By My Side: 02 | Rated: R | Ron Weasley Centric
Title: By My Side
Rating: R for language in later chapters
Pairings: Canon pairings
Words: 1,500 ish
Warnings: Um, angst iId say!
Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter characters, I am merely playing with them. I shall return then when I'm done!
Authors Note: Firstly thank you to mrsquizzical and oncelikeshari for reading it through and putting up with my 'is this okay...how about this?' questions, of which there were many! Secondly thanks to my super fast beta deenas. Yes that's right, I've been through the beta process before putting it up on here, shock horror!
I cannot take credit for the baseline plot of this fic. I blatantly stole borrowed it from Stargate SG-1, series 7, which they then recycled in Stargate Atlantis, series 2, so you know, if they can use it twice, I can borrow it this once!
02. Seeing things
There was pain, so much pain, that was all he knew.
Acold breeze washed over him and he shivered. It was this that brought him back to himself. He felt the ground under him and something solid at his back. He wanted to open his eyes but knew that would bring on more pain.
Images came to him: the exploding tree, his broom flying away from him, the steam rising from the ground and then nothing.
Out of instinct more than anything, he opened his eyes. The pain he expected wasn't as fierce as he thought it might be, a dull ache as opposed to a stabbing pain, but still, he'd rather it disappear before he tried to do anything.
Looking around him, he remembered that he had managed to crawl to some sort of shelter. Slowly, he pushed himself into a more upright position and carefully looked over his shoulder to where the lightening hit tree still stood. It was no longer alight, either the rain had put out the fire or it had simply run out of fuel. He supposed it was a good thing the lightening had struck the lone tree in the middle of
the field as opposed to one of the ones in this tightly packed woodland.
The sun was just starting to show over the horizon line and from that Ron worked out that he had been unconscious for roughly eight hours. He sighed when thoughts of a frantic Hermione came to him. He had left a note stating he had gone out for an hour and not to worry. He had only left it in case she finished work early and hoped he could return home and get rid of it without her knowing anything. He would
tell her where he had been if there was anything to report, but, at the minute, he wished he had written a few more words down on that piece of parchment.
He wriggled his toes and although he ached, he didn't feel any sharp pains or anything else to suggest he had broken any bones when he landed. He stretched his arms out in front of him and the pain in the top of his left arm was so much he gasped. His robes were torn and there was blood covering his upper arm. Embedded in his muscle was a large piece of bark and when he reluctantly, tried to move it, he
realised it was buried at least an inch into the flesh.
'That's not good!' he mumbled, his words partially slurred. 'Come on, Weasley, think!'
I need to get some help, I need to go home, I need to Apparate, I need my wand.
He fumbled in his robes trying not to disturb his wounded arm and then realisation dawned on him; he had been holding his wand when he was thrown off his broom.
He scrambled unsteadily to his feet, panic rising through him. He swayed dangerously and had to lean against the tree to find some sort of balance. When his head was a little clearer, he stumbled forwards and cursed the sun for rising so slowly. He needed more light to search properly, but couldn't wait until he had it. His eyes jumped from one spot to another.
His heart leapt when he saw a long thin piece of wood on the ground and he hurried over to it. He fell to his knees and picked it up, only to realise that it was just a twig from a tree. He looked around him and noticed more of them; there could be hundreds all over the field, camouflaging his wand very effectively, if it was even in this field.
He stood up again and started walking, his eyes constantly on the ground hoping that the next piece of wood they landed on would be the one he needed more than ever.
At intervals that were far too close together for his liking, he had to stop and rest, looking down at the ground constantly made him feel dizzy. A few minutes later, he couldn’t shake the dizziness and started to feel sick. Not wanting to throw up in the middle of a field, he made his way back to the tightly packed trees. Carefully,
he sat down trying not to move his head or his arm too much, the pain in both was becoming unbearable. He took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes. He hoped the dizziness and sickness would disappear, but it worsened. His breathing got faster and despite the fact that he knew he shouldn’t, he slid sideways and curled up on the floor.
He wretched and steadied himself with his injured arm. Pain shot through him and he wretched again. He coughed and the pain became too much. His body shut down and he fell unconscious again.
He opened his eyes and was confused as to why he could see trees above him. His memory came back to him and he groaned. He went to roll over on his left side but was stopped by a stabbing pain. He grunted with pain and frustration and went to pull the bark out of his arm. He looked at how much it had bled already and wondered if removing it would make things worse. He compromised; he pushed it to the side to
see if it was going to start spurting blood.
Thankfully, it didn’t and after a bit more wriggling he pulled it out totally.
