Nex Ultionis
Ginny listened; still quiet.
Ron had spent the last half-hour in the bathroom and his sporadic vomiting noises had kept her up for another night. It hadn't woken Harry, though. Mind you, she thought, if he could sleep through Ron's snores all through school, then he could sleep through anything. He'd been back with them forthree days now and had been trying not to get in the family's way. She listened again; nothing. She was pleased it was over, but couldn't coax herself back to sleep until she heard Ron going back to bed, and he seemed to be taking his sweet time about it.
Ginny huffed and got out of bed, tiptoeing to avoid waking Harry. She stubbed her toe and almost swore out loud. She hobbled across the landing and into the bathroom.
"Oh, you poor sod," she whispered to herself.
Ron had fallen asleep with his head still hanging over the bowl. Ginny decided to try to pick him up and drag him to his room without waking him up. She gently pulled him back from the bowl and put her arm underneath to take the weight.
He woke up.
"Gin?" he mumbled, "Oh don't. I'll just go off again, go back to bed. I'm alright here."
"You'll catch cold in here," Ginny laughed.
"No, I'll puke if I go back. I swear," Ron protested lazily, "hanging over the bog is the only place I don't feel sick."
Ginny stroked Ron's back tenderly and wished she could leave him where he was comfortable. She couldn't, it was too risky to let him catch a cold in his condition.
"I know, but just try getting into bed. You really can't stay here. It'll be okay, Ron, I promise."
It was like having a conversation with somebody in a coma. She wondered if this was what it was like for people when she started mumbling away in the middle of the night. Harry had told her it was sweet and kind of funny, but Ginny hated it that she talked in her sleep. She was always worried that she might say something she didn't want to. Ginny stroked Ron's hair out of his face; his skin was clammy. If he didn't speak for a few seconds he'd drift back into a deep sleep again. He hadn't really woken up.
"Ron?"
"Go to bed, mum," he muttered.
"Oh thanks," Ginny snorted.
Bill appeared at the bathroom door.
"Ron, can you keep it down? This is the first night Luke's slept right through," he said in an apologetic tone.
"Oh, no more all night crying baby," Ron whimpered, "leave me here, don't wake him, please."
Ginny looked up at Bill.
"Is he still asleep, Bill?"
He nodded.
"I think all mum's fussing wore him out. He's totally out."
"Good. Now help me get him into bed."
"Ginny, no," Ron moaned.
"Keep it down or Luke'll hear," Bill warned.
"Bloody Luke," Ron muttered.
"Yes Ron, bloody screaming-and-yelling-until-your-head-splits-in-two-Luke, so keep it down," Bill whispered.
Ginny pulled Ron up to his feet. The first time she had realised that she was able to lift him all by herself, it had broken her heart. He was so light now that even in a heavy sleep she could haul him up with an arm over her shoulders. Bill took Ron's other arm and the two of them dragged him back to his bedroom.
"Ginny, pull back the sheets and mind the bucket," Bill said as he took Ron from her and lifted him clean off the ground in much the same way he would cradle his son.
Ginny grimaced as she picked up Ron's vomit bucket from the side of his bed.
"Yeah, treading in the vomit bucket is your thing," she grunted.
"I wanna sleep," Ron murmured.
"And you will," said Bill kindly but firmly, "you'll sleep in bed."
He tried to protest again but Ginny put her finger to her lips and cast him a steely glare. Ron lost heart and surrendered.
"Thanks, Ginny," Bill sighed as he set Ron down in his bed and rolled him onto his side before pulling the covers back over him, "be an angel and empty his bucket, would you?"
Ginny shuddered, a combination of the contents of the vomit bucket and her brother calling her an angel, and took the bucket from beside the bed to the toilet to empty it. She could hear Bill's soothing voice as he sat on the edge of Ron's bed and rubbed his back.
"It'll be fine, I promise, are you listening? You can sleep now."
Ginny returned with the rinsed-out bucket and put it beside Ron's bed. She and Bill said goodnight to each other and went back to their rooms. She smiled as she saw Harry still sleeping peacefully and snuggled back into bed and nuzzled her face into his side. She settled back into the warmth of his body and began to drift away.
Then she sat bolt upright, wide awake, and let out an agonised growl as the sound of the bucket filling echoed through the house. She heard Bill's door opening and his hurried footsteps running towards Ron's room.
"I'm really sorry, Ron, but you've got to be quiet."
Ron retched again.
"Shut up, you'll wake the baby!" Bill hissed, "C'mon, please be quiet. Please."
"I can't," Ron whimpered.
"Try!" Bill said, sounding very harsh considering how badly Ron was suffering at that moment; but he had to keep the baby undisturbed, otherwise Ron would be driven insane by the ear-piercing screams for the rest of the night.
"I can't sleep here," Ron said desperately, "I can't sleep lying down. I'm sorry."
"No, no, it's okay, it's okay," Bill was saying, sounding very guilty for having to be the bad guy that particular night, "I'll take you back to the bathroom, but we've got to put something warmer on you first, alright?"
Ginny listened but heard nothing. She assumed that Ron must have nodded.
