A/N: Thank you as always for being lovely. :)
Bit of shameless self-promotion: I wrote a one-shot for Ron's birthday. It's called "The Good Life" and it can be found on my profile if you're interested. It will rock you like a flufficane.
Also, go read "The Black Library" by Rokesmith. It's very good, and it's just been completed so you won't have to wait for updates. It's got a gripping plot and some lovely R/Hr and trio moments.
Disclaimer: If I ever claimed to own Harry Potter, I'd get booed off the stage before JKR ever had a chance to get to me. "She doesn't even go here!"
"The First Hospital Stay"
10 March 2001
Hermione rushed through the halls of St. Mungo's faster than she had moved in ages. Harry's Patronus had been vague. He should have known better; Hermione was sure that over the years he must have picked up on the fact that she liked to know all there was to know. Not knowing things made her anxious. Not knowing things made her lose her cool. In fact, her mind was so far out of her head that when she rounded a corner, she ran directly into Harry.
"Harry!" she screeched immediately, unable to keep the panic out of her voice. "What's happened? Where's Ron? Is he okay? Of course he's not, you wouldn't have called me otherwise! Oh Harry, please! Tell me!"
Rather than speaking right away, Harry pulled her into a tight hug. "He's going to be fine," he said softly in her ear. "They don't know much right now, but he's not in any grave danger as far as we know."
"As far as you know?" Hermione whispered, her voice breaking on the last word. She could feel tears leaking out of her eyes and onto Harry's shoulder.
"He will be fine," Harry said more firmly, patting her on the back in a somewhat comforting way.
A few minutes and several shaky breaths later, Hermione sighed deeply and stepped backward. Harry gave her a half-hearted smile and began to lead her down the hallway.
"So what happened?" she pressed again, a little calmer this time.
"We were out on a call. It was…it wasn't an easy case. Ron got distracted and the suspect cast a curse in his direction. I threw up a shield that got the brunt of it, but it still knocked him out. I don't know what kind of curse it was, but I know that he's alive and the healers say the chance of that changing is minimal. We'll know more soon," Harry explained mechanically as they turned another corner.
Hermione nodded briskly. Harry's clinical tone was strangely more comforting than anything else. Hearing the facts laid out for her helped her to see the situation rationally. Ron had been hurt, but he was alive. She was still worried, but they would know more soon. But one thing was still bothering her…
"Harry,'' she said sincerely, placing a hand on his arm to stop him before they reached the small group of Weasleys at the end of the hallway, "I realize you probably haven't filed the paperwork yet, but please, why was he so distracted?"
Harry gulped audibly. "It wasn't an easy case," he repeated slowly. "I can't blame him in the least."
"Can you tell me anything?" Hermione pleaded, desperate to know at least the basic facts.
"It was a domestic disturbance call," Harry said, sighing deeply. "I—there are signs…"
"An abuse case?" Hermione guessed quickly.
Harry nodded once. "I can't say much more yet."
"You don't have to," Hermione said grimly, nodding understandingly before turning to walk the rest of the way to meet Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, George, and Ginny. She was greeted immediately with a tight hug from the Weasley matriarch.
"Oh, Hermione dear! Thank goodness you're finally here; the healers should be out soon. It sounds like he'll be alright, but of course I'll feel better when I hear as much verbatim from a healer's mouth!" Mrs. Weasley said, releasing Hermione with a pat on her cheek before pacing anxiously, as was her custom in these sorts of situations.
"He'll be back at it before we know it, Mum," George said comfortingly. "Bloke's dealt with sharks and Death Eaters, it won't be one measly curse that gets him. And that's not to mention his right scary girlfriend," he added as an afterthought with a nod toward Hermione.
"You're not helpful, George," Ginny scolded as she gestured toward the seat next to her, which Hermione took. Ginny immediately wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Are you alright, Hermione?"
"I don't know," Hermione said honestly. "I've barely got a grasp on what's happening. I'll feel better once we know more."
"You're in luck, then," Mr. Weasley said calmly, pointing toward the small group of healers that was exiting the room Hermione guessed was Ron's. One of them, a tall man with graying hair, approached the group wearing a serious expression.
