A/N Part two and this time Ron finds the local Mischief Night more than a tad unreasonable.
Nickanan Night
It was just like waiting for Ron to come back after liberating Harry from Privet Drive for the last time. He was supposed to have been the first back and they had waited and waited and waited.
The mission had been a success but the evacuation had been a shambles. Ron had raised his hand to offer a better plan of retreat but was told there was no time and everybody moved out to get to their strategically timed meeting points.
Harry was forcibly questioning everybody who came back and they all reported that they hadn't seen anything of him at all or that they'd seen him covering the door while the curse breakers made the building safe.
Hermione was pacing, pausing, wringing her hands, and then pacing again as she stared up at the sky. She didn't know why she was focused on the sky, he hadn't been expected to fly in on a broom, but it took her eyes off the other anxious faces.
There was a multiple Apparition event to her right and it sounded almost like a giant firework exploding on ground level. She ran towards the sputtering witches and wizards as they clambered to their feet but Harry had already overtaken her at a sprint and was throwing his colleagues aside in order to see if Ron was among them.
"Weasley," Harry barked at them, "did any of you see Weasley or the curse breakers?"
"Sounds like a pop group," one of the Aurors chuckled.
Harry dragged the man up by the front of his dirty robes and shook him.
"They were all making the building safe for you to go in!"
"Sorry, Potter," the startled man said while his colleagues forcibly ejected him from Harry's clutches.
"You're all in and out and back here making jokes so where are they?" Harry demanded.
Hermione pulled at his arm and he wrenched it away and batted at her without looking.
"Harry!" She snapped and he turned and then looked instantly ashamed for swinging at her.
"Sorry," he said, letting her lead him away from the shocked Aurors, "I've just had it with this lot. He got them in and they did what they had to do and just left him there."
"It wasn't their job to get him out, though, was it?" She said, always trying to be reasonable.
He looked at her and shook his head.
"How are you always so calm?"
"I feel like I'm trying to digest a boulder, Harry, I'm not calm."
He put his arm around her and took a deep breath.
"He's just running late again, like he always is, the sod never knows what it's like waiting."
"No, he's always the one we're waiting for," she agreed with a slight smile.
"Any minute now," Harry said with a confident smile. "He'll probably do something showy to make up for his timekeeping. Any minute...now."
They waited.
"Any time now, you'll see."
"Harry, shut up."
"Sorry."
The majority of the Auror team went back to the Ministry with their liberated hostages. Kingsley Shacklebolt arrived to wait with them and just as he was going to break the tension by saying something reassuring to Hermione a Portkey arrived.
There was a whooshing sound and what looked like a Catherine wheel of people spun out from the centre of the glowing light. The light and sound ended abruptly and bodies slammed and tumbled out in all directions with grunts and groans.
Ron was on his feet first, brushing himself down before they reached him, and Hermione flung herself into his chest and crushed him tightly. Harry huffed and tried to scowl at his friend for worrying him but could only manage a resigned smile.
"You have to get a watch and work to a deadline, I mean it," Hermione was saying as she released him and looked him up and down to make sure he wasn't visibly hurt in any way, "no lingering or dawdling. I'm serious, good timekeeping is just as important getting out as going in."
"Calm down and let him catch his breath, Hermione," Harry said with a laugh.
"This is serious," Hermione turned to scold Harry, "you could both do with a good talking to about following a strict timetable. These things should be planned and adhered to jus-"
Kingsley was helping the curse breakers to their feet when one of them ran towards Ron and told them to move away.
"Weasley?" he held Ron's head in both hands and forced him to look directly at his face, "It's okay, right?"
Ron nodded.
"What's okay? What happened to him?" Hermione leaned forward to examine Ron's face.
"FINE!" Ron shouted at her with a smile and a nod.
She jumped back with a start. Harry frowned and stepped around the curse breaker to stand at Ron's side.
"What happened, mate? What took so long?"
Ron was still looking at Hermione and then the curse breaker tapped the side of his face to get his attention again and spoke slowly and right into his face.
"I'm going to leave you," he pointed to Hermione and then Harry at his side, "with your friends. Okay?"
Ron nodded.
"I'll," the man pointed at himself and then mimed walking fingers across their line of vision, "go and get someone," then he pointed at Ron, "for you."
"OK." Ron shouted again.
Hermione was about to ask what on earth was going on when the curse breaker turned and ran off and Kingsley bounded towards them.
"Ron," he said, also leaning in so his face was right in front of Ron's, "we'll fix this," he paused to give Ron the thumbs up, "don't worry."
"What the hell is going on?" Harry demanded.
"There was a banshee jinx on the doorway Ron was defending. It was supposed to catch whoever disabled the curses on their way out so they couldn't hear the final curse sealing off the whole building. Ron caught the whole thing and the others stopped the final curse and then got him back."
