(no subject)
Author: Smidget
Title: His Harry, His Wheezy - Part Two
Summary: Story is set immediately after “Order of the Phoenix” ends, which is the start of summer before Harry’s sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Rating: R for sexual references and mild language. (As the story progresses, it will hit R. At the moment, it’s about PG-13.)
Warnings: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley slash
Words: 1637
Disclaimer: Joanne Kathleen Rowling owns all characters, names, places, rights, and other technical terms of which I am not aware. However, the plot is my invention with possible/probable references to actual events in the series.
Also posted in the LJ community "Harry_and_Ron" as well as fanfiction.net under RonaldYHarry
Beta : Hailiebu (thanks!)
Part Two
Harry’s bed sheets were curled around Ron’s head as he lay there with tears streaming down his pale face. The only other time he had shown such emotion like this was when Ginny had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets in his second year. He lay thereremained in Harry's bed for three hours, just waiting on someone - anyone - to come back for him. Ron desperately wished that they would give him an update on Harry’s condition or take him to Saint Mungo’s to be with Harryhim.
As Ron slowly nodded off to sleep six hours after Harry’s departure, he whispered in a voice so soft, it could have been the wind, “Harry, please be okay. Please come back… to me. I can’t loose my best friend. I cannot loose my best friend. I will not loose my best friend. I cannot believe…” Ron faded into two hours of a very fitful dream in which Harry was beaten, starved, and severely cut. His nightmare quickly ended as he woke up to the sound of someone Aapparating into Harry’s bedroom.
Ron was shouting before his feet had even hit the floor. “What is it? What’s wrong? TELL ME!” Mad-Eye Moody had never seen Ron in such a state, his eyes as big as beetles and his face redder than the hair atop his head.
Moody started slowly, “Well, Ron… I’m not the one to tell you. Eh, look, I don’t know most of it. You need to get ready because I’m here to take you to Saint Mungo’s. The Healers need to talk to you. Also, when Harry wakes up, you two will be in need of a long chat, I do believe. Come on, move it! We’ve wasted enough time as it is. Got your wand? Not in your pocket, boy! Apparently nobody bothers to teach elementary wand-safety anymore….”
As Ron jumped out of Harry’s bed and went to stand beside Moody sowhile he could makde a Portkey, he made a mental note to ask Dumbledore why he let anyone so … well, whatever Moody was, be in charge of someone so special and vital to the Wizarding world. Moody found one of Harry’s old socks lying in a corner and figured it was as good of an object as any for a Portkey. Before Ron could take a last glance at the empty bed, he found himself on his knees in the registration area of the hospital.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The moment they had managed to pull themselves from the floor, Mad-Eye had taken off toward the stairs with Ron running at his heels. Flight one, two, three … seven, eight, nine… twelve - finally! The twelfth floor was eerily quiet. The only people Ron saw were Medi-witches and Healers dashing about and all to and from the same room. Mad-Eye made his way through the mass of medical scrubs, clip-boards, and thick medical encyclopedias flying from all directions as Ron struggled to stay behind him. Upon reaching the other side of the hallway, he saw:
Room 1221
Harry James Potter
Assigned Healer(s):
Saint Mungo’s Healer Lewis
Saint Mungo’s Healer Sahbeti
Healer Pomfrey (Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry)
From his previous trips to Saint Mungo’s visiting his father last Christmas, Ron knew it was highly unusual for any patient to have more than one Healer. Moody quickly sensed what Ron must have been thinking from the horrified look on his face.
Not being one for subtlety, Moody grunted, “He’s famous, Ron. Remember that.” Ron could only nod as he attempted to swallow his fear as heand reached for the door-knob. He could barely will his eyes to search for his friend amongst the mass of people rushing around the room.
Harry lay there conscious, although withsurrounded by Muggle medical machines attached to his body through nearly twenty plastic tubes. His chest rising slightly with each breath he took, his face etched with a painful grimace each time he tried to move his head. Having had quite enough questions and Healers prodding him for information of all kinds, Harry started whispering, “Go away, I want to be alone. I need to be alone. Ow…” As Ron watched his friend fall back to unconsciousness, he himself dropped down into the nearest chair, pulling his knees up to his chest with worry.
