Chapter Sixteen
Hermione sat in Transfigurations, chewing hard on the end of her quill, worried. Ron had been allowed back into class that morning, with a warning not to strain himself. He was fine- albeit a little pale- for most of the day. But in the middle of the last period, Transfigurations, he had jumped to his feet, pale and clammy, and said that he needed to, get to the hospital wing right away. McGonagall had sent Justin Finch-Fletchy with him, to make sure he got there all right. But Hermione didn't know what was happening.
The bell rang, and she shoved her books into her bag hastily, then scrambled over her desk and bolted out the door. She danced around desks and students, trying to avoid the surge of people that usually managed to block the door.
Hermione zipped through the hallways at an amazing speed, grabbing walls and sliding around corners when she had to, and almost ran down Mrs. Norris on her way past. But even the old grump of a cat wasn't fast enough to catch her that day.
She finally skidded to a halt at the door to the infirmary, catching the doorframe as she passed to avoid missing it entirely. She scrambled inside, and ran headlong into Madame Pomfrey.
"Let me guess," the matron said dryly. "You're here to see Mr. Weasley."
Hermione brushed off her skirt, blushing. "If it wouldn't be any trouble," she said to her shoes. "I just want to know if he's all right."
Madame Pomfrey shook her head. "I'm afraid you cannot see him right now," she said. "He had another attack and is not fit for visitors."
Hermione screwed her eyes shut. "Is he all right?" she repeated. "Please, I need to know."
The nurse opened her mouth to reply, but they were cut off but a muffled "Shit!" from around the corner. Madame Pomfrey, apparently forgetting about Hermione, scampered around the corner to where the sound had come from, and Hermione followed. Ron was stiff as a board, lying in his back, atop the covers on the bed, still in his school clothes. He was staring at the ceiling, terrified by something only he could see.
The matron let out a string of elegant bad language, and hurried over to the bed, feeling her patient's forehead. "Cold," Hermione heard her mutter. "Cold as ice. That potion was supposed to block the visions." She kept muttering to herself as she mixed up a blue-grey potion. Hermione, seeing the opportunity while Pomfrey was distracted, ran over to the bed and grabbed Ron's hand.
He was cold. So cold that she dropped his hand. Touching him was like sticking your hand in a bucket of ice water. She took a deep breath and took his hand again, feeling the jolt of pain go through her again at his contact. But she bit her lip and held on. "Ron!" she hissed. "Ron!"
His gaze flicked away from the ceiling and met Hermione's, and she gasped as he looked at her. She could feel himself regaining control of his consciousness.
He finally shook his head, and his grip on her hand tightened sharply. "Go," he whispered fiercely at her. "Go, get out of here."
"Ron," Hermione choked. "What's wrong?"
"Get out," he whispered. "I mean it Hermione, get the hell out of here." She let go of his hand and turned on her heel, and ran out of the room as if pursued by Hippogriffs.
And so it went, for the next nine days. Ron was confined to the hospital wing, and Hermione brought him his homework every night. She was careful to come late in the evening, so as not to catch him in another attack. This was not hard to do. They always caught him around two o'clock in the afternoon, and never lasted longer than twenty minutes. But they were getting longer, Ron said. Although, luckily, the pain was duller the longer they got, and he hardly ever hallucinated anymore.
On the tenth day, a Thursday, Hermione's classes had received a good whomp of homework, especially from Professor Snape. She muttered angrily to herself as she gathered up her books and the papers she had collected for Ron. She had to go back to the Gryffindor tower before she could go to the hospital wing, though, as she had left his morning's homework there.
She reached the common room some time later, slowed by the weight of the books and from stopping to talk to Professor McGonagall about her Prefect duties. She dumped her books on a couch, and began up the stairs to her room-
-And ran smack into Ron, who was coming down the stairs from the girls' dorm. Before she could say anything, he grabbed her by the shoulders, pulled her to him and kissed her feverantly, turning her around as he did. Then he let go, and walked up the stairs to the boys' rooms, without saying a word more.