Deciding it wouldn’t be a good idea to leave it how it was, he tore a strip off his already ruined t-shirt, something he found much harder than he expected it to. He managed to tie the strip of material tightly around his arm using his right hand and his teeth. It stung like hell but he knew it had to be done until someone who
knew what they were doing could mend his wound properly.
He gingerly felt the place on his head where it throbbed the most. He could feel the stickiness of hair mixed with dried blood above his right eye and carefully moved his fingertips along his hairline towards his ear before he found the place where the skin had split open. He hissed as he inadvertently pressed against the open wound.
He spat into his hand and tried to wash off the dried blood he could feel down his face. He was about to stand up when he thought he saw movement in the trees to his right. He automatically reached for his wand inside his robes and felt the panic wash over him as he remembered, yet again, that he didn’t have his wand to defend
himself with.
Leaves shot out behind a tree as if someone was kicking them but he couldn’t
see anything else. A few seconds later, more leaves fluttered out from behind the tree, as if someone had picked them up and thrown them in the air.
He waited for someone to show themselves, unsure whether moving would be a good thing to do or not. He was about to adjust his position so he could make a run for it if he needed to, when he heard giggling. He frowned and scrunched his eyes up, trying to clear his head. He looked back at the tree and he heard it again, it was definitely giggling and he thought it sounded like a small child.
‘Hello?’ he said quietly, still not sure whether it was a good idea or not.
‘Hello!’ the voice replied.
‘Who’s there?’ he asked.
‘Who’sthere?’
the voice repeated and the noise of leaves shuffling started up again.
Ron thought it sounded like a small girl talking to him, but surely he would have seen her before now?
‘What’s your name?’ he asked.
The shuffling stopped.
‘Will you tell me yours if I tell you mine?’
Despite the bizarre situation, Ron smiled. ‘Yeah, of course.’
‘I’m Ginevra, but everyone calls me Ginny, even Mummy and Daddy.’
Ron stared at the tree, his mouth open a little.
‘So what’s your name?’
Ron cleared his throat.
‘Could you come out from behind the tree please, Ginny?’
‘Only after you’ve told me your name. I’m not allowed to speak to strangers.’
‘Oh, yeah, right. It’s Ron.’
Ron held his breath as he waited for ‘Ginny’ to come out from behind the tree. When she did he gasped.
It was his little sister.
‘Ginny! What the hell are you doing here? Have you time traveled? Mum never told me you did!’
‘What happened to your head? You’re covered in blood.’
She walked towards him and he couldn’t help but stare at her. She couldn’t be more than four years old. Her fringe was thick and too long; she kept pushing it out of her eyes. She had healing scrapes on her knees and the toes of her shoes were scuffed.
‘How did you get here?’
‘I’m always here!’
‘In the woods?’
‘No, in your head!’
‘In my…head.’
Ron blinked and opened his eyes again. Ginny had disappeared. His head throbbed.
‘Ginny?’
‘I’m over here!’
He looked over his shoulders, trying to find the source of the voice. The sound of rustling leaves grew louder and filled his ears.
‘Ginny?’
‘I told you, I’m over here!’
Black spots invaded his peripheral and he frantically tried to see where she had gone. The sound grew louder and his head started to spin. His sister’s laughter filled his head and the blackness overtook him completely.
For the third time, he fell unconscious.
Rating: R for language in later chapters
Pairings: Canon pairings
Words: 1,500 ish
Warnings: Um, angst iId say!
Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter characters, I am merely playing with them. I shall return then when I'm done!
Authors Note: Firstly thank you to mrsquizzical and oncelikeshari for reading it through and putting up with my 'is this okay...how about this?' questions, of which there were many! Secondly thanks to my super fast beta deenas. Yes that's right, I've been through the beta process before putting it up on here, shock horror!
I cannot take credit for the baseline plot of this fic. I blatantly stole borrowed it from Stargate SG-1, series 7, which they then recycled in Stargate Atlantis, series 2, so you know, if they can use it twice, I can borrow it this once!
02. Seeing things
There was pain, so much pain, that was all he knew.
Acold breeze washed over him and he shivered. It was this that brought him back to himself. He felt the ground under him and something solid at his back. He wanted to open his eyes but knew that would bring on more pain.
Images came to him: the exploding tree, his broom flying away from him, the steam rising from the ground and then nothing.
Out of instinct more than anything, he opened his eyes. The pain he expected wasn't as fierce as he thought it might be, a dull ache as opposed to a stabbing pain, but still, he'd rather it disappear before he tried to do anything.
Looking around him, he remembered that he had managed to crawl to some sort of shelter. Slowly, he pushed himself into a more upright position and carefully looked over his shoulder to where the lightening hit tree still stood. It was no longer alight, either the rain had put out the fire or it had simply run out of fuel. He supposed it was a good thing the lightening had struck the lone tree in the middle of
the field as opposed to one of the ones in this tightly packed woodland.
