Reparo
Ron was curled up into a ball, leaning against the bedroom door to keep anyone from trying to get in, and dwelling on what a loony he must have appeared to the others.
Hermione would never want to spend the night with him again. He'd just chased Lee out as if he was nobody to him, as if he was yet another outsider who couldn't understand. He was putting a growing chasm between himself and Harry and while he hated the idea of being stuck inside his room, he couldn't face opening the door.
He traced a crack in the wooden panelling with his fingertip and thought about how he used to pass the time in his cell when it was quiet. It was amazing really-- he could block out the smell of stale urine and vomit, sweat and blood, snoring and crying, and more than anything else he could block out what he'd suffered that day and the fear of what was to come tomorrow. At that moment he was safe, he wouldn't be tortured tomorrow, and he wouldn't have to make an agonising decision in order to get food and drink.
'Firebrand'
Ron flinched and his whole body tensed. He was panting and sweating and his eyes frantically searched the empty room for signs of the Puppet Master.
"Ron, it's me." Charlie whispered from the other side of the door. "Are you asleep?"
"G-Go 'way!" Ron said, shaking all over as if he was freezing while burning on the inside as if he was being burned alive.
"Okay, I'll tell 'em not to knock and just wait 'till you come down, okay?"
"Tell 'em to le-le-lea'me alone."
"I will, and they will, I promise." Charlie said calmly.
Ron was still leaning heavily against the door as if expecting his wishes to be ignored and everybody to come piling in, smothering him with concern.
"Please just g-go away!" Ron whimpered into the door.
"Okay, I'm going," Charlie said, as if backing away from a wounded animal he didn't want to frighten away. "I'm going. I l..." Charlie paused for few seconds before speaking again. "I'm going."
Ron rubbed his face roughly and rested his head against the door, closing his eyes.
"Je bent dood, klootzak." Ron muttered to himself through gritted teeth, banging his head against the door, "Jij kan mij niets maken."
Ron drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs tightly.
"I'm not your bloody F-F-F...Firebrand!"
He could feel that same feeling he had in the cells when he knew the Puppet Master was looking at him. He would hear the footsteps echoing off the walls and he knew it was him before he saw him, before he spoke. He could feel his hands dragging down his back. The air around him smelled of that vile breath. It was wet and hot against the side of his face and suddenly he could taste fingers in his mouth, pushing warm juicy cooked meat between his lips. Ron grimaced and turned his face right into the door.
"Laat me alleen!"
'Oh but Firebrand...I will never leave you.'
"You're dead. You're dead; Ch-Ch-Charlie said you were."
'Charlie would say anything to make you sleep better, would he not?"
"Je bent dood!" Ron growled.
'He lied to you, Firebrand.'
"He woul-wouldn't," Ron stammered breathlessly. "He didn't."
'How do you know? You saw no body. Moody says he burnt me to ashes...yet he did not do this to the others in the brotherhood. He lied!'
"Get out of my head!" Ron yelled at the empty room.
He was breathing heavily and shocked to see the sunlight pouring in through the window. He must have fallen asleep. He ran a shaking hand through his hair and slumped back against the wall beside the door. There were two loud cracks in the centre of the room and Ron yelled out in shock and raised his arms before him like a shield.
"It's okay, Ron, it's us!" Fred said anxiously as he squatted down and ducked his head to catch Ron's eye.
"You ba-ba-ba," Ron stammered. "You've no right to d-do that!"
"You were screaming, Ron," George said as he got down on his knees behind Fred and tried to smile. "We weren't going to ignore that."
"W-Well I'm fi-fine, so gerout!" Ron ordered tremulously.
"Wanna Cheering Charm?" Fred offered as he fumbled inside his robe.
"Why won't you ju-just fuck off?" Ron pleaded with them. "Wha-Whatcha doin' here anywa-way?"
"We came to calm Lee down and take him home," George explained.
"But he wouldn't leave," Fred added.
"So we didn't leave," George finished with a shrug.
"Y-You st...Y'still had no business coming in here like th-that!" Ron scowled.
"We didn't," Fred agreed, "but you scared us so we Apparated up here and we're sorry we freaked you out. We'll go now that we know you're okay."
"And here," George plunged his hand inside his robes and pulled out a massive slab of Honeyduke's chocolate, "peace offering to make you feel better."
