AN: Happy Saturday! I hope you're all doing well! Here's another chapter for you! As always, thank you so much to my wonderful betas and to everyone that commented on the last chapter. If you enjoy this one, please let me know!
While I have your attention, one of my short stories Look What You Made Me Do has been nominated for a Good Sex Award. Voting closes at 23:59 pm EST tomorrow. I would love you a whole lot if you made your way over to the website and voted for me. ( : / / goodsexawards readers - choice - award / ) (Just remove all the spaces when you c&p it into your browser). Romione deserve to win, so lets make it so!
Have a lush weekend xxx
Ron races to the hospital to find out how Arthur is. Whilst there, he gets a little bit of advice from his old Pa.
When I have
Once or twice
Thought I lived
My life
For
Oh oh I'll
Wake up
In a thousand years
With every ghost I'm looking through
Boy, Ra Ra Riot (2010)
Ron
St. Mungo's wasn't that far from my house in Clapham, so it wasn't long before I stumbled out of their fireplace and into the bustling waiting room. Because it was a Friday night, the hospital looked busier than usual, and the queue to see the Welcome Witch was already snaking around the cold, hard plastic chairs.
Although I was on an urgent mission to see my dad and comfort my mum, hospital protocol meant that I couldn't get anywhere without a pass dictating which wards I was permitted to access. Hermione told me that the hospital implemented this after Herbert Chorley, a Muggle Junior Minister, attempted to strangle the group of Healers responsible for looking after him. The additional security was for everyone's safety.
Without Harry, the world's most famous wizard by my side, I was forced to join the queue behind a witch with mushroom-like boils erupting over her face. Every time she blinked, another one appeared. I got there just before a man who kept on vomiting sparkly pink liquid into a bucket. It smelled sweet, almost like a love potion. Not that I knew what that smelled like, of course.
"Rom-vom charm," he responded to my confused look. "Well, that's what I was trying to do, anyway. I think I must have performed it a little too vigorously because this is far from sexy. My missus is obsessed with Muggle romantic comedies and thinks I could do with being a little more romantic. Can't say I didn't try, right?"
Throwing the man a sympathetic smile, I turned my attention back to the queue, my foot tapping impatiently on the tiled floor as my fellow visitors reached their destination then peeled off to the right wards. By the time I made it to the front desk, my patience was wearing thin.
"Ron-Weasley-to-see-Arthur-Weasley-in-Magical-Bugs," I blurted out to the Welcome Witch in one breath, without pleasantries.
She raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow, then dropped her head down to the desk to check the sheet of magical parchment in front of her. Every time a new name appeared on the list, she began her search again, an acrid pink manicured nail scraping along the paper. It was all I could do not to snatch the register from her so I could locate Dad myself.
"Oh yes, here he is," she said after her fifth check. "Suspected heart attack."
Tapping her wand with a loud rap against the desk, she shoved a visitor's badge at me. My red, sweaty, angry face peered up from the plastic, below the words: RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY. Photo Ron frowned, as if he couldn't also believe that she'd full-named us, just like my mum did when I was in trouble.
Snatching the pass off the desk, I took off at full speed towards the staircases, attempting to pin it to my chest as I moved. I traversed the myriad of corridors, weaving between the injured and sick without a backwards glance. Finally, I made it to the second floor. I knew I was in the right place when I saw my mum's bright red curls at the healer's station.
The magic on the doors read my badge then opened wide for me, attracting the attention of the healers lingering around the corridor. Mum spotted me straight away and hurtled herself down the long, sterile hallway, throwing her arms around me in a tight hug when she got to me.
"Oh, Ronnie." She nestled her head into my chest. "I'm so sorry for interrupting you earlier, but I didn't know what else to do. I was so worried, and none of your siblings answered my calls. I don't like having to deal with these things alone."
Sighing, I lifted a hand to stroke her hair while the other arm snaked around her to hold her close. "That's okay. What happened?"
"Well, you know how much your dad likes spending time in Muggle London? He's been visiting some old second-hand bookshops, looking for DIY and How-To guides. He discovered a book called the Corner Suitor—"
"Do you mean the Kama Sutra, Mum?" I interrupted, although Merlin knows for what reason. The last thing I needed was visions of my parents attempting the same exotic positions Hermione and I once tried. It was enough to put you off sex for the rest of your life.
"Yes, that's the one. We were trying out something new when all of a sudden, Dad just keeled over. Almost took me down with him. Arthur complained about an awful pain in his chest that quickly moved up to his arm and jaw. Then he went all pale and sweaty. I tried giving him some pepper-up potion to help sort him out, but nothing happened, so I brought him here."
Gross.
"You did the right thing. Where is he? Is he going to be okay? Can I go and see him?"
"Dad's in room five, love, but he's supposed to be resting. I'm sure it won't hurt for you to pop your head around the door and say hi. The rules are only one visitor per room, though, so I might have to kick you out once I've spoken to the healers."
"That's okay, Mum. I'll just say hi, and then I'll retire to the waiting room to meet the others."
"Have you texted them?"
"Yeah, while I was in the queue for the Welcome Witch."
