts before Dumbledore talks to Harry in the infirmary.
Summary: Ron and Harry each react to what happened to the other while trying to save the stone.
Feedback: please
Thanks: to Nix and Sheltie for reading, cheerleading and betaish things :) y'all rock.
Notes: Been trying to break a writers block for two months and then I saw Sorcerer's Stone on Friday. I'm such a sucker for Harry and Ron, that the chessboard spawned a bunny that wouldn't be ignored. :)
Disclaimer: Do I really need to tell you that I'm not making money here? I thought not.
Aftermath
When Ron woke up in the infirmary, the first thing he noticed was that he was in one piece. He had to admit he'd been worried about that for a bit. He shut his eyes, willing away the memory of the queen approaching him. Ron wanted to forget how scared he had been. Wouldn't do to admit that, Fred and George would never let him forget it.
He looked around, his hands clenching and unclenching in the blankets as he tried to forget the feel of the horse beneath him. It was dark in the infirmary. The candles that lined the walls had been extinguished and no moon shone through the windows. Ron swallowed audibly; it was a bit unnerving. It was a bit too much like the chambers beneath the third floor.
Hearing someone moving along the far wall, Ron grimaced and struggled to sit up in the not-quite-comfortable bed. It took a few moments of staring at the blackness, but he was rewarded with the sight of someone in a bed similar to his own. A second later he recognized the figure.
"Harry!" Ron cried, barely remembering to choke the sound into a whisper. Ron's heart lodged in his throat and he fought to breathe.
A quick look around revealed no one near and a dull roaring noise filled Ron's ears. What had happened?
He fought against the blankets that were piled upon him, managing more to tangle himself within them than be rid of them. Pausing, short of breath, Ron looked at Harry, who was so unnaturally still. He pushed at the blankets more franticly until he managed to pull his legs free.
His eyes not leaving Harry, ignoring the stitch in his side, Ron he put his feet onto the cool stone floor and grimaced. Sucking in as deep a breath as he dared, Ron slowly stepped forward. There couldn't be a single place on him that didn't hurt somehow, he decided. *Stupid git. Knocked cold at chess.*
"Mr. Weasley!"
Ron jumped, nearly falling onto the floor as a light flared to life, joining the shrill voice. Heart pounding, he barely caught himself on the edge of the bed. Ron curled in upon himself, irrationally hoping the witch might pass him by -- ignore him so that he could see Harry.
Glancing up through lowered lashes, Ron blinked against the light. He recognized the witch who had startled him and for just a moment he wanted little more than to disappear and wake to find himself in the boy's dormitory.
Daring to look away from Madame Pomfrey, Ron focused on Harry. No, he decided, he didn't want to be in the dorms right then. The flickering light cast odd shadows across Harry's face, adding to the bruises that weren't quite healed even with the witch's attentions. Ron's fingers twitched, twisted within the sheets beneath him, wanting to ignore Madame Pomfrey and go to his friend's side.
"I would appreciate it if you would stay in bed and give my work a chance."
Ron ignored her for a long moment, chewing on his lower lip. Not looking away from Harry, he asked, "Is he..."
Shaking her head as she manhandled him back into the bed, Madame Pomfrey let out a long breath. "He'll be fine. Now, to sleep with you Mr. Weasley."
"What happened?" Ron asked, needing to know even as the witch piled the covers over his legs once more. "Where's Hermione?"
She shook her head at the questions and must have murmured a spell, for the next thing Ron knew he was sliding into darkness. Fighting the pull of oblivion, against the healer, Ron struggled to stay awake.
To stay near Harry.
What if something happened? Something else, some part of his mind amended sluggishly. He needed to... "No, don't." Ron pushed against Madame Pomfrey's hands, but was fast losing the fight. "Want to stay." He yawned as his body betrayed him. "Awake."
Even as he struggled, Ron couldn't think of what he might be needed for. He'd not been of any use been when Harry was hurt, obviously. But that didn't matter. He needed to be with Harry. He heard the witch muttering, and although he ignored her, there was nothing Ron could do but surrender to the spell and the slumber it brought.
Harry's shadowed form was the last thing he saw.
~~~
Even though Dumbledore had assured Harry that Ron was fine, he couldn't completely relax until he had seen his friend for himself. And even then it was far too easy to remember only the sight of Ron crumpled on the edge of the giant chess set. Clenching his bandaged hand into a fist, he mused that neither of them had escaped completely unscathed.
