Chapter 10

Loud, echoing chaos.

Ron moved off of Hermione and slid to the edge of the bed as she sat up fully against the headboard, watching as several healers moved past the curtains on the floor next to the bed. Others attended to the mess, noisily righting the curtain rod. Several assistants were ushering concerned patients back into their beds.

Ron ran a hand through his hair shakily, still recovering from the trauma that had just overtaken him and Hermione.

"Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger," said the healer who had first admitted them as she rushed up to their bed. "What's the matter? Are you both alright?"

Ron and Hermione looked at each other briefly before explaining what had happened that night...

Wednesday.

By the time they had finished their strange story, the doors were bursting open again to reveal a haggard looking Harry with a very tired Ginny trailing behind him. They made their way across the room in record time, arriving at Ron and Hermione's bedside in seconds.

"What happened?" Harry panted.

"What are you doing here, mate?" Ron asked. "You should be in bed. It's the middle of the night..."

"We, Ginny and I, have been kipping in a spare room," Harry admitted as he sat on the edge of the bed next to Ron. Ginny stood over them, awkwardly looking down at her brother. Ron raised his eyebrows at her but said nothing. "What happened?" Harry continued.

"Something totally mental..." Ron sighed, glancing at Hermione again. "You want to do them the honors?" he asked, having already explained the very bizarre circumstances to the healers who were now bustling about the infirmary as if it was midday.

Hermione sighed too, but nodded, resigned to tell Harry and Ginny the same story...

Two hours later, Ron and Hermione sat squished against the headboard, their bodies touching all along one side. Harry and Ginny sat in chairs on the left side of the bed, and one healer remained nearby, searching through paperwork for something unknown to anyone but her.

"What do you think they're going to do?" Ginny asked finally.

"What do you mean?" asked Ron.

"Well, they have to figure out how to fix this," Ginny said, looking a bit lost.

Everyone fell silent again. There was nothing to say, no way to explain what had happened or to even guess what might be the answer to solving it all, to fixing Ron and Hermione for good.

After another few minutes of thick silence, the door to the infirmary banged open again and the familiar elderly healer rushed towards the four of them.

"Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger," she began when she reached them. She sighed heavily, shaking her head. "There's a chance that you've still got a trace of the smoke on your clothes, in your hair..."

Ron's eyes widened. He hadn't thought of that...

"We need you both to shower... right away. We'll bring you fresh clothes. It's very important..." She sighed again. "We really don't know what else to do at the moment. At least this way we can ensure that you will not be able to inhale any trace of the smoke again."

Ron swallowed hard, feeling a bit sick all of a sudden. The healer wanted them to take showers. But he could not be away from Hermione. He wouldn't risk it.

"I... I'm not sure we can do that," Ron said tentatively. Hermione looked down at her lap, and Ron could feel her next to him more acutely than before...

"Why not?" the healer asked, sounding exhausted.

"Well..." Ron continued slowly, "we can't really separate, can we."

The healer watched the two of them for a brief moment, nodding very slowly.

"I know it's going to be hard to separate," she said, "but if it's very quick-"

But a crash resounded, startling them all, and the healer turned her wide eyes over her shoulder.

"Excuse me," she said as she hurried off to investigate the noise. It appeared that an assistant had knocked over a tray.

An uncomfortable silence filled the air as the four of them sat thinking. Ron bit his lip, trying to stop noticing the way Hermione's body pressed a bit tighter against him each time she took a breath... But then he felt her hand in his. She tugged his hand, sliding down the bed.

"Ron, come with me for a second," she said softly, not looking at him as she got out of the bed, still holding his hand as he climbed out next to her.

They left Harry and Ginny staring after them and headed for an empty area a few beds down. The curtains were pulled back and a bed sat waiting for a patient to eventually occupy it on the other side. Hermione dropped Ron's hand and waited for him to clear the curtain before drawing it shut. He watched as she wrung her hands, her eyes focused on a spot on the curtain to his left.

"We need to do this," Hermione said finally. "She's right. We could be breathing it in while we sleep."