"Right, you take some deep breaths and...here put these on. Hold on, your Quidditch ones are thicker...put 'em both on, normal socks first...another t-shirt and a jumper...which joggers are warmer, Ron?"
"I don't care," Ron said wearily.
"Here y'are then," Bill said softly.
Ginny could tell that Bill was appeasing Ron as best he could in an effort to give him some comfort and the rest of the house some peace that night. She strained to listen to the shuffling about and the pause for the bucket again, and heard Bill shushing Ron as he ran on tiptoe to the bathroom. Then she heard the nothing sound that was Bill sitting with him for a little while. A little while later Bill popped his head around Ginny's bedroom door and gave an involuntary chuckle.
"He's back again," Bill said with a shrug.
"He okay?"
Bill nodded before looking past Ginny at Harry's sleeping form.
"He asleep?"
"He can sleep through anything."
"Perfect partner for you, eh? You mouthy little madam!" Bill grinned.
"I'll try to keep it down," Ginny smiled back at him.
Bill left and closed her door behind him to block out his sister's sleep-talking a little. Ginny turned her face back towards Harry again and snuggled even further into him. He fidgeted and threw his arm over her body heavily.
She smiled and kissed him softly on the cheek before settling back down to sleep.
"I'm so glad you're back."
Ginny and Harry were making beetroot and cheddar sandwiches as a late breakfast. Ginny tore off a sheet of kitchen towel from the roll and set it down on the worktop.
"Put the beetroot on here first, it'll soak a lot of the juice up and we won't have pink bread."
"Or pink cheese," Harry added as he strained to get the jar of beetroot down from the top shelf, "Why do you people keep everything so high up?" he muttered.
"Because we have a baby crawling around who just loves to explore and put random things into his mouth - and also to aggravate short people!" Ginny grinned amiably.
Harry gave a tut and twisted the lid of the beetroot jar.
"I'm not short, you're all just giant freaks!" Harry said, just before the lid of the jar twisted off with a lot more ease then he had really been prepared for, "Shit!"
The beetroot juice slopped out over both of them.
"Oh, nice one, Harry!" Ginny gasped as she tugged at her stained sleeve.
"Quick, get it off," Harry said as he ran the tap and put the plug in the sink.
He had caught the worst of it. There were splash marks all over his t-shirt and a huge blotch down the left leg of his jeans. Ginny's top had spatter marks all the way across the front of it and she pulled it over her head and tossed it into the water. Harry did the same with his t-shirt before unzipping his jeans while Ginny took a yard of kitchen towel from the roll and bent down to mop up the spill from the floor.
Ron stood in the doorway with a huge grin plastered all over his face. Both Harry and Ginny froze and stared at him.
"Um," Harry said, "There was a slight beetroot incident."
Ron raised both eyebrows so high that they disappeared into his hair.
"That's a new one on me, I have to say."
"Yeah, Ron," Ginny rolled her eyes and huffed, "pickled beetroot is so erotic," she said with great sarcasm.
"It's the undiscovered aphrodisiac," Harry nodded just as Bill appeared behind Ron and frowned at this scene over Ron's shoulder.
"Y'know you've got some kind of stain on your bra there, Ginny?" Bill said as he pointed at his sister's beetroot-flecked body, much to Ron's amusement, while she stepped behind Harry to cover her modesty, "Oh, and one more thing, little sister, why are you and Harry half-naked in the kitchen?"
"We were making a sandwich," Harry said with an innocent shrug.
Ginny pulled a creased blouse out of the laundry basket and put it on while Bill shoved Ron through the door into the kitchen as his younger brother stretched his gangly limbs so widely that he almost took up the whole kitchen with his deep yawn.
"You eaten yet, Ron?" Bill said as he pulled something that looked like a jug of glow-in-the-dark paint out of the fridge and poured some into a glass.
"Nah," Ron said through the last of his yawn before slumping down in a chair at the kitchen table and resting his head in one of his hands, "I'll have something at lunch time."
"You always say that and you never bloody do," Ginny snapped as she stepped out from behind Harry to slam both her palms on the table top and lean over to stare at Ron accusingly.
"Well, if I'm not eating anything, I'd like to hear you explain all the crap I've been throwing up recently," Ron said with some annoyance.
"Here," Bill said as the glass of what could very well have been toxic waste was set before him, "drink that down and we'll leave you alone until lunch time."
Ron scrunched up his face.
"Ugh, the nutrient drink, do I have to? It's vile!"
"Cereal, toast, porridge..." Ginny began to list breakfast alternatives until Ron shuddered and reached for the glass and gulped it down with a revolted expression on his face.
"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Bill smiled as he ruffled Ron's hair, annoying him even more.
The front door was unlocked and Hermione stepped through and put her key away before calling out to the crowd in the kitchen.
"Only me! Is he ready to go yet?"
Everybody frowned at one another before turning or leaning to look down the hallway at Hermione. She gave a sigh of exasperation and looked to the heavens.
"If you tell me they changed the date of Ron's appointment and you all forgot to tell me again, I'm going to chew off my own fist!"
Bill, Ginny and Ron all lowered their heads guiltily; Harry mirrored their posture so as not to feel out of place.
