Title: True Love's First Kiss
Rating: PG-13
Paring: RW/HP (Slash)
Spoilers: PS/SS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP
Summary: AU 6th year. Draught of Sleeping Beauty: Causes a victim to be put under its curse of eternal sleep until awoken by true love's first kiss. So, who is Harry Potter's true love?
A/N: Okay, second chapter, where Ron and Hermione find Harry after Malfoy and Crabbe leave. Enjoy!
Chapter Two: Three Minus One Equals Two
Ron Weasley was feeling like a right prat. He didn't mean to say what he did to Harry earlier—sometimes his brain and mouth weren't on the same wavelength. When Harry left, Hermione gave the red-haired boy a look that said, 'Now you've done it!', dipped her quill into her inkpot and began writing again.
Ron said to his bushy-haired friend, "You're not going after Harry?"
Hermione looked up at him again. "Harry just needs time to cool down a bit. He'll be back soon."
Ron sighed. There went my big trap. Great going, Weasley. He then returned to polishing his broom, but with less enthusiasm this time. When Harry comes back, I'm actually going to do something smart and apologize to him. I shouldn't have said what I said. Harry's been sensitive especially since last year.
But Harry didn't come back during those three hours (and it was half an hour until curfew), and that began to worry Ron, despite Hermione's assurances that their green-eyed friend was okay. Finally, Ron went up to the sixth year boys' dorm, and dug through Harry's trunk until he found a piece of old parchment—the Marauder's Map—and his wand.
The sixth year prefect marched down the stairs into the common room and plopped down next to Hermione, who looked up and saw the parchment and wand in Ron's hands.
"Ron," she hissed so that the other Gryffindors couldn't hear them, "what do you thing you're doing?"
"What do you think, Hermione?" he whispered back as though it were obvious. The youngest Weasley male then pointed his wand at the secret map and said quietly, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
Immediately ink spread out on the parchment, twisting itself into the map of Hogwarts. Ron and Hermione (reluctantly on the Muggle-born girl's part) began searching the map to find where Harry was.
"There!" Hermione said so that only Ron could hear her. "There he is! Right there!" She pointed at a spot on the map.
The red haired sixteen-year-old looked at where his female best friend was pointing. There, in the dungeons leading to the Slytherin common room (Of all places! Ron thought) was the dot 'Harry Potter,' unmoving.
"Mischief Managed," Ron whispered, and the map went blank. He immediately stood up and strode towards the back of the Fat Lady's portrait that covered the entrance to the common room.
"Ron! Where do you think you're going?" Hermione called out.
"To get my best mate," Ron answered simply.
"Well, at least wait up for me!" Hermione huffed, following him out of the common room.
As it was still not close to curfew, Ron and Hermione were allowed to walk through the castle freely without having to worry about being caught by the professors, Filch, or his cat, Mrs. Norris. The two sixth years quickly made their way to the Slytherin dungeons, working their way to the corridor where their best friend was. When they got there, they were shocked by what they saw.
Harry lay facedown, unmoving, with his robes rumpled and his hair messed up even more than usual.
"What on earth happened to him?" Hermione gasped after a minute. She then went over to the black-haired boy and turned him over.
The sighted that awaited her was even worse that the first one. There was a bump on Harry's forehead, his glasses were cracked, and a bruise was forming at his jaw. What was even more unusual about this sight was the expression on the Boy Who Lived's face. His eyes were closed and he looked peaceful, despite the injuries to his face. It was then that Hermione realized that Harry's chest was moving, his breathing quiet and slow, even and regular.
"He's… asleep?" the bushy-haired prefect asked aloud. She then pulled out her wand, pointed it at her sleeping best friend, and said, "Ennervate."
The spell was ineffective. Harry remained asleep, showing no signs of consciousness.
Now Hermione became even more worried. The reviving charm could wake any sleeping or stunned person, but it hadn't worked on Harry. The studious girl knew she hadn't done it wrong (for she had practiced and perfected the spell the previous year), but she did wonder why it hadn't worked.
