Old Magic
Lights were lit in the kitchen as Ron walked the path through the back garden. He remembered that first night back at the Burrow, when he'd finally been released from St. Mungo's. Hermione had been released three weeks before him but kept coming to the hospital every day to sit by his side. His mother had made a fabulous dinner for his homecoming and the entire family had been there, but by nightfall, he'd been completely exhausted and so was Hermione. He'd held out his hand to her and told her to come to bed. His mother had started to protest, but Ron had held up a hand to stop her. "We're not sleeping alone, Mum. We're never sleeping alone again," he'd said. If only that had remained true. Hermione had stood silently staring at the floor, holding his hand, while he declared his nighttime intensions. His mother hadn't continued her protest, so he'd led Hermione upstairs. She didn't say anything to him, just silently undressed and got into the narrow single bed he'd slept in at home since he'd left his crib. They were both so thin from their ordeal that it didn't matter that they were two in a single. They fit fine. There was no energy for sex, so they just lay there naked and curled together. He remembered thinking at the time what a relief it was to no longer be in the hospital, and that everything would be all right. As he reached the door to the Burrow, he knew things were further from all right between them than they had ever been.
His mother was sitting at the kitchen table, looking at a magazine and drinking a cup of chamomile tea. "Ron?" she said, clearly surprised and delighted by the unexpected visit from her youngest son. "What brings you out so late?"
"I just thought I'd pop in and see if you were still up," Ron said taking a seat across from her.
She flicked her wand and another cup came sailing toward them. She plucked it from the air and poured Ron some chamomile from the pot on the table.
"What have you got there?" Ron asked.
His mother showed him the cover of Witch Weekly.
"Ah," Ron said, realizing then that she'd had it open to the Eye Witness pages that featured famous witches and wizards out and about. The photo of Hermione in the hospital in Paris figured prominently on the left page.
His mother closed the magazine. "Just tittle tattle. I'd stop getting it, but I do like the recipes, and sometimes they have good knitting spells."
"Sure," Ron said. "I guess you saw the picture of Hermione."
"Yes," his mother said hesitantly. "I wasn't quite sure what to make of that."
Ron cleared his throat. "Apparently, there was some kind of emergency when she was at the beach in France and she had to take a friend side-along to the hospital in Paris."
"Oh," his mother said. "Well, that explains the outfit then."
"Yes," Ron said with a half-smile.
"So, you talked to her then, dear?"
"No. Harry went to check on her. She looks to be in some pain in the photo."
"Really?"
"Harry and Ginny missed it too. She probably just overdid it on the magic. You know how she gets."
His mother nodded. "Yes."
They sat in silence for a minute. Ron was so tired he leaned over and rested his forehead against the table.
"Are you all right?"
He shook his head.
"Oh, Ron," his mother said and reached over and ruffled his hair.
"I hate this," he said to the table.
"I know," his mother said soothingly.
Ron thought about getting up and going to see Margaret. She was off soon. The sitter had probably already put her kids to bed, so he could pop over for a bit of slap and tickle before he went home. He liked Margaret. She was from Ginny's year but left school early and married a Muggleborn from Percy's year. Her pureblood parents had disowned her and they hadn't changed their minds even though she had a kid and she was pregnant with another when her husband was killed in the war. She wanted nothing more from Ron than he wanted from her, some physical comfort and a little conversation. They never talked about the future and never discussed a past more than twenty-four hours old. He wondered if she would have accepted an invitation to the Gala had she not had to work tonight. He thought not. They'd never been in public together. She'd never introduced him to her kids or to her friends. She seemed somewhat embarrassed by the idea of being with another pureblood, as if that alone were a sign of prejudice. As for him, he didn't care about her blood status or anything else beyond the fact that she was up for a shag in the wee hours of the morning when no one else was around. He considered that option tonight, but decided he wasn't up for it. The image of Hermione standing in that hospital haunted him. "Can I stay here tonight, Mum?"
"Of course, you can. You needn't ask."