"Don't eat your fist, Hermione," Ron said with an apologetic smile as he gestured to the jug full of glowing orange liquid, "we've got plenty of nutrient drink to go around."
Hermione shook her head and exhaled her resignation before breaking into a rueful grin.
"So when are you next in St Mungo's?" she asked Ron as she wriggled out of her jacket, hung it over the banister and walked down the hall to join the others in the kitchen.
"Tomorrow," Ron said, not looking enthused about his next treatment at all.
Hermione squeezed his shoulder before looking at the beetroot explosion site and the bread and cheese on the kitchen worktop.
"Oh," she said, pleasantly surprised, "are you eating this morning, Ron?"
Ron lifted his empty glass and shook it.
"Oh," her face fell, "well, at least you got something inside you. Where's Luke?"
"In his cage," Bill nodded in the direction of the living room.
"His playpen, Bill!" Hermione corrected with an exasperated sigh.
"Playpen, cage, same thing, different name!" Bill grinned.
Ron got to his feet and looked at Harry, who was still bare-chested and beetroot-stained.
"Are you just showing off or do you want to borrow something of mine until you move the rest of your gear into the house?"
"Oh yeah, thanks, mate," Harry said as he followed Ron out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
Harry noticed that Ron, who used to bound up a flight of stairs in three lolloping steps, was now much slower and steadier as he went. Ron looked back as he reached the top and cast Harry a smile before suppressing a burp behind his hand.
"'Scuse me," he said before heading to his bedroom, "sorry, that stuff is foul."
"That's okay," Harry smiled and watched as Ron opened his wardrobe and dropped himself down on his bed while Harry selected something to change into.
"You doing alright this morning, Ron?" Harry tried to ask as casually as he could manage.
"Yeah," Ron said as if it was a standard response rather then a considered answer, "I might actually have a kip for an hour or so before lunch, seeing as I'm up here."
Harry looked away, grabbed a red t-shirt out of Ron's wardrobe and pulled it over his head.
"Why not?" Harry said from within the item of clothing, "Ginny said you had a bit of a rough night."
When Harry's head popped through the neck of the t-shirt he saw Ron grinning and shaking his head.
"That was a good night, Harry. That was just...me wanting to sleep with my head in the toilet."
Harry forced a chuckle before the fake jollity left his face completely and he sat down on the edge of the bed beside Ron and looked him in the eye.
"This treatment really does you in then, yeah?" he asked.
Ron wrinkled his nose and gave a small nod and shrug of resignation.
"Well it's essentially poison, isn't it?" he mumbled, "I take a potion to break down the bezoar. I take another to neutralise the magical toxins that are trying to spread out of what's left of it. I have to take another potion to counter the effects the first two potions have when they combine with each other..."
"What effect is that?" Harry frowned.
"Basically they become toxic," Ron chortled.
Harry couldn't quite believe that Ron was laughing about his only cure being the ingestion of toxins over the course of, from what Ginny had told him, over a year before he had any chance of being cured. He understood now why all the Weasleys got sorted straight into Gryffindor, no questions asked: they weren't just brave but utterly remarkable. You could grit your teeth and bravely face a problem, but it was a whole other level of courage to face it with a smile.
"So, three potions every time you go into St Mungo's for treatment, then?"
"No, there are four of 'em, they did tell me what the fourth one did, but quite frankly I was freaking out a bit by that point and had stopped paying proper attention."
Harry returned Ron's smile with one of his own. He deserved it.
"So," he said, deciding to get all the issues presently on his mind out in the open in one go, "you and Hermione."
"Don't start," Ron warned him.
"I'm not starting anything," Harry said defensively as he raised both his hands and took a step backwards, "I'm just talking about my two best friends."
"Oh yeah?" Ron raised an eyebrow with great cynicism.
"Yeah!" Harry said in his 'don't be such a prat' voice, "I'm not going to give you a hard time for breaking up with her."
"Well you'd better bleedin' not, otherwise you'd be a hypocrite, wouldn't you?" Ron said as he folded his arms across his chest.
"Indeed," Harry conceded, "but surely this whole thing would have been easier to handle with her then without her."
"I'm not without her, Harry," Ron said with a huff, "she's downstairs, did you forget? And she's taking me for my treatment tomorrow. I'm never away from her!"
"You know what I mean, Ron," Harry said seriously.
Ron looked down at the bedspread for a moment and mumbled a response into his chest.
"Yeah, well..." he shrugged.
"That's not bloody good enough!" Harry said as he hit Ron with one of his pillows, "Do you really think it's easier on her to be right across the road every night knowing the kind of hard time you're having?"
"Oh, and she'd feel bloody marvellous if she was sharing a bed with me every night, wouldn't she?" Ron grunted, "Puking all night long and keeping her up when she has work to go to first thing in the morning, what kind of bastard would I be to do that to her for a year and a half? Besides, it's humiliating to let her see me like that."
"And what must she feel like when she hears about you crawling out of your bed on your hands and knees in the middle of the night, completely alone, to fall asleep in a freezing cold bathroom wearing nothing but boxers with your head in the toilet?"
Ron had nothing to say to that. The two of them sat side by side on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor.