Author's Note: Thanks very much to Cozy for the first read of this. I hope you enjoy it.
Chapter Two: One Too Many Bludgers
The next day, Ron had a Quidditch match, and Hermione was going to go. She'd stopped going to his matches around the same time he'd moved out, since she never seemed to know the schedule of the matches and hadn't bothered to find out. But, if they were going to fix their marriage, she had to put in more effort. And she did want to fix the marriage.
Harry was going with her, and he seemed to be in slightly better spirits. His talk with Ron had apparently gone well, and Hermione was glad that Ron had managed to stay friends with Harry despite what was going on with Ginny. She hoped he could stay friendly with Ginny, too. As for herself, she was just glad she and Ron were going to make it work, and that the three of them were still friends, even after all these years.
Harry and Hermione arrived early and found seats near the Montrose Magpies' goals, where Ron would be. She wondered how he felt about playing against the Chudley Cannons. He'd wanted to join their team, but they'd flatly refused in a manner reminiscent of the Malfoys. He'd been stung ever since, but decided that the Magpies were better anyway.
She did not have much time to think about it: the players suddenly zoomed into place and the balls were released. Even with her husband as a professional player, Hermione still had trouble following the game. It always seemed so pointless to her: why bother with the quaffle when nine times out of ten, the team catching the snitch would win? She remembered Ireland's victory at the World Cup just before her fourth year, but that was unusual. Usually, seekers held off if they knew their team wouldn't win. But, Ron loved the game, and she was happy to support him. Especially if it could help him appreciate her research. They could make this work.
In the middle of the game, the quaffle headed right toward Ron, but a bludger was smacked that way as well. He made the save, but the bludger hit him right in the forehead. Hermione gasped, standing up. Harry grabbed her hand, but stood up as well. Ron's flying became erratic. Hermione had seen a lot of Quidditch games, but she'd never seen a professional player fly the way Ron was flying. She wanted the game to end. It was no game to her anymore. She didn't realize she was moving until she felt resistance on her wrist, and even then, it didn't fully register.
"Hermione!" Harry's voice struck her out of her fixation. "We can't go down there right now! A game is in progress. We'll catch up with him later."
"He's in trouble, Harry!" she said, but knew he was right. Even if she could get to him what would she be able to do? "Look how he's flying!"
He'd left the goal posts altogether and was flying nonsensically around the stadium, weaving around seemingly at random. The Cannons had scored six times already in the time since he'd been hit by the bludger. Finally, a whistle blew. For Hermione, it was way too long. She started moving again, but Harry stopped her again.
"Hermione, let them sort it out. We'll see him as soon as the game is over, I promise. Maybe sooner."
She took a breath. Once again, he was right. But it maddened her to see her husband clearly in danger and not be able to do anything about it.
The captain of the Magpies flew up to Ron and guided him down to the ground. Then, a different Keeper rose to take his place. The two captains had some kind of argument with the referee, and three of the goals that had occurred during Ron's strange flying were discounted. The score was now tied, 30-30. The rest of the game, Hermione could barely keep still. She knew Ron was still down there somewhere because there was nowhere else for him to go with the game still going on. Suddenly, a hand touched her arm. She looked to see one of the Medi-Wizards from Saint Mungo's.
"Are you Mrs. Hermione Weasley?" he asked.
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
"Do you by any chance know how many times your husband has been hit in the head with a bludger?"
She shook her head, feeling suddenly guilty for not having followed his Quidditch career more. How could she not know of his injuries? But the Medi-Wizard did not seem to blame her. "Come with me, then."
Hermione looked to Harry, but he just nodded, obviously worried himself. Hermione followed the Medi-Wizard down the bleachers and out of the Quidditch pitch. Ron was seated next to another Medi-Wizard, near one of the emergency broom transports. His head was bobbing, and he was playing with some object in his hands. It was just a rock, but he kept calling it the Snitch and congratulating himself on catching it. "I'm not a Seeker," he said in a sing-song, "but I've caught the Snitch! I'm not a Seeker, but -"
"Ron," the Medi-Wizard said gently, touching his arm. "There's someone to see you."
Ron's head swivelled to look at Hermione. "You're pretty!" he said, and reached out a hand to touch her hair. "Such pretty curls!"
Hermione leaned in closer. "Do you know me, Ron? It's me, Hermione!"
"Do you want a present?" he asked instead of answering her. He held out the rock. "It's a Golden Snitch! I'm not a Seeker, but I caught the Snitch!"
