A/N Please avoid this chapter if you have just eaten or are planning to eat anytime soon...YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

Chapter Ten - Lazarus

Something crawled across his forearm, he brushed at his skin and felt a trickle of something thick and slimy slip from his fingers and onto his arm, and he opened his eyes and scrunched up his face. Had a chocolate frog melted in his hand or something?

At the same moment Ron realised that he couldn't see a thing in the darkness he realised that there was the world's most awful smell in the room and Ron groaned and sat up.

Bang!

"Ow fucking hell!" Ron exclaimed as his head slammed against something solid just inches above his head.

He extended his hands and felt for what he had hit his head on and found some moist liquefied fabric running as far as he could feel. He reached around to his sides, beginning to choke on the putrid smell now, and felt the same solid slimy surface surrounding him all the way around. He retched and coughed, what was that awful stench he asked himself, and his eyes began to water. It was as if the smell was so strong it was burning him.

He fidgeted as he felt the discomfort of sharp pointy objects poking him in the back and managed to manoeuvre one of his hands behind his back to yank one of the protrusions out from between his ribs. He vocalised his disgust at the layer of slop that his hand plunged into and tugged at the offending item. Something snapped and Ron pulled it and his arm back around to the front of him. He really needed some light, and some air come to think of it, and he fumbled around for anything he could use. He found what felt like a wand resting at his side and grabbed it hopefully.

"Lumos!" the wand tip illuminated and Ron let out a relieved sigh.

Then he saw the state the wand was in, it was almost rotted away and covered in the same dreadful crud that was also all over Ron's hand, he wouldn't have thought it was possible but the stuff looked worse than it smelled. He winced and glanced around at the tight space he was in. It was like a box. Maybe he was in a trunk.

Why the hell was he in a trunk?

He looked at the stick that had been digging into him from behind and his entire body went cold. It was a bone. He had a bone in his hand. Then he realised something even worse, the bone had a hand on the end of it.

"It's a fucking arm!" Ron screamed in an understandably horrified way.

He threw the arm as far away from him as he could, which wasn't far considering the confined space, and it landed on his lower leg. He shook his leg to try and get the bones of the hand part of the arm, held together with nothing but slime and sinew, off of him. It felt as if it was holding on to him. He kicked out frantically until his foot went through the splintered wood above and soil poured in from above. Ron went into full panic mode now.

"No no no no no, this isn't what I think it is, this can't be what I think it is," Ron stammered as he began to scramble around with his fingers to find some kind of opening around the seems of the box, "I'm not in a coffin. I'm not, it's a trunk or a case or something, I can't be in a coffin. It's not a fucking coffin, it's not a coffin, it's not!"

Ron's fingers were tearing at the satin fabric that lined the box, it had to be a box, he couldn't think of it as a coffin otherwise he would lose his grip altogether. He ripped his way through the lining and then a layer of padding and then clawed frantically at the wood for some weakness, some join that could be broken, something that he could break through and get out.

He had to get out. There were weird crawling sensations all over his skin now, he noticed, and he knew that he couldn't stand it if there were spiders in her with him. That would be the absolute worst thing he could think of o be trapped with, well that and an arm of course, then Ron suddenly froze.

Where there was an arm there was usually...

He felt around beneath him once again and began to recognise the shape of...the shape of...

A body!

"Harry!" Ron bellowed as he pounded on the coffin lid until his knuckles began to bleed, "Harry get me out! Harry, Hermione!"

More earth tumbled in from the end of the coffin and onto his feet. Ron was having a series of mini convulsions as he tried not to touch anything while trying to scramble his way out of his deathly prison. He felt another wave of sickness hit him as the toxic smell grew harsher and he felt as if he was suffocating. Well he probably was, there couldn't be much air down there. Suddenly he remembered the wand that was glowing on his chest. He grabbed it and pointed it at the coffin lid and screamed.

"Reducto!"

There was an explosion of light and force and Ron felt splintering wood and several chunks of he didn't know what spatter his face and he pushed against the weakened wood above him while trying to hold his breath and lift himself away from the corpse he was laying on all at the same time. Soil tumbled down through the crack that Ron was struggling to widen with his bare hands. Something slithered over his foot and he flinched and yelped. One of his hands slipped away from prying the coffin lid apart and he felt two of his fingernails rip away from the flesh and he fell backwards again and landed heavily on the body with a revolting squelch.