Ron narrowed his eyes at the chocolate bar suspiciously.
"Whaddaya lace it with?"
The twins looked at each other and smiled before George set the chocolate bar down on the floor before Ron.
"It's just chocolate, Ronniekins. That's enough to make you feel better on its own."
Ron didn't say anything to them; he simply watched as they stood, stepped back and Disapparated out of the room.
Hermione sat in the library and spread out every book she had managed to carry to the table with her. She reached for the quill she had put behind her ear and frowned as she found it had gone. She spun around on the spot and looked at the floor to see where it had fallen but it was nowhere to be seen.
She blinked and ran her hand over her bushy hair with a 'hmph' and felt the quill sticking out of her mass of brown hair like a dart. Rolling her eyes, Hermione slipped the quill from her hair and set it down on the table. She pulled out a chair and sat down with a bracing huff.
There had to be some kind of Wizarding therapy for trauma like Ron's. Surely, the Wizarding world didn't just throw potions at the problem like Muggles did pills in her world. Her mother's words had sunk in deeply and after she came home and burst into tears about how upset Ron had been during her overnight stay. She decided to try and find some evidence of therapy being used by magical folk.
Surely, they must have it...surely.
She scanned the contents page of It's Not Cowardice–-It's Terror by Robert Levin and tried to find a chapter heading that didn't make her want to scream about out-dated terms. There was a frightening foreword detailing the years the author spent as head Healer of a magical asylum. There was some mention of hypnosis having helped patients suffering from night terrors that even dreamless sleep draught couldn't suppress. Hermione fanned through the pages, just catching a blur that was an engraving of the Cruciatus curse being used on a patient's chakras in order to drive out his 'madness', and soon found the passage she was looking for.
She picked up her quill and began scratching notes on a roll of parchment while somebody cleared their throat noisily and another person nearby began whispering to somebody on the other side of the index cards. Hermione was used to people not respecting the sanctity of the library and read on. Biting her lip as she re-read a few lines about using hypnosis to relax the patient into a state of sleep for the night Hermione didn't take much notice of the person taking a seat opposite her.
"Excuse me," a prim male voice said in a low tone.
Hermione kept on reading and reached over with her quill still in her hand and pulled the pile of books towards her to clear some space for the man to use.
"Sorry," Hermione mumbled distractedly.
"No, I mean, excuse me for interrupting your research, Hermione, but I really think I have what you're looking for."
Hermione looked over the top of her book and gave a start on seeing Percy Weasley looking back at her through his distinctive glasses.
"Percy! I haven't seen you for...since...well, the trial."
"I know," Percy nodded. "I've been occupied with trying to block those letters to Ron from Azkaban. Apparently, we haven't got a leg to stand on to prevent the vile man sending them, but we can turn a blind eye to the family intercepting them before they get to Ronald. Technically, that's a crime."
"So keeping a victim of abuse from receiving letters from one of his abusers is a crime but the abuser sending them in the first place isn't?" Hermione said as she slammed the book down heavily.
"As I said Hermione, I've been trying to stop it, pass a law or change the existing one but...because of the mess I made of things with Mr Crouch and then Dolores Umbridge, I'm afraid my recommendation counts for very little in the Ministry." Percy said with a despondent sigh.
"Does the name Weasley get you nowhere, Percy?" Hermione hissed across the table at him.
"The name Weasley makes me a hysterical relative and even less able to get anything done," Percy said bitterly.
Hermione sat back and exhaled her disappointment at this news on top of everything else.
"Well, I have to find something to give him some relief without hooking him on potions so unless you came to share your depression then..."
Percy slipped a small business card between the open pages of the book she was reading and got up from his seat.
"I recommended her to the Prangs and they said she really helped. I spoke to her about seeing Ron. I'll pay for it...well, the Ministry will cover it as a family dependant of a key employee, and anytime he wants to make an appointment, she'll fit him in."
"Who is she? A Healer? An apothecary?" Hermione blinked as she took the card between thumb and forefinger and read the slightly raised print, shimmering and moving under the light like an oil slick on the road.
"She's a very rare kind of Healer. She's managed to help people recover from the onset of madness caused by the Cruciatus curse and various other unpleasant things potions and spells can do nothing to ease."
"She's a magical therapist?" Hermione's eyes widened as she looked closely at the card with hope swelling in her heart.
