Patronize
Part Seven
He stood still with his eyes closed and face upturned to the shower head, enjoying the feeling of the hot water pelting his face and shoulders, warming his icy skin. He wished the water could rinse away the last few hours of terror and confusion, but was glad enough just to be warm again. He still felt cold on the inside, deep down in his bones, and he hoped that the heat of the scouring water would penetrate soon.
Ron Weasley was exhausted. Not only had he faced several Dementors today in the company of only his twin brothers, but he had also been on the receiving end of what seemed to be a very illogical argument from the most logical person he knew.
He didn't understand why Hermione was so upset with him. After he had returned to the house she had hugged him, cried on his shoulder, beaten her fists against his chest, shouted at him and slapped him. All in the space of ten minutes.
And now she wasn't even talking to him. Or anyone. She'd barricaded herself into Ginny's room without another word.
Ron felt his cheek where he could still imagine the imprint of where Hermione's hand had sharply slapped him.
What was she thinking? She'd said that he had done something to her. He had no idea what. All he had done was urge Lee to take her inside when the Dementors arrived. He had done it instinctively, and he didn't regret it one bit.
Ron sighed and turned his back to the shower head. He ran his hands over his face wearily. He had tried his best to produce a Patronus, but it hadn't worked properly. It had been more of a sort of a beacon of light than anything else.
At least it was brighter than Fred or George's, he thought glumly. And I didn't throw up when I came back to the house.
He had felt dreadful though. Sort of dead inside. He respected Hagrid all the more for withstanding his two month stint in Azkaban, and couldn't even imagine how incredible Sirius Black must have been to survive there for so many years. Sirius Black who was dead. Murdered.
He turned off the shower, shook his head of both water and bad memories and stepped out of the shower box. He dried his bright pink skin and collected his thoughts as best he could. The night wasn't over yet.
The lounge was a quiet contemplative place when Ron entered a quarter of an hour later.
His parents, Bill, Fleur and Mundungus Fletcher were sitting about the rickety dinning table discussing why the Dementors had attacked the Burrow in hushed tones.
Fred and George sat on the large couch by the fire with Alicia, Katie and Angelina between and on either side of them. Lee sat opposite in a smaller mismatched couch with Dean. Beside Dean was an empty space. Ron realized immediately that Ginny must be trying to get Hermione to come down for dinner.
"You should have seen her," whispered Lee to Fred and George. "As soon as we got back to the house she screamed and yelled. She even kicked me in the shins! And look," Lee held out his hand.
"Blimey," said Fred. "She bit you?"
Lee nodded, before catching Ron out of the corner of his eye.
"So she hasn't come down then," Ron said, more of a statement than a question.
"Nah, mate," said Dean. "Gin's gone to see if she can get her to come down."
"Right," sighed Ron as he slumped into the chair nearest the fire.
"You never told us Hermione was a biter," said Fred out of the blue.
Ron merely scowled back at him.
"So you're in the dog box again?" George asked.
Ron nodded, then added, "dunno why though."
"Just remember, little brother, there's no 'wrong' without 'Ron'."
Ron scowled again, and crossed his long legs up under him on his seat. He stared into the fire whilst the twins entertained their guests. They had lost some of their usual spark in conversation and their faces were still very pale.
After a while Angelina excused herself and the other girls and Lee followed suit and headed home.
"Sorry about tonight," Fred told Katie as she went to get into the fire grate. "We'll have a proper flat warming party next weekend."
"You better," she smiled coyly before throwing a pinch of floo powder and disappearing.
Fred and George bunched up on their large couch to get closer to the fire. Ron could see that Fred's lip was still a bit swollen. He must have bit it quite badly.
"Well, Gin?" Asked Dean as Ginny appeared from the staircase.
"She won't come down. She won't even stop crying. I tried to calm her down, but she wasn't having any of it. She told me to go away." Ginny shrugged. "I didn't really know what to do, so I stayed for a bit, but she just got angrier."
"It's best to get out of her face when she's angry," said Ron quietly. "If you can."
After a scrumptious Mrs. Weasley dinner everyone settled into the lounge. It wasn't long until Mrs. Weasley and Mundungus got into a heated debate over the proper usage of cooking sherry.
Ron decided he'd go make a cup of tea and left for the calm of the kitchen. His dad entered not long after him.
"Are you okay, Ron?" He asked kindly.
Ron busied himself with putting the tea leaves into the teapot. "I will be, Dad."
"It was a very brave thing you did tonight. All three of you. And I hope you never have to do it again."
"I didn't do a hell of a lot," mumbled Ron.
"Are you kidding?" Said George, bursting into the kitchen.
"Did you see our Patronus' to begin with?" Added Fred. "Well, I hardly could they were so see through and pale."
"If it wasn't for that burst of light of yours," continued George, "there's no way we would have had the strength to send out better charms."
"You very nearly had it, Ickle Ronnikins," Fred said, clapping him on the back.
"But like you said the other week," Ron grumbled, "nearly doesn't cut it."
"The Patronus Charm isn't something to be taken lightly, Ron," his father said. "Even some fully grown wizards can't produce a powerful shield."
"Yeah. I guess. I just want to be ready next time."
"You will be," his father said darkly, "you know what to expect from them now. It will always be terrible, but at least you can gauge it. They won't be such a shock next time."