"Oohhh nasty woman she was, too. I hope you didn't have a run-in with her like I did. If I weren't so traumatised, I would write a strongly-worded howler."
Chuckling, I let go of my mum and wandered down the corridor. Some things will never change. My mum's howlers are legendary, having been on the end of quite a few whenever I got into trouble in school. The woman has a barbed tongue and is quick-witted on a quiet day, but if any of her kids did anything to set her off, then Merlin help us. Our misdemeanours set off a firey rage in her, and we'd never hear the end of it.
My feet dragged. I wasn't sure that I was quite ready to see whatever state my dad was in, but I knew I had to visit him. It was just one of those things you did: family duties and all that. Eventually, I located room five and gave the door a gentle knock. No reply came, so figuring he might be asleep, I pushed the door open, being careful to be quiet so as not to wake him.
"Dad?"
For everything that had gone on in my life, facing the potential immortality of my parents might just be the worst thing to happen to me. They're supposed to be the ones who are always around to look after you, and you want to see them age to at least one hundred so that you know they've lived good long lives. When something like this happens, it knocks you for six.
Dad was sitting up in bed; the Daily Prophet opened across his lap. For the first time, I noticed how wrinkly his face had gotten (no doubt helped along by my siblings and me). Against the white linen sheets, he looked pale, small, and well older than his sixty years.
"Hey, kiddo."
A smile travelled across his face as he laid eyes on me, but it was evident that it took a lot of effort. Diagnostic charms beeped around him, and an IV had been inserted in his arm, delivering some sort of mud-green potion directly to his veins. The room smelled like TCP, but his sheets were soft as I leaned in to give him a brief hug.
"What's going on, Dad?"
"I have a dicky heart, Son." A doleful sigh escaped his lips.
I hadn't had a chance to see or speak to my parents since Hermione called my mum out about how she was treating me. It felt like it had happened years ago, yet it was only a few months. I was too ashamed to show my face or to be put in a situation where I might be in a room with just the two of them. I only attended the Burrow when I knew there would be at least twenty others there. I hated confrontation and making people feel bad, and it felt worse that it was my parents, who had worked damn hard to bring my siblings and me up to be decent people.
But seeing my dad in this state made me feel guilty that I'd avoided them for so long.
"Yeah, I heard." I let go of him and eased myself into the chair next to his bed. "I told you to stay away from those muggle bookshops."
"Or in particular the Kama Sutra. Causes nothing but trouble."
If only he knew.
"I know, Dad."
He wriggled around in the bed in an attempt to get more comfortable. Eventually getting settled, he let out another sigh. "Do you know who I wish was here right now? Your mother."
"She's only outside talking to the healers. Honestly, sometimes I think you're the most dramatic in the family, not me." I couldn't help but laugh. I had to get it from somewhere.
"Did you know that they had to get a Muggle healer over to sort me out? They're called dock-ters. The healers haven't seen a heart attack since the early 1900s. They're rare for wizards and something to do with the amount of misuse of magic I see. Sometimes the curses rebound or remnant magic sinks into my skin, and that can cause stress on the old ticker."
"Well, if you're going to go down in the history books, then at least it's for a Muggle reason. I know how much you love them. I can't think of anything more fitting, Dad."
He started to laugh, but it soon turned into a hacking cough. Before he could bring up a lung, I reached for the buzzer to call the healer, but Dad stopped me, placing a hand on my arm and shoving me back down in the chair. He took a long sip of water before speaking again.
"I'm fine, I promise. Now, where's that lovely girl? Hermione, I think her name is? She was so feisty. I've never seen anyone stand up to your mother like that. Not even me. You two looked really happy. Are you guys still together?"
Balls. I should have expected this to come up sooner or later. My parents never paid much attention to my life, but now they were all of a sudden the experts in all things Ron Weasley.
"We were never together, Dad." I sighed, resting my head on my hand.
"Oh, yes, I remember now. Sex friends, isn't that right? But I thought you liked her?"
"She drives me crazy. It would never work."
"Now, now. We'll have less of that, Ronald. I know I'm not down with the kids, and I'm sixty years old now. But your mother and I have been married for a very long time, so I must be doing something right. I have lost count of the years—"
"It's around forty, Dad. Remember? We'll be celebrating Bill's fortieth this year, and although you've never admitted Mum was pregnant when you got married, it's all a little suspicious."
"Well, suspicious circumstances aside, forty years is a long time. And I know you think I'm getting old and boring, but me and your Mum still have a very active sex life—"
"And don't we know about it," I interjected.
"Will you let me finish? We don't pick who we fall in love with. It never happens like it should, and especially not how it goes in the movies. Take your mother, for instance. She had her eyes set on Amos Diggory in school, but I managed to woo her over with a little ol' Weasley charm eventually. All it took was a bit of perseverance."
"Huh. I didn't know that!"
"So I guess what I'm saying is. You're a good lad. I could tell she adored you when she was at the house, and to see her stick up for you like that brought me joy. I thought, 'now that's a girl I'd be proud to call my daughter-in-law'. I don't know what happened between the two of you, but life is too short to mess around or to not be with the woman you love."
