Curse of the Basilisk
By Adalanta
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, just the situation they're in.
Author's Notes: I know it's been a long time since I've updated, but between my work, school, and family, this is really the first time I've been able to sit down and actually write for a while. I want to make sure I get this right because I want you (the readers) to enjoy it. I hope that you do. Please, take a second and leave a review for me, or you can email me at adalanta14@yahoo.com. Thanks for staying with me!
Chapter Five - I'm Here For You
"Ron?" A voice called out softly into the night. Dark, thick clouds hid both moon and stars in the sky, making the night darker than usual.
Hermione Grainger slipped out the back door of the Burrow and stood hesitantly on the bottom porch step. The pre-dawn darkness enveloped everything: sight, sound, even touch. Why is it always the darkest right before dawn? And why does everything have to happen then? she asked herself. She wasn't afraid of the dark, but she never felt quite comfortable with it either. Too many things had happened to her and her friends in the black of night. Still, she gripped her flashlight tightly and headed out in search of Ron.
As she tramped carefully through the garden, making sure to stay on the path to avoid destroying any of the Weasleys' plants, she tried to figure out how exactly she had come to be in this position. Why on earth did I volunteer to find Ron? she wondered. I should be with Ginny, helping Mrs. Weasley tend to Harry. She shuddered when she remembered how Harry had looked when she'd arrived just minutes earlier - pale, swathed in bandages, and much, much too still.
Don't be such an idiot, Hermione! she thought angrily. You know that Mrs. Weasley can help Harry more than you can. She…she's had experience with this sort of thing. And besides, she felt sorry for her. The poor woman had been beside herself with worry, torn between staying with Harry and running out to search for her own son. Hermione didn't blame her. She felt exactly the same way.
A sharp blow to her right ankle made her jump, and she was barely able to stifle a startled shriek. Holding her breath, she shined her flashlight down to see what had hit her. Down at her feet stood a small, wrinkled garden gnome, staring up at her, its beady black eyes filled with anger. As she watched, it lifted its small foot and gave another solid kick to her ankle.
"Hey!" she whispered sharply. "Cut it out!" The kick didn't cause any pain, but it did sting. And it made her temper rise quickly. When the potato-like creature raised its horny foot a third time, she decided she'd had enough.
"I don't have time for this," she hissed. Reaching down, she grabbed it, swung the struggling creature by the legs over her head several times, and then threw it as hard as she could away from her. She wasn't sure whether or not she'd gotten it over the stone wall – it was too dark to see where the wall stood – but she was satisfied with the result. The creature was no longer kicking her, and her temper had cooled off a bit.
After taking a deep breath, she set off again through the garden, making her way between the string beans and the tomato plants, nearly falling over the vines that snaked out across the path, threatening to trip her. Every few steps she would swing her flashlight around her just to make sure that Ron wasn't nearby, but she didn't really expect to find him in the garden. It was too close to the house. She knew from experience how sound traveled, especially at night.
As she reached the stone wall that surrounded the garden, she paused with one hand on the wooden gate, uncertain as to which way to search next. To her right stood a barren hill about forty-to-fifty feet tall, covered in tall, thick grass. To her left there was a small copse of large oak trees, planted too closely together, forming a canopy with their interwoven branches. She looked back and forth, debating with herself, and then, shrugging, headed to the left towards the trees. The hill would be a good place to go but it's too open. Ron's never liked open spaces very much.
The open pasture through which she walked to get to the trees had not had its grass cut for a while; the thick green strands came about halfway to her knees and made a swishing noise as she waded through it. She smiled slightly at the sound. It reminded her of a small stream close to Hogwarts that she'd once crossed with Ron and Harry. That day had been one of the best days they spent together – the kind of day when all your troubles just seem to fall away. If only today was like that, she sighed as she came to the edge of the trees.
She shined her flashlight around, scanning each tree quickly to find her missing friend, but the narrow beam of light did little to dispel the darkness. I wish I had my wand, she grumbled. It works so much better than this silly thing. She stepped inside, calling nervously, "Ron? Are you in here?" The words seemed to disappear as soon as they left her mouth, swallowed up by the intense darkness of the night. She checked the trees to her right and was just about to move on when a glint of red caught her eye further inside the thicket about twenty feet away.
"Ron?" she called, moving towards the tree. At first, she thought she'd made a mistake because there was no answer, but as she came closer and the beam of her flashlight grew stronger, she found that she had indeed been right.