Ron stared at her, trying to understand what she meant, what she was implying.

"Hermione," he began, and she obviously correctly concluded what he was going to say next, what objection he was about to raise, because she shook her head and interrupted him before he could continue.

"I know we can't separate," she said, and Ron's eyes widened as he watched her. He felt his heart beating madly inside his chest.

"Then... what..." he said slowly, trying to be sure he understood. Hermione closed her eyes sharply as if a blinding light had just been turned on in front of her. When she opened them again, she looked sadly up at Ron before resuming her staring match with the curtains.

"I know it's probably awful to think about, and it'll be really..." she trailed off, unable to complete her thought. "But... we should... we need to just..."

"Are you saying we should... go together?" Ron asked, his mouth dry all of a sudden.

"If... if it's alright with you..." Hermione managed to say, her cheeks a bit pink.

Ron felt like his head was about to explode. Hermione was asking him to take a shower with her! His heart was moments from bursting out of his chest, he knew it. He felt his legs weaken as he focused his eyes on the bed behind Hermione, unable to look at her even though he knew she wasn't looking at him either. He forced himself to remember what this was for, that they had no choice. He was aware, in the back of his mind, that she was still waiting for him to respond, to say it was fine. Because it was fine, wasn't it?

He swallowed the lump in his throat and opened his mouth, but he could not make the words pass through his lips. He realized that he didn't even know what words he was trying to say.

"It's too weird, isn't it..." Hermione finally said.

Ron looked at her now for the first time since he had figured out what she was implying. She had the wrong idea. It wasn't as if he didn't want to do this. That was the problem... he wanted to do this... for another reason entirely. And now he had to pretend like it was fine, like he wasn't nervous, like this was only for their safety, but... he wasn't sure he could do it. He wasn't sure he could turn off a part of himself and do what they had to do. But as he watched Hermione, he remembered why he was here, what had happened, and that this was a chance to stop it.

"No, it's not too weird," Ron heard himself say, though he had no idea how he had managed it. He blinked heavily and realized with concern that he was feeling weighed down again. Hermione was only a few feet away from him and already a thin cloud of fog was settling over his brain. "Hermione, I think we need to... stay closer..." he said as he took a step towards her.

"Yeah..." she agreed, and he could tell that she had been feeling the same thing he had. He rested his hands awkwardly on her shoulders and their eyes met.

"Okay, yeah," Ron began after another awkward pause. He was determined to get this out right this time... "Yeah, it's going to be bloody awkward taking a... a shower together..." The words seemed to choke him up for a moment, and he could not finish until he took another deep breath. Hermione's cheeks turned a deeper shade of red as he braced himself to continue. "But... we really don't have a choice," he finished.

After a moment, Hermione nodded, her hands moving up to Ron's elbows.

"Okay," she whispered. "Just... promise this won't... ruin anything."

Ron furrowed his eyebrows at her, puzzled by her plea.

"What do you mean? What would it ruin?"

But another crash resounded and they both jumped.

"Bloody hell!" Ron shouted, looking back over his shoulder at the closed curtains behind him. "Better see what's happened."

He let go of Hermione and pulled back the curtains to see the same cart tipped on its side again and several assistants quickly cleaning up the mess.

"Pretty sure no one's going back to sleep tonight," Ron said, shaking his head as Hermione moved around him to look where he was looking, taking his hand. His expression turned guilty and he chuckled slightly as he considered the fact that it was completely due to him and Hermione that no one would be getting a proper night's rest tonight.

The healer sudden caught their eyes across the room and made her way towards them.

"I'm sorry," she said when she reached them. "Look," she began, obviously trying to figure out a way to convince them to separate for the shower.

"We'll do it," Hermione said firmly. "But we're not going to separate."

The healer's eyes widened to perfect circles.

"Ms. Granger," she began.

"No," Hermione interrupted. "This is how it has to be. I won't go through it again," she continued, choking up as she spoke. "I won't... l-let it h-happen again..."

