Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Hi everyone! I am officially done my university … or at least done by BA! This means I have lots of time for fun things, like writing fanfiction! Thank you for all your support of this story – I've fallen in love with Harry Potter once again (lucky me!) I hope you enjoy this chapter … I admit it's a bit of a filler but it has a lovely cliff hanger ending.
To complicate things, Hermione woke up to a blizzard the next morning. Never in her life had she seen this much snow and she shivered as she zipped the tent up tightly. No one would be doing watch today – partly because she didn't think anyone would be out in this weather, partly because no one could see in this weather, but mostly because she had two very sick friends to take care of.
Hermione, still wearing her pyjamas, went to Harry's bed and gingerly pressed her knuckles to his temple. His fever was about the same, she reckoned, but she was relieved that his breathing wasn't as ragged and he was sleeping quite peacefully. Ron, too, was quite still but when Hermione stood, she saw this to be a problem rather than a sign of recovery.
A quick touch to the forehead told Hermione that Ron was burning up. He was far too warm and she didn't need the thermometer to tell her that his fever was dangerously high. Immediately she went into the bathroom, returning with a cold washcloth which she haphazardly used to wipe Ron's face and chest before leaving it to sit on his forehead. She scurried back into the bathroom, stoppering the bathtub and filling it with cool water.
"Hermione?"
The girl was in the process of untangling Ron's blankets from his legs – standing on the chair to do so – when Harry spoke her name.
"Harry!" she exclaimed, jumping down so she could see him properly. "How do you feel?"
"A bit better," Harry said and Hermione noted he sounded better. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to get Ron into the bath," she said. "He's got a high temperature."
Harry frowned, throwing his own blankets back with ease and standing. One look at his friend and he saw Hermione was right.
"Were you going to wake him or use a hover charm?"
"Wake him, if I can. A hover charm might not work very well – he's awfully high up for me."
"Right." Harry said, turning to his friend. "Ron!"
Ron mumbled under his breath and his eyes fluttered but he didn't wake up.
"Ron!" Harry exclaimed again, gently tapping Ron's cheek. His head lazily rolled to the side and Harry glanced worriedly at Hermione.
"Can we both use a hover charm? Would it be stronger that way?" He remembered how he and all the Weasley men had raised the tent for Bill and Fleur's wedding … it would work the same way, wouldn't it?
"No, you're not well enough, Harry. You'll wear yourself out."
"I'll be fine." Harry said firmly. "Worry about me later, focus on Ron."
Hermione knew she wouldn't change Harry's mind and nodded.
"Fine, just let me finish pulling his blankets away."
With a few strong tugs, the blankets were free and Hermione tossed them onto the floor – they were cold and damp with sweat and needed a good washing.
"Alright," Hermione said, glancing at Harry. She saw him holding the blackthorn wand.
"Do you want to practice on something for a minute?"
Harry glanced at his wand. He had been so concerned about Ron that he'd forgotten this wasn't his holly and phoenix feather wand and he nodded. He pointed at the sheets on the ground.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
His mind flashed back to when Professor Flitwick had taught them this spell. Harry would have never guessed he'd be using it seven years later while hiding from Voldemort and collecting Horcruxes. The sheets on the ground rose slightly before crumpling back onto the floor and Harry gave a frustrated sigh.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
The sheets rose a bit higher this time and wavered in the air. Harry moved them across the tent and set them down before turning to Hermione.
"It's not the best but you can do a strong spell. He'll be fine."
Hermione was less than convinced of this but nodded.
"Alright," she said. "On three … one, two, three!"
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Both witch and wizard pointed their wands at Ron and he rose into the air. Together, they slowly walked him into the bathroom and gently lowered him into the tub, Hermione turning off the water once he was in.
"Well done," Harry said, feeling tired again. Ron, whose eyes had opened once he was submerged in water, coughed.
"Harry … Hermione …"
"We're here, Ron," Hermione said, finding another washcloth and sponging Ron's face. "It's alright."
"I'm all wet." He mumbled.
"Shh," Hermione soothed. "You're in the bathtub. I'm trying to get your fever down."
"But I'm wearing pyjamas."
Harry watched Hermione's cheeks turn red and he smiled discreetly. Even though he was feeling more tired by the minute and his head was aching, he offered to stay with Ron while Hermione took care of the sheets and his pyjamas in the kitchen. Hermione gratefully took him up on his offer and closed the curtains to the bathroom. Harry undressed Ron, brought Hermione the wet clothing, and went back in to sit with him. Hermione gathered the sheets and blankets and pyjamas and took them to the big kitchen sink, washing them.
"Harry?" Ron asked, his eyes still closed.
"Yes?"
"Is she still mad at me?"
