Healing - H/R - PG
Title: Healing
Author: shocfix
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Rating: PG

Written for harry_and_ron's second challenge round - Harry or Ron is ill.

It is also something of a sequel to my Harry Potter Threesomes Ficathon story Father Figure, because I hurt Ron, and I have to make him better!

Beta-ed by and dedicated to the incandipherous rosina_alcona, who I adore. Or should that be 'whom'? I can't ask my beta, 'cos she didn't see the dedication line.



Healing

****

Even though it was nearly 2am, Hermione knew Harry would be awake. She pulled on her dressing gown and trudged down the stairs of 12 Grimmauld Place. Automatically tiptoeing past the covered portrait of Sirius' mother, she continued down to the kitchen.

And there he was. Sitting over a cup of coffee that had gone cold, still idly stirring it with a spoon. He looked very small and almost transparent. His shoulders were hunched and his eyes were glazed, staring off into the distance somewhere. Or, more likely, the past.

Hermione sighed and approached him softly. When Ron had first gone missing, after the Death Eater attack at the Burrow, Harry had been a whirlwind of activity. He had been desperate to be involved in the search parties. He had been everywhere, bursting with energy. Could that really be just two weeks ago?

But there weren't any more search parties. The Weasleys drifted around 12 Grimmauld Place, their faces taught with suffering, their bright hair dimmed. There was a brief flurry of activity whenever someone from the Order arrived: Lupin reporting he'd had no luck, Snape off on his way to a Death Eater meeting.

Snape. He hadn't returned from the last mission, more than a week ago. She tried to spare a thought for the Professor, she knows how dangerous it was to infiltrate the Death Eaters.

But all her thoughts are with Ron. He is the bravest, strongest person she knows, but how can he stand up against two weeks of torture? Her heart squeezes tight in her chest as she thinks of him. How he has bravely faced so much over the years. She thinks of his dirty, freckled face as he sacrificed himself on a giant chess board; as he stood on his broken leg to face down a mass murderer; as he flew hundreds of miles on an invisible horse; as he tried to reach Hagrid, swarmed under by Death Eaters.

And she tried so hard not to think that she might never see him again. It would break her heart to lose her best friend, but if it happened, then she had to be strong for Harry. Because she didn't know how Harry could survive this. He had lost his parents, and Sirius, and Hagrid. If he lost Ron, then that would be the final straw. Wasn't Ron "the thing he'd miss most"? She'd teased them both about that, but it was true. Ron meant the world to Harry, he was closer to him than anybody, now.

And Harry was fading away. Fear for his friend clutched so tightly at his heart that he barely slept, he pushed his food listlessly around his plate at mealtimes, he hardly spoke.

Hermione sat down beside Harry and put her hand on his arm. She felt the muscles in his forearm tense up, but he didn't say anything. She put her other arm round his back and rested her head on his shoulder. The tension in his body eased slightly.

"Come up to bed, Harry," she whispered, "what use will you be when..."

He pulled away from her, roughly. "When what, Hermione?" he hissed, "When Voldemort sends me a dream of how he died? When they dump his body on the steps? When..."

A loud double-crack pierced the shadows of the kitchen, and Harry and Hermione whirled towards the stove.

What they saw froze them both to the spot, momentarily. Severus Snape was crouching on the floor; his clothes were torn, his face was pale, there were bloody and half-healed cuts on his face and his hands.

Hermione's hand came up to her throat and she gasped. Then, shaking herself out of her trance, she rushed from the kitchen to wake Mrs Weasley.

Harry's breath caught in his chest, and he felt the blood pounding in his ears. All he could see was the thin, pale, unconscious figure of Ron Weasley in Snape's arms. He took a step forward, and, when the tableau before them didn't dissolve, he ran across the kitchen and fell to his knees.

Snape was weak and dazed, but he looked up at Harry and smirked with a hint of his old fire in his eyes as he let him take Ron's body. Harry braced himself to take Ron's weight and it broke his heart to feel how thin Ron was. In just two weeks he was skin and bones. Hadn't they fed him at all? He gathered his friend onto his lap and smoothed the tangled red hair out of the bruised and dirty face. Ron's head nestled in the crook of his arm and his eyelashes flickered faintly as Harry rocked him, stroking his freckled cheek.