"So he can't hear?" Hermione clutched Ron's arm with both hands.
"Just really loud ringing at the moment. It'll pass and the Healers can probably help it along but for an hour or so he'll be deaf."
"Shit," Harry said with a deep exhalation.
Ron was looking at them all, an intent expression mingling with a lost frown on his face, and Hermione moved to stand in front of him and mouthed the words, 'You'll be O-K. I'll take care of you.'
He smiled and nodded at her, still with the creases of anxiety deep on his face, and he leaned to one side a little to try and read Harry's lips.
"Do we need to get him to St Mungo's?"
"Harry, he can't hear what you're saying," Hermione said as she spoke to him over her shoulder, keeping her focus on Ron.
"I know, that's why I'm askin-"
"HARRY?" Ron was speaking far too loud, unable to gauge his volume over the ringing silence in his ears.
While he was in fact totally, albeit temporarily, deaf Ron felt as if he was being restricted by a painfully loud feedback echoing about his skull. This, he guessed, must be what the Muffliato spell must do to people.
Harry looked to Kingsley while Hermione huffed and turned away from Ron to hiss at her best friend.
"Let him see your mouth!"
Harry seemed to understand. Her tone must have cut through his need to question and organise, nicking at his compassionate nerve, and reminding him that he was a better friend to Ron if he was being attentive to him.
"Ron, mate, I'm sorry." He moved closer to him and spoke slowly and clearly as the curse-breakers had been doing earlier. "Is it painful?"
"IS IT WHAT?" Ron squinted and ducked his head lower towards Harry's face.
Harry smiled at him, sympathetically.
"You're gonna be okay."
"EVERYONE KEEPS SAYING THAT!"
Hermione linked her arm with his and gave a squeeze.
"You're shouting," she said before cringing to emphasise how loud it was.
Ron looked shocked at this and turned to Harry, who nodded and made a pushing downward gesture with both hands.
"SOR...Sorry," he whispered.
Harry laughed and Kingsley patted him on the back to let him know the Healers had just arrived.
"Sit down," Kingsley squatted in a way that looked more like he was suggesting Ron go to the toilet, "and we'll give you some potion," and he finished with a mime of drinking that looked more like he was accusing Ron of being a cocksucker.
Ron glanced at Harry, who stifled a laugh, and Hermione nudged him in the ribs with her elbow.
"Ok," Ron whispered, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
The Healer tipped a small phial of potion down Ron't throat and mouthed some silent words to him before speaking loudly and clearly.
"While you can't hear you'll need to be extra alert. You don't know how much you rely on it."
"I'LL LIE ON IT, OKAY." Ron nodded and the Healer rubbed the bridge of her nose.
"I'd better get him home," Hermione said to Harry as she took Ron's hand and looked into his eyes to make sure he was reading her lips. "Apparate home now, yes?" She spoke slowly and clearly.
Ron nodded and then looked at Harry, gave a shrug and a wave, and the two of them Disapparated with loud pops.
They were still holding hands as they walked across the uneven ground towards their shabby little cottage. It had been all they could afford to rent with their combined earnings but they were proud of the fact they could pay their own way without help.
The nearby village of Kilkhampton was non magical but there were a few private magical residences between there and Bude, on the coast. The wind was harsh and would cut through cloaks and robes to freeze you to the bone. As Ron's Auror robes whipped at Hermione's legs she stepped in close to snuggle up to him.
"Let's go home and light the fire," Hermione called over the fierce wind.
Ron whispered something at her. Hermione smiled at him and pushed his windswept fringe away from his eyes.
"I can't hear you," she spoke clearly so he could read her lips.
"THAT'S WHAT I SAID!" Ron shouted.
She pulled his cloak open, stepped inside it with him, and closed it tightly around the two of them for warmth. She started walking towards the cottage with him and soon found herself being guided by him as her hair obscured everything other than their feet directly beneath her.
The flapping old gate was crumbling off its rusty hinges and Ron kicked it wide before rushing them through it. Hermione stepped out of the cloak to unlock the front door and they both threw themselves inside and slammed the door closed to shut the bluster out.
They looked as if they'd been dragged through a hedge backwards and slumped against the wall of the too narrow hallway, with its low ceiling, and laughed. They began shuffling off their windswept robes and kicking off their shoes.
"I'll just get the fire going," Hermione said as she hurried through to the living room.
Ron was bent right over to keep from crowning himself on the ceiling. She heard the familiar clonk of him banging the side of his head against the lampshade hanging down in the centre of the hall in his attempt to avoid poking his eye out on the cloak stand.
"Fu..." He grumbled before stooping right down to walk through the low doorframe and drop down into his armchair.