A middle-aged woman and former Auror, Healer Lewis, stepped up to Ron in his chair with a thick clip-board of notes, test results, and a vast amount of questions to ask.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The old, frustrated, grey-haired Healer was nearly screaming at Ron. “So, you’re telling me that Harry, as you put it, ‘has suffered a great loss’ recently. Well, don’t you think that the rest of our world would have heard about The-Boy-Who-Lived and his life problems? We’ve got Rita Skeeter, mind you!”
Ron was very pissed-off when the Healer didn’t believe his responses. “Excuse me, but I should bloody well hope that I know what I’m talking about considering HARRY POTTER IS MY BEST FRIEND AND YOU’VE NEVER MET HIM!” With that, the Healer walked out of the room to fetch someone to contain the redhead’s temper and get some answers.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Professor Lupin and Professor Dumbledore were waiting outside in the hallway when Healer Lewis came storming out of Harry’s room, her clip-board almost soaring out of her hand. Upon spotting the two adults, she threw the clip-board at them. “Get in there and get me some answers. I’m sick of these kids making up cock and bull stories! I need details so we can treat this boy!” With each word she sprayed spit onto the gentlemen’s faces, her voice full of fury.
Almost with shared looks of amusement, they walked inside to find a very disgruntled Ron sitting at his best friends’ bedside. Professor Lupin had never seen Ron with such a look in his eye. It was more than fear, more than pain, with a love that… just maybe he was picking up on something that was supposed to be secret. Though perhaps it wasn’t realized….
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Professor Dumbledore pulled up a chair next to Ron and with his gentle, re-assuring voice, proceeded to inform him of everything he needed to know before his interrogation. “Ron, first I must tell you, though I’m sure you have already guessed, that Harry is on a private ward. In fact, not only is it private just because he is the famous “'Boy-Who-Lived,”' but because of the nature of his illness.” In response to Ron’s sudden look of horror, the old man smiled. “No Ron, he’ll be fine. What I mean is that it isn’t magical at all. It’s a Muggle … ailment. Harry has had to deal with many difficult matters in the past year - the death of a fellow student, the second rise of Tom Riddle, as well as the death of his god-father - the only real family he ever knew. These things as well as countless others have put Harry into an extremely severe depression. Emotionally, he cannot handle things around him. It cannot be cured with magic, only through perseverance, encouragement, support, and love. This is where we all come into the picture, though especially you.
“Before the Healers can begin a treatment plan for Harry, it will be necessary to get as much information about him as possible. You are his closest friend and you will be instrumental in his recovery.” The old man paused at his statement and chuckled to himself. Ron wouldn’t understand the full meaning of those words until much later… How interesting it all will be…
Deciding to just get it over- with - again - Ron answered the basic questions on the clipboard. However, the answers were getting a bit more personal and Ron wasn’t sure he should be answering them.
“Number forty-seven. Has Harry ever had questions about his sexuality?” Professor Dumbledore had noticed many years ago that Harry and Ron were just a bit different in terms of friends. Of course, he had also noted that neither had yet realized what those differences were.
Ron hesitated to answer this question both for his and Harry’s sanity… or really whatever was left of Harry emotionally. He remembered Harry asking him two years ago if it were strange that he loved him (Ron). He said it was a brotherly love, but he thought it might extend … under certain circumstances. Ron had been speechless and never answered Harry, but inside he agreed whole-heartedly. “Uhm… is this really important, Professor?”
The Headmaster sighed. and With as much sympathy as he could inflect into his voice, he replied, “I’m sorry, Ron. It needs to be answered. If it would make you feel better, we can cast a security spell between us. Whatever you say - I cannot and will not repeat under any circumstances. Whatever the Healers may learn, they too will be sworn to secrecy.” Ron looked up at the aging, yet second most powerful wizard in the world. Sheepishly, he nodded his head and Dumbledore cast the spell.
Ron took a deep breath and prepared for both his and Harry’s world to come crashing down in an instant.
“Yes, Professor Dumbledore. Harry … didn’t know about … if he … with me … if I … I …” With that, the bashful redhead covered his face with his hands and tried not to think of the implications of what he had just told his Headmaster … or perhaps the world if that damned cow Rita Skeeter had been under a chair as that damned bloody beetle Animagus form.
Ron thought to himself, “Oh Merlin, what have I done to Harry?”