Ron looked down at her, his hand tightening around hers involuntarily. And it occurred to him then, though he had not considered it before, that he didn't really know what was real, what Hermione had experienced, and whether, when he had thought she had really been there with him, she had been aware of the same things he was at all. Her nightmares could have included a much different fear, something completely irrelevant. He had no way of knowing what she had been dreaming, what she was now thinking of, so frightened... and it made him doubt too many things to name. He wanted to ask her. He needed to. But he knew he couldn't, not yet. He wouldn't make her tell him, wouldn't ask that of her when it was all still so new, so fresh in her mind.

"We've decided," Ron said definitively as his eyes moved back to the shocked healer in front of them. "We have to do this together."

It took nearly a full thirty seconds for the healer to finally nod her head and look away from them.

"Come with me," she said simply, her voice holding all the confusion and strain that they all felt at this point.

Ron and Hermione followed her towards the doors. They caught Harry and Ginny's eyes where they were standing near the upturned cart, and as Ron slipped through the doors after the healer and Hermione, his hand still held tightly by Hermione's, he considered the fact that Harry probably knew what they were about to do... Harry's eyes searched him, and he felt that his best friend could really read his mind. Harry nodded once as Ron disappeared into the hallway with Hermione.

The walk down to the showers was one of the most awkward walks that Hermione had ever experienced. She had to force herself not to look up at Ron, not to even consider that he was there beside her, his hand clasped in hers. What they were about to do... well, she could hardly stand to think about it. She had never felt so nervous in all her life. They were about to have to strip down to absolutely nothing and climb into a shower together... It was making her feel so queasy that she thought she might not even make it the rest of the way there on her own feet.

But then they were turning into a small room full of lockers, and she felt her stomach drop further down, probably through the floor itself at this point. The healer moved across the room quickly and reached into a cabinet, removing several towels, clothes and bottles. Ron and Hermione remained a few feet back, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, watching her.

"Wash your hair and your skin with these," she instructed as she turned back towards them. She handed them each a bottle. "Make sure to be as thorough as possible."

They both nodded, their hands still clasped tightly.

"The showers are just through those doors," she said, pointing to her left. "Here are your towels and some clean pajamas." She handed them each a stack. "If you need anything, I'll be just outside..." She looked like she wanted to say something else, to comment or tell them they didn't have to do this, but the look of determination in both of their eyes must have kept her mouth shut. She nodded once more and turned, leaving them alone in the locker room. The door banged startlingly behind her and both Ron and Hermione jumped.

"It'd be brilliant if people would stop banging everything around," Ron commented.

"Yeah," Hermione agreed, her voice shaking even on such a simple word.

They both set down their towels and pajamas and sat on a bench in front of the lockers, still holding hands. They were at the end of the line, nothing left to do now but what they had come here for. Hermione's skin tingled furiously, breaking out in countless goosebumps as she felt her hands begin to shake. Not wanting Ron to know how scared she was, she dropped his hand and busied herself with removing her socks.

"Hermione," he said, and she could feel his eyes on her though she did not look up. "We don't have to do this. You can still change your mind."

"No," Hermione said firmly, but she looked over at him finally, searching his eyes. "Unless you-"

"No, I'm fine," he interrupted, and she was overwhelming glad that he had. A layer of fear was washed away as he smiled softly at her. She wondered if he was even close to as nervous as she was. She got her answer as she watched him taking off his own socks, his hands beginning to shake too.

"Maybe it would be easier if we... talked about something else," Hermione suggested as she straightened up on the bench, alarmingly aware of the fact that she was about to have to start taking something more substantial off...

"Yeah, okay," Ron agreed. "And maybe... we should... turn our backs to each other?"

Hermione felt her flushed cheeks increase even more in temperature as she swallowed and nodded. They each lifted one leg up over the bench so they were straddling it, their backs together, touching for now.

"So... what do you want to talk about?" Ron asked, his voice shaking. And Hermione felt him move a inch away from her.

"I..." she began, but then she could sense that he was removing his shirt, and she even felt the fabric brush against her as it bunched together halfway up his back. She lost the ability to speak and simply waited for him to say something else, anything else...

"You okay?" he asked. "Not feeling sick, are you?"

