Chapter Text
His face had been pale, eerily pale, and yet his jaw was set in such a way that Hermione knew there would be no convincing him otherwise. She watched in horror as the White Queen slid across the giant chessboard and struck Ron with a heavy arm across his head. She screamed as Ron crumbled to the ground. He had sacrificed himself so Harry could reach the stone.
After Hermione had left Harry and walked back through the purple fire, she hurried to the room with McGonagall’s giant chess set to rouse Ron. She was terrified to find him still lying unconscious amongst the broken pieces of black and white stone.
“Ron!” she said, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him roughly. “Ron, wake up!”
Hermione noticed a large, bloody lump rising beneath his ginger hair right above his left temple. Her lip trembled as she shook him again. She had read of a spell, Rennervate, she could have used to bring him around, but it was a bit advanced for her and she couldn’t remember the proper wand movement. Instead, she just continued to shake him and call his name. After several tense minutes, panic flaring within her the entire time, Ron slowly opened his eyes.
“Hermione?” he muttered tentatively. Then he quickly sat upright. “Where’s Harry?”
She explained about the concussed troll and Snape’s riddle as she pulled him to his feet. “Quick, we have to send an owl to Dumbledore,” she shouted.
Ron swayed a bit, but determinately followed Hermione back to the key room, where they took the broomsticks and flew back through the trap door. He narrowly avoided one of Fluffy’s heads as she aimed a spell at the door leading to the corridor, causing it to fly open. Once they made it through the door, Hermione locked it again and she and Ron ran toward the Owlery. They met Dumbledore in the entrance hall.
“Harry’s gone after him, hasn’t he?” Dumbledore asked.
However, he didn’t seem to need an answer. He swept past them, briefly taking in the bloody mess at the side of Ron’s head. “Miss Granger, kindly lead Mr. Weasley to the infirmary,” he instructed before nimbly darting up the marble staircase.
Hermione turned to look at Ron, who seemed to be struggling to keep his eyes in focus. “Ron!” she exclaimed, grabbing his arm just as he was about to fall over.
“I’m okay,” he mumbled feebly.
“Come on, hospital wing,” she said, putting her arm around his back to steady him as they shuffled up the staircase to the hospital wing. It was slow progress. A couple times, Hermione felt Ron’s body begin to sag and she had to drag him back onto his feet before they could proceed.
Hermione knew it was well after midnight and Madam Pomfrey would likely be asleep. When they arrived at the hospital wing, she leaned Ron against the wall and hesitantly rapped on the door. After a few minutes, Madam Pomfrey opened the door.
“What is this racket? You again?” she asked, looking at Ron. She tutted and motioned at Hermione to help her lead him inside. “Not another mysterious bite, is it?”
“Please, Madam Pomfrey, he was struck on the side of his head. He’s been in and out of consciousness for the past half hour or so,” Hermione said, as they pulled Ron into the room.
“Struck by what exactly?” she asked, lifting her eyebrow suspiciously.
Ron and Hermione looked at each other but remained silent.
Madam Pomfrey frowned, but didn’t press the matter. She and Hermione led Ron to a cot and had him sit down. She lit her wand and shined it into Ron’s eyes. Then she lifted the hair surrounding the bloody bump on Ron’s head and looked at his injury.
“He lost consciousness, you say?” she asked Hermione.
Hermione nodded.
Madam Pomfrey turned back to Ron. “Do you have any other symptoms? Nausea? Dizziness? Headache?”
“All three,” Ron groaned.
“Well, young man. You appear to have a concussion. I’ll be right back with potions that will reduce the swelling and take away any pain you may be having, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to keep you here for observation.”
She turned to Hermione. “Miss…?”
“Granger.”
“Miss Granger, he is in no danger. I suggest you go back to…”
It was then that Dumbledore came bursting through the doors of the infirmary, levitating a stretcher holding Harry’s pale and seemingly lifeless body in front of him.
“Harry!” Hermione exclaimed.
Ron made to stand up, but Madam Pomfrey forced him back down and against the pillows.
“Professor Dumbledore, what is going on?” Madam Pomfrey gasped.
“Quickly, Poppy,” Dumbledore said as he deposited Harry on bed opposite of Ron’s.
Madam Pomfrey drew the curtains around it, leaving Hermione and Ron staring fearfully at the hangings.
“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Ron asked, looking more alert than he had been since they emerged from the third floor corridor.
She didn’t answer, trying desperately to fight back tears. She sat in a chair positioned beside Ron’s bed, feeling as though her knees were about give out. They stared in silence at the drawn curtains surrounding Harry’s bed for several minutes. Suddenly, Professor Dumbledore emerged, a grim expression set on his lined face. He approached Ron and Hermione.
“Is Harry okay, Professor?” Hermione asked breathlessly before he had a chance to say anything.
“He should be fine,” Dumbledore replied. “With some rest.”
“What happened to him?” Ron asked, slightly unnerved by Dumbledore’s expression.
“He has exhausted himself,” Dumbledore said simply. “I am sure when he wakes he will be more than willing to fill you in on the details. However, I will warn you that it may not be for a few days.”
“A few days?” Hermione gasped, looking very pale.
“Yes, Miss Granger, and in the meantime perhaps you should go back to Gryffindor Tower and get some rest yourself.”
Hermione shifted uncomfortably, glancing from Ron’s blood matted hair to Harry’s shielded bed. She didn’t want to leave, but she knew, after all the school rules they had broken that night, that perhaps it wasn’t the best time to argue.
