Chapter 4: Snow White

Ron walked into the hospital room not knowing what to expect, but it certainly hadn't been this.

The house elves had done their job well. She was laid out on the narrow hospital bed with clean white sheets and a blanket covering her. Her shoulders were bare and she was completely still. She wasn't breathing or giving any other indication that she was alive. She'd lost so much blood that she was very pale and Ron had to keep reminding himself that he wasn't looking at her corpse. Stasis, he kept repeating in his head.

"You may touch her," the healer said, "but don't kiss her. That breaks the stasis."

Ron looked at him. "You mean like Snow White?"

The healer nodded eagerly. "Exactly. A lot of people don't understand that the witch in that story didn't really poison the apple…"

Ron tuned him out. "Bloody hell," he muttered and walked over to the bed. He slipped his fingers through hers. She was warm to the touch and that comforted him no end. "What have you done?" he whispered to her.

"She can't hear you," the healer said, startling Ron, who'd forgotten he was there. "You really should go home and try and get some sleep, it's not like she knows you're here."

Ron glared at him, unable to believe that someone would say something so incredibly stupid. "But I know," Ron said.

"As you wish." The healer nodded and left.

Ron sat down in the chair next to Hermione still holding her hand. "Bloody hell, Hermione, you're killing me." He looked around the small room. There wasn't much to it, just the bed and a couple of chairs with a small lavatory in one corner. There was a window, but it was dark outside so he couldn't really tell what kind of view she might have. There was a cupboard across from the bed next to the door and that was the extent of it. Everything was white. Ron found it unbearably bleak. He'd have to do some decorating if she was going to spend any amount of time here. She'd hate all this plain white.

He rubbed his thumb across hers. "I'll fix it up however you like once you're awake. I'm going to send everyone else home, but I'm staying. I'm going to leave for a bit but I'll be just outside, alright, I'll be back in a moment." As he stood, it was all he could do not to lean over and kiss her forehead.

He pushed his fingers through his hair and went back out to the waiting area.

Everyone looked up at him as he walked over to them.

"How is she?" Harry asked.

Ron tugged at his beard. "Not so bad. It's a lot like second year, actually."

Harry nodded.

"What?" Art asked.

Ginny walked away from the group and Harry gave Ron a pained look before following her.

"Ron," his mum chastised him.

"I'm sorry," Ron said, shaking his head. "I wasn't thinking."

"I'm confused," Viktor said.

"Me too," Art agreed.

"Your mum spent a good deal of our second year at Hogwarts petrified," Ron said.

"What?" Art started.

His grandmother patted his knee. "Another time, dear," she said.

"Look," Ron told the group, "You lot should just go home. She doesn't know anything that's going on around her. It's going to take 24 hours just to brew the potion. There's no sense everyone sitting around here all that time. I'll let everyone know the minute there's any change."

Everyone could see the sense in what he was saying, but seemed reluctant to leave anyway. It took almost an hour before they were all gone. Artie was the last to leave.

"I could stay Dad," he said. "I could keep you company."

Ron shook his head. "You should go back to school, get some sleep."

"What about you?" Art insisted.

"I'll just sleep here. I'm no good at sleeping without your mother anyway."

Art nodded and reluctantly took a handful of Floo powder. "I'll see you tomorrow, Dad."

Ron sighed. "You should go to class."

Art looked over his shoulder, and Ron recognized his determined expression as one of Hermione's. "I'll see you tomorrow," Art repeated. He flung the Floo powder into the flames. "Hogwarts!" he said, then stepped into the fireplace.

Ron dragged himself back to Hermione's room. His legs felt like lead. He hadn't felt this tired since the war. He pulled out his wand and transfigured the chair by her bed into a lounge chair. It occurred to him then to ask after her wand. He looked around the room but didn't see it. Actually, there was nothing of Hermione's in the room, not even her clothes. She'd want him to hold on to her wand for safekeeping. "I'll be right back, luv," he told her prone form.

He stepped into the hall and flagged down the first person in medical robes that walked by. "Hullo," Ron said.

"What can I do for you Mr. Weasley?" the healer asked.

"I'm looking for my wife's things, her clothes, her wand."

The healer smiled, "They should be in her room, did you check the cupboard?"

Ron nodded, "I looked but I didn't see anything."

The healer stepped into the room and Ron followed. The healer checked the cupboard, which irritated Ron, but he didn't say anything. Upon finding nothing, the healer picked up the piece of parchment at the end of Hermione's bed. He read for a moment before saying, "Oh, I see."

"What?" Ron asked.

"Her clothes were considered a total loss and her wand was shattered in the accident." He put the parchment back and walked out as though nothing out of the ordinary had just transpired.

"Shattered?" Ron repeated and suddenly found himself needing to sit down. What kind of force must it take to shatter a wand? That same force ripped through Hermione. Ron was hit with the enormity of what had happened all at once. Fear swept through him, leaving him shaky and weak. He was suddenly faced with the reality that he really might not get her back this time.