He was far too tall for the cottage but the place was built at a time when the average height was around Professor Flitwick's size. If he really stretched he could reach the bedroom windowsill in their tiny attic.
Hermione got the fire going and turned to smile at him.
"Poor thing," she said before climbing onto his lap and giving him a cuddle.
"Mmmmm." Ron hugged her back.
She leaned away a little to look at his face, then in to kiss him, and began to frown and feel beneath his hair with her fingers.
"Does it hurt?" She mouthed to him.
Ron scrunched up his long nose and shook his head.
"Good," she said as she planted a kiss against the side of his head, "you hungry?"
"YEAH!" Ron's volume almost blasted Hermione off his lap and onto the floor. "Oh, sorry," he added at a barely audible whisper.
"I'll reheat that stew from last night," she said, and then paused and realised she'd spoken too fast. "I'm making dinner," she said slowly.
Ron nodded and smiled.
"I'M GOING...to shower."
At least he was trying to stop himself from bellowing everything, she thought. As he set off for their cupboard sized bathroom she chuckled to herself at what she knew would be happening in there.
Ron would be attaching a rubber tube to both taps and then stretching it up to hold over his head and shower. The problem was he had to kneel down in the bath tub in order to get his arm over his head in the first place, the ceiling in the bathroom being lower than the rest of the house.
On more than one occasion Ron had been sitting on the toilet, forgotten himself, and stood up to flush while smashing his poor head against the incline of the roof. She'd been woken in the middle of the night on many an occasion by a loud thud and Ron swearing. There was a domed dent in the ceiling above the toilet seat because of it.
As they were renting they weren't allowed to magically enlarge any of the rooms so they had to make do.
"Nicka nicka nan..."
Hermione flinched and then froze to listen. It sounded like there was a child playing outside in the darkened squall.
"Ron, did you hear...?" She gave up on her question as soon as she realised not only could he not have heard anything but he'd also have been deaf to her asking him.
She pulled back a faded floral curtain and peered out into the night.
There was nothing as far as she could see. Maybe the wind was playing tricks. The previous week it had sounded as if a gaggle of geese were being sawn in half with a plastic comb.
The gate banged a few times and then made a splintering sound. Hermione cringed. It would be firewood soon enough and they'd have to replace it before the landlady found out about it.
She lifted the pot of stew onto the stove and ignited the burner beneath it. She lit another burner for the kettle and then set about filling the copper pot with water. She was going to make them a pot of tea but, after thinking about the stressful night and the fact that Ron must be a little unsettled by his loss of hearing for the night, she smiled and reached for the jar of hot chocolate instead.
There was a bump and then a wet squeaking sound before Ron swore inside the bathroom.
"OH COCKING...hell!"
He'd lost his grip on the bar of soap by the sounds of it. She set the kettle on the other burner and pondered going into the bathroom to help him. Maybe she could hold the shower head for him.
"Nicka nicka nan..."
She spun around and looked at the window again. All she could hear was the howling of the wind and the running water from the shower.
"Right," she said to herself, withdrawing her wand, "Expecto Patronum!" She pictured Ron wet and naked in the shower and conjured a bright silver otter from her wand. "Right, run the circumference of the cottage and light it up out there for me to see."
The otter did as it was told, the only Patronus ever to receive instructions such as 'circumperambulate the lake' or 'facilitate the elves exodus' and not hesitate to do exactly what it had been asked.
Ron had always found it quite funny, especially when he told his Patronus 'do what she said' or, even more infuriating for Hermione, 'do your thing'.
She looked out of the window and watched the streak of bright light illuminate the area outside the cottage, just a fraction longer than a flash of lightning would do, but could see nothing other than the shape of the flagging trees. Even when the wind died down they would still be leaning over as if caught in a mighty gale.
The science of it fascinated her ordinarily but at night she always thought it looked a little creepy. The light and shadows cast from her Patronus' circuits weren't helping at all.
"Nicka nicka nan..." The childlike voices began again. "Give me some pancake, and then I'll be gone."
Hermione blinked.
"Pancake?" She said to herself.
"But if you give me none," the voice was a single one now, and much closer, "I'll throw a great stone."
With that the front door banged as something struck it. Hermione jumped and squealed before clasping her hand to her chest and laughing to herself.
"Oh! It's that stupid Droopy Draws night thing again," she said to herself with relief before calling to the door, "hold on, I'll see if I have any cake!"
"And down your door shall come!"
With that the door banged open and the biting wind whistled in.
Both burners on the stove blew out and Hermione rushed to the door to force it closed.
"Oh great," she puffed before shouting down the hall, "Ron?"