"Where are you?" Ron yelled through the crack he had made in the coffin lid, "There must be somebody up there for fuck's sake, somebody help me!"

Ron was beginning to choke on the air again and he kept feeling things crawling all over him. What if they were eating him? What if the maggots and worms mistook him for the dead flesh they had almost devoured and started feasting upon him. He was being eaten alive and suffocated and nobody knew where he was.

"I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die..." Ron began to jabber incoherently to himself, "...No one knows I'm here, no one knows where to find me, I'm gonna die here and rot here and it's not fucking fair!" he had punched the coffin lid on every one of the last three words before whimpering, "What did I do? Why did I come here? Why did this happen?" Ron said, losing himself in an escalating anxiety attack as he hollered at the coffin lid and he pounded on it once again, "Why did you do this to me?"

He managed to break through another panel of the wooden lid and loose earth poured in on top of him.

Loose earth? I can break through loose earth.

Ron searched himself for the wand again and aimed it at the tumbling soil.

"Absisto!"

To his eternal relief he saw some of the falling earth disappearing and a small hollow area forming unsteadily above him. He punched and clawed at more of the loose wood in the coffin lid and ignored the pain in the tips of his fingers and splinters sliced into him and fingernails tore and split. The fumes were making him dizzy now. He couldn't pass out, if he passed out he was dead, he had to get to the surface and get some clean air. He had to get out and away from the parasites that were crawling over every inch of him now. He broke through another panel of the lid and thought that he would be able to wriggle through and begin tunnelling his way up through the soil now.

It was then that the stench, the fumes and the horror of his circumstances all hit him at once and he felt himself fighting back the urgent need to vomit. He tried but there was nothing he could do, it was coming and he had to turn over otherwise he was going to choke on it, so he turned on his elbow and gave a heave. He forced his eyes closed, not wanting to look at the body beneath him but the sound of collapsing earth startled him and he spat the last of the residue from his lips and opened his eyes to see a rotting skull, still with some hair and infested with some kind of larvae. He let out a horrified cry and forced himself up through the hole in the coffin lid and began to dig his way out.

Ron got part of the way up, the earth was getting compacted again, when he realised that he hadn't taken the wand with him. There was no way he was going back down there for it. He would rather die just a few inches out of that coffin then ever have to go back inside it again and he scratched at the heavy soil and tried to shoulder his way through. He pounded on it, trying to cause a collapse or a mini cave in , some of the earth gave way but not enough and he scrambled his way up further just by scratching at the earth above him with his bloody fingers.

Suddenly he felt something curl around his hand, something that felt like hair or spider's legs and he flinched and tried to shake it off of him but then he realised what it was. It was a root. There were things growing just a little further up. He had to be near the surface. Ron took three deep breaths in and out before thrusting his shoulder into the earth above and breaking through. As soon as he had penetrated the surface huge clumps of the stuff was falling down into the space he had created and he heaved himself out, gasping for air and crawling as far away from the hole in the ground as he could. He looked back, feeling terrified that the body might be trying to escape the grave with him and saw the name on the headstone, and realised exactly who he had been trapped with under the ground.

Regulus Black

He crawled past grave after grave, on his hands and knees, still taking in enormous lungfuls of air until he came to a stone wall that he clumsily climbed over and fell to the pavement on the other side. He curled up into a tight ball on the ground for several minutes, his knees almost touching his chin, and his arms wrapped around his shins. He could still feel things crawling over him, he could still smell the stench of death and decay, and he couldn't close his eyes because he would see the skull and the deep empty holes where eyes had once been crawling with other forms of life. He couldn't move, he couldn't speak, he couldn't do anything but hope that something would take him away from this place soon.

"Where are you?" Ron heard himself mutter into the moonlit street, "Where are you?" he said again, rocking backwards and forwards and feeling tears start to come.

Ron needed Harry and Hermione, he needed his mum and dad, he needed Fred and George and Bill and Charlie and everyone. He needed somebody to have come for him. He needed someone to have stopped him. Why hadn't they been watching him? They promised they would watch him this time. What about the bloody wards at the Burrow? Why did they all just let him be taken like that, to that place, to this place?

"You just left me, they just left me," he said, his voice a high pitched hoarse exhalation, "Why didn't you come? Why didn't you stop me?"