Fred shivered visibly. "I hope their won't be a next time."
"I'll second that," George said, yawning widely. "Time for bed, I think, Twin."
"Yes indeed," agreed Fred. "Goodnight, father, goodnight dear brother."
"Night boys," smiled Mr. Weasley, well used to the odd ways of the twins.
"Oh, and Ronnikins," George added as he went to follow Fred out of the room, "I wouldn't open your trunk tonight if I were you."
Ron scowled. "Why? What've you put in it?"
"Boggart," grinned George like a cheshire cat. "Night, then."
Ron took George's advice and steered well clear of his trunk. The last thing he wanted to deal with tonight was a boggart pretending to be a dementor, or worse.
Ron changed for bed, wearing pajama pants and a faded, near thread bare Chudley Cannons tee shirt. He also pulled an extra blanket over his garish orange bedspread. Though it was summer and the air was warm once again, the memory of the dementor's chill was still strong.
He got into bed and put out the lamp. He was so exhausted he fell to sleep almost immediately, his last thought lingering on Hermione Granger slapping his face.
He awoke sometime later to the pressure of his bed changing. Someone or something was sitting on the end of it. With the dementor attack still fresh in his mind he instinctively grabbed his wand from his bed side table, sat straight up and held out his wand at arm's length.
A squeal came from the end of the bed.
"Lumos," Ron said clearly.
"Sorry, you were so quick you gave me a fright," explained the tearful girl on the end of his bed. "I tried knocking, but you didn't answer."
"Hermione," yawned Ron, reaching out and lighting the lamp, "What's wrong?" Tears were spilling from her eyes as they had in the kitchen that evening.
"I do understand what you did," she whispered.
Ron rubbed his face with his hands to help himself wake up, but it was no good. He still didn't know what this conversation was about. "I'm sorry, Hermione, but I'm not sure what you mean."
"Getting Lee to take me away," she sniffed. "I understand, because I would have done the same to Harry. Or to you."
"Then you know why I couldn't let you stay there," Ron whispered, finally grasping what she was talking about. "I couldn't let anything happen to you, Hermione."
"But something did happen, Ron." Her tears flowed more freely now, though her speech remained soft and clear.
Ron wriggled towards her and patiently waited for her to finish.
"I was scared," she continued. "Even more scared because I didn't know what was happening. Because I wasn't there to help you." She began sobbing and her gaze flickered to the hands she held in her lap. "Because if something happened to you..."
"Nothing did, Hermione, I'm right here," he returned softly.
"No, listen. If I lost you..." She dissolved into sobs again. "If I lost you, I couldn't manage without you..."
Ron stared at her. "Of course you could, Hermione. You're the smartest witch of our age, remember? And you'd still have Harry beside you. Ginny and Neville too.
Hermione looked up into his face, her brown eyes shining. "But I wouldn't have you, Ron!" She leaned forward and hugged him.
"You won't loose me, Hermione. There are plenty of people looking out for me. That goes for Harry as well." He sighed into her hair, enjoying the feeling of her heart beating so closely to his. "But you only have..." He trailed off and couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.
"What do I have, Ron?" She whispered in his ear after a few moments, making him feel wondrously tingly inside.
"Me. You have me. It's not much, I know. Just remember what I said at the train station. I won't let anything happen to you. And I meant it then. And I mean it now."
She remained silently hugging him for a time, her sobs gradually subsiding into deep breathing. "Thank you, Ron," she whispered.
He held her and stroked her hair until she pulled back.
"Sorry I woke you," she said.
"It's okay." It really was. It wasn't every night a pretty girl woke him up just to hug him.
"I tried to go to sleep, but I just couldn't. I kept thinking of your face after you came in tonight." She looked to Ron as if she might start crying again, but she held it in. "You were so white, Ron. I've never seen you like that. Not even at the Ministry."
"Well, I was all crazy and out of control then," he said guiltily.
"I know. But tonight you just came back different. Like you weren't my friend Ron anymore. Like I'd lost a piece of you already."
"I'm okay now, Hermione. I was just in shock, I think."
"Ron," she whispered, her eyes flicking down to the blanket, then back to meet his. "Can I please stay here tonight?"
Ron's stomach did a sort of back flip. "In bed you mean?" He blurted out.
She blushed and nodded. "I just don't want to wake up and find you're not here anymore."
Ron felt his heart aching at these words. He patted her hand. "I'm not going anywhere, remember?" He blushed and added, "but you're welcome to stay if you like."
She smiled shyly, took off her dressing gown to reveal blue and white striped cotton pajamas. Ron tried his best to keep from blushing redder.
He rolled back against the wall so as to make room and Hermione got into bed under the blanket but above the duvet.
"Comfy?" Ron asked as he reached over her and put out the lamp.
"Yes, thanks, Ron," she said.
He laid on his back and listened to her breathing beside him. It was like a dream come true. He felt a hand cover his and his stomach suddenly exploded with fiery butterflies. He had no idea how he was going to get back to sleep, but he didn't really care. Hermione Granger was in bed with him holding his hand!
"Goodnight, Ron," she whispered, squeezing his hand once and then letting go.
"'Night, Hermione."
With her hand gone his butterflies settled down gradually and he felt himself beginning to drift. He was nearly asleep when he heard her whisper.
"But if something did happen to you, it would happen to me, too."