The Longest Night

Ginny stumbled into the house with a yawn and threw her bag down onto the floor before blinking her sleepy eyes and calling out into the unusually darkened house.

"Harry?"

There was no reply. She checked the clock on the wall and then compared it to her watch. She wasn't late. Harry had told her that he would head back before her so she could drop in on Luna Lovegood and give the Quibbler the exclusive they wanted. She done it just to piss of the Daily Prophet to be honest, the vultures were circling the house once again, and word that Harry Potter had returned was the hot news of the day over the flu epidemic and the out of control Knight bus that ploughed into the front of something called a Virgin Megastore.

Ginny reminded herself to ask Harry why Virgins need their own store in the Muggle world when she found him.

She scrunched up her face as she realised that her house was completely empty. That never happened. The place hadn't been deserted since they'd all moved in. She flicked her wand and ignited the lamps and candles before calling out again.

"Bill? Ron? Where the hell are you all?"

She noticed a piece of parchment on the floor. It had obviously fallen off the small table in the hallway. She stooped down to pick it up and recognised Harry's handwriting immediately.

She read and felt her blood chill with every word.

Ginny,

We had to take Ron to St Mungo's. He got worse. Just missed you at Luna's. Your mum knows and Hermione's with him now. Come quickly.

Harry

Ginny ran into the living room and blasted the magical barrier away from the fireplace. She grabbed a handful of floo powder and stepped over the grate into the fireplace before throwing the powder down at her feet and roaring her destination out loud.

"St Mungo's!"

It was raining outside.

Was it ever not raining these days?

Ginny ran out of one of the fireplaces in the reception area in St Mungo's and found herself running across a wet floor. The entrance on the Muggle side was right next to the fireplaces and people were tramping their puddle-wet feet in and out, making the floors slick beneath her.

She skidded through a pool of brown water that the healers, patients and worried relatives had all walked through a thousand times. Then she had one of those moments, one of those brief seconds where everything seems to freeze, where you can take in every detail of your surroundings and think everything over thoroughly in the space of a single solitary second.

She took in the signs hanging from the grotty ceiling directing people to spell damage, splinch-reversal, toilets and organic toxification. She saw the rows and rows of pissed-off looking people waiting their turn. She wondered if this was where she needed to be and looked at the receptionist's desk. The witch looked pretty aggravated herself considering she was sitting beneath a sign saying 'welcome'.

The yellowy aged wall beside her was covered with posters; one calling for out-of-date potions to be thrown away or destroyed, one for free bloody replenishing, one for rare potion ingredients to be donated and a rack of leaflets about different maladies. There was a big poster with a picture of a fanged Frisbee on it and the words 'left unchecked - you'll lose your neck' beneath it. There was another with a fanged Frisbee decapitating a wizard standing in line at Flourish and Blotts, that poster bared the warning 'when you lose your head you stay dead'.

Ginny thought for a moment, the people at St Mungo's were really worried about fanged Frisbees for some reason.

Then she noticed the pair of boots in front of her face. Black leather boots, upside down, both heels worn at an angle and the toes all scuffed. Hold on...they were her boots, on her feet. Why were her feet in front of her face she wondered?

"Oh shi..."

Thump!

Ginny's body slammed down onto the floor with a revolting slap. She lay flat on her back, rapidly absorbing the filthy mud-water like a piece of kitchen towel. She could hear the advertising slogan in her head at that moment.

See how Ginny can soak up all this with one wipe.

Her mouth was gaping open and closed like a goldfish out of water and her lungs burned as the air was vacuumed out of her. She felt like her torso was deflating, that and the goldfish mouth made her feel like that blow-up doll with a puncture she had found in Percy's wardrobe a few years back. She tried to inhale but instead let out an embarrassing donkey-bray type honk.

She felt the last of the puddles soak into the seat of her knickers as they clung onto her bum cheeks and gave an uncomfortable groan. Just then a face hovered above her, a very familiar face, and he put a hand under her shoulder and peeled her up into a sitting position, which made her lungs blow a raspberry inside her like a pair of whoopee cushions being sat on by Hagrid and Madame Maxime. At this unwelcome sensation she gasped and inhaled a gulp of air.

"It's okay," Harry smiled, "go ahead and breathe. I'm pretty sure your lungs are still in there," he grinned before looking down at his feet, "Unless of course I'm stepping on them."

She was about to chuckle but just fell into a coughing fit instead which alerted her to the fact that her back hurt...a lot.

"Ow, don't," she said between chokes and chuckles, her back didn't just ache, it was bloody painful and even worse was, "my arse!"

"Now I know I'm not stepping on that."

"Don't be funny," she wheezed, "oh please don't be funny...Ow...ouch...bloody ouch!" she'd directed that last exclamation at the receptionist who didn't seem to have noticed this whole scenario or seem to give a hoot.

"C'mon, upsie daisy," Harry said as he helped her up and Ginny realised that she must have thrown him one of her derisive expressions as Harry apologised immediately, "Sorry, that was a very 'Your mum' thing to say."

"'S alright," was all she could muster as they sat down at the nearest pair of seats. Then she wished she hadn't as the water in her clothing squelched into whole new places, "Uggh," she grimaced.

"The wet is an unfortunate side-effect," Harry smiled.