Ron was breathing quite fast now and he was shaking as if he had just climbed out of a deep freeze. He tried not to lose his mind. He didn't fight so hard to get out of there just to go insane as soon as he did.

"I might of hurt them," he suddenly realised aloud, "I might have hurt them again," he gasped and his eyes widened, "or mum and dad."

He shuddered as he squeezed his eyes closed before remembering something. He looked down at his forearm. There it was, the number Hermione had written. It seemed like a lifetime ago when he and Hermione had been so close that it felt as if they were going to burst into flames with raw passion. Was it really just hours ago?

Ron clambered up to his feet and saw one of the boxes Hermione had told him about. He plunged his hand into his pocket for the coin and jerked his hand back out again at the sensation of things moving around inside. He tried to pull himself together again and forced his hand back in, gritting his teeth and grimacing with a whimper, until he found the small silver coin. He brushed what looked like a squished maggot off the coin with a shudder and put in into the slot as he lifted the receiver. He read the numbers off his arm and pressed them into the keypad.

He listened.

There was a shrill sound that kept stopping and starting and then a click and the sound of Hermione's voice.

"Ron, where are you? Did you get any clues to...anything?"

He fell to his knees and tried not to burst into tears. It was her, it really was her, it had worked. He couldn't speak for fear that it would just evolve into a never-ending scream.

"Ron, it's Harry, where are you mate?"

Harry too, he didn't hurt either of them, he leaned his head against the side of the phone box and concentrated on breathing the cool clean air that didn't threaten to choke him.

"Ron are you hurt?" it was Hermione again, "your mum and dad are here, we know what's going on with you now and it's nothing to worry about. Ron? Please answer me."

No not his mum, anything but that, he couldn't let her see that. She couldn't ever know what he had to do. She couldn't ever know where he'd been. Then there she was, her voice calling out to him through the piece of plastic he cradled in his hand.

"Ronnie, it's mum, let us know where you are and we'll come and get you. We'll lift the wards and you can apparate right back here if you want to."

Apparition? No, too close, too tight, he wouldn't be able to do it.

"No, I can't, I can't apparate right now," he didn't even recognise his own voice as he spoke.

"Ron tell us where you are and we'll come and get you. Do you know where you are Ron?" it was Harry again.

He didn't have a clue where he was. He didn't know anything other than the fact he was surrounded by dead people, dead people in the ground and every one of them rotting and decaying and crawling alive and smelling as bad as the body Ron had just woken up on top of, and he didn't want to go back any closer to that graveyard to see what the sign said it was called. He didn't want to go near the hole in the ground he had just left behind. The open grave he had almost died in. He felt the pain and the fear all over again and he couldn't hold it in any more. He began to cry.

He wasn't embarrassed, he didn't care what anybody thought of him, and he couldn't stop himself when he heard Harry's voice again sounding as if he was in a similar state of unashamed emotion.

"Ron please, tell us where you are. Tell me where to find you and I'll be there in a heartbeat."

Ron strained his tearful eyes to try to read the sign from where he was.

"I'm in..." Ron wheezed as he realised he couldn't see the sign without moving back towards the graveyard and let out a chesty sob before glancing around to try and find some other way of discovering his location, "...I'm in..."

"Where?" Harry said urgently.

Ron didn't care where he was anymore. He'd had enough of it all. He couldn't live this life anymore. He began to think that he was better off back in the ground again.

"I can't do this anymore Harry, this has to stop, I can't take it anymore," he was amazed at how hollow his voice sounded.

"Ron, tell us where you woke up and tell us now," it was Hermione and she was shouting at him, she was obviously angry at him for giving up, "it'll be ok we're coming to bring you home. Where did you wake up?"

Ron heard a strange beeping sound over the end of Hermione's sentence, it was like an alarm or a warning, he hauled himself up to his feet again and looked at the little screen on the telephone where the number he had dialled had appeared. It was flashing the words 'insert coins to continue'. Ron realised that his money had run out and he had to tell them now or never.

"In a coffin," his voice sounded like a death rattle as his raw vocal chords and the rising gurgle at the back of his throat combined.

The line went dead and Ron stumbled out of the phone box and was violently sick once again. He wiped his mouth and crawled over to the wall to wait for them.

ooo

"There," Ron recognised Hermione's voice in the distance, "I see him!"