"She's a Healer...but not in the physical sense," Percy frowned as he struggled to explain himself.
"We have something similar, Muggles, I mean. We have people who heal...bad thoughts and feelings, and they're called therapists."
"Oh, well then, I suppose she is." Percy blinked and sat back in his chair at the news the Muggles were more advanced than the Wizarding world in something.
"And you say she helped the Prangs?" Hermione asked before biting her bottom lip anxiously.
"Yes, well as much as you can ease the pain of a family who had their only son eaten."
Hermione paled and Percy shifted in his seat at having been quite as blunt as he had.
"Anyway," Percy shook his head, and that thought, away to continue. "I spoke to her about Ronald's speech impediment and she said that it was very common amongst veterans of prolonged wars. She said she could clear up what his speech therapy didn't."
Hermione smiled very slightly. Ron's stutter frustrated him so much. In a way, she found it endearing, but in another, she hated how much worse it would get when he was upset about something. It had been her worst temptation, the need to finish his sentences for him, but she held her tongue and let him soldier on. She knew what it meant to be allowed to finish what he wanted to say.
"He..." Hermione began and then paused before sighing and slumping over the desk to whisper to Percy over the books. "He had a bad night last night. He won't leave his room. We all dealt with it so badly, even Lee."
Percy paled and nodded to the card in her hand.
"Please get him to go and see her. I hate hearing stories like that."
"Why don't you come to the house and suggest it yourself?" Hermione asked, not holding out any hope for an answer in the affirmative.
Percy looked down as he rose from his seat and straightened his robes.
"They're all going through enough without me pushing reconciliation on them."
"You're already reconciled, Percy, don't be silly."
"Waiting with them at a foreign embassy for news on my kidnapped brother isn't reconciliation, Hermione. Let's not solve my problems before we've addressed Ron's, eh?" Percy winced as he spoke.
Hermione had to admit he was right. Percy nodded a silent goodbye and disappeared back into the maze of book cases with a heavy sigh. Hermione looked back down at the card.
Madam Boo
Healer of trauma-related misery
Approved by St Mungo's
Descended from St Jude
No cause lost enough
Lee didn't show up that afternoon and Harry tried not to seem too relieved about it. He liked Lee--yes, he was jealous of how close Ron had become with him at the expense of their friendship but he had nothing but gratitude towards him for being so loyal and protective of Ron during his time as the Puppet Master's plaything.
Lee's absence meant Ron needed another person to help him with his speech therapy that afternoon and Harry had stepped up before anybody else could even draw a breath. Speech therapy had been the only thing to draw Ron out of his room all day and he'd done it without coaxing so nobody mentioned the night's events or his self-induced exile throughout the day. Ron had simply come down the stairs, flash cards in hand, and glanced into the kitchen before stepping into the living room. Harry closed the door behind him and sat down on the coffee table opposite Ron on the sofa.
Harry took a deep breath in and out before reaching forward and taking the flash cards from Ron and shuffling them between his hands.
"So, are you ready?" Harry said, avoiding direct eye contact with Ron and holding up a card in front of him.
Ron nodded and puffed out his cheeks before sitting up and clearing his throat.
"Peter's put a pristine pair of p-p...of p-" Ron gritted his teeth and huffed through his nose.
"From the beginning," Harry said, reading the advice on the back of the card, "only do it faster, don't think about it."
"Peter's put a pristine pair of purple paisley patterned p-pa-PANTS on!" Ron raised his voice in annoyance at having stalled towards the end but Harry smiled at him and put the card at the back of the pack.
"Okay," he said calmly as he read the back of the card while Ron swallowed and read the front, "read me the third word."
"Barnabus." Ron said with a nod of reassurance to himself.
"What's the other name in the sentence?"
"Bobby," Ron said with determination.
"Say 'em both back to back," Harry said gripping the card as he watched Ron draw in a deep breath and begin.
"Bobby, Barnabus, Bobby, Barnabus, Bobby, Barnabus..."
"What's your oldest brother's name?" Harry threw in quickly.
"Bill!" Ron responded as if he'd been given a shock.
"Add him to the list!" Harry said, getting quite caught up in the excitement himself.
"Bobby, Barnab-Barnab-bus, Bill, FUCK!" Ron huffed angrily.