Harry sighed.
"I don't think so … I don't really know. I haven't been awake."
"She's taking care of me, that's something, isn't it?"
"I suppose so." Harry agreed. "But you're really quite ill."
"So are you."
"Not as bad as you, I reckon."
"But she's not yelling at me."
"No." Harry suddenly remembered what he had heard Hermione say the night before. "Do you remember her talking to you last night?"
"I don't think so. Why?"
Harry sighed.
"I don't know if I was hallucinating or not," he admitted. "But I think Hermione may have talked to you while you were out of it … stuff about how much you mean to her and how worried she was when you were gone."
A faint smile appeared on Ron's lips but he didn't say anything and for a long time, there was silence. Harry had actually started dozing – he was leaning against the bathtub – when Ron groaned.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked, making an effort to open his eyes.
"I think I'm going to be sick."
"What?"
"I'm going to be sick." There was urgency in Ron's voice and Harry scrambled to find a bin, though he found the bathroom lacking one. He jumped up as fast as he could (which was slow for a seeker but he blamed the illness) and found one on the table in the sitting area.
"What's wrong?" Hermione asked as Harry dashed back to the bathroom. She followed him, stopping just outside the doorway and turning her back as an added precaution.
"Harry? Ron?"
In response, she heard Ron vomit and she winced.
"Are you okay?" she called again, not sure if she was addressing Ron or Harry.
"It's fine," Harry called back, pleased that his stomach hadn't so much as twitched in response to the vomit. He glanced at Ron, whose face was contorted with pain.
"What is it?" he asked but Ron shook his head.
"It's fine, it's just sore."
Harry frowned.
"It's not fine," he answered quietly. "And you're lucky Hermione can't see you right now."
"Why?"
"Because you'd worry her! You're already worrying me."
Hermione could hear that the boys were whispering but she couldn't hear what they were saying.
"Harry? Is everything okay?"
"Yes!" Harry lied before glancing back at Ron. "Are you reading to get out?"
Ron nodded.
"Hermione? Can you find Ron some clean clothes?" Harry asked, searching out a towel. Hermione's hand appeared through the curtain a moment later with fresh pyjamas for Ron.
"Thanks." Harry said, taking them. While he helped Ron, Hermione made up her bed with the fresh sheets and turned the covers down so Ron could get in easily.
"Over here," she said to Harry, who was helping Ron down the steps.
"Why am I moving to your bed?" Ron asked, looking confused.
"Because it's too hard to treat you when I'm always standing on a chair," Hermione said, rushing over to take Ron's other side and support him.
"Where are you going to sleep?"
"Your bed, of course. I've cleaned the mattress with a spell."
"But Harry's there … won't you get sick?"
"I've been living in the same tent with you since you got sick in the first place," Hermione said. "I don't think sleeping in the bed above Harry's is going to make much of a difference at this point."
She and Harry eased Ron onto the bed and Hermione pulled the blanket up before laying her head on Ron's forehead.
"That seemed to help a little," she said. "But you're still far too warm. Here."
She went to the table and returned with a glass of water.
"I mixed up some more medicine for you."
"Thanks." Ron murmured, sipping the cloudy liquid. Hermione glanced at Harry.
"You should be in bed."
Harry didn't argue and fell back into his bed, exhausted. Hermione found him some paracetamol and a glass of water, handing them to him.
"Thanks," Harry said gratefully. Hermione smiled.
"No problem. Thank you for helping me with Ron."
Harry put the glass down and sighed deeply, closing his eyes.
"Anytime."
It didn't take long for both Harry and Ron to be asleep again and Hermione glanced outside. The storm was growing worse – or at least it looked that way – and she sighed. She didn't have much to do and doing nothing meant she worried. So even though his fever was slightly better, Hermione settled herself next to Ron and bathed his forehead. The action was soothing for her and any little bit helped, she figured … or, rather, it couldn't hurt.
With the wind whistling outside and snow was gathering in impressive drifts around the tent. The temperature inside dropped and Hermione found herself shivering. The same was not true for Ron, however, and by mid-afternoon, his fever was as high as it had been that morning.
By evening, Hermione had moved past concern and was onto serious worry. She had just cleaned up Ron after he'd been sick and went to Harry's bunk.
"Harry," she said quietly, shaking his shoulder. She felt awful for waking him but she needed to talk with him.
"Harry?"
Harry's eyes opened slowly.
"What? Is everything alright? Is Ron okay?"
Hermione sighed.
"He's not doing well," she said. "His fever is back up."
"Do you want to move him to the bath again?"
Hermione didn't commit an answer but plunged ahead with her prepared statement.
"I want to sneak into St. Mungo's."
Like I said … cliffie! Review please?