They were here, they had come, and he was safe now. Harry skidded to a halt in front of him and fell to his knees. Ron suddenly wanted him to go away. It didn't make sense to him, nothing did any more, all he had wanted was for somebody to come and put their arms around him and carry him away from this nightmare but now that he was faced with another human being all he could think of was the rotten corpse he had woken with. Harry held out his hand and lifted his chin and Ron saw the dead skull crawling with bugs and running with rank slime flash before his eyes and flinched away from his friend's touch. Ron tried not to be sick again, the sensation of anything brushing against his skin was all too much now and he felt as if his own skin was rotting away from his bones.

He heard footsteps, rapid steps as if somebody was running towards him, and Hermione suddenly threw herself at him. Ron's body arched and he gasped for breath, as if her embrace was squeezing all the air out of him, and he tried to throw her off. She was clinging to him like a snake coiling tighter and tighter and he squirmed until her hold on him loosened and he could wriggle free.

"Ron?" it was Hermione's voice, she sounded as if she was crying, "Are you hurt? Did I hurt you? I'm sorry."

Ron suddenly felt as if something was under his skin, eating him from the inside out, he was being consumed by death. He had bought death with him when he crawled from the coffin, it was following him, and it wanted what he owed. It wanted his flesh. It wanted his life. It wanted his innards.

"Hermione don't touch him, he's in shock, he needs space right now," Harry sounded so far away, were they leaving him now?

Was he too far gone to save? How much of his body was left?

"Ron, I'm so sorry," Harry's voice was close now, too close, "I'm sorry I let this happen to you. I'm so so sorry."

Ron jerked away from the sound of his friend, it felt as if he was towering over him, and he forced something out of his own mouth just to get them to leave him alone for a little while longer and stop expecting him to talk to them.

"Take me home."

Then he saw something that made him want to curl in on himself once more, he saw his mother crouching down before him with tears in her eyes, and he shuddered. He couldn't take it if she touched him. He couldn't infect her with his vile rotten flesh. She couldn't touch him without getting some of his decay on her. He couldn't feel one of her hugs that almost enveloped him whole, he would die in her arms then and there, he would suffocate.

"We will, Ronnie, we're taking you back to the Burrow right now, we can apparate with you whenever you're ready."

Apparate? No, it would crush him.

Ron's head shook and he went green, apparition would wring the life out of him the same way his mother would wring the water out of a wet flannel, and he tried to get his constricted throat to open up again just long enough for him to protest this idea.

"Claustrophobia," he heard Harry say.

"Of course," Hermione whispered, "apparating is too constrictive, he's not ready for that so soon...so soon after..."

They knew he was dying, being eaten away before their eyes, Ron wondered if he still looked like himself or if he was ravaged beyond recognition yet.

"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."

Ron felt as if the wall he was leaning against was tumbling down upon him. He moved forward and saw the pavement coming up to meet him. Hermione was on one side and his mother on the other and there was no air left to breath and nowhere to go for more. They were all closing in on him and he wasn't going to be able to hold them back. He felt the last of his stomach contents rise and leave him in a raw and painful burn against his throat and he felt something rubbing against his back as he vomited. He threw himself away from the hand on his back and gagged.

"Don't touch me!" he gasped before vomiting again, this time it was a dry retch, he had nothing left to purge other than his own stomach lining.

"We're going to have to put him to sleep to move him," Hermione was saying to somebody.

"No," Ron struggled to warn her that sleep was what bought him here in the first place and sleep would be the death of him for sure, his back arched and his vocal chords sounding raw, "no please, I can't go back. I can't go back there Hermione please."

He saw Hermione starting to cry as she withdrew her wand and pointed it at him. He raised his hand and felt his eyes burning with fresh tears as he shook his head, silently begging her not to do this to him, while his mother's voice kept telling him that he wouldn't have to sleep and that it was just a last resort. Hermione was going to do it though, he could see it in her eyes, she was going to send him back to them. She was going to let them finish him off. She was going to kill him. Then he saw Harry's hand rest upon Hermione's wand, lowering it, and he was about to throw a look of gratitude his way when Harry raised his own wand and spoke the word that caused that dreaded flash of blue light to hit him in the face and condemn him to the mercy of his subconscious torturer.