"Ron!" she said more urgently, but at the sight of the Medi-Wizards' faces, she closed her mouth and looked at them questioningly.
"We're just waiting for the Captain of the Magpies," the first one said. "He'll know how many bludgers your husband has taken to the head, and then we'll have some idea on what to do next. He will certainly have to be hospitalized for awhile, but I wouldn't worry yourself yet."
"What do you mean about the bludgers?" Hermione asked. "Wouldn't one be bad enough?"
"Well, see, sometimes this doesn't happen with the first one," the second Medi-Wizard said. "Sometimes the bludgers hit the head but don't cause this kind of reaction. But it accumulates. Then, when one does trigger this reaction, all the others come into play. So, if he only took the one bludger in his head, he should be healthy in no time, although I would definitely recommend he seek a different career."
"But if there's more, it would be worse?" Hermione asked.
The two Medi-Wizards nodded. At that moment, a loud cheer went up from the Quidditch pitch, and a ragged man emerged. "Where's my best Keeper?" he asked, and Hermione recognized him as the Captain.
"Ron, my boy," he said jovially, clapping Ron on the back. "What happened out there?"
Ron displayed the rock. "I'm not a Seeker, but I caught the Snitch!"
The Captain's face fell. "No," he gasped.
"Do you know how many times he's been hit in the head with a bludger?"
The man scratched his head. "Let's see, there were 4 the first year, then after that . . ." His face fell. "Thirteen. I'm sure of it."
The Medi-Wizards exchanged a glance. "You're absolutely sure?" the first one said. "No mistake?"
"No. I keep records of all injuries sustained by my players, and it's definitely thirteen. I confirmed the number with the records just now." Hermione wondered what records he was talking about-she couldn't see anything-but the Medi-Wizards seemed to take it for granted.
The first Medi-Wizard turned to Hermione. "I'm very sorry, Mrs. Weasley," he said, his tones heavy with sorrow. "Thirteen is a lot of bludgers to have dealt with. If it had been less than ten, there would be a chance, but I'm afraid the damage is permanent."
"No," she said, not believing it. They'd finally started getting back together. "No, there must be some mistake." She turned on the Captain. "You added some, you must have! Someone else took those bludgers, and you just think it was Ron! Check your records again!"
"I'm afraid the number is correct."
"NO!" She balled her hands into fists and began to hit him, but without much force behind it. "No, we were just getting back together, I had a surprise planned for him, you have to be wrong!"
He grabbed her hands. "Mrs. Weasley, you must contain yourself."
At that moment, Harry appeared. "Oh, Harry!" she cried, running to him and burying her head in his chest. "Ron, he, bludgers, permanent, NO!" Harry absently stroked her hair, then turned to the two Medi-Wizards. They nodded in deference. "Mr. Potter, how may we help you?"
"What's wrong with my friend?" he asked, indicating Ron.
"Too many bludgers to the head. He has permanent brain damage. We'll be transporting him to the Spell Damage ward now."
"Permanent?" Harry asked.
"Thirteen!" Hermione heard herself wail. "If there were less than ten, it wouldn't be permanent!"
Harry's face went white. "No," he whispered, then aloud. "Not Ron, too."
"I'm going to do research!" Hermione said, suddenly terrified that Harry was going to leave. "There's got to be something that's been overlooked, and I'll find it!"
Harry smiled slightly, but she could tell there was no joy behind it. "You think they haven't done all they possibly can? You think you're going to have time for this kind of project with everything you need to do for your job?" He shook his head sadly. "No, Hermione, even if you do find something, it will be forever before it actually takes effect."
The Medi-Wizards were getting Ron into the conveyance part of the emergency transport, and soon after that, they prepared to leave. The one who had come for her stepped up to her before departing.
"Mrs. Weasley, I will personally inform you as soon as your husband is given a room, and you will be able to visit any time." He turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter, you are always welcome as well."
A scowl crossed Harry's face as the man turned away. "He's only saying that because of the war. I never asked for special treatment." Then, he turned to her. Something seemed to be working in his head, and his eyes were gleaming, almost unnaturally. "Hermione, can I come visit you at work on Monday?" The words were fast, his voice excited.
"Sure, Harry, of course!" It would be good to have some company her first day back. And maybe he was realizing that he hadn't lost everything. She took a deep breath of relief. The thought of losing Harry on top of Ron was just too much. "We can even go out to lunch, if you'd like."
"Yeah, sure, just . . . I'll be there Monday!"
And moments later, he had sped away.
