Chapter Thirteen - Earth To Earth
Harry thanked Merlin for the muggle technology that helped Hermione to trace the origin of Ron's call. She had the number of the phone booth stored in the mobile and, after trying to call Ron back several times without an answer, she called the operator to ask where the call-box with that number was situated. As soon as they got an address they flooed to a nearby wizarding pub and ran all the way to the graveyard.
Harry, Hermione and Ron's parents raced to the top of the hill in breathless silence. Ron had woken up in a coffin. Harry had originally hoped that simply meant he had woken in an undertaker's. Then he thought that maybe Ron was in the company of vampires before Hermione spelled out the difference between vampire myths and vampire realities. Finally, with the location of the telephone box known to them, the gruesome realisation of what had really happened to Ron became clear.
He had woken up in a coffin, in the ground, and from the distressed sound of his voice he hadn't been alone in there.
Ron had been buried alive. Maybe somebody had thought him dead after an attack and buried him. Harry didn't know anything accept that the night before Ron had thought that he was going to be killed and within twenty-four hours he was six feet underground in a coffin.
"There," Hermione almost screamed as she pointed at a slumped figure on the ground outside the graveyard, leaning against the dry stone wall, "I see him!"
Harry picked up the pace, willing Ron to be ok, he couldn't be dying. He couldn't die. Harry wouldn't allow it.
Skidding to a halt and several steps ahead of Hermione, who herself was way ahead of Mr and Mrs Weasley, Harry dropped to his knees and lifted Ron's head to see if his friend was alert. Ron flinched, in the same way every dog in Privet Drive flinched when they saw Dudley and his smelting stick, and Harry realised that Ron was suffering from some kind of post-traumatic stress disorder and couldn't be touched. Just as he understood that Hermione flung herself at him with breathless relief and Ron seemed to have a mini seizure as he tried to wriggle away from her. It made Harry feel sick to witness it. Ron was cowering away from his best friends.
"Ron?" Hermione choked on the lump that seemed to have formed in her throat, "Are you hurt? Did I hurt you? I'm sorry."
Harry gripped Hermione's arm and spoke to her with a trembling voice, unable to look away from Ron.
"Hermione don't touch him, he's in shock, he needs space right now."
Hermione nodded her head and seemed to make a sound that said 'I should have expected that, I'm such an idiot to have grabbed hold of him' and she got to her feet and began to warn Mrs Weasley off from making the same mistake as she approached with her husband.
Harry now had time to really look at Ron, the state his friend was in after the night's events, and he wished that he had a time-turner so that he could spare Ron this nightmare. Every part of Ron's body told part of the awful story of where he had been and how he had escaped.
Firstly Harry was drawn to the ugly mess that was Ron's fingers. Every one of them was bloody and his fingernails were ragged and almost torn and chipped down to the flesh. Harry swallowed what felt like a little portion of his lunch as he looked away and put his hand to his face. Ron had clawed his way out of that coffin with his bare hands. How long must that have taken? He couldn't bear to think. He forced himself to look back at his trembling best friend, at his clothes, and saw how filthy he was. There wasn't just dirt from the soil he had fought his way through but also some other kind of awful smelling grime that Harry had to accept was long-decayed human flesh. Something was crawling around in Ron's pocket and that seemed to hit Harry the hardest. Ron was alive with all sorts of creepy-crawlies that thrive where life rots away and he wasn't even flinching.
Ron had been in a coffin with a dead body.
"Ron, I'm so sorry," Harry gasped, his voice barely more than just a noisy breath, "I'm sorry I let this happen to you. I'm so so sorry."
Ron didn't seem to hear him, he just jerked slightly and whimpered.
"Take me home."
"We will, Ronnie, we're taking you back to the Burrow right now," Ron's mother was on her knees beside him, struggling with all her strength not to reach out and touch her devastated son, we can apparate with you whenever you're ready."
Ron's head shook and he went green, as if she'd just suggested throwing him back in the ground and nailing the coffin lid shut, and Harry suddenly remembered what he had thought when he had apparated with Dumbledore for the very first time.
It squeezed you tight, you felt confined and as if the air was being pushed out of your lungs, and that couldn't be what somebody who had just woken up in a coffin with a dead man needed right now.
"Claustrophobia," Harry shuddered.
"Of course," Hermione whispered, "apparating is too constrictive, he's not ready for that so soon...so soon after..."
Harry now knew that Hermione had come to the same conclusions he had from taking in Ron's appearance.
"We'll floo Ron, don't worry, we can floo from the place we came in..." Ron's dad began but Ron shook his head again,"no, maybe not eh? Tiny little fireplace like that."
They all looked from one to another, begging somebody to come up with another idea. The only thing that broke this hopeless stalemate was the sound of Ron being violently sick into the gutter. Instinctively Mrs Weasley rubbed her son's back. He reeled away from her.
"Don't touch me!" he gasped before vomiting again.
Hermione took a deep breath and said what she knew Ron would hate her for saying right now.
"We're going to have to put him to sleep to move him."