"Obdormio!"

ooo

He was inside the coffin again. The parasites were crawling over him and he couldn't move, couldn't scream or close his eyes or look away, and two bony arms rose on either side of him and skinless fingers descended onto his stomach and tore away his t-shirt. He felt rancid hot breath on the back of his neck and tried to squirm away but he was still immobilised with fear and his breathing became ragged as the hands reached back towards his bare exposed stomach and the fingers plunged into the flesh and ripped him open. He tried to scream but as soon as his mouth opened the parasites swarmed inside and choked him. They blocked his airway and filled his lungs before beginning to feast. Ron watched in horror as some of the parasites crawled back out of him through his open stomach which pumped blood onto the needle-like fingers as they began to pull out his intestines and unravel them around him, mummifying his body in his own entrails.

The hands suddenly gripped him tightly around the chest and Ron managed to throw them off with a full body convulsion and he suddenly felt himself falling and hitting the floor. It was bright now, there was light all around him and he heard voices coming from somewhere. He scrambled across the floor and over to a door, all the while checking his stomach and feeling relieved to find it was as it should be, before something grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him into a sitting position. It was Harry.

"...a nightmare ok? Ron can you hear what I'm saying to you? Are you listening to me?"

He squirmed until Harry let go of him and he glanced across to his bed to see Hermione looking mortified. Why was she laying on his bed? Was it her? Was she the one who had been squeezing him so tightly? What was she thinking after the night he'd had?

"Was she touching me?" Ron blurted out to Harry.

Harry bit his lip and looked back across to Hermione who was burring her face in her hands now.

"She wanted to stay with you after your last nightmare, do you remember the last one Ron, are you still with us mate?"

Ron did remember. He had told them what they had wanted to know. He had told them about Regulus. They hadn't let him go and wash again. They told him he was clean now. He didn't feel clean. He was filthy, he was infested, and he was alive with them. Then she had, he remembered now, she had pointed her wand at him after he had let her touch him. He had tolerated her hand in his, after she knew about the dead hand, she had asked him to touch her and he had done it for her. He had done it to make her feel better and then she had...she had...

"You put me to sleep you bitch!" he gasped.

Harry looked at him sternly as Hermione let out an agonised cry and buried her face into his pillow.

"Ron no, you don't mean that, pull yourself together come on."

"They're pulling me apart!" Ron yelled into Harry's face, it was a testament to how the night had been going for them so far that Harry didn't even flinch at this outburst.

The bedroom door opened and Ron's mother and father peered in.

"It's ok Mr and Mrs Weasley, I've got this under control, I'll try and keep him quiet. Go back to bed."

Ron's dad gave his mum a gentle nudge back out of the door before leaning over to ask Harry a question under his breath.

"Is this another violent one Harry?"

Ron tried to remember back. He had had several nightmares since waking up at at Burrow and he didn't remember being violent with anybody. Harry shook his head.

"No he's just confused, he doesn't know what he's saying."

Ron tried to explain to his father that he wasn't the dangerous one.

"Dad they're killing me, I can't breathe and they're opening me up and feeding on me," Ron pointed at Hermione, "she's clawing at me with dead hands!"

He suddenly lowered his head and tried to hold in the wave of emotion that was hitting him. Across the room he could hear Hermione's own sobs renewing. What was he saying? She wasn't Black, what was happening to him?

"Hermione my dear, I think it might be best if you come back and sleep in Ginny's bedroom don't you?" he heard his father saying kindly.

There was a sound of creaking bedsprings and slow footsteps of bare feet crossing the room towards the open door. Ron heard her sniff and his father make a comforting sound as he held the door wide for Hermione to escape the madman. Ron's arm jerked out and grabbed her ankle as she passed. He heard her gasp and freeze on the spot. He couldn't look at her, choosing to keep his focus on his own feet instead, and he tried to make her understand.

"I can't stop it, I'm sorry, they just keep coming."

She bent down and he released her ankle, leaning away from her and tensing his body involuntarily, and whispered to him.

"This isn't your fault Ron, don't worry about me ok? I know that wasn't you talking just then."

Ron felt a sob heaving it's way up his throat and struggled to keep it at bay as he turned to face her and blinked away the tears that were welling in his eyes.

"Then who is it and where did I go?"