Hermione decided the best course of action was to take Harry to the hospital wing to Madam Pompfrey. The stern woman would most likely know what to do.
"Ron," she said, breaking the silence, "we need to get Harry to the hospital wing."
The red headed boy didn't move, staring at Harry.
"Ron! I can't carry him there—he's too heavy for me. Get over here and pick him up!" Hermione said exasperatingly.
"Why can't you just use a spell to move him?" Ron spoke for the first time.
"Because 'mobilicorpus' isn't all that accurate to move Harry," Hermione answered patiently.
Ron nodded, went over to Harry (as slowly as possible, Hermione noted), and picked the sleeping boy up with a gentleness Hermione didn't know her usually short tempered friend possessed.
The expression on Ron's face was unlike any other she had seen. It was devastation.
The youngest Weasley male shifted Harry so that his head lay on Ron's shoulder and that Ron's arms were underneath the back of Harry's knees and the middle of his back.
The two teens set off towards the hospital wing, grateful that they didn't run into any other students on the way there. Neither Ron nor Hermione spoke, both lost in their own thoughts.
Finally they reached the white walled hospital wing. Ron lay Harry on one of the beds while Hermione went into the adjacent room to get Madam Pompfrey. A minute later the two females entered and went straight to the bed where Harry was laying.
"What has Mr. Potter done this time?" the school Healer asked crisply.
"We don't know. We just found him like this in the dungeons," Hermione answered. "The reviving charm didn't work on him, either."
Madam Pompfrey frowned. "Hmm." She then began casting various spells on the sleeping Harry Potter, her frown getting deeper with every spell performed. Finally she stopped, going over to a cupbard and getting out a needle and two vials of potions (one yellow, the other brown). Pompfrey filled the needle with the yellow potion and injected it into Harry's right arm. She repeated the same process with the brown potion.
"The yellow potion will reduce the swelling on Mr. Potter's forehead," Madam Pompfrey explained to Ron and Hermione. "The brown potion will eliminate the bruise on his jaw."
Then she turned to the two teenagers. "Will you two please retrieve Headmaster Dumbledore? The password is lollypops."
Ron and Hermione did as the strict woman asked and walked up and down the halls and corridors to the gargoyle, told it the password, and went up the stairs into Dumbledore's office. They found that Dumbledore was already awake and quickly told him that Madam Pompfrey wanted to see him about Harry and that the Healer would explain the rest to him. The blue-eyed man stood up and followed the two friends back to the hospital wing.
Once there, Madam Pompfrey tried to shoo Ron and Hermione back to Gryffindor Tower, but they refused to leave.
"We aren't going anywhere!" Ron argued. "We deserve to know what's going on with Harry!"
"Let them stay, Poppy. Harry means quite a bit to the both of the," Dumbledore said before Madam Pompfrey could protest.
"Oh, all right," the school Healer gave in. She took a deep breath. "Other than his two injuries, there is nothing physically wrong with Mr. Potter. He wasn't knocked out; but there is something foreign running through his bloodstream, but I can't identify it. In fact, I've never seen a situation like this before. The closest thing I can compare his condition to is a coma."
Dumbledore began to look graver than he had upon entering the ward. Hermione gasped. Ron was confused. On their way back to Gryffindor Tower (as it was after curfew and they weren't allowed to stay with Harry, despite their protesting) Ron asked, "Hermione, what's a coma?"
His bushy haired friend turned to him, unshed tears in her eyes. "It's a term for the state between life and death. The longer someone's in one, the less likely they are to wake up. Sometimes the person never wakes up."
Ron's eyes widened, then narrowed. "That's not going to happen to Harry," he said determinedly.
888888
When the red haired sixteen year old had first seen Harry facedown on the floor in the dungeons, he had stopped breathing. He tried to deny that it was Harry. But when Hermione turned him over, Ron knew it was no use lying to himself—especially when he saw the round glasses and the lightning bolt scar. He was so rattled that he didn't notice Hermione's actions. Suddenly, his female friend's voice caught his attention.
