"Accio brains!"
"Ron, no!"
That's Harry, Ron giggled dimly in his mind as the brains zoomed towards him, tentacles outstretched for a hug.
Ron stretched out his arms wide open to embrace the brains. Contrary to popular belief, his mother had beaten some manners into his thick skull.
Brains latched onto him, twisting, writhing tentacles wrapping around his lanky form, and squeezing a little too tight. Ron just squeezed back as hard. Relatives he didn't even like could squeeze even harder and Ron would just grin and bear it.
Actually, he was grinning so hard, the smile spreading across his face comically, that his cheeks hurt and were screaming at him to stop. His whole body was pleading for him to stop but Ron was deaf to his own pleas.
It isn't the first time.
The tightening of tentacles are more attention catching than his facial muscles and Ron nearly frowned when he watched the flesh on gangly limbs squeezed hard, and harder and harder, and was that pain? The red head doesn't know what it is but he doesn't like it. In attempts to stop the sensation Ron ordered his fingers to tear off the brain.
Only half a second has passed since he summoned the brains to him.
What? Confusion settles on his brain like a heavy fog when his fingers didn't respond to his demands. For a moment of a moment of a moment of a moment, Ron forgot to breathe. The tiny, tiny moment passes and Ron already forgot about it.
Something else was distracting him. Cold, sharp, stinging (hot, blunt, throbbing) pain speeds (or is it traveling agonizingly slow? Ron can't tell time anymore.) up his spine, hitting his brain hard, hard, hard, like a sledgehammer but he doesn't know what a sledgehammer is. The pain is too much too much and he can't think anymore his brain was going to shut down on him. His guests don't want that for him (aw, he can't help but coo when he could think for just the millionth of a second) and slither all over his body. The ones on his arms and chest reposition themselves as more travel down his legs sending magic and electric pulses through his nerve endings.
Mouth opened to scream, two seconds have passed.
Ron's vision used to be outwards, watching Harry and spells freeze as soon as the brains made contact with his skin. Then his whole word turned to the inside.
Darkness, swimming through what felt like jelly, Ron tried to get back out. He had to help Harry!
Ever the loyal friend Ron? A sneering voice that made Ron stop where he was not many centimeters away from his starting point. Ron had to hurry; he was losing to a figment of imagination in the shape of a snail.
Of course! Ron doesn't know how he spoke with his mind close, but then he remembers he's in his mind. Duh!
I don't think so. And what felt like something suspiciously like the tentacles on his physical body, a force pulled him into a nosedive (he isn't sure if he's going left or right, down or up, there is no direction in this world of his) and right into a pool of memories.
The force manhandled him into something he didn't want to see, but as a Gryffindor and as a friend he marched on.
0o0o0o0o0o0
Ron immediately knew where he was and the blinding white walls were not helping his massive headache at all.
Letting out a groan of pain, Ron attempted to shield his eyes but even more pain attacked the nerves on his arm.
Alerted by his groan his family immediately crowded around him worry evident in their eyes and in Mrs. Weasley's case, slight anger.
Ron settled himself in and bravely faced the rant his mother put him through.
He had to use the bathroom when they left him in peace.
0o0o0o0o0o0
Woken up by the burning sensation on his limbs, a sign that he needed to reapply the numerous ointments and swallow several potions.
Sure enough Madame Pomfrey shuffled out of her office, rubbing sleep out of her eyes as she gathered the necessary medication.
Ron sighed as he resigned himself to a long and tiring stay in the infirmary.
He woke up again a week later in the middle of the night, but not because of pain. Madame Pomfrey let up on the medication saying that his scars were getting healing at a much faster rate than she expected.
He woke up because there was someone next to him. Trying hard to find a position he would be comfortable in, Ron turned to look at his visitor.
Harry was slumped in a chair and curled up a bit like Crookshanks did when he found a patch of particularly warm sunlight. Judging from the blanket on him, the Hogwarts nurse had let Harry stay where he was. She did have a bit of a soft spot for Harry.
But then again, who didn't? Ron couldn't help but melt a little at the fact that his shortest friend stayed the night for him.
He swore up and down, side to side as he watched his friend sleep that he would stop being such a prat, like the tentacles showed him back at the Department of Mysteries.
0o0o0o0o0o0
An: This was just written on the fly in the middle of the night. The DOM brains were really bothering, so to get it out of my system I wrote this. The line breaks don't want to work with me *hates on*