Hermione just stood there for a moment, a hand pressed to her lips, too shocked to do anything else, and watched him go. She had felt something- worry?- when he kissed her, but she had been too off guard to do anything. She finally shook her head to clear it, and followed him, taking the steps two at a time. She walked quickly down the hall, scaring a few of the younger boys who were not used to girls in their rooms, and finally turned a corner to the room where Ron was.
He spun around when he heard her, holding a pair of jeans in his hand. He swore when he saw her, and threw the pants into an open bag in his bed. He stared at her a moment, shifting uncomfortably in the doorway, then sighed and flopped on his bed. "What do you want?" he demanded.
"I was going to get your homework. And you were supposed to be in the hospital wing." She frowned and walked over to the bed where he was lying.
He opened his eyes and looked at her, not bothering to try and hide his emotions. Hermione could see easily his bitterness, and his diminishing faith. She almost sat down on the floor at the sight of it.
"Why are you packing?" she asked harshly. "Where are you going?"
He sighed and sat up. "They're sending me to St. Mungo's," he said flatly. "I passed out today, and Pomfrey doesn't know what to do with it." He packed while he talked, grabbing clothes and shoving them into the bag without bothering to fold them. He didn't look at her.
Hermione stared at him. "The hospital?" she squeaked. "They don't know what to do?" Ron just nodded, still looking away. "Oh, for the love of-" she ran off a long list of swears, most of which she hadn't known she knew.
He looked up and finally grinned at her, and Hermione felt her heart melt. How could anything bad ever happen to Ron? He must have had enough good Karma to keep him free for decades. "That's my Pixie," he teased her, getting up and standing across from her. "Always ready to say her mind." He was standing so close to her that they were almost touching, and she had to tilt her head back to look at him. "Are you all right?" he asked her quietly.
She closed her eyes and looked down. "Ron, I-" But What could she say? Don't cry, she willed herself. Not now. Don't cry. But it was no use. The tears came anyway, trickling down her cheeks.
"Hey," Ron whispered, putting a hand under her chin and lifting her face. "I'll come back, Pixie. You know I will." He stroked her cheek with his thumb, and she bit her lip, feeling more tears threatening to come. Ron put his arms around her and drew close, resting his head on the top of her head. She put her arm around his neck, and finally let the tears come.
"I said I'd come back," he whispered in her ear. "Don't you believe me?" He stroked her hair, and she sniffled and wiped her eyes.
"What if you don't?" she finally demanded. "What if they don't let you? What if something happens and you can't come back?"
"Hermione." He looked her straight in the eye, and she trembled under his gaze. "I said I'd come back, and I'm going to come back." She started to say something, but he put a hand over her mouth to silence her. "And I'm not lying. God knows why, I can break through those damned potions and charms, but lying to you makes me want to be sick." He smoothed her hair out of her eyes. "I'll come back, Pixie. I promise.
Hermione choked back a sob, feeling her control begin crumble. Why Ron? Of all the people on this Earth to take away from her, why did it have to be Ron?
Ron put his hands on her face, and pulled her to him, kissing her passionately. She felt her knees buckle slightly, and she locked her arms around his neck to keep from falling down. His hands drew ragged lines up and down her back, and Hermione could feel the desperation growing in him; eating him alive. He pulled her closer, kissing her hungrily, and she was happy for a moment, forgetting even that he was leaving.
Ron pulled away, gasping, and for a moment they just stood there, holding each other tightly and eyes half closed. Then Ron pulled himself away- an action so sudden that Hermione didn't have time to react- grabbed his bag, turned, and walked quickly out of the room. She stared at his retreating back, but made no move to follow him.
Dean Thomas entered the room some time later, and she hadn't moved. "Didn't I see Ron in here a moment ago?" he inquired, frowning. "I heard he was going to the hospital."
Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, they were bright and free of tears.
"He'll be back," she whispered fiercely. "He'll be back."
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