Then she growled and locked the door behind her before stomping off towards the bathroom door. She raised her hand to knock and then shook her head at the pointlessness of that act. She turned the handle and opened the door. Steam billowed out and hit her in the face, she could feel her hair growing bigger with the humidity, and Ron only noticed the door had opened by the sudden blast of cool air against his skin.
He turned, stood upright, banged his head on the ceiling and then growled as he slammed his fist against the wall in annoyance.
"Do you have any chocolates hidden away?" Hermione tried to say clearly enough for him to lip read.
"YOU WANT CHOC-olate?" he adjusted his volume as Hermione cringed.
"It's that Dippy Door night or whatever it's called. The kids are stoning the front door and I don't have any cake to give them."
Ron looked at her and then threw his arms wide in apology.
"Sorry," she sighed and reached to hand him a towel. "It's, Ron look at my face," she pointed at herself and tried to speak very clearly, "that night...where children...sing for cake...and throw..." she mimed throwing, "stones at the door." She pointed at the bathroom door.
"DAPPY DOOR NIGHT?" Ron tied the towel around his waist and pushed his wet hair back with both hands.
"Yes! That!"
"NO," Ron shook his head with a frown, while Hermione gestured to him to lower the volume, "but it can't be, we're in Cornwall."
"I know we're in Cornwall," Hermione said with a huff.
"Dappy Door Night's only in Devon," he said, sounding a little strange, not shouting but not his usual conversational volume.
"We're one county away and they're really not that different you know?"
"What?" Ron frowned.
"Oh God this is impossible!" She huffed and turned to stomp back to the kitchen to relight the stove.
"Nicka nicka nan..."
"There!" Hermione raised her hand to draw Ron's attention. "The singing, just like last year."
Ron was just looking at her, warily.
"I," Hermione pointed at herself, "can hear," she pointed to her ear, "singing." She ended with an opera singer pose that made Ron snigger.
Hermione sighed and shook her head before opening the cupboards to search for something to give the local magical children.
"THEY'RE SINGING 'I SEE BY THE LATCH'?" Ron asked as he roughly dried his hair.
"No," Hermione shook her head and then realised she had to wait for him to look up at her, she lit the burners and then saw he was waiting for an answer, "no, a different song."
"WELL IT'S N-"
"Shhhhhh!"
"It's not the same then is it?" Ron whispered.
"Give me some pancake, and then I'll be gone."
"There!" She pointed upwards, unable to place the direction of the sing song voice.
Ron looked up at the ceiling.
"Ron," she tapped his arm and then looked into his face to speak, "they're singing for pancake." She did a pancake tossing mime.
"Pancake day's tomorrow," Ron said, looking lost.
"I know that but that's what they're asking for!"
"But if you give me none I'll throw a great stone." The song was followed by a massive bang and Hermione jumped and screamed.
Ron, not having heard anything, hurried towards her to make sure she was okay.
"Stones," Hermione said, clutching her chest with one hand, "they're throwing stones."
Ron turned and marched towards the front door.
"Ron!" Hermione yelped, then lunged at him and pulled him back by the wrist. "Clothes!"
He looked down at himself and then gave a tut. He wandered up the stairs to the bedroom while Hermione continued searching for something to give the children in exchange for not battering the door down with rocks.
"And down your door shall come!"
There was a loud crash upstairs and Hermione gasped and ran up to make sure Ron was okay.
Ron threw down the towel and picked up a pair of pants from the floor. He gave them a sniff and deemed them passable before hopping up and down on one leg as he pulled them on.
Just as he pinged the elastic waistband in place and searched for his jeans the bedroom door flew open, hit the wall so hard that he felt it in his bones, and the glass in the window frame cracked.
"FUCK!" He exclaimed.
He leaned forward to look through the open door and saw nothing but Hermione running up the stairs.
She was talking too fast for him again but he just managed to pick out the words 'you' and 'okay'.
"FINE," he said, and on seeing her wince he consciously adjusted his volume, "what was that?"
Hermione silenced him and he was sure she told him to 'listen'. He huffed through his nose and folded his arms across his bare chest.
She mouthed the word 'singing' to him. He looked around for a piece of paper or parchment for her to write on and spotted his jeans. He grabbed them and one of Hermione's books fell from under them and hit the floor. The book opened and the shopping list she used as a bookmark caught his eye.
He handed her the paper and told her to write the words of the song, then he wriggled his way into his jeans.
While she wrote she asked him, very slowly, if he had any chocolate hidden around the house to give them.
"THEY'RE NOT HAVING MY CHOCOLATE!" Ron said before ruffling his damp hair. "I mean, no."
She rolled her eyes at him and scribbled more words down on the paper, before jumping again. Ron really didn't like not being able to hear a bang loud enough to startle Hermione. It was much eerier not to be able to hear anything when he knew how noisy it must be outside.
He wasn't used to the cottage being dead silent. There was always a swirling wind, groaning trees, and a smashing gate. She handed him the paper and he read the first line.
Knicker knicker Nan
"OF COURSE!" Ron sighed and groaned. "IT'S NOT KNICKERS I-" Hermione was plugging her ears with her fingers. "It's Nickanan Night. It's the Cornish version of Dappy Door."
"I said it was that," he didn't hear it but when she was gloating she was easy to understand.
"It is different but the cake or we pester you thing is the same," Ron explained. "They have clubs though, and older kids do it too, mostly boys."
He saw Hermione rolling her eyes, shaking her head and sighing 'boys'. He was about to say something else when she stooped to pick up his wet towel and then she was talking too fast for him again. He was sure he was being told off.
"Two sugars please," he answered her silent rant with his best grin.
She shook her head while saying 'tea' and then mouthed 'hot chocolate'. Ron was about to pick up after himself and say thank you when he saw the idea dawning on her that she could offer the hot chocolate to the little sods.
"HOLD ON THERE, LET'S NOT BE HASTY!"
She was gone, down the stairs and off to give away his special treat for going deaf. This wasn't fair. He tried to run after her but he had to duck and dive to avoid clonking his head on the doorframe and then the thick wooden beam running along the ceiling.
Just as he got to the foot of the stairs and jumped into the hall the front door was blasted open by the wind and cold air lashed at his bare back. He spun around and slammed it closed.
"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL...?"
He felt something strike the door as he pressed into it with the flat of both palms.
"HERMIONE, I THIN-" he turned to look at her as he spoke and jumped as he saw she was standing directly behind him as he shouted in her face.
"It's not the wind," she was mouthing, animatedly, "it's stones." She illustrated this by miming a throw.
Ron looked unimpressed with her pretend throw. What kind of pretend Quidditch player would she be with a pretend throw like that?
She said something else to him and waited for a sign of comprehension. He obviously didn't show it because he was shoved to one side and she opened the door and looked out.
"YOU'RE RIGHT Y'KNOW?" Ron said as he looked over her shoulder, out into the night. "OUT OF CONTEXT, NOT LIKE AT THE BURROW WITH ACTUAL LITTLE KIDS AND THEIR DADS STANDING AT THE DOOR, THIS IS REALLY CREEPY."
Hermione shook her head and closed the door. She attempted to tame her windswept hair while talking to him too fast again.
"WHAT?"
"Stop shouting at me!" She very clearly snapped.
"Sorry," he mumbled, "but you talk too fast for me to make out what you're trying to s-"
She jumped again and ran to the kitchen and flung open the back door.
Ron really didn't like not being able to hear the stones hitting the cottage. There was no wind, no Hermione chatter, no snapping from the fireplace or... He noticed that the kettle was whistling from the jet of steam shooting from the spout. He couldn't even hear that the kettle had boiled.
He padded towards the stove and picked up a tea towel so he could lift the thing off the heat. Then he smelled food cooking and realised there was stew on the other burner.
"HERMIONE I REALLY DON'T..." he paused when he noticed she wasn't at the door anymore, but it was still flapping open. "HERMIONE?"
What good was calling for her to him? Even if she did answer he wouldn't know. He paused for a moment, then pushed his feet into a pair of Hermione's slippers, and fuzzy lilac slapped his feet all the way over to the back door. He peered out. The trees were almost being pulled over, or maybe that was because they grew bent over by the wind in the first place, and the washing line was cutting through the air wildly like a whip.
He heard none of it.
Stepping out into the darkness and looking left and right for Hermione, he hated not being able to rely on his hearing to warn him if something was coming. The Aurors had trained him to do his job blind but not deaf. He felt for his wand and then hissed when he remembered he'd probably left it in the bathroom when he'd gone for his shower.
Turning back he kicked off Hermione's too small slippers and left the back door open, not wanting to shut Hermione out if she had gone outside to offer hot chocolate to some hooligans, and bounded to the bathroom.
He stooped and searched through the mess he'd made until he found his wand. The lights all went out and he was plunged into darkness.
"LUMOS!" His wand cast a beam of light around the tiny bathroom and he was about to lean out when the door slammed in his face.
He felt the bang, even if he didn't hear it. He grabbed the handle and turned it. The door opened again with ease, in fact the wind ripped it from his grip, smashed it against the wall and then hammered it back into his face. He just snapped his head back in time not to have his nose broken.
He took a couple of deep breaths and then turned the handle while shouldering the door open. He fell out and onto his knees on the hallway rug. He gripped his wand tightly and cast it's light up and down. The back door was now closed. He hadn't been able to hear the sound change. He cursed his lost sense under his breath and then opened his mouth to try and call for Hermione again.