There were footsteps behind him, and he faintly heard Mrs Weasley scream, but all he could focus on was the feeling of Ron in his arms. He was alive. He was badly hurt, he was thin, he felt like ice, his clothes were blood-stained, his breathing was shallow. But Harry had his hand pressed to Ron's heart, and the fluttering he felt there was growing stronger as he warmed him with his body heat.

Strong hands reached to take Ron from him and Harry held him to his breast and looked up, confused. The kitchen was filling with Weasleys. Bill was sliding his arms under his youngest brother and Harry gave a shaky nod and let go. Bill easily got to his feet and carried Ron out of the room, his mother and father at his heels.

Harry looked round the room. The twins were clutching onto each other, their eyes also darting wildly around the room. Ginny was in the doorway, in pyjamas, staring at Harry; or, rather, at where Ron had laid.

With a cry, Hermione rushed across the room, fell into Harry's lap and threw her arms around him. He held her tightly for a long time and buried his face in her hair as she sobbed into his neck. "He's alive. Oh, Harry. He's.. Ron's alive."

Charlie strode across the room and knelt at Snape's side. Harry rested his cheek on Hermione's wild hair and watched as Charlie calmly checked Snape's injuries with his large, gentle hands. Years on a dragon reservation had obviously given him plenty of experience, and Snape barely flinched. Helping him to his feet, Charlie took Snape's weight on his shoulders and helped him from the room, followed by Fred and George.

Harry raised his head and met Ginny's eyes. She crossed the room and knelt with them and Hermione whirled and threw her arms round the younger girl, "Ginny, he's ok, he's alive." Harry and Ginny pulled faces at each other and Ginny attempted to comfort Hermione as Harry got to his feet once again.

"Go on," said Ginny, "he'll want you there," and Harry nodded firmly and hurried from the room.

****

Taking the stairs two at a time, Harry arrived at his bedroom door. It was ajar, and he could see Mrs Weasley at the far side of the bed, trying to make Ron comfortable. Mr Weasley stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders. Then he was pushed into the room as Bill and a dressing-gown clad Madame Pomfrey arrived behind him. Bill stopped at the foot of the bed, and Madame Pomfrey hurried to her charge. Putting down her bag and pulling out her wand, she muttered spells and charms as she ran it over Ron's body, over his face.

Harry rocked on the balls of his feet in the doorway, his fists clenching and unclenching. Mrs Weasley sat back to give the Healer room to work and, looking up, saw Harry lurking in the doorway. "Harry, dear," she said, holding out a hand to him, and he swiftly crossed the room and took it.

Finally having finished her examination, Madame Pomfrey stooped and removed several vials from her bag and carefully tipped a few drops from each into Ron's mouth. He coughed weakly, but didn't stir.

"Well?" asked Mr Weasley.

Madame Pomfrey shook her head, "Cruciatus," she said, grimly, packing her bag again, "used repeatedly. And he's been starved. He's been beaten, but there are no broken bones, no other major injuries. If he wakes in the next couple of days, he should recover."

The Weasleys and Harry swapped stricken looks, and drew closer to the bed.

"I believe I have another patient?" asked Madame Pomfrey, and Bill turned to take her to Snape.

Mrs Weasley sat on the chair at the side of the bed, holding Ron's hand and stroking his hair. "I'll stay with him," she murmured, but her husband drew her to her feet.

"It's 3am, Molly, come back to bed. You heard what Poppy said, it could be a couple of days, and Harry'll be here." They both looked at Harry, who nodded solemnly, and Mrs Weasley stooped to kiss Ron's forehead, and then allowed her husband to lead her from the room.

Harry took her place in the chair, and picked up Ron's limp hand, running his thumb gently over the fragile looking bones in his knuckles. With his other hand he smoothed the unruly red hair out of Ron's closed eyes. He stroked the thin, freckled cheek and swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Ron," he whispered, "'t's me, Harry, can you hear me, mate? You're ok, you're back home, safe. No one can hurt you now. We'll take care of you, Ron, just come back to us, ok?" Hearing a noise in the doorway he looked up to see Hermione watching him. He beckoned with his head and she came and sat on the far side of the bed, picking up Ron's other hand and holding it, with both of hers, in her lap.

"Well?" she asked Harry.

Harry bit his lip and swallowed again, his eyes not leaving Ron's pale face. "They beat him and starved him, and they used Cruciatus repeatedly and if he wakes in the next couple of days, he should be ok."

"Oh, Harry," she whispered, and freed one hand to lay it on top of his hand that still held Ron's.

