Voices No One Else Can Hear:/u
"Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world."
(Ron to Harry, in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Chapter 9, 'The Writing on the Wall'.)
DISCLAIMER: I did not invent any of the characters or the setting, they belong to JK Rowling. Nor did I invent the idea of the Potions Accident Fic. I'm grateful to whoever did.
WARNING: Contains crude innuendo, filth, depravity and nob gags but no actual smut.
CHAPTER THREE: The Entrance Hall
"-- your spunk spraying out all over my chest, getting in my hair, sticking to --"
Ron looked away from his little sister's sweet freckled face. "Feel sick," he muttered with complete honesty.
"Look at me properly!" Ginny demanded.
Ron braced himself. He took a deep breath. He would look only at her mouth and ignore anything she seemed to be saying when it didn't move. Not that it would be difficult to work out which words were the result of the potion.
He lifted his gaze from the dusty wooden floor of the hall and looked her in the eye.
" -- moaning, panting, screaming out in ecstasy --"
At the same time she was actually saying, "No, you don't look right, you should go to Pomfrey."
He pushed back the mental images. At least he didn't have to worry about the hard-on any more. That was long gone.
The same voice in which she asked him to pass the carrots, or whether he'd seen Harry, or what the latest Quidditch scores were, asked, "How deep could you thrust into me? How hard? How long would you last?"
"Been to Pomfrey," he choked out. "Gotta class."
He wrenched his arm free of her grip and turned away. The sight of the empty space between him and the door was like breathing cool fresh air after a long exam. He bolted through the area. He was alerted to nearby Slytherins by Nott's voice, but managed to close his eyes having heard nothing more troubling than the word 'play'. He knocked his shoulder on the door jamb, but he didn't care. He had no intention of working out what the context of 'play' might have been.
"Ron!" Hermione called behind him.
He knew it was actually her actually saying it because he couldn't see her. He stumbled blindly into something sharp and cold which clattered around him. It was probably a suit of armour, but he didn't care what it was. He was just grateful to have something - anything - to curl up underneath. He ignored the bruises and put his hands over his face.
"Ron?" Hermione asked. "What's going on?"
"S'there enwun else c'n'ear?" Ron asked her from his rusty place of sanctuary.
"I'm not going to stand hear trying to decipher --" she began impatiently.
"He asked if anyone else could hear," Harry explained. Thank goodness someone understood.
It was comforting to lie on the rough, freezing stone of the floor with heavy metal pressing against his flesh and what felt like a sword prodding his earlobe, listening to muffled disembodied voices saying mundane things which didn't refer to parts of his body being … best not to finish that thought.
There was a metallic rattling and shuffling and some of the weight lying over him shifted, then Hermione whispered, "It's just me and Harry." She patted his knee in what was probably supposed to be a supportive way, but which, given the way he was lying, was a little too intimate to be comfortable in his present circumstances.
"Snape's trying to kill you, isn't he?" Harry asked. So, nobody understood.
Ron's two best friends wheeled out their favourite argument about whether Snape was evil or not, covering all the same old ground which Ron really wasn't strong enough to be subjected to again.
It was more to shut them up before it all got out of control again than for any other reason, that Ron said, "I'm hearing voices."
"Are they threatening to rip and destroy and maim and --?"
"No, Harry. Only you hear the horror movie stuff."
"You're special like that," Hermione crowed proudly.
"Mine's more, um … got a different sort of Adults-only rating …" Ron mumbled.
"Swearing?" Hermione asked. "Radical politics?"
"Sex!" Ron replied, a little louder than he had intended.
"You're hearing sex?" Harry asked. "You lucky bastard. Focus! You might be able to see it, too!"
"Harry!" Hermione reprimanded. "What does sex sound like?" she asked Ron.
"It's not that. It's … someone thinking about sex. With me."
It was a good thing Ron couldn't see the suspicious looks his two best friends gave each other.
"Who?" they both asked at once.
"Male or female?" Harry added.
"Don't know."
"How can you not …? Look, Ron. We can't talk about this with you lying there like that. Why don't you sit up and we'll go find somewhere quiet and have a normal conversation --"
Ron cut off Hermione's strident attempts: "I can't. I can't look at anyone. If I do then it's their voice saying the … erm … stuff. I thought at first I was mind-reading and it was Snape who was …" Ron's voice broke down into a kind of retching choke.
"This started when you drank the potion?" Harry checked, his voice once again taking on the familiar paranoid whine it often had when discussing anything which might involve their Potions Master.
"Harry, go and check the coast is clear!" Hermione ordered sharply. Ron thought she was probably just trying to change the subject but, after another clattering noise and the sound of retreating footsteps she hissed, "Was it about stockings?"
"What?"
"These sex-thoughts, did they involve lingerie?"
"Lingerie?"
"Muggle underwear usually worn by women, but sometimes, erm, by … and some people might like that. Erm … garters, red lace, fishnets and hairy legs … you know."
"What, me wearing girl's knickers?" Ron's voice was high pitched with alarm.
"Exactly! Black satin."
"No!" Ron snapped. Great! Now he had a whole new set of disturbing ideas to try to shake off.
"Good." Hermione sounded relieved. There was a pause, then she asked, "Don't you like the idea?" This time she sounded disappointed.
Luckily Ron was spared having to answer by the return of Harry's footsteps.
"All clear," he said.
"Right!" Hermione announced. "I'm off to the library to research this! I'll see you in the next lesson. Harry, it's your job to get Ron to Care of Magical Creatures without him seeing anyone."
That was the next lesson? Oh, great. Hagrid or Grubbly-Plank. Ron couldn't decide which would be worse.