"HERM-"
There was a gust of wind from the front doorway now, the door was flapping and the cloaks blew like flags. Ron held up his arm to shield his eyes from the gale blowing directly into his face and blinked some moisture into them just in time to see the last remnants of the garden gate shatter into pieces and travel on the current right towards him.
Throwing himself back into the bathroom, to avoid a flaying via splintered garden gate, Ron landed hard on his bottom and the door slammed closed on him again.
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?"
He realised that he'd dropped his wand on the floor and felt around for it. He felt a chilly draft under the crack in the door and then saw a slither of light. He got to his feet to shoulder the door open again and that was when, in one split second, something happened with such utter inevitability he could almost have laughed.
If he'd have had time to realise he'd have laughed.
At the very moment he smashed his head against the bathroom ceiling and knocked himself out he knew what he'd done.
But he didn't have time to think 'I told you so'.
The kettle was whistling on the stove and the back door was being hammered at with rocks. She could barely hear herself think. She ran for the back door and heard herself calling back to Ron.
"Stay at the front door, I'll try to chase them around the..." Realising he had no idea she was even speaking she gave up and bounded outside to tell the boys that their fun had gone on long enough.
She ran around the cottage with her wand in her hand, not lit so she could sneak up on the troublemakers, and cursed the magical traditions that took games too far. The year before she'd been unsettled but this year she was just plain irritated.
A culture that has sports like Quidditch and pits school children against each other in Triwizard tasks doesn't understand 'my boyfriend's gone deaf and I have to take care of him of Nan's Knickers Night'.
"Just bugger off or I'll...Just bugger off!"
"HERMIONE!" Ron was calling for her.
"Stay inside!" She called back and then stamped her foot at the pointlessness of replying.
If he left the cottage to investigate they'd never be able to find each other in the dark, not with him unable to hear anything and her hearing nothing but banging and howling and singing.
"Nicka nicka nan..."
"Petrificus totallus!" She aimed the spell at the voices and then ran towards the spot. "Move along to the next house otherwise I'll leave you like this until midnight."
"Give me some pancake..."
"Incarcerous!" Hermione threw another spell in case she'd missed.
"...and I'll be gone..."
She puffed and stopped running.
"Am I going to have to stand and make you lot pancakes to get you to go away?"
"But if you give me none..."
"Okay!" She called into the darkness before muttering to herself. "Where's Molly when you need her?"
"I'll throw a great stone."
Inside the house a loud bang sounded.
"No, no, no, you lot play your game out here. He can't hear you anyway, he's deaf!"
There was no singing for a moment.
"See? That's why it wasn't funny. You're throwing stones at a deaf man. It's not nice is it?" She tried to reason with the unseen pranksters. "Now come to the door and I'll give you something for your trouble."
She was about to make her way back to the house when she heard it, louder than the washing line cracking like a whip, louder than the wind bending and howling around the branches of the trees, louder than everything else.
"And DOWN your door shall come!"
There was an almighty bang from the front door and Hermione ran towards it, wand raised, just in time to see the wind smash the last of the front gate clean off its rusty hinges and carry it into the cottage.
"Oh great," she groaned as she heard damage being done inside their rented home.
"He's an Auror you know? He's very important and powerful and he won't share his chocolate with anybody!" She yelled out as she ran back towards the house.
As she crunched her way in, over a carpet covered with wood chips and splinters, she saw the bathroom door was broken and hanging off its hinges too.
"Right, this is vandalism. We're not paying for that."
She glanced into the living room to see if Ron was in there but there was nothing other than the soot blown clear of the fireplace. With the persistently high winds in the area she was used to that problem, though.
"Ro...Oh, what's the use?" She sighed and the flicked her wand. "Expecto Patronum!" The otter darted out from her wand tip once again. "Do me a favour and go and round up Ron for me would you?"
The silver streak zoomed out of the back door and kept on going all the way into the woods.
"What on earth did he go all the way out there for?" She pondered aloud before righting some overturned chairs and taking in the mess that had been made of the floor.
"Hermione?"
She jumped at the voice and spun around.
"Bloody hell what happened to your living room?"
Hermione rushed to look inside the living room again and saw Ginny's head bobbing in green flames.
"Oh hello Ginny, it's knicker knicker nan...knick knack knocky knoo...night."
"Oh, Nickanan, right. You're in Cornwall so you get that, I forgot."
"So did we," Hermione said as she dropped into the armchair and heard both doors rattling and banging in the wind.
"They really went for it eh? Just what you need tonight." Ginny said with a shake of the head. "Harry told me about Ron. I thought I'd see how you were coping."
Hermione gestured to the mess around her.
"Yeah, Cornish people are a bit...strange. Get them the least bit excited and they don't know when to stop."
"You're just saying that because you're from Devon," Hermione sighed.