Our conversation was interrupted when my mum returned with a team of healers, and the room got busy very quickly. With my dad's words bouncing around my head, I pushed myself out of my chair and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Don't let anyone boss you around, Dad, especially not Mum. I'm going to go and get you some things. Do you want some Muggle magazines?"
"How about a fishing one? I love reading those."
"Sure thing."
I gave my mum a quick hug, promising to return once I'd sorted a few things out. Unsure of where to go next, my feet led me back down to the waiting room and out of the hospital using the Muggle exit. As soon as I reached the busy London street, I drew in a large lungful of summer air. I hadn't realised how oppressive the hospital room had been until I was out in the open, and even the pollution-choked atmosphere felt refreshing.
I was overwhelmed. So much had happened today that I was starting to lose track. I'd started the day nervous as fuck, then hit an extreme high as we began to celebrate my work. My mood had plummeted when Hermione had called me, but I was on a steady climb back up until my Mum called about my Dad.
Now I was back at rock bottom.
I needed time to process what my Dad had said to me; how he won Mum over with perseverance. What did this mean for Hermione and me? It didn't matter how much I tried to forget her; she was an everyday presence in my life. Everything I did was with her in mind. In every situation I found myself in, I wondered what she might think, do, or say. Just the mention of her name tormented me every day, dangling the idea of the relationship we might have had in front of me. When I tried to move on, I just hit wall after wall.
To make it worse, all of my friends were settling down and getting married. My brothers were pouring out offspring left, right and centre, and I was pretty sure Ginny would get knocked up as soon as she and Harry got married. He was desperate for a million kids after growing up an only child, although I'm sure Ginny had something to say about that.
And then there was me, all alone.
I already knew that I wouldn't be ringing Lavender back tonight. Whatever happened earlier was long gone, and part of me felt glad that we hadn't gone all the way. She might even feel the same. She'd get over it if she didn't. Lav was a fantastic girl, but she wasn't the one for me. We'd probably have a few awkward weeks in work, but I was sure we'd get back to normal eventually.
When I thought about who I might want to settle down with, the only girl that came to mind was Hermione. I wanted hundreds of frizzy-haired, know-it-all, bad-tempered babies with her. I wanted to buy a cute old house that was chaotic, fun, and messy, just like my parents. We'd go for Sunday lunch every week at the Burrow, and our kids would play with their millions of cousins whilst we sipped Butterbeer in the garden. I would teach them how to fly their first brooms. When they were eleven, we'd pack them off to Hogwarts and not have to worry about seeing them for months at a time unless they were Squibs, and then we'd have to sell them to the Muggles.
But what was I going to do? We weren't talking to each other, and I'd been brutally clear on where we stood earlier when she called me.
Maybe I needed to swallow my pride and speak to Hermione instead of constantly giving her the cold shoulder, but I was still pissed off that she thought she could just call me and I'd drop everything and run back to her. If we could sit down face-to-face and have a proper conversation, then perhaps we could work things out. But I had to be assertive and let her know how her actions had made me feel. We could only get better if we confronted everything and cleared the air properly.
After sending a quick text to my siblings, I leaned back against a wall near the hospital entrance. I sank to the floor, feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion. Everything felt too hard and too arduous, but I had to see this through.
My finger hovered over Hermione's entry in my phone book. I'd changed her name to 'Do Not Call Her' whilst in my denial stage of grieving to help me fight the temptation to ring her and plead for her to restart whatever we had going on, and it had worked. But now, the words taunted me, making me doubt everything I'd just decided. Did I want to go back to how it was before? Did I believe that things could work out better this time?
There was only one way to find out.
Despite the late hour, Muggle traffic still raced past, but I focused on getting my task done. Pressing the call button, I lifted my phone to my ear and tuned in to the dial tone. It didn't take long for Hermione to answer. Had she been sitting staring at her phone, too? Was she still out with her friends? Maybe I shouldn't have called right now. Perhaps she was already in bed.
If she was, I still had to say something. I had to get everything off my chest, even if it was via voicemail. It would be the first step in making things right.
"Ron! Oh, thank Merlin, you called."
Guilt rushed over me at the sound of her voice. She was desperate and frantic and babbled down the phone. There was no background noise, making it hard to place where she was, but it didn't matter. I had a mission to complete, and I needed to get my words out before losing the nerve.
"Hermione. Hi. Listen, I'm just ringing to tell you that it was completely unfair for you to call me like you did earlier and tell me that you miss me. You can't have that kind of conversation over the phone. Neither can you do it over text, or owl, or floo. If you miss me, you need to grow up and apparate to see me. We need to do it face-to-face…"
I was so absorbed in my speech that I hadn't noticed the approach of someone until they were in front of me. There had been no giveaway noises, so whoever it was must be a ninja. Hermione's voice cut me off, but it hadn't come down the phone. Lifting my head, my heart almost stopped as I took in Hermione standing in front of me. She was in a party dress and high heels, but her eyes were red. As soon as she had my attention, she terminated the call.
"Alright, Ron Weasley. Let's talk."