Ron apparently did not see it that way. “Please, sir. Couldn’t she stay? I’m not sure if I can fall asleep after all that happened tonight. Maybe she can keep me company for a little while, if that’s okay?”
Hermione thought she saw a slight smile tug at the corners of Dumbledore’s lips. She thought better of it once he turned toward her, his face still etched with worry and perhaps a touch of fatigue. “I suppose, if it is all right with you, Miss Granger,” he answered.
Hermione nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Well then, I will take my leave. I am sure that Madam Pomfrey will be finished in a few moments and will be able to administer your potions, Mr. Weasley. Good night to you both,” Dumbledore said as he swept from the room.
A few minutes later Madam Pomfrey bustled out from behind the curtains drawn around Harry’s bed and into her office. She returned with two goblets and handed them to Ron, ignoring both his and Hermione’s inquiries about Harry. Ron drank his potions one after the other, coughing and gagging at the taste.
“Maybe you’ll think about that next time you get yourself into a dangerous situation,” the nurse scolded.
She smeared something gooey and purple on Ron’s wound and tapped it with her wand, leaving no trace of a cut behind.
“Now, I don’t want you to stay long, Miss Granger. You need sleep, and so do you, Mr. Weasley,” Madam Pomfrey said. “If you need anything else, I’ll be in my quarters.”
“Thank you,” Ron and Hermione mumbled in unison.
“How are you feeling?” Hermione asked tentatively as soon as the nurse had gone.
“Much better. Mum always said we Weasleys have hard heads. I guess she was right,” Ron joked.
“That’s not funny, you could have been seriously injured.”
“But I wasn’t.”
“Well, it certainly seemed like it for a while,” she said quietly. “I couldn’t wake you at first.”
“I’m fine, Hermione,” he said exasperatedly.
They sat in silence for a while, not knowing what to say, glancing nervously at the bed where Harry lay unconscious. Finally, Ron spoke. “You know, when I was little, my mum used to tell me stories about Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. I never thought when I got to Hogwarts he’d be my best mate and that he’d just be a regular bloke. I sort of imagined he’d be a bit like that git Malfoy.”
“What kind of stories?”
“What do you mean?”
“About Harry. What sort of stories did your mum used to tell you?”
Ron laughed. “Odd things, like everyone knew that Harry had gone to live with Muggles. She used to tell me this one where he went to live with the Muggle Queen and she fed him ice cream for every meal.”
“Why would she tell you stories like that?” she giggled.
“Dunno. They were just like faerie tales, you know? Didn’t your mum ever tell you stories before bed?”
“Yes, but the ones she told me were mostly about knights and maidens and evil witches.”
“Blimey! Why would she tell you stories about Dark witches?”
“Remember, I grew up Muggle,” Hermione explained. “In the Muggle world, magic is often seen as something frightening. There are many bad witches in Muggle literature, but there are good ones too, of course.”
“Well, I think that’s barmy,” Ron said, shaking his head.
Hermione was going to say something when a large yawn came upon her.
“Maybe you should go to bed,” Ron suggested. “You look really tired. Dumbledore said Harry could be out for a few days, and I think the pain potion I took is making me sleepy as well.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Maybe you can come by later,” he said. “You know, if I’m not out of here yet. We can play Exploding Snap or chess.”
“Are you sure you would want to play chess?” Hermione asked anxiously.
Ron automatically rubbed his head. “Yeah, at least I won’t be the one talking the beating next time.”
Hermione hesitated. “That was very brave what you did in there, sacrificing yourself like that.”
“It had to be done,” he said, shrugging casually, but she noticed his ears got very red. “Besides, Harry and I wouldn’t have made it out of the Devil’s Snare had it not been for you.”
Hermione glanced at the direction of Harry’s bed again. “Do you really think he’ll be all right?”
“Of course,” Ron said. “He beat You-Know-Who when he was just a baby. Do you really think he could be taken down by Snape?”
“I suppose you’re right,” she said. “I just hope he wakes up in time for the leaving feast.”
“I know, all that delicious food,” he said longingly. “Too bad Harry has to go back and live with those horrible Muggles afterward.”
“Honestly, Ron, they can’t be that bad.”
“They used to keep him in a cupboard, Hermione!” he replied indignantly.
“Harry had to have been exaggerating. What sort of person would do that to a child?”
“Those barmy Muggles he lives with, apparently. They never give him proper Christmas presents or anything.”
“That reminds me. Harry’s birthday is next month. We need to make sure to send him cards.”
“I’m going to ask if he can come and stay with me this summer,” Ron said. “Mum would probably throw him a birthday party or something. You’re welcome to come and stay too, if you want. You can stay with my sister, Ginny, in her room.”
“Well, I’d have to ask my parents first, but I think they’re planning for us to go somewhere on holiday.”
Ron shrugged. “I reckon I can always owl you sometime in the summer and you can let me know.”
Hermione nodded and stood. “I’ll be back later this afternoon.”
“Excellent, if you see my brother Percy, can you ask him to bring my chessboard? I’d tell you to ask Fred and George, but who knows what they’d do to my things if I allowed them to rifle through them.”
“All right then,” she said, casting one more glance in Harry’s direction. “Goodnight, Ron.”
“Night, Hermione.”
She walked toward the door and swung it open. As she made her way back alone toward Gryffindor Tower, she thought about all the things that had happened that night. Ron and Harry were both very brave. She was lucky, really, to have them as her friends. Once she got back to the Common Room, she knew she would have to unbind poor Neville. Then she would finally get to go to sleep. She knew she was going to need plenty of rest to deal with all the questions she’d surely get once she woke.