"No," Ron gagged, his back arching and his vocal chords sounding raw, "no please, I can't go back. I can't go back there Hermione please."
Hermione began to weep as she withdrew her wand and Mrs Weasley tried to reassure Ron that there was another way and that they would think of it any second now. Harry knew the truth as much as Hermione did but he also knew that it would kill Hermione to be the one to do this to him in his state of mind. Harry lowered Hermione's wand and raised his own in an instant.
"Obdormio!"
Ron collapsed face down at the roadside. Hermione broke down completely and Mrs Weasley joined her while finally being able to clutch Ron to her tightly with no intention of letting him go. Harry shuddered and Mr Weasley pulled him up to his feet.
"You did the right thing Harry," he said with a pained smile, "Ron will understand when he gets his senses back."
"When he gets them back?" Harry found himself saying aloud.
"Yes Harry, when he does, and he will," Harry nodded, reassured at Mr Weasley's confidence, he looked down at his wife bawling over the bloodied and soiled form of their youngest son and spoke with the most authoritative tone Harry had ever heard him use, "This wasn't Fabian or Gideon Molly, they would never put him through that."
"I know Arthur," she sniffed, "I know."
Mr Weasley looked as livid with panic as he had done when he saw half the wizards at the Quiddich world cup throw a dozen or so hexes at Ron during the Death Eater attack by mistake.
"Somebody just tried to kill my son...and there's nothing I can do about it."
"Get 'em off me!" Ron gasped as he threw the covers off him and scrambled out of his bed.
This was happening every hour or so since they had brought him back with them. The first time Ron had insisted on taking a shower, convinced that there were things crawling all over him, and it had taken his mother over forty minutes to coax him back out again. After drying him off and putting him to sleep again; against his will as before and at the insistence of Harry, who seemed to have taken it upon himself to be the bad guy, to spare the others Ron's heartbreaking looks of betrayal for sending him back into the state he had now come to fear so much, Ron had been going through a very distressing night ever since.
Fred and George had flooed to the Burrow when Hermione sent an owl to them telling them of this latest development, she had promised them to keep them abreast of Ron's condition after they had heard about his declaration that somebody was going to kill him in his sleep, and they had offered to stay up with him while the others got some sleep but Harry would have none of it. He had to stay up with him. He had to be sure he wasn't taken again. He had to make amends for letting Ron get away from him that night. He would go through with the bond of blood if he had to, risky as it was, he wouldn't allow Ron to be hurt like that again.
Never again!
"It's ok Ron, you're still here, you're fine and safe and there's nothing on you I promise."
Ron was trembling violently as he looked at his hands. Mrs Weasley and Hermione had done their best for his shredded fingers and George had been to his flat and backfor the small green bottle they had used to treat Ron's feet what felt like years ago now. He seemed to expect to see the blood and dirt still there, and didn't trust his own eyes; Harry was trying not to touch Ron while trying to comfort him at the same time. Ron was still sensitive to human contact. Harry couldn't blame him. The previous time Ron had thrown himself from his bed he had been screaming something about 'dead hands' being all over him.
He had wanted to wash every time he woke so Harry had been sure to have a bowl of water and a flannel at the bedside to appease him without having to go through the whole shower business all over again. And every time Harry had to see Ron's despairing look as he raised his wand and put him to sleep again.
"The bed's alive with them, they're still on me Harry, get 'em off!"
Harry didn't need to light his wand, Ron seemed mortified and disorientated when he woke in the darkness so they had filled his room with candlelight, but he still pointed his illuminated wand tip to the bed to reassure his friend that there really was nothing there. Ron had looked as if he was going to be sick for the third time that night and Harry pulled the bucket he had kept in the room just to be safe and set it in front of his pale friend.
"Ron please let us get you some dreamless sleep draught, it'll be ok I promise you," Harry pleaded as Ron's ragged breathing evened out slightly.
"No," Ron shuddered, "I can't sleep Harry, don't do it again please."
Harry sighed deeply and raised his wand.
"I have to, please try to understand Ron, I'm sorry."
Ron pushed Harry's arm back down, this shocked Harry so mush that he forgot to resist, and Ron had touched him.
"Please, not right away Harry, let me be for a little bit longer."
Well this was an improvement, Harry thought, Ron was forming coherent sentences. He nodded and put his wand away. He wanted to help Ron back onto his bed but was still reluctant to touch him. Ron had been the one to instigate physical contact with him and Harry didn't want to send him back into a panic.
"How about we get you off the floor eh mate?" he smiled warmly.
Ron shook his head and drew his knees up to his chest. The bedroom door creaked and Ron flinched, Hermione's head peered around the door and smiled sadly at the two of them on the floor.
"I thought I heard you," she took a step into the room and Harry saw she was carrying a glass of water, "I thought you might want a drink Ron."
Ron was shaking again and shook his head, refusing the glass as she held it out towards him. Hermione sighed deeply and Harry forced a smile onto his face and took the glass from her.
"I'll keep it for later, right Ron?"
Ron didn't seem to hear him, concentrating on brushing himself down despite there being nothing to brush off, and Harry set the glass down on the bedside table. Hermione squatted beside Harry and whispered to him.