Title: His Harry, His Wheezy - Part Two
Summary: Story is set immediately after “Order of the Phoenix” ends, which is the start of summer before Harry’s sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Rating: R for sexual references and mild language. (As the story progresses, it will hit R. At the moment, it’s about PG-13.)
Warnings: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley slash
Words: 1637
Disclaimer: Joanne Kathleen Rowling owns all characters, names, places, rights, and other technical terms of which I am not aware. However, the plot is my invention with possible/probable references to actual events in the series.
Also posted in the LJ community "Harry_and_Ron" as well as fanfiction.net under RonaldYHarry
Beta : Hailiebu (thanks!)
Part Two
Harry’s bed sheets were curled around Ron’s head as he lay there with tears streaming down his pale face. The only other time he had shown such emotion like this was when Ginny had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets in his second year. He lay thereremained in Harry's bed for three hours, just waiting on someone - anyone - to come back for him. Ron desperately wished that they would give him an update on Harry’s condition or take him to Saint Mungo’s to be with Harryhim.
As Ron slowly nodded off to sleep six hours after Harry’s departure, he whispered in a voice so soft, it could have been the wind, “Harry, please be okay. Please come back… to me. I can’t loose my best friend. I cannot loose my best friend. I will not loose my best friend. I cannot believe…” Ron faded into two hours of a very fitful dream in which Harry was beaten, starved, and severely cut. His nightmare quickly ended as he woke up to the sound of someone Aapparating into Harry’s bedroom.
Ron was shouting before his feet had even hit the floor. “What is it? What’s wrong? TELL ME!” Mad-Eye Moody had never seen Ron in such a state, his eyes as big as beetles and his face redder than the hair atop his head.
Moody started slowly, “Well, Ron… I’m not the one to tell you. Eh, look, I don’t know most of it. You need to get ready because I’m here to take you to Saint Mungo’s. The Healers need to talk to you. Also, when Harry wakes up, you two will be in need of a long chat, I do believe. Come on, move it! We’ve wasted enough time as it is. Got your wand? Not in your pocket, boy! Apparently nobody bothers to teach elementary wand-safety anymore….”
As Ron jumped out of Harry’s bed and went to stand beside Moody sowhile he could makde a Portkey, he made a mental note to ask Dumbledore why he let anyone so … well, whatever Moody was, be in charge of someone so special and vital to the Wizarding world. Moody found one of Harry’s old socks lying in a corner and figured it was as good of an object as any for a Portkey. Before Ron could take a last glance at the empty bed, he found himself on his knees in the registration area of the hospital.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The moment they had managed to pull themselves from the floor, Mad-Eye had taken off toward the stairs with Ron running at his heels. Flight one, two, three … seven, eight, nine… twelve - finally! The twelfth floor was eerily quiet. The only people Ron saw were Medi-witches and Healers dashing about and all to and from the same room. Mad-Eye made his way through the mass of medical scrubs, clip-boards, and thick medical encyclopedias flying from all directions as Ron struggled to stay behind him. Upon reaching the other side of the hallway, he saw:
Room 1221
Harry James Potter
Assigned Healer(s):
Saint Mungo’s Healer Lewis
Saint Mungo’s Healer Sahbeti
Healer Pomfrey (Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry)
From his previous trips to Saint Mungo’s visiting his father last Christmas, Ron knew it was highly unusual for any patient to have more than one Healer. Moody quickly sensed what Ron must have been thinking from the horrified look on his face.
Not being one for subtlety, Moody grunted, “He’s famous, Ron. Remember that.” Ron could only nod as he attempted to swallow his fear as heand reached for the door-knob. He could barely will his eyes to search for his friend amongst the mass of people rushing around the room.
Harry lay there conscious, although withsurrounded by Muggle medical machines attached to his body through nearly twenty plastic tubes. His chest rising slightly with each breath he took, his face etched with a painful grimace each time he tried to move his head. Having had quite enough questions and Healers prodding him for information of all kinds, Harry started whispering, “Go away, I want to be alone. I need to be alone. Ow…” As Ron watched his friend fall back to unconsciousness, he himself dropped down into the nearest chair, pulling his knees up to his chest with worry.