"…Harry to the hospital wing."
The hospital wing? It can't be that bad… can it? Ron had thought.
Once again Hermione was trying to get his attention. "Ron! I can't carry him there—he's too heavy for me. Get over here and pick him up!"
"Why can't you just use a spell to move him?" 'Cause I don't want to touch him—it'll make all this real and not a dream.
"Because 'mobilicorpus' isn't all that accurate to move Harry," Hermione answered with a tone quite different from her expression.
Ron nodded his head and walked as slowly as he could towards where Harry was. As carefully as he could, Ron picked up his sleeping best mate, putting his right arm under Harry's back and his left one under the back of Harry's knees. Harry's head rested on Ron's right shoulder.
When they arrived at the hospital wing, Ron had placed Harry on one of the beds and Hermione had gone to get Madam Pompfrey.
Ron had watched carefully as the stern Healer tried to assess what had happed to his best mate and administered two potions to heal the damage done to Harry's face.
Ron hadn't wanted to leave the black-haired boy's side but when Madam Pompfrey ordered he and Hermione to get Professor Dumbledore, he had no choice but to comply. The two teens had quickly found the headmaster and informed him of the situation, bringing him back to the hospital wing. There, Madam Pompfrey told them that there was really nothing wrong with Harry; he just was in something called a coma.
Ron had no clue what that meant, but assumed that it wasn't good—judging by the way Hermione and Professor Dumbledore had reacted. So the sixth year prefect decided to ask his Muggle-born friend about it on their way back to Gryffindor Tower (because Madam Pompfrey wouldn't let them stay with Harry). With tears about to leak out of her eyes, Hermione told Ron what a coma was.
Ron was shocked, to say the very least. "That's not going to happen to Harry," he said stubbornly. It can't, he said to himself silently. Harry wouldn't do that to me.
Hermione didn't answer because she was saying the password ("Umbridge is a toad") to the Fat Lady to get both of them into the common room.
Once inside, Ginny came up to the two friends and immediately began interrogating Hermione.
"Where's Harry? Why isn't he with you?" Ron's little sister asked.
In a quiet tone Hermione told the fifth year about Harry's condition. After hearing the news, the fifteen year old also had tears in her eyes.
Meanwhile, Ron went up to the sixth year boys' dorm, not noticing anything else—not Hermione and Ginny's concerned expressions as he left the common room, and ignoring Dean, Neville, and Seamus when they asked if he was alright. (When they didn't get an answer from their red-haired friend, they asked Hermione what was going on and became worried with her answer.)
No. Ron was focused on the images of his best friend lying facedown in the dungeons and later on lying on the bed in the hospital wing. Harry looked so small, so… fragile—nothing like what the Boy Who Lived looked like normally. His Harry always had an expression on his face—happiness, sadness, anger, annoyance—and his eyes always mirrored them. Except lately, he was looking serious most of the time and didn't smile as much as usual.
Which is a pity, Ron said to himself. Harry's got a beautiful smile.
Hold your hippogriffs! Ron snapped his eyes open. I did not think that! I did not think that Harry has a beautiful smile. Na-uh! No! Absolutely not! Ron shook his head hard.
Yes you did, Ronnie, said a voice in his head that sounded exactly like Ginny. You said that Harry, your best mate, has a beautiful smile.
Great. Now my brain's starting to sound like Ginny. Ron groaned. I think I've finally gone loony like Luna Lovegood. And no, I DO NOT think that my best mate's smile is beautiful.
Now he heard the voice giggling. You keep telling yourself that.
Ron shook his head again. "I better get some sleep," he said out loud, burying himself under his red blankets, not caring that he was still fully clothed.
A/N: Hopefully, I didn't make Ron or Hermione OOC—that's not my intent (but if I did, it's all for the story). I'll try and keep the updates constant—once a week. But I can't promise that it'll happen like that. I'm very busy, what with school (and taking some more advanced classes) and other stuff. Please review! (Once again, please no flames!)
-Princess