"Auror Weasley is in stable condition," the healer said without preamble. "We aren't entirely sure which curse hit him, but after a thorough examination, his injuries appear to be relatively minimal. He sustained some fractures in his ribs and a very minor concussion from his fall. We've administered the proper potions and given him a sleeping draught, which will keep him sedated for at least four hours. We'll reevaluate his condition when he wakes, but we are fairly confident that we will be able to release him by noon tomorrow."
The group gathered breathed a collective sigh of relief. "May we go in to see him?" Mrs. Weasley asked eagerly.
"If you wish," the healer said simply. "An assistant will be checking in on him regularly and throughout the night." The healer nodded to the family, who thanked him as they rose from their seats.
Ron was occupying one of the private rooms that were set aside for Aurors and other high-profile ministry employees. It was not spacious; there was only one small, uncomfortable-looking armchair, which Harry immediately guided Hermione into. He sat on the chair's arm, and the rest of the family stood around Ron's bed. Ron looked peaceful, which calmed Hermione immensely—he was a bit paler than usual, and he had some bruises on his face, but all in all he looked as he normally did when he slept.
As Mrs. Weasley began to fuss over Ron, Hermione sighed deeply and covered her face with her hands. Only now that she saw he was alright were the intense emotions she'd experienced in the last half hour coming to the surface. It was a strange mix of worry and relief, and it was incredibly overwhelming. She willed herself not to cry—he was okay, she repeated to herself. It was only when she felt Harry's hand grip her shoulder briefly that she looked up to give him an unconvincing smile. He looked skeptical, but didn't say anything.
"Thank goodness you were there, Harry," Ginny said conversationally as she sat down gingerly on the end of Ron's bed. "What kind of curse do you reckon it was?"
"Dunno," Harry said. "Suspect said an incantation, but I didn't catch it."
"I imagine it may have been meant to break his bones," Hermione said quietly. "He hit his head on the ground when he fell, but I can't imagine he fractured his ribs in the process. Was it a blue light, Harry?"
"Oh yeah," Harry said, clearly connecting the dots as Hermione had a moment ago. "I think I know the curse you're thinking of. You're probably right, of course. I think the fact that the bloke casting it probably had no idea what he was doing did more to help Ron than my shield charm could have, in that case."
"So he didn't do what he meant to, then?" Ginny asked.
"The curse breaks every bone in your opponent's body if you cast it right," Harry said quietly. "Course, it's bloody difficult. I don't know that it's ever been cast properly. Normally it's confined to the area the spell hits, thankfully. His ribs might've been broken if I hadn't got the shield up in time, but I can't imagine it'd have done much more damage."
Mrs. Weasley turned white as a sheet upon hearing this news. Mr. Weasley visibly tightened his grip on her waist, possibly to help hold her up. "Oh dear," she said quietly. Even George was without a clever retort.
Ginny exchanged a meaningful look with Harry before clearing her throat and announcing, "Why don't we all head back to the Burrow for now? He's going to spend the rest of the night asleep, I imagine. We'll come back first thing in the morning."
The rest of the Weasleys nodded their heads and began to get ready to leave. Ginny hopped off Ron's bed and approached the chair Harry and Hermione were occupying. "You two are staying, of course," she said matter-of-factly.
"Got to," Harry said quietly, taking one of Ginny's hands and squeezing it lightly. Hermione offered only a half-hearted smile.
"Of course you do," Ginny said understandingly. "I'm hardly going to be the one to try to keep the three of you apart at a time like this. Just send a Patronus if anything changes, won't you?"
Harry nodded and pulled Ginny closer to kiss her quickly. Hermione smiled gently at the sight of them. "I love you both." Ginny said sincerely after she pulled away from Harry. She squeezed Hermione's shoulder once before ushering her parents and George out of the room.
"Stand up," Hermione told Harry softly as the others left the room. He obliged, and she took out her wand. She frowned for a moment, trying to remember the exact wrist movement, before reciting an incantation and producing a second chair identical to the first. "Chair arms are not comfortable," she said firmly as Harry took a seat.
"Thank you," he said simply. "Been awhile since we've had this happen."
"I'd almost forgotten how horrible it is," Hermione said, sighing as she rested her eyes on Ron's pale, sleeping face. "It's probably worse now that it's been so long. It was such a regular thing when we were in school."
Harry chuckled humorlessly. "It was normally me back in school. The two of you were in there much less."
"No, Ron was in the hospital wing at least…" Hermione paused as she counted on her fingers, "…four times. And that doesn't count him getting splinched, which was just as scary as anything that happened at Hogwarts."