"So where is he then?" Ginny glanced around the cottage.
"I think he tried to chase them with a shoe like he did last year."
"No, you don't chase them! Not Nikanan, you give them what they want or they...well, they nick something of yours and leave it somewhere obscure for you to find it. Sort of a joke."
"Hysterical," Hermione said with no sign of amusement.
"So what have you lost?" Ginny asked, sympathetically.
"I've no idea," she said, looking around, "maybe that's why Ron went after them."
"He went after them? He's deaf, he could h-"
"I know, I've sent my Patronus to drag him back."
Ginny nodded and then grinned.
"Y'know once I heard that a group of older lads took a wizard's sundial, really heavy thing it was, and they made off with it. They took it to the beach, put it in a boat and took the boat out to sea. They dropped the anchor and then swam back to shore. His sundial was left on a boat in the sea!"
"I'm sure they were very proud of themselves."
"Well Fred and George thought it was brilliant, but obviously you're thinking of it from the owner's side of things."
"I always think of things from the other side," Hermione sighed, "that's why I'm no fun."
"Ron thinks you're fun," Ginny said with a smirk.
Hermione twisted in her seat and craned her neck to look through the doorway into the direction the Patronus had gone after him.
"Where is he anyway? He can't have gone that far, he was barely dressed."
"Oh yeah?"
Hermione ignored Ginny's comment and turned back to her.
"You know, last year the Devonshire version made me a bit uncomfortable and Ron thought it was a good laugh but this year...I'm resigned to strange wizarding traditions but Ron really didn't seem..."
Ginny's smile fell.
"Well it must be less amusing when you can't hear anything. It's probably because of the mission going wrong."
Hermione looked back towards the back door again.
"Why did he go out at all, let alone so far?"
"They must've taken his broomstick or something, maybe his wand?" Ginny suggested.
"They'd really steal a wand? Isn't that crossing a line?" Hermione frowned.
"Well it's hiding it rather than stealing it," Ginny conceded. "It is still crossing the line a bit too far though."
"Let me check," Hermione said as she got up and wandered over to the airing cupboard. She opened it and saw Ron's broom, safe and sound. "Broom's still here."
"See?" Ginny nodded. "He'd chase his wand. I bet they took his wand. They always pick something valuable or powerful, a status symbol type thing."
After chatting and glancing for Ron's return several times, Ginny said goodnight and Hermione resolved to start cleaning up the fragments of wood from the hallway. As she gathered bundles of the larger pieces she noticed one was strangely smooth. She rolled it in her palm and realised what she was holding.
Ron's wand.
She looked back out into the night, where she'd seen her Patronus darting away after Ron, and felt her whole body tense up at the thought he was out there unarmed and deaf.
He wouldn't have done that.
Ginny's words suddenly struck her and her shoulders fell.
They always pick something valuable or powerful, a status symbol.
Then she thought of what she'd said to the troublemakers as they blasted their way through the cottage.
He's an Auror you know? He's very important and powerful...
"Oh no," she groaned.
It was freezing cold and very damp.
He was shivering all over and his shoulders hurt.
He swallowed against his dry throat and lifted his head. Then his head really hurt. His brain pounded against his skull, which felt as if it had split open, and his neck was painful to move.
He groaned and then held his breath as he heard it inside him, inside his head.
It was as if he was wearing a helmet stuffed with candyfloss. He could hear himself and his heartbeat, his breathing but everything else sounded muffled. He tried to put his fingers into his ears to clean them out but his shoulders hurt again and he realised they were pulled tight behind him.
Then his wrists hurt.
Finally everything hit him at once.
He was standing in the woods, at dawn, freezing cold and being dripped on by icy dew from above, wearing nothing but his jeans and tied to a massive tree trunk.
"Oh you're fucking joking," he moaned to himself, his voice hurting his head, as if the volume had been increased to a painful level.
He forced his eyes closed and tried to pull himself together. He let out a deep breath, swallowed again, and then opened his eyes and looked up.
"Agh," He whimpered as his head and neck protested, then memories came back, "oh that bloody bathroom ceiling!"
Then he remembered the Dappy Door knockers, only they weren't. They were Nickanan bastards. Cornish arseholes who appeared to have found him unconscious and thought it'd be a laugh to tie him to a tree for the night.
"No wonder they can only shag sheep," he grumbled to himself.
Then it registered that he could hear himself. He could vaguely hear outside himself too. His hearing was coming back. He thought of Hermione and then turned his head too sharply for his aching neck and bumpy head to cope with.
"Hermion-agghhhh! Shit that hurts!" He hissed.
He gingerly looked around himself, teeth gritted, and searched for her. They hadn't done the same thing to her, that was something. He closed his eyes again and rested his head back, against the tree trunk. Some parts of him felt better for it but his neck didn't like anything he was doing.
