Chapter 4 - The Department of Mysteries

As Ron's eyes opened in the dark hospital wing, the events that led to him being in the bed he now occupied came rushing back to him. His head swam with foggy and confusing memories of the brains that he had summoned...

He closed his eyes tightly, thinking of how stupid he had been. He had failed when his friends needed him. His friends...

He opened his eyes again, and tried to sit up, but immediately regretted it when the pressure on his forearms reminded him of his injuries. He looked down and saw that his scarred arms were both covered in a greenish paste, something Madame Pomfrey must have administered. His arms felt oddly numb, but still painful, so he laid back against his pillow once more and turned his head to the right instead. Curtains surrounded the bed to his right, and to his left... an empty bed. He had to know who was behind those curtains to his right, if something had happened to someone else to land them in the infirmary...

"Harry?" he called out in a raspy voice. "That you in there?" Ron's query was met with cold silence, and he sighed. His curiosity outweighed the pain he felt. If someone had been injured... Harry or Hermione... he had to know.

He pushed up in his bed again, wincing as his right arm pressed into the mattress. Then he swung his legs over the edge a bit dizzily. His head felt light and fuzzy, like someone had injected him with helium. He figured it had to be a result of the brain's infiltration of his own mind. The things he had seen... felt... when the brain had touched him... he didn't want to think about it. Not ever again.

He stood on somewhat shaky legs and padded slowly over to the curtain surrounding the bed next to his. He reached forward to pull back the curtain and winced again as the fabric brushed his scars. But when he saw Hermione on the bed in front of him, his eyes widened and he stepped through the curtain, his moment of pain forgotten.

He stared down at her still form, wondering what had happened to her. He didn't know, after all, how badly she'd been injured. His eyes moved down her body, searching for signs of injury, but other than a few scrapes and bruises, he saw nothing.

His eyes moved back up to her chest as it rose and fell, assuring him that she was breathing. But then his eyebrows furrowed as he noticed something white sticking out of the top of her nightgown against her chest. It looked like a bandage...

"Ron?" Hermione choked out.

Ron's ears turned bright red at the sound of her voice and his eyes darted away from her to stare at her bedside table instead. He had just been staring at her chest! He chanced a glance at her face to see if she showed any signs that she had noticed where his eyes had just been... but she didn't. Her eyes were shut unnaturally tight, and Ron quickly realized that she was in pain.

"Hermione!" he whispered frantically, moving closer to her bed. "You okay? Should I get Madame Pomfrey?"

"No, no," Hermione breathed, opening her eyes again to look up at Ron. "I'm fine." She winced again however, and Ron remained unconvinced.

"You don't look fine..."

"Madame Pomfrey's been in to see me every few hours, Ron."

"What happened to you?" Ron asked, concern leaking from his voice.

"I was cursed. Got hit pretty hard. But I'm alright. Madame Pomfrey says I'll be fine."

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione rushed ahead.

"What about you?" Her voice was soft and... something else that Ron couldn't quite place. Concerned was the closest word he could find for it...

"M okay," Ron mumbled as he tried to surreptitiously conceal his scarred arms behind his back without rubbing the fresh wounds against his shirt. But he wasn't quick enough...

"Ron!" Hermione gasped, her eyes going wide. "Those look horrible!"

"Thanks," Ron said sarcastically.

"You've been asleep all day. I didn't know if you were alright," Hermione continued. "Madame Pomfrey said you might have scars... on your arms... but I didn't... I didn't see it..."

Hermione's eyes were beginning to glisten in the moonlight. They were like two beautiful glowing spheres inside her head that Ron could not tear his own eyes away from. But then he realized why her eyes were wet, why her voice was suddenly so scared and small...

"Don't worry about me," Ron said quickly as tears began to build up in the corners of her eyes. "I'm fine, really!"

Hermione didn't seem to hear him.

"We weren't ready for this. This shouldn't have happened. Ron, I was so worried..." she mumbled.

"Hermione," Ron tried again as he sat on the edge of her bed. "It doesn't hurt that bad. Madame Pomfrey's put some sort of gunk all over them, see?" Ron moved his left arm in front of Hermione's face so she could see. "Feels kind of numb actually."

Hermione studied Ron's arms carefully, clearly still skeptical, though wanting to believe that Ron was alright, that he would be fine. She moved her own arm out from under her blanket and reached as if to touch Ron's arm, though her fingers remained several inches away. Ron flinched involuntarily but didn't move away. He wanted Hermione to know that he was fine. He knew that it would hurt if she touched him, but he wasn't going to let her see that... he was going to try as hard as he could at least...

But she didn't touch him. She allowed her hand to fall onto her stomach as her eyes moved back up to Ron's face.

"I was so worried, Ron," Hermione whispered again, her face pale.

"Me too," Ron said back in a very hoarse voice.

"I'm... I'm so glad you're here..." Hermione cried softly, her face scrunched up slightly. Ron felt his heart melt at her words and the sincerity with which she said them.

"Me too," Ron said again in an even scratchier voice than before. His fingers inched over the blanket on Hermione's bed, absentmindedly twisting a pick in the material. He really wanted to hold her hand all of a sudden. He had felt like this before, plenty of times even. But right now the desire was so strong that he thought he might actually go through with it... but then...

"Harry was here earlier," Hermione said, breaking eye contact with Ron, her face flushed.

"Oh," Ron said, feeling a little guilty for not having asked Hermione sooner. He had been very worried about Harry before he had found Hermione in her bed... "Is he alright?"