"Four?" Harry questioned. "There was the poisoning, the brain…"
"The broken leg, and the Norbert incident," Hermione finished. "And I was in there plenty of times myself, mind you, and once as a cat!"
Harry laughed at the memory, but stopped instantly as Hermione shot him a scathing look. "Sorry," he said, though he clearly didn't mean it. "How many times do you suppose I was in there?"
"I would be willing to bet I had just as many trips as you did," Hermione said.
"But you don't bet," Harry pointed out.
"No, but if I did, I'm sure I'd win," Hermione said sweetly, managing something nearer to a full smile this time. It faded a bit when she looked back at Ron. She'd been cooking dinner for him when she got Harry's Patronus—he'd been planning to come straight to her flat after his shift so that they could spend the night together. He'd been working the past couple of nights, so they had been looking forward to being truly alone for the first time all week.
Hermione sighed again and turned to Harry, who was watching her cautiously. "He's fine," he reassured her softly. "Chances are the two of you will be doing…whatever it is you do…by tomorrow night."
Hermione rolled her eyes and was just about to scold Harry, but they were interrupted by a loud cough and a knock on the door. "Visiting hours are ending in ten minutes," the gray-haired healer from before informed them.
Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat. Surely they wouldn't make her leave him? But before she could question the healer further, Harry spoke: "That's nice, but we're fine where we are, thanks."
The healer frowned. "I'm sorry sir, but visitors are not allowed—"
"But we're not leaving," Harry insisted, firmly but quietly. "I assure you, we won't be any trouble."
Hermione held her breath, hoping that the healer—Peters, his badge said—would accept Harry's request and move on. As much as she wanted to stay with Ron, she wasn't sure she had the energy to argue.
Peters' frown deepened a little. "It's not in our policy to make exceptions in any circumstances, sir."
"I've never been one for policies," Harry said. "Now, as I said, I don't want to be any trouble, sir." Harry's expression was serious, and Hermione surmised that he really could be quite formidable when he had the mind to be.
Peters sighed deeply before nodding his head in defeat. "Very well, Auror Potter. One of my assistants will be in to check on Auror Weasley in a few hours."
"Thank you, sir," Hermione said weakly as Healer Peters turned to leave the room. He didn't acknowledge her. "And thank you," Hermione said to Harry, reaching over to take his hand gently. "I don't think I'd be able to sleep properly if I went home anyway."
"You're not going to scold me for essentially using my position against him?" Harry asked shrewdly.
"Not this time," Hermione laughed. "It's not like you to do that."
"Either of you would have done the same, given the situation," Harry pointed out.
Hermione nodded in affirmation before frowning a little. "Your hand is weird."
Harry looked at their intertwined hands before he burst out laughing. "My hand is weird?" he asked, withdrawing the offending body part and examining it closely. "And what's wrong with it, may I ask?"
"I don't know," Hermione muttered embarrassedly, sinking down further into her chair. "Ignore me, I'm a bit worn out from this whole thing."
"My hands are normal," Harry insisted, either oblivious or indifferent to her discomfort, "but you're used to Ron's hands, and they're weird."
"What's wrong with Ron's hands?" Hermione asked indignantly, recalling the way a simple touch from Ron could comfort her…or excite her, depending on the circumstance. She scooted closer to Ron's bed and took the hand nearest to her. It was a bit cold, so she rubbed it with her own hands before bringing her face close to examine it. She smiled as she felt him shift a bit at her touch—she wasn't sure if it was a coincidence, but the idea that he somehow knew she was there comforted her immensely.
"They're normal hands," she concluded after a few moments' examination, throwing Harry a pointed look.
"Nah, they're big and awkward," Harry said. "You just like them because they're attached to Ron."
"You're mad," Hermione concluded, rolling her eyes. She leaned back a little in her chair, but moved it into a position so that she could comfortably keep Ron's hand in both of hers.
"No, the two of you are mad," Harry insisted. "Brilliant, though."
Hermione smiled at him. "How is the wedding planning going?" she asked, eager to change the subject to something of a more positive nature.
"Fine, so far. Ginny's taking care of most of it. I reckon she doesn't trust me with a lot of it," Harry said, laughing lightly.