A middle-aged woman and former Auror, Healer Lewis, stepped up to Ron in his chair with a thick clip-board of notes, test results, and a vast amount of questions to ask.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The old, frustrated, grey-haired Healer was nearly screaming at Ron. “So, you’re telling me that Harry, as you put it, ‘has suffered a great loss’ recently. Well, don’t you think that the rest of our world would have heard about The-Boy-Who-Lived and his life problems? We’ve got Rita Skeeter, mind you!”
Ron was very pissed-off when the Healer didn’t believe his responses. “Excuse me, but I should bloody well hope that I know what I’m talking about considering HARRY POTTER IS MY BEST FRIEND AND YOU’VE NEVER MET HIM!” With that, the Healer walked out of the room to fetch someone to contain the redhead’s temper and get some answers.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Professor Lupin and Professor Dumbledore were waiting outside in the hallway when Healer Lewis came storming out of Harry’s room, her clip-board almost soaring out of her hand. Upon spotting the two adults, she threw the clip-board at them. “Get in there and get me some answers. I’m sick of these kids making up cock and bull stories! I need details so we can treat this boy!” With each word she sprayed spit onto the gentlemen’s faces, her voice full of fury.
Almost with shared looks of amusement, they walked inside to find a very disgruntled Ron sitting at his best friends’ bedside. Professor Lupin had never seen Ron with such a look in his eye. It was more than fear, more than pain, with a love that… just maybe he was picking up on something that was supposed to be secret. Though perhaps it wasn’t realized….
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Professor Dumbledore pulled up a chair next to Ron and with his gentle, re-assuring voice, proceeded to inform him of everything he needed to know before his interrogation. “Ron, first I must tell you, though I’m sure you have already guessed, that Harry is on a private ward. In fact, not only is it private just because he is the famous “'Boy-Who-Lived,”' but because of the nature of his illness.” In response to Ron’s sudden look of horror, the old man smiled. “No Ron, he’ll be fine. What I mean is that it isn’t magical at all. It’s a Muggle … ailment. Harry has had to deal with many difficult matters in the past year - the death of a fellow student, the second rise of Tom Riddle, as well as the death of his god-father - the only real family he ever knew. These things as well as countless others have put Harry into an extremely severe depression. Emotionally, he cannot handle things around him. It cannot be cured with magic, only through perseverance, encouragement, support, and love. This is where we all come into the picture, though especially you.
“Before the Healers can begin a treatment plan for Harry, it will be necessary to get as much information about him as possible. You are his closest friend and you will be instrumental in his recovery.” The old man paused at his statement and chuckled to himself. Ron wouldn’t understand the full meaning of those words until much later… How interesting it all will be…
Deciding to just get it over- with - again - Ron answered the basic questions on the clipboard. However, the answers were getting a bit more personal and Ron wasn’t sure he should be answering them.
“Number forty-seven. Has Harry ever had questions about his sexuality?” Professor Dumbledore had noticed many years ago that Harry and Ron were just a bit different in terms of friends. Of course, he had also noted that neither had yet realized what those differences were.
Ron hesitated to answer this question both for his and Harry’s sanity… or really whatever was left of Harry emotionally. He remembered Harry asking him two years ago if it were strange that he loved him (Ron). He said it was a brotherly love, but he thought it might extend … under certain circumstances. Ron had been speechless and never answered Harry, but inside he agreed whole-heartedly. “Uhm… is this really important, Professor?”
The Headmaster sighed. and With as much sympathy as he could inflect into his voice, he replied, “I’m sorry, Ron. It needs to be answered. If it would make you feel better, we can cast a security spell between us. Whatever you say - I cannot and will not repeat under any circumstances. Whatever the Healers may learn, they too will be sworn to secrecy.” Ron looked up at the aging, yet second most powerful wizard in the world. Sheepishly, he nodded his head and Dumbledore cast the spell.
Ron took a deep breath and prepared for both his and Harry’s world to come crashing down in an instant.
“Yes, Professor Dumbledore. Harry … didn’t know about … if he … with me … if I … I …” With that, the bashful redhead covered his face with his hands and tried not to think of the implications of what he had just told his Headmaster … or perhaps the world if that damned cow Rita Skeeter had been under a chair as that damned bloody beetle Animagus form.
Ron thought to himself, “Oh Merlin, what have I done to Harry?”