"He'll be okay," Hermione said, sniffing. And then her eyes began to fill with tears again. Before Ron had the chance to ask what was wrong, however, Hermione gave him the answer. "It's Sirius... he's... dead."

Ron's eyes widened in shock.

"What?!"

Hermione closed her eyes and let out a muffled sob.

"Can't be!" Ron whispered harshly. "No way!"

"It's true!" Hermione cried as she opened her eyes again. "H-Harry told me!"

Ron stared down at Hermione as tears tracked down her face. He couldn't believe it. It just couldn't be.

"But..." Ron started, but he could think of nothing else to say.

Sirius, dead? How had this happened? And Ron hadn't been there, not to help Harry, not when Harry needed him... He felt slightly sick, but looking down at Hermione where she was sobbing quietly in her bed, he felt another wave of guilt for not being there to hear the news with her. As much as Harry needed comforting now after this tragedy, Ron wanted to be there for Hermione too. And she had had to take the news and watch Harry leave her there alone in her hospital bed. Harry was surely in no state to comfort anyone. And Sirius' death, though it was horrible and certainly affected Ron in a powerful way, wasn't easy for Hermione to have to hear either. Definitely not.

"Hermione," Ron said, and then he did it, what he had been wanting to do for several minutes now. He reached over and took her hand where it rested on her stomach. She squeezed his hand tightly in return.

"I'm sorry, Ron," she cried, "It's just that I still can't believe it."

"You don't have to be sorry..." Ron said softly. His head hurt and so did his stomach. This was all too surreal to be happening... He felt his eyes watering and tried take a deep breath. He didn't want to cry in front of Hermione, not now anyway, not when she needed him to be the strong one.

"It... it was B-Bellatrix, Ron! His own cousin!" Hermione sobbed. Ron's mouth opened slightly, his forehead creased in another wave of shock. His stomachache doubled in intensity.

He moved his hand in Hermione so their fingers laced together. It felt more intimate and he would have been embarrassed if she hadn't been crying. But right now, he didn't really care what she thought about what he was doing. And she didn't seem to mind one bit. She even attempted to slide closer to Ron on her mattress.

"You shouldn't move," Ron choked out. Hermione turned her head on her pillow so her face was towards Ron's leg. He stared down at her and could see her flinching slightly. It must have been painful for her to move even as little as she just had.

"P-please don't leave yet, Ron," Hermione whispered in a very tiny voice.

"Wasn't planning on it," he said hoarsely. Hermione let out a shaky, yet relieved, sigh.

"Good..." she breathed.

Ron could tell that she was trying to move again under the blanket. He felt overwhelmed by her obvious need to get closer to him. He tried not to think of what he was about to do as anything but comfort, but it was difficult. He knew that he didn't see it quite that way, he never had. But he went ahead anyway...

"Stop moving. There's a reason why I'm so thin..." and he let go of her hand. For an instant, she flashed him a scared glance as if she thought he was going to leave. But then he was swinging his legs around and lying back against her pillow on the very edge of the mattress, above the covers, but their bodies still touching all along one side.

Hermione sniffed and waited as he made himself a little more comfortable. Then he reached down and took her hand again, lacing their fingers back together. He glanced over at her and saw that she had been staring at him, a mixture of awe and relief in her eyes. He smiled gently at her, but now felt his face reddening. This doesn't mean anything. We've slept next to each other before, he told himself as he looked away from her again.

"So what's the reason?" Hermione asked in a whisper, her eyes still glued to Ron's.

"What?" he whispered back, confused. Hermione smiled.

"The reason why you're so thin..." she said.

"Oh." Ron's eyes flashed with comprehension. "So that I can fit with you in these tiny little beds."

"Just with me?" Hermione said, a smirk forming on her flushed face.

"Course, just you," Ron managed to say, though he was sure she could see his blush now. And then she moved her head slightly, resting it against Ron's shoulder. She remained on her back, her chest heaving a bit with each breath. She moved her hand in his a little, and Ron felt a twinge of pain as Hermione's wrist brushed against one of the welts on his right arm. But he said nothing. He'd take the pain if this was the reward he'd get in return.

He closed his eyes, his mind racing with images from that night in the Ministry. But he finally felt safe again here with Hermione. He knew it was silly. After all, he had gotten in her bed to comfort her. But after only a few moments, his breathing had slowed and he was sound asleep.

Two hours later, Madame Pomfrey gently pulled back the curtains around Hermione's bed and was shocked for a moment to see Ron sleeping next to her, holding her hand. But as she stared down at them, she remembered a little boy with messy ginger hair sleeping at a little bushy haired girl's bedside, bringing her homework to her even though she wouldn't be in any state to complete it any time soon. And Madame Pomfrey couldn't help but smile. She carefully looked down at the bandage on Hermione's chest to be sure it didn't need to be changed, then left the two of them to sleep...

One hour later, Ron awoke to very early morning blue light drifting in through the windows of the infirmary. He had hardly moved when he realized just how close to the edge of the bed he had been sleeping. He let go of Hermione's hand to regain his balance and winced as his arm rubbed against the edge of the blanket. He glanced over at Hermione where she remained sleeping soundly. It wouldn't do for him to be found sleeping in her bed, he thought. He was sure that Madame Pomfrey wouldn't approve. So he reluctantly slid out of the bed. He turned and looked down at Hermione where she continued to sleep and he smiled. He imagined spending a lot more nights sleeping beside her and found himself blushing and shaking his head.

With one last look down at her, he turned and slipped through the curtains and back over to his own bed.