"Sure she does," Hermione said reassuringly. "Though I can see where she wouldn't need your input on the flowers. Or decorations. Or the dresses, really…"
"Exactly," Harry confirmed. "She said she's chosen her dress, though."
"Yes, I was with her when she did," Hermione replied, smiling at the memory of the youngest Weasley trying on an elegant white gown the week before. She'd looked radiant and had immediately purchased it. Hermione had almost been brought to tears at the sight of her—and Mrs. Weasley had been.
"She won't let me see it," Harry commented, frowning a little.
"Of course not, it's bad luck," Hermione said automatically.
"That's such a stupid superstition," Harry said, shaking his head incredulously.
"It'll be worth it," Hermione said, the grin growing on her face. "I can't wait to see your expression when you see her."
"She chose a good one, then?"
"Yes, she did," Hermione said emphatically, hoping Harry would know that she was talking about more than just the dress. Harry and Ginny deserved every ounce of the happiness they were currently enjoying, and Hermione was overjoyed to be witnessing it.
Harry coughed before changing the topic. "What about you and Ron, then?"
"Oh," Hermione said, brushing her thumb lightly over the back of Ron's hand. "Well, it'll be our turn eventually," she said vaguely. She was hoping "eventually" was a time in the not-so-distant future, of course, but didn't think Harry would want to have a discussion about her feelings toward matrimony.
Harry studied her for a moment before speaking: "Can I tell you something?"
"Of course," Hermione replied automatically.
"I just…I don't think—please don't get too mad at him if he doesn't propose straight away," Harry said carefully.
Hermione simply raised a questioning eyebrow, prompting him to continue.
Harry sighed before saying, "I think he's got the idea in his head that he can't til after my wedding."
"Why would he think that?" Hermione asked bemusedly.
"I don't know, but he made a comment about 'not stealing our thunder' the other day," Harry replied. "Look, he probably doesn't want me telling you this. I just don't want you thinking he doesn't want to marry you or something, because he does. So much that it's a little disgusting, really."
Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes, squeezing Ron's hand once and wishing he would squeeze back. He didn't, but he did sigh in his sleep and shift his head a little. That would have to be enough for now.
"I know he does," she said softly, shifting her eyes from Ron's face to Harry's. "He and I do talk about these sorts of things now. We're not like we were in school."
Harry sniggered. "I should hope not. Talk about disgusting."
Hermione removed one of her hands from Ron's to smack Harry smartly on the arm before dissolving into giggles of her own. "Thank you anyway," she said a moment later, once they'd both recovered.
"You're welcome," he said sincerely, "but it's as much in my interest as it is yours. I spent seven years of my life watching the two of you make eyes at each other and putting up with your bickering, and I don't want it all to be for naught."
Hermione shot him a grateful smile, and the two settled into a comfortable silence. Hermione dozed off a couple of times in the hours that followed, but she did not relinquish her grip on Ron's hand.
When she drifted back into consciousness after her second nap, she leaned over to check a sleeping Harry's watch. It was just after midnight. She sighed and sat up straighter in her chair, resting her eyes on Ron's face. He wasn't quite as pale now, but he still had several bruises covering the right side of his face. Hermione made a mental note to ask Healer Peters to administer the proper bruise removal paste; quite frankly, she was a little peeved that he hadn't done so already. It wasn't as though it was a revolutionary treatment, surely any healer worth his salt would have some readily on hand…
Hermione's inner berating of the healer came to a quick halt when she was roused from her thoughts by a groaning noise that had undoubtedly come from Ron. He began shifting his body, beginning with his head, then his torso, then his leg, before finally moving his arms and hands. Hermione squeezed his hand reassuringly, and his eyes flew open as he squeezed back.
"Oh, Ron! Thank goodness!" Hermione cried, moving out of her armchair to take a seat on the edge of his bed. "How are you feeling?"
Ron tried to speak, but could barely manage a croak. He cleared his throat once before finally managing to utter one word: "Terrible." He sounded it, too; his voice was hoarse and low. He winced as he moved one of his hands to his ribs.
"Oh, of course! How silly of me," Hermione said, getting off the bed to shake Harry awake.
"Wha—?" Harry groaned, sitting up suddenly and pushing his glasses up from where they'd slid down his nose.
"Ron's awake. Go get a healer," Hermione instructed briskly before returning to her spot on the bed. Harry obliged immediately, stopping briefly to clap Ron lightly on the shoulder.
