I, Ociwen (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} reposoir) wrote in ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} rwhgfqf,@ 2005-11-30 16:31:00 |
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FIC: Everything Has Gone Awry, R/Hr PG13
Title: Everything Has Gone Awry
Author: Ociwen
Challenge: #5 HBP: What happened during Hermione's visits with poisoned Ron in the hospital wing?
Word Count: 1100
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: JKR owns all, not me.
Summary: Hermione visits Ron in the Hospital Wing.
Author's Notes: Thank youkoneko_meow for the fabu and fast beta!
Everything Has Gone Awry
by Ociwen
Everything has gone awry.
Hermione sits beside Ron’s bed. She watches his chest rise and fall softly with slumber. Sometimes, he will turn his head slightly, or part his lips with a sigh, or sometimes wrinkle his forehead, or one of his fingers will twitch.
She reaches out and touches his hand. It is cool in hers, and clammy. She holds it and brings it up to her cheek, imagining that Ron hasn’t been poisoned, and that he might touch her like this in consciousness, of his own will.
Lavender, his so-called girlfriend, has come to visit him once. Lavender wore her visit like a badge of girlfriendly-duty throughout Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Hermione smiles wryly at the memory. She hasn’t told anyone she has come every day. Harry hasn’t asked, and neither has Ginny. On the first day, she was here three times, pushing her way through the doors to the hospital wing, her tears trapped in her eyes like her voice in her throat when Madam Pomfrey says “He’s sleeping still, dear.”
She breathes in time with him, forcing herself to keep calm when all she really wants to do is fling herself over his body and shake him until he wakes. “If I told you I was wearing a thong, would you wake up?” she whispers, trying not to let her tears fall from her swimming eyes. “Honestly, how much sleep do you really need?” She grips his hand a little lighter and his fingers twitch through hers, but then he exhales, stale breath fluttering her hair, and remains asleep.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Ron wasn’t supposed to have eaten the chocolates. He wasn’t supposed to have drunk Slughorn’s poisoned mead. And he wasn’t supposed to have started dating Lavender. Hermione tries to be angry at him, to blame his foolishness for all of this, but she blames herself, mostly.
“Why did this have to happen?” she mumbles. Her stomach twists with the fear he might not recover. If something happened…
She covers her mouth with her hand, refusing to think about it, to think of her Arithmancy exam instead, but she can’t do anything except worry for Ron, when she sees how pale his face grows daily, when she sees how his lips are still tinged with blue and his freckles stand out even more.
She presses her fingertips into the freckles on the bridge of his nose, counting them wordlessly. He wiggles his nose and she says, “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
***
She has snuck out of the dorm again. The corridors were empty, but her slippers muffled the sounds of her footsteps. Madam Pomfrey has long since gone to bed, and Hermione had to use an Alohomora to break into the Hospital Wing.
“I’m sorry,” she says, pretending he can hear her in his sleep, “I would have come earlier, but Harry needed help with his Charms homework and Lavender was being awful and I couldn’t come until now.” She sighs and smiles at him, but Ron doesn’t return the gesture.
The Hospital Wing creeks, the floors ache as she creeps over them to lean over Ron and touch his hair. It’s greasy and damp with sweat, having lain abed all day, but when she combs her fingers through it she doesn’t mind at all. Ron smells awful- of sweat, and potions, and God Knows what else, but she doesn’t mind that either.
“You look a little better,” she says.
He sleeps.
“I’ll ask Madam Pomfrey tomorrow when she thinks you might be able to be released. There’s a Quidditch game soon, Ron and I don’t think you want to miss that at all.”
He keeps sleeping.
Hermione sucks in her breath. Her stomach flutters as she climbs onto the bed, the mattress sinking under her weight. She lies next to him, pressing her body against his through the sheets, feeling light-headed, unbelieving that she’s doing this, testing, seeing what it might be like if they ever…
“I’m not wearing any panties,” she whispers in his ear.
But Ron keeps sleeping.
"Won won?" she tries.
Ron sighs heavily, but keeps sleeping still.
She wiggles her toes, wanting, but not willing to sling a leg over his, to twine with him like she does in her own dreams. Hermione smiles wistfully at him. Will nothing wake you up, Ron Weasley? Do I need to pretend to be Lavender, pawing at you?
