(A/n Hello, my beauties! Thank you to EVERYONE you has reviewed-I love you all! You really are fabulous. Here is the second chapter, as promised).

"RON!" He was bent over the table, hacking and coughing violently. I stood there, looking at him, for a moment with a speared carrot dangling limply from my fingers before my mind finally sprang into action.

I looked wildly around the kitchen for something that could unlodge whatever it was that was wedged in his throat. Maybe a large spoon.

In a fit of desperation I leapt over Ron's convulsing body (which had flopped over during my dumping of the utensil draw) and sprinted down the hall. "Doke, Twonke, Knobb, Fibbs-WHERE IS MY WAND?" For I had just recalled that I was a witch.

FLASHBACK

"Yes-of course-but there's no wood!" I cried, wringing my hands.

"HAVE YOU GONE MAD?" Ron bellowed. "ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?"

End Flashback

Ironic.

But before I could get too nostalgic the house elves went into frenzy. "Gordy had it!" "NO-it was Fibbs, HE hid it in the-" "That was last week: Fonz has it, don't you?" "No I don't-" "I saw you hide it-" "GIVE HIM CLOTHES"

There was a time when they were complaisant, docile little things.

"FORGET IT!" I sprang back down the hall and burst back into the kitchen.

Ron was on the floor. He was no longer choking, but rather making odd gasping noises and seemed to be inching toward Mrs. Pintong's All Purpose Box. Looking at the object, something clunked into my brain.

Leaping over Ron (again), I seized the Box and shoved it over his head.

Nothing happened.

"HELP HIM!" I screamed. I was near hysterics now.

"What," said the Box irritably after turning itself back on.

I politely repeated my request, and, after some prodding, the box dropped several hundred gallons of water on Ron.

My kitchen is the size of a more fortunate person's walk-in-closet. Walk-in-closets do not hold several hundred gallons of water. They might hold a pint if you're daring, but that's the limit.

There was a loud groaning of strain under the lake of water we were floating in. The floor collapsed.

I screamed as I plunged, two stories, while drowning in the Niagara Falls. If I had not swallowed so much water while screaming, I might not have passed out.

But, a 30 foot fall and solid mass of water landing right after can do that to a person: especially if they were already teetering on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

Right before the wall of water hit me like a freight train, I caught a glimpse of Ron, grinning madly at me from under the box.

After what felt like an eternity of sleep, I cracked an eye open and then shut it again. There was a blinding white light glaring at me.

I groaned and tried to move my head away from the light, but stopped quickly at the severe pounding against my skull. Where am I?... Where's Ron? Were the first two thoughts that drifted across my mind.

I vaguely registered someone whispering quietly, "She's awake………give her more morphine……." Morphine? That sounds like……..

And then I was gone.

Another eternity of darkness later I was beginning to feel again- as if someone had clobbered my limbs with an enormous hammer.

"No…..no….well, I suppose. But the box? Yes-where did you put it? Well bring it here. Perhaps this one can tell us……What? What do you mean it won't-"

My eyes snapped open. The Box….water…it was all painfully coming back to me.

"Ron!" The doctor jumped. "Where is he?" I demanded.

"The man with a dressing gown on and a box stuck over his head that's constantly pouring out water?"

It took a moment to understand what he meant.

"It's still doing that?" I asked, weakly. He drowned, he's dead. He's dead. Something cold and sickening was gripping my lungs, while my mind buzzed numbly. Dead. Ron. No…but...I never…we never….

"He's fine." I looked at him. I couldn't form comprehensible thoughts, but I could feel something warm and happy welling up in my throat. Alive…. "Amazingly he's been flopping around and yelling things for the last five hours. The nurse in his room thinks says he keeps shouting 'My knee!', but there seems to be no damage whatsoever to either of his knees. A special psychiatrist is working with him now, mainly to check his sanity. I'm afraid your husband may have suffered some brain damage from all of the water-the box just won't come off."

Several thoughts swarmed into my head during this monologue, each one as odd and amazing as the next:

Ron was not dead

This was a muggle hospital

Ron was shouting my name

All of the people in the hospital would probably have to have they're memories modified, as word of a man with a box stuck over his head that was spewing out the Atlantic Ocean travels fast

The doctor called him my husband.

I went whoozy from processing all of the information at once, and leaned back onto the pillows. Husband….hahaha…..he called him my…….

"What do you mean you gave her-?"

"You said 'Give her more morphine'".

"I thought you would only give her one dose-"

"Well, it won't kill her."

I was watching this hazy spectacle with a lopsided grin. The room was tilting a bit, and I was slowly sliding off my bed, which I realized looked just like Frank Sinatra if you squint really hard.

"Whoah there." One of the three doctors came over and pushed my back onto the star of "Guys and Dolls". The other two were trying to help him, but missed and were just lifting air.

"Haha, you guys should check….shoould check…….I mean," I slurred. "My hushband." I giggled.

"Would you-would you like to see him, m'am? I'll have the nurse send him in." He and the other two doctors walked away, muttering "Bunch of crazies". The nurses left too, all throwing simultaneous worried looks at me.

I hummed a little bit of "Luck Be a Lady" while the machines winked and beeped at me. They were goading me on. "Well who am I to refuse an audience?" I said to the green monitor to my right.

I swaggered to my feet and started singing:

"They call you lady luck
But there is room for doubt
At times you have a very un-lady-like way
Of running ouuuuut!"

"SOOO LUCK BE A LADY TONIIIIIIIIGHT!" I bent my knees and an elaborate curtsy.

The room did a violent swing and I fell sideways off Frank Sinatra.

"Er-My-Nee!"

I looked to see six nurses holding two and a half Rons. Both the whole one and the half-Ron was flopping violently in the nurses' hands.

"Ron….haha…..guessh what? We're married. Isn't that great? Hahah…….I mean…….that's what….that's what….I mean…..I always wanted. Hahaha….." And that's when the overdose of morphine suddenly stopped working.

I gasped. Mostly out of pain, really, because my head just started throbbing like a billio. But also because of what I had just let vibrate out of my voice box and travel in wavelengths toward Ron's box, where his ears were inside.

(A/n Well, that's where I'm leaving it, folks. I might have written more if I wasn't leaving in ten minutes, but a figured I should update before I forget. The next chapter will probably be next Sunday, because I have loads of homework to sift through during the week. Now, I know morphine doesn't really make you that drunk delusional, but it was good fun to write so I stretched it. I would also like to thank Slytherin Love Goddess, Yabberli, Hiscifit, EyesofBlue1993, marcy, fruitkiss and fruitygumballs. You guys ROCK

Now, if you would be so kind as to push that little purple button. You know the one. :-D