Hermione's expression mirrored his own and he knew that what she wanted to do more than anything was the thing he feared the most. She wanted to embrace him tightly and he just wanted to run out into the open and away from everyone.

"Come on Hermione," Ron heard his father say as he pulled her back up and guided her out the door, "there's no point in upsetting each other is there?"

The door closed and Ron heard Hermione suddenly let out her repressed sob and wheeze the agonising question.

"What have they done to him?"

Ron wiped his eyes with his shaking hands and looked back at Harry who was watching him intently.

"You're going to be ok mate, I'm right here alright, and I'm not letting you out of my sight you hear me? Are you listening to me Ron?"

He nodded and sniffed. Harry smiled at him, the smile was only in his lips though, his eyes betrayed the fear and concern for his friend.

"Are you going to be able to get back into bed do you think?" Harry asked him.

Ron shook his head again and hugged his knees to himself. Harry gave a nod and moved to lean against the wall beside him, paying extra care not to touch him as he did so, and summoned the glass of water that was resting on his bedside table with his wand.

"Are you thirsty?" he asked Ron on catching the glass in his free hand.

Ron nodded and spoke with a hoarse voice.

"I don't think I can swallow though."

Ron had been suffering from a very sensitive gag reflex ever since he had crawled out of Black's coffin and hadn't been able to keep anything down.

"Yeah mate I know it's unpleasant but you're really dehydrated now and I think you should have another try."

Ron gave this some thought, he really was thirsty, and he gave another nod as he held out his hand to take the glass. Harry put the glass in his hand, taking noticeable care not to have their fingers touch as he did, and was about to let go when he saw how badly Ron's hand was shaking and hesitated. Ron tried to grip the glass and hold it steady but the shakes were just getting worse. Eventually he let go and turned away from Harry with a disheartened exhalation.

"I can't."

Harry let out a slight huff before shifting around to face Ron side-on. At this movement Ron looked back and tensed up again.

"Listen I can hold the glass for you but I'd have to lean in a little bit for you to be able to drink properly."

Ron swallowed.

"I don't want to crowd you but," Harry said with a shake of the head, "this is the only way we can do this without you getting water all over you."

Ron took a deep breath and nodded. Harry leaned in a little closer and brought the glass up to Ron's lips. He took several small sips, he had made the mistake of attempting a large gulp earlier that night and immediately brought it back up again, before pulling back again and giving Harry a nod to let him know he was finished.

"Good man," Harry smiled a real smile now, "you don't need the bucket no?"

Ron closed his eyes and thought for a moment. The water still seemed to be going down, as it should. He shook his head and opened his eyes again.

"I'm being a right pain aren't I?" he tried to give Harry a smile but wasn't quite able to pull it off just yet.

Harry put the glass down at his side and stared at Ron win disbelief.

"You are, without doubt, one of the bravest people I have ever known."

Ron lowered his head.

"I'm a bastard."

"What?" Harry said, shifting around to lower his head and force Ron to look at him again.

"I called Hermione a bitch," Ron met his friend's eye and felt thoroughly ashamed of himself.

"No you didn't, it wasn't you."

"That excuse is getting old Harry."

Harry took in a deep breath and picked up his wand.

"Right, I need you to stay calm Ron."

Ron felt his body flinch and his mind was racing with all of the fears of what sleep had done to him that night.

"Is it that time already?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"I'm afraid so," Harry nodded.

"Can't you just give me another five minutes," Ron begged him as he edged away from him across the bedroom floor, "please?"

"Come on mate, you were doing a lot better just then," Harry got to his feet and regretfully pointed his wand down at Ron, "don't get yourself all wound-up again."

Then he felt it, it was coming back on him, he had to stop Harry before he terrified the little liquid he had in his body back out again.

"Two more minutes please Harry, I'm going to be sick!"

"Not if I do this first," Harry began to flick his wand just as Ron grabbed the bucket that was now beside him on the floor and heaved the water back out before he could utter the spell.

Harry lowered his wand and knelt at Ron's side.

"Don't worry about it Ron, we'll try this again in another few minutes ok?"

Ron looked up from the bucket and into Harry's determined eyes.

"What?"

"You're going to take some more water and keep it down and then you're going to let me put you to sleep. We will keep doing this until that happens."

Ron spat the fowl tasting bile into the bucket and thrust it aside with a nod.

"Ok, let's try again."