He tried to wriggle his hands free but he had big hands and the ropes binding him to the tree were very tight. His hands didn't even meet, the trunk was so large. He opened his eyes and looked up at the canopy above him. A fat drop of chilly dew slapped him just beneath the eye and he closed them again and lowered his head, letting it droop.
This angered his neck muscles a little less but it made his headache worse. He was shivering uncontrollably and he'd had enough of this.
Something sounded like a shout underwater and he frowned and looked around, his head throbbed but he tried to listen as best he could. It was like the sound large seashells make when held to the ears, something there but empty. A shower of dewdrops fell over his shoulders and down his bare back. He shuddered and yelped at the discomfort of doing so.
Looking up he saw a bird flying out of the tree, it had shaken one of the branches overhead. Ron grunted and tried to pull his arms free again, hoping the ropes were magical and faltering after a long night, but they wouldn't give.
A muffled voice made him flinch and he held his breath and froze dead. All he could hear was his own heart thumping. He started breathing rapidly and pulled on the ropes again, his shoulders were aching from being pulled so hard all night, but he had the never give up Auror attitude pushing him to grit his teeth and keep going.
He felt a twig snap beneath his bare foot and just about heard it echoing through the woods as well. He stopped to catch his breath and then heard more sounds. It was like a conversation being had in another room. He could tell it was a voice but couldn't make out the words.
"Hello?" He called out and then winced at how painfully loud it was inside his head.
Waiting for the ringing to stop he cracked open an eyelid and saw a flash of silver at his feet. Both eyes opened wide and he tried to find the silver thing again.
"Hello?" He whispered, so his head didn't ache from it again.
There was nothing.
"Shit, shit, shit!" he growled under his breath as he began struggling to move his hands up and down, hoping the friction from the trunk would start wearing through the fibres of the rope.
He kept at it from the light in the sky being blue to being pale, almost white. His skin beneath the ropes really hurt and he had to stop. One thing he'd noticed was that he'd been able to hear the rubbing of the ropes much clearer over the course of his attempt for freedom.
"Ron..."
He thought he'd heard it but he couldn't work out where it had come from. He looked around and tried to listen carefully, desperate to pick it up if he'd really heard his name from somewhere.
"I'm coming okay?" The muffled voice was like a person talking through a mouth full of marshmallow but he could make out words.
He looked around the woods again and then forced his painful neck to let him strain to look behind him as far as he could.
"Where are you?" He tried to call out, voice hoarse and volume limited by his sore head.
"I'm following my Patronus' I'll be there soon."
He looked down and saw a silver otter at his feet.
"Hermione?"
The Patronus faded away as soon as he saw it but he slumped against the trunk and heaved a deep sigh.
She was looking for him, she was coming for him, just a little longer and the night would be over.
As she followed the latest of her silver otters through the trees she couldn't help but imagine how furious Ron must be at being stolen in the first place.
They were right, he was her most valuable possession, of course she'd never think of a person being a possession and a relationship certainly doesn't mean ownership in any way, but he was the thing in her life most precious to her and they'd taken him as something of importance to her...
She was so caught up in exactly how she did think of Ron that she almost walked right past him.
"Hermione?" He croaked.
"Oh my God!" She gasped.
He was as white as a sheet, tied to a tree and visibly shaking. She ran towards him, tripped on a root, and then tore off her cloak to try and drape it around his shoulders.
"They left you like this?" She was amazed that the boys were stupid enough not to have given him a blanket or ropes that would wear off after a couple of hours.
The cloak wouldn't stay put, unable to hook over his shoulders because his arms were stretched outwards and around the tree trunk. She moved around the trunk to try and loosen the ropes. His wrists were raw and bleeding.
"Oh Ron." She whimpered as she tried to untie the knot with her fingers and then quickly resorted to using her wand.
The magic slowly worked the damp knot undone and she moved back around to stand before him again and got the cloak ready for when his arms fell. His arms weren't the only thing to fall, however. When Ron was freed he toppled forward and fell into her body. Both of them slammed down hard onto their knees and his body leaned into her like a dead weight.
He was numb and shivering. She pulled the cloak around him and rubbed her hands up and down his arms beneath it.
"It's all right, we'll get you home and put you to bed, nice and warm."
"We're...We're m-moving," he shuddered.
"I think we'll have to," she said, thinking about the mess.
"I hate Cornwall," he moaned.
"How did some silly boys overpower an Auror like this?"
"D-Didn't, the ceiling overpowered m-me!"
"Your hearing's back."
"Yeah, nearly."
"Good," she said as she rubbed his ice cold back, "I love you."
"Uh-huh," he shook even harder now that his blood was flowing properly.
"And I hate Cornwall too."