Ron sat huddled against the base of one of the trees, his legs pressed to his chest, his arms locked about his knees. He stared straight ahead, motionless, frozen.
For one brief, horrifying second, she flashed back two years, and she shuddered, seeing Ron as one of the Basilisk's petrified victims. She swallowed hard and pushed the terrifying thought away. Ron was never attacked. Besides, the Basilisk is dead. Harry killed it. There's nothing to be afraid of. She repeated the phrases several times in her mind before she could bring herself to move again.
She stepped forward, puzzled by his silence. "Ron? Are you okay?" No response - not even a blink. Her heart thumped in her chest as her puzzlement morphed into fear. Something was definitely wrong. She took a couple more steps closer, stopping within an arm's reach of the young man. "Ron? Ron, can you hear me?"
"He's dead, isn't he." The statement was said in a hollow voice, completely devoid of emotion.
Hermione stared at him in shock. It took a few moments for her to realize that he had spoken the words and that there was not a third person hidden somewhere nearby, amongst the trees. "Who's dead?" she asked.
Ron didn't move a muscle. "Harry. He's dead."
The simplicity of that statement stole her breath away, as did the hopeless tone in which it was said. In the three years that she had known Ron Weasley, she had never heard him speak like that before. She'd seen him happy, angry, confused, frightened – almost any other possible emotional state - but she'd never seen him like this. He sounded…dead. "No, Ron. Harry's not dead," she said firmly.
"He's not?"
"No. He's very sick, but he's not dead." She bit her lip to keep from crying out as a violent shudder wracked his lanky frame, his huddled body shaking. She swore she could hear his teeth chatter. "Ron…I think we should head back to the house now."
"N-no!" he stammered, shaking his head jerkily.
Hermione watched, concerned, as his already pale face became a ghostly white and the grip around his knees tightened visibly. "Why don't you want to go back? Harry needs you."
Ron moaned and closed his eyes. "I can't go back. I - I can't see him…not like that."
"I don't understand. When I left him a little while ago, he was sleeping." She frowned. Well, it doesn't look like he's going anywhere for a while. I might as well make myself comfortable. Moving slowly as not to scare him, she lowered herself to the ground and settled, sitting cross-legged by his side, turned just enough to keep an eye on him.
The young man sat silently, lost in thought. After a long pause, his eyes opened, and he took a deep breath. "I…I thought he was dead at first. He looked so pale. Dad wouldn't - wouldn't even let me see him." He gulped. "He had him wrapped in a blanket, like he…like a shroud." He shivered again.
Without thinking, Hermione reached out and gently laid a hand on his arm, wincing at the cool touch of his skin. Oh, my gosh! He's freezing! She scooted closer and wrapped an arm around his thin shoulders, trying to provide a bit of warmth. As the child of Muggles, and a well-read one at that, she was familiar with shock. Ron didn't appear to have a bad case of it, but she knew that if she didn't get him warm soon, his condition would only grow worse. What he really needed was to be at home, tucked into bed, but right now that wasn't possible. And besides, she thought sadly, he doesn't want to go home. I can't make him - he's stronger than I am. She pulled him close against her side and waited for him to continue.
"There was blood…on the blankets. I knew something was wrong." His voice broke, and for the first time that evening, emotion crept in to it. "We got there as soon as we could! We left as soon as Hedwig arrived. I couldn't do anything to help him. All I could do was stare at him, lying there on the bed, so still…and then, he started convulsing…" Ron gripped his head with trembling hands, his fingers digging through his thick red hair and into his scalp, like he was trying to hold his mind together. "I can still hear him shrieking, crying…Oh, god! Make it stop!"
A faint ray of moonlight slipped through the clouds above, and, with its help, Hermione could see the tears streaming down his pale cheeks. He did not make a sound, just sat there, holding his head and sobbing silently. Not knowing what else to do, she hugged him and rubbed his back, making small, repetitive circles, trying to comfort him. Her heart nearly broke as she watched his silent anguish. She murmured soft, soothing words to try to ease his pain, but it was several minutes before he calmed down. She didn't think that he would say anything else.
She was wrong.
"I can't go back. I can't face him. Not after…after…" He hesitated, unable to finish the sentence.