"Ignore it, keep going," Harry said encouragingly.
"Bobby, Barnabus, Bill, Bobby, Barnabus, Bill, Bobby, Barna-"
"Add your middle name," Harry said with a cocky grin.
"Oh, you fucker!" Ron smiled ruefully before closing his eyes and going for it. "Barnabus, Bill, Bilius, Bobby, Barnabus, Bill, Bilius, Blobby, Blarnablus, oh cock it up a drainpipe!" Ron huffed before bursting into giggles.
Harry laughed along with him and held the card directly in front of Ron's face.
"Read the card and add your own last word."
"Bobby bought Barnabus a big blue book about buggery!" Ron sniggered.
Harry moved the card to the back of the pack and grinned at Ron who smiled back at him and rolled his eyes at having such a bizarre daily routine. Harry's smile faded gradually and set down the stack of cards onto his lap.
"Ron..."
"Harry hasn't had his...happy..." Ron was struggling for more words that began with 'h' before he leaned forward on his knees and ducked his head to look up into Harry's green eyes. "You're still my best mate, yeah?"
Harry lifted his hand and gripped Ron's shoulder without thinking about it and, though Ron physically tensed beneath his touch, his eyes didn't even flicker.
"You never have to ask me that. You are always, always, going to be my best friend."
"I'm worried tha--" Ron stopped speaking mid-word by choice that time, biting his lip and shaking his head as if cancelling out the sentence he had begun to say.
"Tell me," Harry said with a softly delivered tone determination.
"I'm worried that the things you liked about me...I've lost."
Harry gave Ron's shoulder a slight shake and focused in on the shifting blue eyes, jaw lifting defiantly and confidence almost radiating out of him.
"Tell me what it is I liked about you."
Ron swallowed and looked off to one side before starting his list.
"I used to cheer you up," he said, quietly. "You used to come to me when you felt bad and...come to me to lighten the load and now I just stack all my problems on you."
"Go on." Harry nodded, eyes burning yet refusing to blink.
"I know you think the reason they...he...the reason it was me was because of you and..."
"Tell me what I liked about you before this happened, Ron," Harry said fiercely.
Ron sat up and stared Harry in the eye.
"I'm funny and I gave you a family and a place to call home and I never let you go it alone...well, not by choice!"
Harry snorted at that and Ron almost smiled before regaining his resolve and continuing.
"I back you up and I give you everything, even though I haven't got anything worth giving." Ron's eyes shone and Harry eased his grip on his shoulder to rub back and forth ever so slightly. "I hate the same people you do and I...wish you had a better life, Harry, I really do."
"What I liked about you, Ron!" Harry reminded him sternly.
"Oh Merlin knows!" Ron snapped. "You tell me? What the hell do I do for you, Harry? What good am I to you? What good was I then and what bloody good am I now?"
"I feel like shit and I really need a cuddle right this minute, Ron," Harry said in barely a whisper.
Ron gulped and paled all in one. He squirmed in his seat and leaned into Harry's extended arm, breath shortening and muscles tensing. His hand lifted to reach for Harry as he drew closer and Harry gripped his friend's shoulder once again and pushed him back with a proud smile.
"That's what you do for me, Ron," Harry said, almost choking with emotion. "You tear yourself in two to give me what I need the second I need it, no matter how much it might harm you in the process. You were gonna fucking hug me. You do realise what you were going to make yourself do just then right?"
Ron's mouth gaped like a goldfish for a moment before his head dropped and his he let out a tremulous breath. There was a knock on the door and Ron flinched.
"Boys? Would you like some tea in there?" Mrs Weasley called through the old wooden door.
Ron turned his head from the door back to Harry and shook it in a panic.
"No, thank you, Mrs Weasley," Harry called back in a chirpy tone. "We're both fine."
They heard her shuffle away without another word and Harry lifted the next card up again. Ron didn't look at it; he was looking at Harry over the top and nudging him with his knee.
"You sl-sleeping in our room again tonight, or would you rather not after...?" Ron shrugged self consciously.
"I'm having my bed back, yes," Harry said before holding the flash card closer to Ron. "Need to borrow my glasses or can you see it okay?"
Ron smiled and kicked Harry in the shin gently.
"Never knowingly neglect Nora Neagle's Knockers on Nickanan Night."
They both smirked and Harry moved onto the next card without a word.