"St. Mungo's?" Ron croaked as Hermione began to lovingly trace the features of his face.
"Yes. Your ribs are fractured and you've got a bit of a concussion, but the Healers say you'll be alright," Hermione said matter-of-factly, rubbing her thumb over his jawline.
Understanding flashed in Ron's eyes as the events of the night came back to him. "We were on call…bastard must've cursed me."
"Yes. You were distracted, but Harry shielded you," Hermione replied, choking back tears as she rested her hand on his cheek. "You can't get distracted, Ron, please—"
"Hermione," Ron breathed, bringing one of his hands up to hers so as to keep her hand on his face. He looked at her intensely, as though he was willing her to understand without him having to explain just yet. She met his gaze wordlessly, finally allowing a few tears to fall as she took in the fact that he was alright, he was awake, and he was alive.
Their moment was interrupted when Harry returned, followed shortly by a healer who was much younger and much less severe-looking than Peters. "We'll talk later," Hermione told Ron meaningfully as she slid back into her armchair to give the healer room to operate.
"Auror Weasley, my name is Healer Bruess," the young man said. "I'm just going to check up on you quickly before I administer a couple of potions for the pain. Your ribs and your head are healing, and if all goes well tonight we should have you out of here by mid-day tomorrow. Would you like me to administer a sleeping draught as well?"
"No thanks," Ron replied. "I imagine it won't take much for me to fall back asleep anyway."
"Very well. I'd ask your friends to leave, but I imagine they wouldn't listen regardless," Healer Bruess replied with a smile as he began his examination.
Harry and Hermione sat quietly in their armchairs throughout the procedure, waiting patiently to be left alone so the three of them could talk properly. If the silence in the room was a bit tense, Healer Bruess did his best to ignore it. After about ten minutes, he informed Ron that he would be on-call all night if he experienced any more discomfort. He left after nodding briefly to Harry and Hermione.
"How much did you tell her?" Ron asked Harry without preamble.
"Just the basics. No details. I gave a statement nearly six hours ago, so I imagine the initial paperwork's been filed by now," Harry replied.
"You do know that I'm sitting right here?" Hermione interrupted irritably, but to no avail.
"Thanks for the shield charm, mate," Ron continued, pretending as though he hadn't heard Hermione.
"Sure," Harry replied. "You're feeling alright now, then?"
"My head's pounding a bit, but the potions are helping," Ron said optimistically. "I don't suppose I'll get any time off for this?"
Harry chuckled. "Doubtful. You were off til Tuesday anyway."
"Worth a shot," Ron replied flippantly. "Surprised Mum's not here," he remarked casually.
"She was," Hermione said, determined to insert herself in the conversation. "So were your dad, Ginny, and George. They left a few hours ago; you've been asleep for awhile. I imagine they'll be back here first thing tomorrow."
"Speaking of which, I think I'm going to head over to the Burrow," Harry said suddenly. "I'd be surprised if they're asleep. They'll want to know that you're awake and doing alright." As much as Hermione knew he was speaking the truth, she was also quite sure that he'd been looking for an out in order to give her some time alone with Ron, and for that, she was grateful. After gripping Ron's shoulder briefly and pecking Hermione on the cheek, he was gone.
"Will you help me sit up? I can't look at you properly like this," Ron said as soon as Harry had left the room.
Hermione shook her head. "You should be resting," she replied. However, she raised her wand and muttered an incantation to widen the bed just a little, making just the right amount of space for her to slide in next to him.
"Even better," he said with a smile, turning his head to face her as she lay next to him on her side. "You're not really mad, are you?" he asked once she'd settled.
"Of course not," Hermione said dismissively, "but you had me worried sick! I know cases like these can be horrible to witness, but letting your guard down—"
Ron sighed heavily. "You didn't see it, Hermione. It was worse than anything I've seen since the war. Things like that…they don't sit well with me."
"They don't sit well with anybody, but it does no good losing your head," Hermione insisted. "Ron, I can't stand the idea of losing you, and I might have done if the man who attacked you had the slightest clue what he was doing!" She sniffed loudly, feeling tears rising to her eyes once again.
"Hey, don't cry. I'm fine," Ron said reassuringly, lifting a hand to her face and brushing her hair out of her eyes.