"How's he doing, any improvement?"
Harry gestured to Ron despairingly and shrugged.
"This can't be the same person who was helping us find Hufflepuff's cup, what did doing this to Ron achieve, how did that help us find another horcrux?"
Ron struggled to his feet and mumbled to the floor.
"I need to wash it off."
Hermione blocked his path with out laying her hands on him and spoke with her most soothing but firm voice.
"It's all gone Ron, you're clean now, why don't you sit on the bed with me and Harry?"
Ron met Hermione's eyes for the second it took him to whisper two words before moving back to the bedroom door.
"It's alive."
Hermione walked backwards in front of him and blocked the doorway with her body and her extended arms.
"No more showers Ron, you are making your fingers sore," she managed to stand firm despite being on the verge of exhaustion; Harry couldn't help but admire her stamina.
Ron looked at his hands again and whimpered meekly.
"He's under my fingernails, I can feel him,"
Hermione took a deep breath, obviously building herself up to do something that could make him even worse, and grabbed hold of Ron. He squirmed at her touch but didn't throw her hands off as he had been doing so far and she steered him back over to his bed.
"I don't want to sleep," Ron said, "don't lay me down."
Hermione shushed him and sat him on the edge of his bed gently.
"I won't, I'll just sit with you ok? Can I hold your hand?" she asked him so cautiously, Harry could tell that she would be heartbroken if Ron refused her this little gesture.
He didn't refuse her, but he didn't encourage her either, there was no shake of the head and no nod so Hermione took his hand and held it as gently as she could.
Harry got up from the floor and sat on the edge of his own bed as Ron began to ramble.
"I can't sleep anymore, I can feel him under me, he's trying to pull me back and keep me down there with him," Ron suddenly gagged, Harry made a move for the bucket but Hermione shot him a warning look and he held back, "and the smell...I couldn't breathe down there, he was choking me."
Hermione put her other hand on top of Ron's, causing him to shudder and pull away involuntarily, but she held on to him with determination.
"These are my hands Ron."
Ron winced and began to scratch at his head with his free hand.
"They're in my hair."
"There's nothing Ron, they're all gone now, you washed them all away remember?" she smiled; Harry could see her eyes welling with fresh tears.
Ron was beginning to lose his brief moment of lucidity to another panic attack and desperately tried to wriggle his hand out from between Hermione's.
"Let go, let me go now, it's enough!"
With a hurt sob she reluctantly released Ron's hand and he crawled back away from her, almost sitting on his pillow at the far end of the bed, and clung his arms to himself with another shudder.
Harry rose from the bed; his wand ready and Ron met his eyes and shook his head with dread.
"I'm sorry Ron but you need to rest now, you're just upsetting yourself again."
His resolve was broken temporarily at the sight of Ron letting out a short laugh.
"I'm upsetting me? It's him...he's rotting around me Harry and I can't go back again, I can't."
"Who is he?" Harry asked.
They hadn't gone looking for the grave Ron had fought his way out of, none of them could face the sight of it and their imaginations were bad enough without seeing the real thing, but Harry and Hermione were more than a little curios as to whose coffin Ron had woken up inside.
"R-R-Regulus Black!" Ron shook so hard on saying this that Harry feared he might be having a seizure.
"Obdormio!"
Harry's wand was hanging at his side and he turned to see a tearful Hermione still pointing her wand at the now sleeping Ron. She hadn't been able to bear seeing him like that any longer. She and Harry pulled Ron out of the foetal position and lay him down on the bed before pulling the covers over him as loosely as they could. Hermione was quietly crying and Harry didn't feel it necessary to say anything, there was nothing to say after all. That conversation could be had in the morning. It could all wait until morning. Harry longed for this hellishly long night to finally be over.
He watched from his own bed as Hermione laid beside Ron and rested her head on his chest, she might just have been listening to his heartbeat for reassurance but Harry knew there was more to it than that, and her sobs slowly faded into slow even breaths as she slept. She was burrowed into Ron's side as if he was made that shape specifically to fit her there. Harry would've smiled to himself at this if he didn't know that within the hour Hermione would be harshly awoken by Ron scrambling away from her as if she was the corpse of Regulus Black and her devastation would begin all over again.
Ron woke up in the coffin of Sirius' brother, the Death Eater, Harry wished there was somebody to cast a sleeping charm on him right now.
He couldn't sleep though; Ron would never wake up alone again if he had anything to do with it.
A/N I can't believe how many of you thought Ron was phoneing from INSIDE the coffin! Hermione asked him where he had woken up...past tense! I hope this chapter confused you all less.
And for clarification purposes, there are two English coins that are silver with corners, the 20p and the 50p and you generally use a 20p in a public phone (used to be 10p but good ol' inflation saw to that!)
I also have a forum for and Q and A involving my fics, I get a lot of stuff like that in reviews and maybe you lot want to talk to each other about how mean I am with cliffhangers and how much I torture poor Ron! I can't post a bloody link to it though, all I can really do is tell you the number right now 900634.