If she was going to be honest, her answer would have to be yes, but she knew what he meant, that he was only talking about the smoke, and she shook her head.

"No, I'm fine," she managed to say.

Ron tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it was no use. He twisted his shirt in his hands, feeling the cool air of the room brush over his now bare chest. He needed something else to do, something else to think about... He opened his mouth, ready to talk about anything else, but before he could say a word, he felt Hermione moving behind him. His eyes darted as he tried to determine if what he suspected she was doing was actually what she was doing... A shuffling, then she fell silent again. She moved behind him, adjusting her position on the bench. He realized he had stopped breathing...

Her bare back brushed against his for a fraction of a second before she moved away as if burned. His heart had stopped. He knew it had.

"Sorry," he heard her mutter. He shook his head, but not only was the motion too small for anyone to discern, he was also still facing away from her and she obviously could not see his movement. But it didn't matter. He couldn't speak. There was no chance.

He closed his eyes, trying to focus, to remember to breathe. He felt her moving again behind him and he tried as hard as he could not to imagine what she was doing. As a distraction, he lifted one leg back over the bench so he could unbuckle his belt. As he looked down at the belt buckle, he felt a small wave of dizziness pass through him. It alarmed him and he looked to his left involuntarily, forgetting that Hermione was sitting half naked behind him. He caught a marginal glimpse of her bare back, but enough to notice that there were no straps on her arms or crossing her back in the middle which meant...

Gasping lightly, Ron turned back to face the other way.

"You okay?" Hermione asked, a bit breathless. Ron cleared his throat.

"Uh, yeah," he said shakily. "Do you feel dizzy?"

"A little," Hermione admitted.

"Okay," Ron said, nodding, trying to regain some of his composure. "We should hurry."

Inside his head, Ron began to recite a list of spells he remembered memorizing for an exam. His hands moved at top speed. He shifted on the bench and removed his trousers completely, letting them gather in a heap at his feet. He heard Hermione let out a shaky breath, and he had to force himself not to look back again. Instead, he extended his left arm behind him, careful not to move it too close to where he knew she was. He wanted her to see his hand...

Hermione focused on her breathing... in, out, in, out. She felt a bit lightheaded, but she knew it wasn't entirely the smoke that was causing it. She did not have to look back to know what Ron was doing... she heard the clang of his belt buckle as his trousers fell to the floor. Her eyes widened, her heart pounded. She exhaled shakily... and then, to her right, there was movement. Ron's hand. He kept it there in midair, waiting.

She held her breath as she felt her eyes tear up. She wasn't sure why, but this one little thing, his hand there for her to hold, made her feel so overwhelmed. He was perfect.

She took his hand and squeezed. It was awkward, holding hands the way they were, their backs still turned to each other's. Hermione's arm began to cramp up, so she dropped Ron's hand almost as quickly as she had taken it. But this time, she was determined. Courage raced through her as she stood and removed the last of her own clothes. She shivered, all of her skin now exposed, and then she reached for her towel, wrapping it around her body.

"Ron?" she said, not daring to look back at him.

"Hm?" came his raspy voice from behind her.

"I... I'm ready... whenever you are," she said, closing her eyes as she felt herself strongly compelled to turn around. She heard the bench creak slightly as he stood, and she could hear the shuffle of him removing the last of his clothes. She wondered if he was facing her, and the thought of it made her head spin.

"Okay, me too," Ron said, and Hermione turned around slowly to face him. His towel was wrapped around his waist and he was carrying his pajamas and bottle under his right arm, holding the towel securely shut with his left hand. His chest rose and fell rapidly as his eyes met Hermione's. "Uh, should we..." he said, his voice shutting down before he could complete his thought, but Hermione nodded, understanding him, and she turned, heading for the showers. Ron followed her closely, and when they reached the first curtain, Hermione set her pajamas down on the small bench next to it and stared at the closed curtain as if it held some secret or code she was trying to decipher.

She felt Ron moving beside her. She didn't dare look at him, terrified that he was watching her...