"Thanks, Mum." He stood and kissed his mother on the cheek before trudging upstairs to his childhood bedroom. He stopped at the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth, before continuing on to the top floor. He smiled at the small bed and pulled his wand to cast the spell to make it long enough so his feet wouldn't hang off the end. He stripped down to his underpants and got under the covers. He was bone tired but couldn't sleep. Memories swirled around his head and being back in that bed wasn't helping that. He should've just gone home to his flat, but that seemed unbearably grim too. He closed his eyes trying to force sleep to come, but instead he thought of Hermione and all the times they'd slept in that room.
Prior to the war, she'd never slept in his room. She'd always stayed with Ginny downstairs, but there had been the occasional romp that last summer before they left with Harry to hunt Horcruxes. He thought of seventeen-year-old Hermione: brilliant, slim, wild-haired, and passionate, frightened of things to come, but brave enough to face them anyway. He'd loved her so fiercely then. It occurred to him, that he'd never seen her naked unscarred. He wondered what she'd looked like before Dolohov cast the curse that left the long purple scar between her breasts. They were so young when that happened. He frowned and wondered if Viktor had seen her breasts without the scar. He knew they hadn't had sex, that he had been her first, but he wondered how far things had gone with Viktor fourth year? He'd never had the guts to ask her. He shook his head. It didn't matter. Standing in that hospital in Paris, she was most definitely grown up, with a woman's body, thin, but filled out in all the best ways. She wasn't a girl anymore and she wasn't his. He stared at the ceiling and thought again of coming back to the Burrow after the hospital.
For months, his wand had just felt like a stick in his hand because his magic had been so depleted. He had to eat a fire berry every morning at breakfast and resented how everyone around him could effortlessly do magic, everyone except Hermione. She was still powerful, but the cursed wound in her side wasn't healed and performing magic cost her dearly, so they spent their days like Muggles. He felt muted and decrepit, and she felt like an oppressed child. They didn't talk much during the day to each other or anyone else. Harry could not have been more solicitous and took on most of their care. He'd swabbed wounds with sticky green goo, changed bandages, checked progress, and administered the potions the hospital healers had sent home with them. Ginny helped as much as he would allow, which wasn't much. He blamed himself for their condition knowing that their sacrifice was more for him personally than for the cause as a whole. Ginny had initially grumbled at the care he took with Hermione, but eventually let it go.
xXx
Nights were different. Ron and Hermione lay curled together in a bed Harry had transfigured to better accommodate Ron's large frame. At first, they'd just held each other, but as days turned into weeks Hermione began to touch him, slowly at first and then more insistently. He didn't respond initially, didn't feel like loving her, didn't feel worthy of her love, but she'd persisted. Every night she went a little further until eventually his body responded despite what he was thinking. When she finally had him inside her, she took his hands in hers and kissed him, slipping her tongue into his mouth, opening him to her and then she did something she had never done before. She pulled up her magic and shared. Having her power poured into him was the most intense experience he'd ever had, and it almost overwhelmed him. He thought at one point he might pass out. It was the most tremendous orgasm of his life. When she slid off of him, he felt restored, whole, in a way he hadn't felt in months. "What did you do?" he'd gasped as she got out of bed.
She dropped to her knees. "I might need a little help here."
Ron rolled out of bed and went to help her. The bandage on her side was soaked through with blood. "Oh bollocks!" He snatched his trousers off the floor and pulled them on, grabbed his wand, and ran downstairs.
"Wait!" Hermione cried, but it was too late. He'd left her naked on the floor.
"Accio bandages!" Ron shouted as he thundered downstairs to Ginny's room. It was late. Everyone was asleep. Despite the fact that Harry was supposed to be asleep in Fred and George's old room, Ron knew where he'd actually be sleeping. The bandages came flying at him. He caught them before bursting in to Ginny's room. Thankfully, they were only sleeping, but Harry came out of bed like a warrior, his wand flying instantly from the nightstand into his hand.