Hermione had a feeling that whatever he had almost said was the real reason he was out here in the dark, hiding amongst the dark trees, away from his friend's side. Although she hated to cause him more pain, she needed to know what had caused this, not only for her sake, but also for Ron's. And if I don't get him to open up to me now, when he doesn't really know what he's saying…I don't think he'll ever tell me. "After what?" she prodded cautiously.
He just shook his head, refusing to answer.
"Ron, please," she pleaded. "Talk to me. You know I'm here for you. I want to help you. Please…tell me what happened."
Ron reluctantly lowered his arms and slowly - ever so slowly - turned to face her for the first time that night. Through the dim moonlight, she could see his brown eyes, filled with pain and - Shame? What the…? The emotions roiling within those dark eyes nearly brought her to tears, and her throat began to tighten, trying to hold them back just a little while longer.
He stared straight at her, almost through her, and answered with a bitter laugh. "I ran away, Hermione. I panicked, and I ran away from my best friend when I should have done everything I could to help him. I ran." He finished in a pained voice. Then, he twisted his head away and shrugged off her arms. "Now go away. Leave me alone."
Hermione didn't know she was crying until she tasted the saltiness in her mouth. She bit her lower lip to keep it from quivering and breathed deep to calm herself. I'm not a child, she thought fiercely. Get a grip! You can't help Ron if you're sobbing like a baby! She angrily wiped the tears from her face and scooted back over to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
He jerked away at her touch. She tried again. He did the same thing, except this time he whispered, "Go away."
"No, I won't! You can't push me away that easily Ronald Weasley! I'm your friend. I'm here for you, just like I said before." She answered forcefully, her tone firm.
"Didn't you hear what I said?" he rounded on her, shouting angrily, his eyes wild. "I left him! You - you should hate me for that!"
"Well, I don't!" she yelled back. "I don't hate you! If I'd been here, I might have done the same thing myself!" She lowered her voice, although it took a great deal of self-control. "You were scared, Ron, and that's okay. Everyone gets scared."
He searched her face intently, some of the sanity coming back into his dark eyes. "Harry doesn't," he replied softly.
"Yes, he does." She frantically searched her memory for an example to prove it. Then, she remembered that horrible life-size game of Wizard's Chess that the three of them had played at the end of their first year. "Remember…remember when we were trying to get to the Sorcerer's Stone, and we had to play Wizard's Chess?" He nodded uncertainly. "He tried to make you change your mind when you decided to sacrifice yourself to win the game."
She paused to emphasize her next sentence. "He was scared then. And then when the Queen hit you and knocked you off the board…he was terrified. I - I've never seen him that scared, Ron. It was everything I could do to get him to go on." She winced and cursed herself inwardly as those last words came out of her mouth. Oh, that was bloody brilliant, Hermione!
Ron said nothing, just lowered his gaze to the ground.
"Ron…it doesn't matter what you've done. It's what you do now that counts. Harry needs you." She closed her eyes in defeat at his continued silence. Grief welled up inside her, and she felt the tears begin to fall again. She felt so alone. She spoke the words without realizing it. "I need you, too." She began to sob, releasing her anger, her fear, her uncertainty, and her frustration. Covering her face with her shaking hands, she collapsed back against the tree, too upset to stand without some sort of assistance.
Suddenly, she felt arms go around her trembling body and hold her tight. Automatically leaning into the embrace, she sobbed into Ron's shoulder, comforted by the fact that she was no longer alone. He did nothing, just held her close, but his very presence was reassuring.
She wasn't sure how long they stood like that – it seemed like an eternity and yet, but a second. Finally, her tears slowed, and her trembling ceased. She sighed, then looked up into Ron's face above her.
"Are you okay, now?" he asked softly, still holding her to him.
She sniffed and tried to smile. It came out sort of wobbly, but at least she managed one. "No," she admitted. "But I do feel a little bit better. Thanks," she murmured shyly.
He smiled wanly, the slowly released her and stepped back awkwardly. "Sure." He cleared his throat. "I suppose we'd better head back, huh?"
Nodding sadly, she added, "Your Mum needs a break from watching Harry. I promised her I'd bring you back right away and then take over so she could get some rest."
"Would you mind some company?"
She just smiled and grabbed his now warm hand, pulling him out of the trees and towards the Burrow, certain that he would be all right. She was still worried about Harry, but now she felt more confident, glad that she could face the future with her best friend at her side.