Voices No One Else Can Hear:

"Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world."

(Ron to Harry, in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets,Chapter 9, 'The Writing on the Wall'.)

DISCLAIMER: I did not invent any of the characters or the setting, they belong to JK Rowling. Nor did I invent the idea of the Potions Accident Fic. I'm grateful to whoever did.

WARNING: Contains crude innuendo, filth, depravity and nob gags but no actual smut.

CHAPTER TWO: The Great Hall

Ron felt sick - deeply, stomach-pit nauseated. He was also exhausted and confused. He rocketed through the hallways, up stairs, down corridors, trying to get Snape's words out of his head. Whether it was the mystery potion he'd been made to drink, or the images bouncing round his brain, or some actual illness, he didn't know. But he did know that something was making him feel distinctly unwell. Ron finally summoned enough self-control to give his feet a direction.

Madame Pomfrey ran every known diagnostic test on him and found nothing. Ron had explained what had happened in the Potions lesson and how he had felt afterwards. He had missed out the bit about Snape wanting to lick his cock until he came, because that was just too embarrassing.

"I think that perhaps it's psychosomatic," Pomfrey eventually said with an exasperated sigh.

"Is that bad?" Ron asked. "Is there a cure?"

"It means it's all in your head. These symptoms - dizziness, churning stomach, shaking, are all down to nerves. You're just scared that you may have ingested something which could harm you. If you could just calm down and accept that the liquid was harmless, then I'm sure you'll be fine."

Ron decided that it was time to own up. Very quietly he told her, "I've had hallucinations."

"That'll be the agitation, too," the witch dismissed. "Now, whatever lesson it was you were hoping to avoid has just finished. I suggest you get down to the Great Hall, get some food inside you and forget about it all."

Ron started to protest, but she cut him off with, "There's nothing wrong with you! Go away!"

He was one of the first students to arrive for lunch and when he sat down he realised that he was quite hungry. Most of the rest of his class had been in Divination and by the time they had made it all the way down from Trelawney's tower, he was eating his fourth chicken leg with his second baked potato and feeling a lot better.

"Where did you get to?" Harry asked, plopping down next to him.

Ron was concentrating on spearing a cherry tomato as he answered, "Hospital Wing. Thought I'd better get checked out." But then he made the mistake of looking at Harry's face as he added, "Don't know what was in that stuff Snape made me drink."

Harry was looking at the pumpkin juice and he was probably listening to Ron, but what he wasn't doing was talking because his mouth was definitely closed. Despite this, as he was finishing his explanation, Ron distinctly heard Harry's voice asking, "I wonder what you'd look like naked?"

Ron gawped. This was too mad. Harry? No. He couldn't be hearing Harry's thoughts because Harry didn't think about him like that. Did he?

That nausea was starting to rise again, but Ron found himself having another physical reaction as well, one which he was quite sure he didn't want to be having. Not caused by Harry.

Harry was silently selecting salad, but his voice was still going: "Lying on my bed, covered in oil."

Ron felt someone sit down on his other side. He turned gratefully to Hermione, who was saying, "If you'd bothered to pay attention during the lesson then you would know what you'd drunk." Well, that's what her mouth was saying, in its usual prim, nagging way, but somehow at the same time her voice also managed to be saying, "Is your pubic hair red, too?"

He focussed on his potato and the sound stopped. He had lost his appetite, though. He felt dizzy. This was all too horrible. The blood rushing to his cock wasn't helping either. Snape and Harry and Hermione? This wasn't right, this wasn't happening.

"Ron are you quite well?" Hermione asked.

He nodded without looking at her. Then he shook his head.

"Is it because of what Snape made you drink?" Neville asked, from the other side of the table.

Instinctively, Ron looked over to him. Immediately he wished he hadn't.

"Baby oil, I could rub it in. Wait, no, something edible would be better. Then I could lick it off again. Lick chocolate sauce off your …"

Ron put his hands over his eyes and Neville's voice stopped. He took a deep breath. If he could just calm down, then maybe this would end. That's what Pomfrey had said. Something strange had just happened. Something that was not more strange than hearing obscenities no one else could hear, but something that was a different sort of strange.