"Hey," Ron said, feeling a wave of courage, "I... I'm not going to look. Let's just..." He swallowed hard, looking away from Hermione. He knew what he needed to do. "Right. I'll go first," he said. His hand released the towel he was holding without allowing his brain time to consider it. The towel fell to the floor at his feet, and in one quick motion, he swept back the shower curtain and stepped inside, closing the curtain behind him.

He turned on the water, jumping slightly as it came out a bit too cold at first. He adjusted the temperature, singing a song inside his head to get his mind off the fact that Hermione was still somewhere behind him. He had no idea what she was doing or thinking, and it was driving him mad...

"Hey, Hermione," he called out, shocking himself with the sound of his own voice, "remember back in fifth year that one time when me and you had Prefect patrol and we found Trevor halfway down a flight of moving stairs?" Warm water cascaded down his body and his hair stuck to his forehead. He heard the curtain open again and had to literally press his hand to the wall to stop himself from turning around.

"Yeah," Hermione said through a shiver, "I remember." And though he could tell she was trying to hide it, he heard a sob escape her, and all of his plans, all his will power vanished. He turned around, his eyes raised so he would not accidentally see anything below the top of her head.

"Hermione," he began, reaching a hand out to her again. She sobbed again, and he felt his heart melt, all of his own fear and nervousness edging away. "Hermione, what's wrong?"

She took a step towards Ron, then another. The top of her head moved closer to him. The temptation to look down at her face was nearly too much, but he resisted.

"C-can I... please..." she said, and though Ron had absolutely no idea what she was asking, he nodded.

"Yes," he said, and she took another step. He felt her arms circle his body, felt her chest against him. She pressed her head to his shoulder and her hair tickled his skin as the water from the shower coated her body. Her hair gradually tamed itself as the water ran through it. She shook slightly, clinging onto him as if she would die without him. It was ironic how true that statement really was.

Ron could not have been more shocked to feel her naked body against his own. He shivered fiercely, though he was not cold at all. The warm water slid down his body, covering hers too, moving between them, pooling wherever it could against their skin where it was pressed to the others'. Ron's arms shook furiously, but he managed to move them around Hermione's shoulders, holding her against him.

Her skin was like silk, the softest thing he had ever felt. And every bit of it that was pressed to his own felt more real, more alive, than anything he had ever touched. It was as if something in his brain had told his own skin to double in sensitivity. He was intensely aware of each bit of skin, each hair on his chest, each muscle in his back where her hands moved slowly up. He stared over the top of her head, his heart pounding. She was making him lose all sense of logic or reason, all knowledge that he had ever learned. He felt a wave of embarrassment as he realized what she was going to discover, to feel if she kept this up. But he closed his eyes, chanting his list of spells again, trying not to let the bliss he was experiencing overtake him any longer. He was here for her. She was in his arms because she needed him. And he wasn't going to let her down, wasn't going to let his own emotions and sensations affect what was happening...

It proved quite impossible however, and he was immensely relieved when he felt her stir, her arms slackening their grip on him.

And she finally moved away completely, her cheeks now very red. And without another word, they both quickly washed themselves with the soap they had been given, careful to be as thorough as possible. When Ron had finished, he squeezed past Hermione, willing himself not to look at her. He pulled back the curtain and wrapped the towel around his body, drying himself quickly. He heard the water shut off behind him and felt her move through the curtain to her own towel, her shoulder brushing against his back briefly.

"Ready?" Hermione asked. He turned and met her eyes. And for a second, time seemed to stand still. It didn't matter that they had just done something terribly embarrassing. It didn't matter that Ron was sure that Hermione knew what she had done to him... They were alive. And as many times as it kept reoccurring to them both, as many times as Ron kept having to remind himself that he was awake, that her life was not a fantasy, not a dream or a creation he had made up in his own mind, it never failed to amaze him.

Hermione took Ron's hand, breaking eye contact. They crossed into the locker room together and approached the bench, dropping hands and turning their backs to each other. They dressed silently, and when they were through, Hermione found Ron's hand extended to her again.

Alive. Ron thought it might have been the most beautiful word he had ever heard.