"This is fun for you? I'm so glad," Ginny huffed.

"No, I'm just relieved," Harry smiled, Ginny saw it in his eyes, he wasn't torn apart with concern for his best friend, Ron was going to be alright, "yeah, I'm just relieved that I'm not the only one that happened to today. I stacked it myself when I first came in, much in the same way you did, but with the added humiliation of the floor being bone dry at the time!"

Ginny sniggered.

"Go ahead and laugh, at least I'm not marinating in anonymous hospital waste," Harry teased.

Ginny donned her serious face.

"You're not about to tell me about an unfortunate spillage in that area involving and old man and a leaky colostomy are you?"

He let out a yelp of laughter and then stifled it when he realised how quiet the rest of the angry people in reception were. Ginny smiled and sighed with her newly functioning lungs. She raised her voice a couple of decibels and called across to the big and seemingly even angrier receptionist who was seething at her desk.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for Ron Weasley!" she hollered.

Harry laughed in disbelief. The receptionist was not so impressed.

"You can come to the desk and ask in a civil tone young lady."

Ginny remained seated and lifted her chin defiantly.

"Don't you lecture me on manners and courtesy you sour faced old trout. I just fell on my arse on your wet floor and you didn't even ask if I was alright so I'll stay bloody seated until my cheeks stop stinging alright?"

The receptionist's face flushed and then paled rapidly.

"And another thing," Ginny proclaimed, "you're supposed to put up a sign warning people that the floor is wet y'know?"

Harry leaned in towards her sideways and muttered into her ear as she stared at her enemy. She couldn't make out what he was saying and turned on her seat, causing spasms of pain down her back, and snapped.

"What?"

"There was a wet floor sign, one of those charmed ones that hovers about drying the puddles," Harry explained.

"So why is it gone now?"

"Because I fell on it."

For a fraction of a second Ginny managed to stay her strong, deadpan self, then she sighed out a little smile. She inhaled and tried to regain her stern facade, and managed it too for a moment, before descending into a fit of hysterical laughter that was comparable to an asthma attack. Harry joined in and the receptionist started rubbing her temples as if they had just induced a migraine.

Before Ginny realised that her eyes were even watering she felt Harry's arms around her and his comforting voice whispering words into her hair.

"I swear to you he's going to be alright Ginny. I promise you on my life."

Ginny clung to him and let her aching back shudder with the silent sobs that were now escaping her.

"I read your note and...I was so scared. I thought...I don't know what I thought," she sniffed.

"Shhh, it's alright, I wish I had more time to write something for you but we were really worried and Bill wanted to get him here as soon as possible."

Ginny pulled away and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"What happened?"

Harry was rubbing her arms as he explained. Ron's cold had been getting worse all day and eventually he had lost his voice altogether. Bill hadn't been able to get him to eat at all and Ron wasn't able to drink either. When Harry had come home Hermione was there, Bill had sent her an owl and she had apparated right from work, and she was frantic. Ron had a high temperature and a cold sweat and not long after Harry had returned Ron had stopped responding. They hadn't been able to wake him at all and Bill had ordered Hermione to take Luke to the Burrow and let his mother know what was going on before picking Ron up in his arms and striding out into the back yard to disparate to St Mungo's with his sick brother.

Harry wrote the note, Hermione alerted the rest of the family and everybody had been waiting outside the treatment room Ron had been taken to upstairs.

"Upstairs?" Ginny frowned, "He's upstairs, so why are you down here?"

"I was waiting for you," he smiled sadly.

Ginny found herself looking up at the ceiling, as if she'd be able to see Ron through the plaster, grinning back down at her. She looked back into Harry's eyes and took his hand.

"Can we go and see him?"

"There are so many people up there already Ginny," Harry frowned, "they threw us all out to give him some peace. They had to practically wrestle your mum and Hermione away from him!"

Ginny tried to laugh at this image but she couldn't quite pull it off.

"Bill's up there, your mum and dad, the twins, Charlie just flooed in from Budapest and Hermione just refuses to go home," Harry shook his head and marvelled at how quickly the family had mobilised itself when they heard about Ron's turn for the worse.

"What's wrong with him Harry?"

Harry hugged her close to him despite her being so wet and grimy, neither of them really had enough of their wits about them to dry her off magically at that moment, and she stared off into space.

"His cold got worse and he hadn't been eating properly. The potions for his treatment just made him more prone to getting knocked for six by a silly virus. That's all it is Ginny, just a silly virus."

"What kind of silly virus?" she said, blinking her eyes rapidly to keep them as tear free as possible.

"Just...something called, some Muggle thing that they're doing a really good job with fixing," Harry interrupted himself, "he'll have to stay in overnight, for a couple of nights, but he's on the mend and he woke up and has been talking to everybody so it really is nothing to worry about at all," he grinned at her and gave her a kiss on the lips.

Ginny felt her stomach tie itself into a series of knots.

"What is it called Harry? What's this Muggle thing that they've made all better called?"

"It's called pneumonia."

Ginny didn't say a word, neither did Harry. She just sat, leaning into his arms and dripping onto the floor below from her sodden clothing, and found herself doing something she hadn't done since she first heard Ron's diagnosis all those months ago.

She imagined her life without Ron in it.