The day had passed in a blur, since Madame Pomfrey had released him from the hospital wing. He had barely had time to see Ron and Hermione -- to see for himself they were safe -- before he was rushed by the other students.
Ever since the day Hagrid had taken him to Diagon Alley Harry had been wary of his apparent celebrity. It had only been worse when they'd arrived at Hogwarts. Even some of the professors seemed determined to remind him of it.
Taking a deep breath, Harry waded through the mass of bodies, wanting only to reach the Gryffindor common room. Maybe there he could escape. Moments later he realized he was wrong. Passing the Fat Lady, Harry was once more bombarded by chattering students with question upon question.
Yes, it was frightening. No, he hadn't done it all alone. Yes, Dumbledore had spoken with him already. Yes, there was a Sorcerer's stone. Yes, it had been destroyed. No, he wasn't sure exactly what had happened to Professor Quirrell. He crossed his fingers mentally at the lie. It had to be easier than answering the unending questions that would spring from the truth.
He pressed forward as he spoke, his eyes focused on the stairway that would allow him to escape the well-wishers. However well intentioned, Harry wanted nothing more than to retreat to a place where he wasn't the "famous" Harry Potter, but rather just Harry. He could think of only two people who might grant him that. And nothing against Hermione, but the only one Harry wanted to see right then was Ron.
Reaching the boy's dormitory Harry slammed the door shut behind him before falling against it, breathing heavily. Looking toward the ceiling, Harry let out a long breath which ruffled his hair. Finally, he'd escaped.
"Harry?"
Harry jumped, looking to his left. Nearby stood Neville, not quite hidden behind the drapes of his bed, looking warily at him.
Well maybe escaped was too strong a word, Harry amended.
"Yes Neville?" he asked, stepping away from the door.
"Are you," Neville hesitated, daring to take a step forward. Remembering the last time he had seen Neville, rather an odd shade of blue and solid as a rock on the floor, Harry couldn't begrudge him the nervousness. He had, however, hoped to avoid more questions. "Are you alright?" Neville asked a moment later.
Harry smiled, relived. That was one question he had heard precious few times from all the others. "I'm good." Harry walked away from the door, crossing the room to reach his bed. "Are you feeling better?"
As he eased toward the door, Neville nodded. "Yes, I'm better. Madame Pomfrey said so." Reaching the door, Neville pulled at the handle, sparing a last glance at Harry. "I'm going to be going now. I'm glad you're okay."
"Thanks, Neville."
Seconds later, with the echo of the door slamming, Harry fell back onto his bed. Closing his eyes he snuggled down into the warmth for a moment, allowing himself the small luxury. It was more than he was likely to get come the summer. It was short lived, however; foremost in his mind was finding Ron. Although he was at a loss where the other boy might be.
Sitting up, Harry straightened his glasses and looked around. Where might Ron have gotten off to? He barely had time to stand when the doorway to the room opened just a bit -- hardly enough for a person to slide through it. Harry watched as a familiar red-head-topped cloak slipped through the crack.
"Ron!" Harry exclaimed. Ron jumped at the voice, much as Harry had moments before, causing Harry to grin as he jumped up from the bed. "Where've you been?"
"Blimey, Harry. Give me an attack, why don't you?" Ron said, pushing the door closed behind him. Dropping his pack onto his bed, Ron turned back to Harry. "Where've I been? With Hermione, she's bloody mental over these exams. It's all history this, and potions that." With something that sounded like a growl, Ron dropped onto his bed.
Grinning still, Harry moved to stand next to Ron's bed, leaning against on of the posts. "She's really all that bad?"
When Ron glared at him, but stayed silent, Harry laughed. It only lasted for a moment, though, before he grew serious. Taking a seat beside his friend, Harry picked at the edges of his robe. "Ron... about what happened."
Ron glanced at Harry out of the corner of his eyes before standing. "What did happen, Harry? I mean, I heard the gossiping..." Ron paced several steps, stopping in front of the window before turning back toward Harry. "But is that what *really* happened?"
Harry almost looked away, the seriousness of Ron's gaze taking him by surprise. It wasn't so much he thought Ron couldn't be serious -- he had seen on the chessboard how wrong that thought was -- but the depth of emotion there caught him off guard.
"Probably. I don't know." Harry shook his head. He had heard scraps of the story that was circulating around the school, heard the oddest questions and comments. But how much truth there was to them, Harry had yet to figure out. "I hope not," he added in a whisper.
Ron walked across the room, sitting beside Harry once more. "Why do you hope not?"
"It was..." Harry shuddered, not quite knowing how to express what he felt in the final chamber, facing Voldemort. "It was horrible, really. Seeing Professor Quirrell, seeing how Voldemort," Harry paused, it was impossible to miss how Ron flinched at the name. "Sorry, how You Know Who was using him."
A silence fell on them then. But it was not a heavy silence, as there had been in the moments before Quirrell had revealed the dark wizard who possessed him, Harry noted with relief. Rather it was comfortable, warm. It was as if Harry had found one person with whom there were no questions, no doubts or second guesses.
He would miss that warmth when he was trapped on Privet Drive once more.
"Blimey, Harry." Harry's attention was jerked back to the present by the words. Ron was shaking his head, staring at him almost... sadly. "When I saw you in the infirmary, I wondered what had happened, but... Blimey."
"You saw me in the infirmary?" Unsure why he was surprised, Harry couldn't help but ask.
Ron nodded, though he cast Harry an odd look at the non sequitur. "In the night. I woke up and you were there." Scrunching his nose, Ron tilted his head. "I can't remember how I got there, but there I was. One minute the Queen is about to have her way and the next, darkness."
"Darkness?" Harry asked, his breath catching in his throat. Countless images sprung into Harry's mind, each one more disturbing than the one before it. He wasn't sure what he was imagining. Maybe they were his own nightmares after Voldemort's final attack.
"In the infirmary," Ron answered, and Harry felt the air rush out of his chest with relief. "There were no candles and I could barely see you there. I couldn't get to you, find out if you were okay. I didn't know what had happened after... Anyway, no one would tell me anything. Madame Pomfrey just forced me back into bed and made me sleep."
His words tumbled forth, one on top of the other until Harry wondered how he could continue without stopping to breathe. Eventually Ron shrugged, not looking at Harry. "I felt... helpless."
And at that, Harry understood what Ron was trying to say completely.
"The chessboard."
Ron blinked, looking at Harry as though he had sprouted a third eye. Which, Harry had to admit wasn't beyond the realm of possibility at Hogwarts, or so it would seem. He couldn't help but notice Ron looking even more uncomfortable at his words. "What about it?"
"That's how I felt. On the chessboard." Harry stared at Ron for several seconds. "Helpless."
Ron looked confused, which confused Harry in turn. How could he think Harry would have felt any differently, watching his best friend being mauled by a chess piece? As Ron shrugged, Harry could almost swear Ron was blushing. "You had a... a destiny, Harry. You had to save the stone. I was just... there. And scared out of my mind, to boot."
"Scared? You knew what would happen when you made that move. Yet you made it anyway, Ron. " Harry shook his head, confounded by Ron's continued confusion. "When I saw you thrown across the room, not knowing if you were...
"We couldn't move yet, we had to finish them game before we could even see if you were alive or..." Harry couldn't finish the thought. It was as if saying it might make it happen, even still. "I felt helpless, seeing you there and knowing it was because of me."
"Are you really okay?" Ron asked after several long moments, his face serious.
Harry blinked, startled. There seemed to be no end to his being surprised all of a sudden. Not missing the fact that Ron was changing the subject, he nodded. "Yeah." He nudged Ron's leg with his knee. "Are you? Dumbledore said you were fine, but..."
"Yeah. I am. He said the same thing to me, you know. That you were okay."
"You didn't believe him?"
Ron glanced at Harry before smiling, the edges of his lips just turning upward. "Did you?"
Harry grinned slowly, recognizing the familiar humor finally back in Ron's eyes. "Mostly. I guess I had to see for myself."
"Me too," Ron replied, just above a whisper. His smile faded somewhat. "I had to know for myself."
"I'm sorry."
Ron looked troubled. "Sorry? What for?"
Harry shrugged, not looking at Ron. "For dragging you into all of this."
"I'm not."
"What?" Harry asked, looking at Ron incredulously.
Ron smiled. "Would've been a bloody boring year without it. Without you."
Harry felt himself blushing and turned away. Seeing Ron's book pack, he decided it was his turn to change the topic. "So what does Hermione say about the exams? She'd know, wouldn't she?"
"Does she ever," Ron muttered, falling back onto the bed and staring at the drapes covering it. "I barely escaped her, I tell you. Watch out, she'll be after you next."
"That bad?" Harry asked, laughing.
Ron covered his face with his hands, not quite hiding his grin. "No. It was worse."
End