“If only you knew what you were missing,” she murmurs to herself. Placing a hand down to Ron’s side, she shifts her hips, experimenting very carefully, rubbing against the small of his back through her dressing gown and pajamas. She gasps when she sees something twitch under Ron’s sheets, and she hops off the bed, nearly sprawling onto the floor.
“Sleep well,” she whispers when she leaves, unable to stay any longer. She hesitates at the doorway, satisfied enough when she sees the small tent of sheets between Ron’s legs as he sighs heavily, still sleeping.
***
Everything has gone awry.
It isn’t supposed to happen like this.
Hermione finds Ron sitting up in bed after she’s spoken with Madam Pomfrey. “Two days, I’d say, before he’s well again,” she said. Hermione’s chest pounded with hope and she rushed to Ron’s bed, grinning at him, telling him how glad she was to see him awake.
Instead, he stares at her in horror.
Hermione blinks. “Ron?” she asks.
“Was- did-” Ron coughs, clearing his mouth. His voice is ragged and weak, but it’s there. “Did- I- did I dream that you…?” He flushes, a deep red clashing horribly with his hair and making his freckles even more apparent.
Hermione feels her own face flush. “You were- awake?” she squeaks. She steps back and sits in the chair, wanting to dig herself a hole because she hadn’t thought he was actually awake or conscious of what she was doing last night.
“You weren’t supposed to- oh God…” she moans, grimacing.
They are silent for a moment. The clock in the Hospital Wing ticks and the spring wind rattles the glass panes in the windows, clicking and tapping bare tree branches outside. Hermione shuffles her feet and Ron moves, rustling his sheets.
“I- I didn’t mind,” he says, very quiet.
She lifts her eyes to his, and he smiles, a little lopsided, to match his mussed hair. “You-?”
“Maybe…” Ron sighs. “Maybe sometime…?”
Hermione starts to smile too, through all of her deep flushing and twisting in her insides. She reaches over for his hand and threads her fingers through his, slow and testing, like the night before, but this time, Ron moves too, squeezing her hand lightly.
“I won’t wear knickers then,” she says. “And you’ll know it.”
Title: Everything Has Gone Awry
Author: Ociwen
Challenge: #5 HBP: What happened during Hermione's visits with poisoned Ron in the hospital wing?
Word Count: 1100
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: JKR owns all, not me.
Summary: Hermione visits Ron in the Hospital Wing.
Author's Notes: Thank you
koneko_meow for the fabu and fast beta!by Ociwen
Everything has gone awry.
Hermione sits beside Ron’s bed. She watches his chest rise and fall softly with slumber. Sometimes, he will turn his head slightly, or part his lips with a sigh, or sometimes wrinkle his forehead, or one of his fingers will twitch.
She reaches out and touches his hand. It is cool in hers, and clammy. She holds it and brings it up to her cheek, imagining that Ron hasn’t been poisoned, and that he might touch her like this in consciousness, of his own will.
Lavender, his so-called girlfriend, has come to visit him once. Lavender wore her visit like a badge of girlfriendly-duty throughout Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Hermione smiles wryly at the memory. She hasn’t told anyone she has come every day. Harry hasn’t asked, and neither has Ginny. On the first day, she was here three times, pushing her way through the doors to the hospital wing, her tears trapped in her eyes like her voice in her throat when Madam Pomfrey says “He’s sleeping still, dear.”
She breathes in time with him, forcing herself to keep calm when all she really wants to do is fling herself over his body and shake him until he wakes. “If I told you I was wearing a thong, would you wake up?” she whispers, trying not to let her tears fall from her swimming eyes. “Honestly, how much sleep do you really need?” She grips his hand a little lighter and his fingers twitch through hers, but then he exhales, stale breath fluttering her hair, and remains asleep.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Ron wasn’t supposed to have eaten the chocolates. He wasn’t supposed to have drunk Slughorn’s poisoned mead. And he wasn’t supposed to have started dating Lavender. Hermione tries to be angry at him, to blame his foolishness for all of this, but she blames herself, mostly.