"Help!" Ron cried. "Bring that green goo for Hermione. I don't know what it's called." He turned around and started running back upstairs. Harry was out of bed and calling for the Murtlap Essence.
All the running and shouting had woken Molly, who appeared at her doorway. "What's happened?"
Ginny was coming out of her room as Harry was running upstairs after Ron. "Something's happened to Hermione."
They heard her cry out and both hurried up the stairs.
"Don't move her," Harry said as Ginny and Molly reached the door. "Just leave her where she is."
Ron had reached for Hermione to put her back in bed but left her on the floor at Harry's command. Harry was on his knees looking at the wound in her side.
"For heaven's sake, Ron," Hermione groaned, doing her best to cover herself with her arms. "Get me a sheet or something."
"Oh, please," Harry said. "I've seen you naked. It's not all that. This looks bad. We might have to take you back to St. Mungo's."
"No!" Hermione cried. "Just use the Murtlap Essence and bandage it again."
Harry shook his head. "You better get your Mum, Ron."
"I'm right here," Molly said, stepping over to Hermione. "It's alright, dear. Boys," she said to Harry and Ron. "Get out of here." Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Molly silenced him with a fierce look. "Right now."
"No," Ron said equally fiercely as he pulled a sheet off the bed and did his best to cover Hermione while leaving the wound exposed. "It's my fault she's in this state."
"No, it isn't," Hermione argued weakly.
Molly assessed the bleeding wound. "What exactly did you do?"
"I shared," Hermione said.
Molly's eyes went wide. "No, you did not!" She pulled the bandage off and began applying a heavy coat of Murtlap Essence, but it didn't do much to stop the bleeding. Molly shook her head and glanced angrily at Ron. "How could you let her do that?" She began applying bandages to the wound.
"I didn't bloody well know what she was doing, did I?" Ron said.
Molly shook her head again as she finished dressing the wound. "Hermione what were you thinking? Of all the irresponsible—"
"Can someone please explain what she did?" Ginny said from the door.
Molly pulled her wand from her dressing gown pocket and cast "Mobilicorpus to lift Hermione back into bed. Ron was quick to get her covered with the sheet and blankets. "Well, she set her recovery back several weeks, I can tell you that," Molly said with clear irritation. "And she's back on blood replenishing potion. What were you thinking?" she said again to Hermione.
"I thought I was well enough to do it. He was so miserable without his magic," Hermione said weakly, barely able to keep her eyes open.
Molly stamped her foot. "Irresponsible!" she said again. "I would expect you to have more sense than that!"
"What the hell did she do?" Ginny shouted.
Molly folded her arms across her chest and frowned. "She shared her magic with Ron."
"What?" Harry said. "You can do that?"
"Come on," Molly said, softening a bit. "She needs to sleep. Let's go downstairs. I need a cuppa."
Ron leaned over and kissed Hermione's forehead before following the others downstairs. She was already dozing off.
When they reached the kitchen, his father was already holding his wand to the kettle to heat it. "What's happened?" he said.
"You won't believe what that girl did," Molly said.
"What?" Arthur asked.
"She shared," Molly said, her voice dripping with disapproval.
Arthur's eyebrows shot up. "No, she didn't."
"Seriously?" Ginny said. "Why is that a big deal?"
"Yeah," Harry said. "And why didn't someone do it sooner? Ron has his magic back."
Molly shook her head. "That won't last. Hermione would have to share her magic with him every day for a week or more for it to be permanent. Obviously, given the state she's in, that can't happen. The fire berries are slower, but they'll work."
"Why can't one of us share with him?" Harry asked. "And why has no one mentioned this before?"
Molly and Arthur glanced at each other. "Well," Arthur said. "It requires a great deal of power and—"
"Hello," Harry said. "I'm the Chosen One. I'm no slouch in the power department."
"Of course," Molly said, her cheeks going pink. "But—"
Ron sighed. "It's shared through sex."
"Oh," Harry said.
"It's very old magic," Arthur said. "It's never done anymore except in emergencies. It's too exhausting for the giver and rather intense for the receiver, and as your mother said, it has to be done several times for it to be a permanent fix. The fire berries are a much safer alternative."