Oil. Neville had been talking about oil. Harry had been talking about covering Ron's naked body in oil. Neville had continued Harry's thought. In fact, maybe Hermione had been continuing the same thought. He ran it all together in his mind: 'I wonder what you'd look like naked, lying on my bed, covered in oil? Is your pubic hair red, too? Baby oil, I could rub it in. Wait, no, something edible would be better. Then I could lick it off again.' That worked. It didn't work on making him feel any less disorientated, or any less turned on, but it worked together, it could have been a single person's train of thought.

He took a deep breath and steeled himself. He was going to have to test this. He took his hands down from his face to find his friends all watching him with concern. Slowly and carefully he looked around, looking from one face to another.

"A massage might make you feel better, a naked …" Seamus said without moving his lips.

Then Dean added, in the same way, "… massage lying between my thighs. I'd be …"

"… naked, too. I would rub oil all down your back and into your buttocks. Oh, I bet …" Neville continued.

"… you've got a gorgeous bum, all tight …" Lavender moaned.

" … and firm and white. I could bite …" Pavarti's voice said.

"… hard and leave a mark. Then I'd turn you over and …" Harry panted.

Ron looked at the floor. He squirmed uncomfortably. Strangely, the boys' voices had had just as strong an effect on him as the girls' ones had. He thought about Aunt Muriel, he thought about flobberworms, he thought about Snape. He worked on getting his erection back down again.

A silver lining occurred to him. At least now he knew that this wasn't straightforward telepathy so Snape probably didn't want to give him a blow job. That was a relief.

Somebody did though. Probably. Maybe it wasn't even as straightforward as that.

"Ron! Ron!"

He realised that he had been ignoring Hermione.

Carefully avoiding looking at her, he answered, "Yes, Hermione?" He didn't sound calm.

"If something's wrong then you're going to have to tell us what it is or we won't be able to help you!" she snapped.

It sounded like the snapping she did when she was worried, rather than the kind where she was telling him off, but it was difficult to tell with Hermione.

He had to make a quick decision. He didn't really want to tell anybody anything, but - on the other hand - if there was anyone who could work out a solution, then it would be her. He wanted to tell Harry, too. Harry would laugh at him, but at least he'd probably then manage some sympathy, which was more than he could expect from Miss Bossy Knickers. Not knickers, don't think about knickers. Argh! Mustn't think about no knickers either.

He dug his fingernails into his eyebrows to try to distract himself and muttered, "Not here. Talk about it later."

He got up, moved away from the table, careful to avoid looking at anyone. It certainly helped when he didn't look at anybody. He tried to gather his thoughts. What would he be able to tell his friends about what was happening to him?

It had started when he had drunk that mis-mixed Tarnishing Potion. When he could see someone, he could hear their voice, but the thoughts appeared to be the thoughts of one person - one filthy-minded, apparently infatuated person. Was it even him they were infatuated with? He felt a burden start to lift. He wasn't attractive. Nobody could fancy him. These were probably just stray erotic thoughts which were floating around and he had happened to pick them up.

But no. Red hair, pale skin, liquid dripping down his chin, the way he'd swallowed --

He could hear someone following him out of the Hall. He hoped it was Harry and Hermione and that they would be able to find somewhere quiet to talk. He kept his eyes on the ground, watching his own footsteps. He looked up once to check where the door was.

" … cup your nuts and squeeze gently, then …" Dennis Creevey appeared to say before Ron managed to get his gaze beyond him.

He could hear footsteps running behind him. Then his name was called. No! He kept his head down, kept walking. He was grabbed by the elbow.

"What is the matter with you, Ron?"

"Nothing, Ginny."

"Then look at me."

"I'm fine."

"I don't believe you. I can tell when you're lying. Look me in the eye and tell me nothing's wrong. See you can't do it."

His baby sister was surprisingly strong and she had hold of him now, she was spinning him to face her. He was feeling distinctly queasy again.

Then in a tone that was too close to their mother's to be disobeyed she ordered, "Ronald Weasley, you look at me properly now!"