“Why did this have to happen?” she mumbles. Her stomach twists with the fear he might not recover. If something happened…
She covers her mouth with her hand, refusing to think about it, to think of her Arithmancy exam instead, but she can’t do anything except worry for Ron, when she sees how pale his face grows daily, when she sees how his lips are still tinged with blue and his freckles stand out even more.
She presses her fingertips into the freckles on the bridge of his nose, counting them wordlessly. He wiggles his nose and she says, “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
She has snuck out of the dorm again. The corridors were empty, but her slippers muffled the sounds of her footsteps. Madam Pomfrey has long since gone to bed, and Hermione had to use an Alohomora to break into the Hospital Wing.
“I’m sorry,” she says, pretending he can hear her in his sleep, “I would have come earlier, but Harry needed help with his Charms homework and Lavender was being awful and I couldn’t come until now.” She sighs and smiles at him, but Ron doesn’t return the gesture.
The Hospital Wing creeks, the floors ache as she creeps over them to lean over Ron and touch his hair. It’s greasy and damp with sweat, having lain abed all day, but when she combs her fingers through it she doesn’t mind at all. Ron smells awful- of sweat, and potions, and God Knows what else, but she doesn’t mind that either.
“You look a little better,” she says.
He sleeps.
“I’ll ask Madam Pomfrey tomorrow when she thinks you might be able to be released. There’s a Quidditch game soon, Ron and I don’t think you want to miss that at all.”
He keeps sleeping.
Hermione sucks in her breath. Her stomach flutters as she climbs onto the bed, the mattress sinking under her weight. She lies next to him, pressing her body against his through the sheets, feeling light-headed, unbelieving that she’s doing this, testing, seeing what it might be like if they ever…
“I’m not wearing any panties,” she whispers in his ear.
But Ron keeps sleeping.
"Won won?" she tries.
Ron sighs heavily, but keeps sleeping still.
She wiggles her toes, wanting, but not willing to sling a leg over his, to twine with him like she does in her own dreams. Hermione smiles wistfully at him. Will nothing wake you up, Ron Weasley? Do I need to pretend to be Lavender, pawing at you?
“If only you knew what you were missing,” she murmurs to herself. Placing a hand down to Ron’s side, she shifts her hips, experimenting very carefully, rubbing against the small of his back through her dressing gown and pajamas. She gasps when she sees something twitch under Ron’s sheets, and she hops off the bed, nearly sprawling onto the floor.
“Sleep well,” she whispers when she leaves, unable to stay any longer. She hesitates at the doorway, satisfied enough when she sees the small tent of sheets between Ron’s legs as he sighs heavily, still sleeping.
Everything has gone awry.
It isn’t supposed to happen like this.
Hermione finds Ron sitting up in bed after she’s spoken with Madam Pomfrey. “Two days, I’d say, before he’s well again,” she said. Hermione’s chest pounded with hope and she rushed to Ron’s bed, grinning at him, telling him how glad she was to see him awake.
Instead, he stares at her in horror.
Hermione blinks. “Ron?” she asks.
“Was- did-” Ron coughs, clearing his mouth. His voice is ragged and weak, but it’s there. “Did- I- did I dream that you…?” He flushes, a deep red clashing horribly with his hair and making his freckles even more apparent.
Hermione feels her own face flush. “You were- awake?” she squeaks. She steps back and sits in the chair, wanting to dig herself a hole because she hadn’t thought he was actually awake or conscious of what she was doing last night.
“You weren’t supposed to- oh God…” she moans, grimacing.
They are silent for a moment. The clock in the Hospital Wing ticks and the spring wind rattles the glass panes in the windows, clicking and tapping bare tree branches outside. Hermione shuffles her feet and Ron moves, rustling his sheets.
“I- I didn’t mind,” he says, very quiet.
She lifts her eyes to his, and he smiles, a little lopsided, to match his mussed hair. “You-?”
“Maybe…” Ron sighs. “Maybe sometime…?”
Hermione starts to smile too, through all of her deep flushing and twisting in her insides. She reaches over for his hand and threads her fingers through his, slow and testing, like the night before, but this time, Ron moves too, squeezing her hand lightly.
“I won’t wear knickers then,” she says. “And you’ll know it.”