Molly poured them all a cup of tea.
"I feel better than I've felt in months," Ron said. "How long will it last?"
"I'm not sure," his mother said. "But I wouldn't think more than a day or so. Be sure to take your fire berry in the morning. That might make it last a bit longer."
Arthur put his hand on Ron's shoulder. "A few more months of fire berries, son, and you'll be right as rain. You just have to be patient."
"I have been," Ron said. "I didn't ask Hermione to do that. I didn't even know it was possible, and she didn't tell me beforehand."
Harry shook his head. "If she gets an idea in her head, there's no stopping her."
"She is rather irrepressible," Arthur said.
"Yes, but she's set her own recovery back weeks," Molly said.
Ron sighed.
"Well, I'm going back to bed," Harry said. "I'm knackered." He headed upstairs.
Ginny finished the last of her tea and stood. "Me too."
"Yeah," Ron said, standing. "I should too." He was partway up the stairs when he turned to go back to the kitchen for a glass of water in case Hermione woke up thirsty. He heard his mother say in a low tone, "I don't know how she stood it. It must have been excruciating."
"One thing's for sure," his father said. "She certainly loves him."
xXx
Ron blinked and thought about his father's words. Hermione did love him. He knew she did. He knew he'd bollocksed things up between them, but surely that love was still there. He knew he still loved her. He thought again of the photo of her in the bikini in Paris. He took his wand from the night stand, got out of bed, and opened the door. All the lights were off in the house, so he quietly said, "Accio Witch Weekly." The magazine soared upstairs. He caught it and opened it to the Eyewitness pages. He locked his bedroom door, settled back in bed, and examined the photo closely. The scar on her chest, which had faded to white when they were still together, was a dark purple, and the scar on her side, which wasn't completely covered by her hand pressed against it, was an angry red. He knew now that they weren't hidden because she'd done side-along Apparition from southern France to Paris. Even Hermione couldn't maintain a glamour charm under those conditions. She was breathing hard in the picture, causing her breasts to rise and fall enticingly. It was refreshing to see her photographed without Viktor and the fact that she was half naked made it all the better. He slipped his hand inside his pants. He knew he shouldn't, but there she was and he was all alone. A wank she didn't know about would hardly hurt her. He thought again about the intensity of her sharing her magic with him, and that was all he needed.
xXx
Meanwhile further south, lying next to Viktor, who was sound asleep, Hermione woke. She was fully aroused and magic was pulsing through her as though she were casting a complex spell. She felt Ron's presence so strongly he could have been standing in the room. She frowned, went into the bathroom, calling her wand as she went. She had a standard good memory that she thought of to create her Patronus and sent it off into the night. As her Patronus disappeared she slipped her hand inside her knickers hoping to ease the pressure. "Damn you, Ron," she muttered.
xXx
Ron, let the magazine drop to the floor as he felt himself relax completely. That was almost as intense as the real thing had been. He was startled alert a moment later when a silver otter came bounding through the wall. If it was possible for an otter to have a look of disapproval, this one did. It sat up on its hind legs and spoke with Hermione's voice. "Whatever you're doing, stop it!" The otter dissipated and Ron was left with an overwhelming sense of shame.
That night, Ron dreamed about Hermione. Mostly he dreamed about the time they'd gone to see her parents before they'd started the hunt for the Horcruxes, when their love was new and the worst of the horrors they would eventually face were still ahead of them. He woke the next morning with a heavy heart and a question for his dad.
His parents were at the kitchen table eating breakfast when Ron came downstairs. "Dad," Ron said, sitting across from them and filling a plate with eggs and bacon. "Do you have a tellyvisic?"
"A television?" his father said.
"Yeah, do you have one of those?"
His father scratched at the stubble on his cheek. "I think I have two out in the shed."
"Could I have one?"
"You can have them both, if you like," his father said. "I haven't messed about with them in years. Why?"
"Just curious," Ron said.