"I know," she replied, shaking her head in an attempt to clear it. "It's just scary, getting Harry's Patronus like that, not knowing what's going on…"
"I'm sorry," Ron said, looping one arm around her gently and drawing her in closer. She wrapped one of her arms lightly around his torso, careful not to touch any of his ribs. Though they were likely close to done healing by now, she didn't want to jeopardize his recovery.
"Suppose it's not really your fault," she replied quietly, resting her face against his chest. They fell into silence for a few moments before Ron spoke suddenly:
"I can't stand the thought of losing you, either. That's why I got distracted."
Hermione shifted her head to look at him again. "Explain," she prompted.
Ron sighed deeply, a dark look filling his eyes. "He was torturing her. The suspect was—and it was his wife. What sort of sick fuck does that, Hermione? I mean blimey, you trust and love someone enough to marry them and what, they repay you with the bloody Cruciatus Curse?"
Hermione gasped. "Oh no, is she…?"
"She was okay, I think. Someone got her out straight away…Williams or Erickson, I think. That was when he attacked us. But I—I couldn't think, after seeing that…after hearing it." Ron shuddered before continuing. "It took me back three years ago, you know? To Malfoys'…you've got to understand, love, I just couldn't…" he broke off, wiping his eyes fiercely with one of his hands. No moisture had escaped, but Hermione could see tears building in his eyes.
"Ron," Hermione whispered tenderly, leaning over to kiss his forehead, then each of his cheeks, then his lips. "I'm so sorry."
"Not your fault," he replied wearily. "It just doesn't make sense, you know? What that scum did to you…how could he do that to someone he was meant to be in love with? What could possibly have possessed him…I mean, if we hadn't got there when we did…" he trailed off again, clearly not wanting to consider what the end of that sentence would have been.
"You're a good man, Ron Weasley," Hermione said firmly, tilting his chin so that he was forced to meet her eyes. "I can't say that about every man. You just need to make sure men like him are kept far away from innocent people."
"And I can't do that unless I keep my head," he finished, sighing. "I know. I'm sure I'll be better prepared next time."
"Better equipped to handle it, at any rate," Hermione replied.
Ron nodded once before continuing in a strong voice, "I will never hurt you, Hermione. And I will never let anyone else hurt you either."
"I know," Hermione replied sincerely. "I've never doubted that for a second, Ron."
"I'm sure that bastard's wife thought the same thing, though," Ron said.
"I don't think that tonight was an isolated incident for them," Hermione said gently. "People like that…they don't just snap, to my knowledge."
"Either way, it's shit," Ron said emphatically. "It's days like today that I kind of hate my job. Glad we got him in Azkaban, but it's a hell of a lot easier to live in ignorance."
"What's easy is rarely what's right," Hermione countered, "and I'm proud to say that you've always done what's right."
"Not always," Ron muttered.
"In the end, yes, you have," Hermione said firmly. She'd forgiven his mistakes long ago, and she wouldn't let him continue to berate himself for them. She'd made the mistake of bringing it up once, and it was one of her biggest regrets—one she still felt as though she had to atone for.
"At any rate, I promise I won't let myself get distracted again," Ron said, bringing about a welcome change of subject.
"I'm holding you to that," Hermione responded. "We've always said we've got the rest of our lives, and I'm intending to make that a very long time."
"So am I," Ron declared before leaning in to give her a chaste but lingering kiss. "I love you."
"I love you," she replied in kind as she moved to rest her head against his chest again. "This doesn't hurt, does it?"
"Not in the least," he responded, wrapping both of his arms around her tightly. "Just watch the ribs."
Hermione nodded affirmatively. "Rest now."
"Rest," Ron agreed. Within minutes, the two fell into a slumber so peaceful that even the gruff Healer Peters did not have the heart to wake them in the morning. George Weasley, however, had no qualms whatsoever—and naturally, he spent the rest of the morning in a full body-bind, courtesy of Hermione.
A/N: Kind of an abrupt ending, but it is what it is.
Well, wasn't that cheerful? The idea for a hospital scene has been around since the very early stages of planning this fic, but the nature of the case was something that developed later. It partially bloomed out of the fact that so many Ron haters think he would be abusive—but as those of us who are sane know, it is actually quite the opposite. The next few chapters are going to be much, much, much lighter—and a lot of fun. I'm really looking forward to the next few. Anyway, please let me know what you thought! I hope you all have a wonderful day. :)