They sat together for the rest of the night, both of them holding Ron's hands and talking to him; swapping stories about their time together. When dawn broke Hermione admitted defeat and went and curled up in Harry's bed, but Harry stayed, touching Ron's hair and murmuring to him quietly.

When Mrs Weasley got up at 6am, she found Harry asleep in his chair, his head pillowed on his hands, which still clutched Ron's. She closed the door quietly and went down to start breakfast.

****

Harry and Hermione didn't leave the room for the next two days. Mrs Weasley brought their meals up to them, and they took it in turns to nap on Harry's bed while the other sat with Ron.

It was 2am again, and Harry sat by the side of Ron's bed, talking softly. Hermione was asleep, one hand thrown across her eyes to shade them from the lamp burning on the bedside table, her hair a tangled mess on the pillow.

Harry leant on his elbow and propped his head up on his hand. He looked down at Ron's face and picked his hand up again. "Ron," he whispered, "d'you remember fourth year? D'you remember the Second Task?", he laced his fingers with Ron's, "I know Hermione teased us about it, but it was true. You were the thing I'd miss most. You still are. When you were gone," he took a deep breath, "when you were missing I had time to think about why I'd miss you so much.

"From my first day at school, we've been friends. You were the first friend I ever had, and I can't believe how lucky I was to meet you. You've taught me everything I know about being a Wizard – not the spells, but the everyday stuff, how to live as a Wizard.

"I didn't have a clue about anything, and you took care of me. And second year, when everyone thought I was the Heir of Slytherin, you stood by me all year. And the Twins making jokes out of it; I don't know what I'd have done without you guys.

"You took me into your family, even though I am dangerous to be around. I have a target on my back, Ron, and that is why they took you," he stopped to swallow again, he bowed his head onto their joint hands and squeezed Ron's fingers, tightly, "that is why they took you, that is why they hurt you. To hurt me. It's my fault you're like this. And I'm sorry; I'd do anything to make you better, anything."

"How about shutting up," said a weak voice, and he felt Ron's fingers squeeze back.

Sitting up so swiftly he felt the bones in his neck crack he looked at Ron. His eyes were open, but squinting up at Harry in the weak light from the table lamp. A tired smile played about his lips.

Harry clasped Ron"s hand in both of his and leant over him, "Ron? You're ok. Are you OK?"

Ron tried to nod, but winced, and his eyes closed in pain. "Where am I, Harry?"

"You're at Grimmauld Place. What d'you, I mean, what d'you remember?"

"There were Death Eaters at the Burrow – Harry, is everyone ok?"

"Everyone's fine, Ron, everyone but you, mate." Ron squeezed his hand again.

"They knocked me out; when I came round I was in a dungeon or something, with Lucius Malfoy. He hurt me, Harry. Cruciatus."

Harry nodded, "We know. It's over, Ron," he leant closer and stroked Ron's hair, "it's over."

"And Draco," Ron spat the name.

Harry spat like an angry cat, "Draco tortured you?"

"No, he watched his dad. Lucius hurt me, and then, Harry, You-Know-Who... inside my head, inside my memories... he knows about Snape, knows that Snape is in the Order..."

"It's ok, it was Snape who got you out of there," Ron's eyebrows shot up, "honest."

"And he picked out my memories of you, Harry... he knows..." Ron broke eye contact, "he knows I care about you."

Harry frowned, how was that news? He squeezed Ron's hand again, "That's not news, mate, don't worry about that."

But Ron had a strange, determined look on his face. "It's what got me though it, Harry. I thought of you. You were only fourteen when he put Cruciatus on you. You are so strong. I thought of you. That if I got out I'd tell you... how much I... I love you,” he finished in a whisper.

Harry's heart jumped into his throat. Loved him? Ron loved him? Say something, you idiot. He's looking at you, say something.

"Well, say something," said an impatient sounding Hermione from the other side of the room. Both boys looked up, startled.

Harry cleared his throat, nervously and Ron looked back at him.

"Um, I thought of you too, Ron. That if we got you back, I'd tell you. I, I love you, too." He bit his lip, nervously.

"And now you kiss him," said Hermione, bossily.

Ron laughed and Harry grinned and bent down and gently placed his lips on Ron's.

And suddenly Hermione was there, and her arms were around both of them, and her hair was in their faces, and she held them tight, and everything was ok.