The sun was just starting to show over the horizon line and from that Ron worked out that he had been unconscious for roughly eight hours. He sighed when thoughts of a frantic Hermione came to him. He had left a note stating he had gone out for an hour and not to worry. He had only left it in case she finished work early and hoped he could return home and get rid of it without her knowing anything. He would
tell her where he had been if there was anything to report, but, at the minute, he wished he had written a few more words down on that piece of parchment.
He wriggled his toes and although he ached, he didn't feel any sharp pains or anything else to suggest he had broken any bones when he landed. He stretched his arms out in front of him and the pain in the top of his left arm was so much he gasped. His robes were torn and there was blood covering his upper arm. Embedded in his muscle was a large piece of bark and when he reluctantly, tried to move it, he
realised it was buried at least an inch into the flesh.
'That's not good!' he mumbled, his words partially slurred. 'Come on, Weasley, think!'
I need to get some help, I need to go home, I need to Apparate, I need my wand.
He fumbled in his robes trying not to disturb his wounded arm and then realisation dawned on him; he had been holding his wand when he was thrown off his broom.
He scrambled unsteadily to his feet, panic rising through him. He swayed dangerously and had to lean against the tree to find some sort of balance. When his head was a little clearer, he stumbled forwards and cursed the sun for rising so slowly. He needed more light to search properly, but couldn't wait until he had it. His eyes jumped from one spot to another.
His heart leapt when he saw a long thin piece of wood on the ground and he hurried over to it. He fell to his knees and picked it up, only to realise that it was just a twig from a tree. He looked around him and noticed more of them; there could be hundreds all over the field, camouflaging his wand very effectively, if it was even in this field.
He stood up again and started walking, his eyes constantly on the ground hoping that the next piece of wood they landed on would be the one he needed more than ever.
At intervals that were far too close together for his liking, he had to stop and rest, looking down at the ground constantly made him feel dizzy. A few minutes later, he couldn’t shake the dizziness and started to feel sick. Not wanting to throw up in the middle of a field, he made his way back to the tightly packed trees. Carefully,
he sat down trying not to move his head or his arm too much, the pain in both was becoming unbearable. He took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes. He hoped the dizziness and sickness would disappear, but it worsened. His breathing got faster and despite the fact that he knew he shouldn’t, he slid sideways and curled up on the floor.
He wretched and steadied himself with his injured arm. Pain shot through him and he wretched again. He coughed and the pain became too much. His body shut down and he fell unconscious again.
He opened his eyes and was confused as to why he could see trees above him. His memory came back to him and he groaned. He went to roll over on his left side but was stopped by a stabbing pain. He grunted with pain and frustration and went to pull the bark out of his arm. He looked at how much it had bled already and wondered if removing it would make things worse. He compromised; he pushed it to the side to
see if it was going to start spurting blood.
Thankfully, it didn’t and after a bit more wriggling he pulled it out totally.
Deciding it wouldn’t be a good idea to leave it how it was, he tore a strip off his already ruined t-shirt, something he found much harder than he expected it to. He managed to tie the strip of material tightly around his arm using his right hand and his teeth. It stung like hell but he knew it had to be done until someone who
knew what they were doing could mend his wound properly.
He gingerly felt the place on his head where it throbbed the most. He could feel the stickiness of hair mixed with dried blood above his right eye and carefully moved his fingertips along his hairline towards his ear before he found the place where the skin had split open. He hissed as he inadvertently pressed against the open wound.
He spat into his hand and tried to wash off the dried blood he could feel down his face. He was about to stand up when he thought he saw movement in the trees to his right. He automatically reached for his wand inside his robes and felt the panic wash over him as he remembered, yet again, that he didn’t have his wand to defend
himself with.
Leaves shot out behind a tree as if someone was kicking them but he couldn’t
see anything else. A few seconds later, more leaves fluttered out from behind the tree, as if someone had picked them up and thrown them in the air.
He waited for someone to show themselves, unsure whether moving would be a good thing to do or not. He was about to adjust his position so he could make a run for it if he needed to, when he heard giggling. He frowned and scrunched his eyes up, trying to clear his head. He looked back at the tree and he heard it again, it was definitely giggling and he thought it sounded like a small child.
‘Hello?’ he said quietly, still not sure whether it was a good idea or not.
‘Hello!’ the voice replied.
‘Who’s there?’ he asked.
‘Who’sthere?’
the voice repeated and the noise of leaves shuffling started up again.
Ron thought it sounded like a small girl talking to him, but surely he would have seen her before now?
‘What’s your name?’ he asked.
The shuffling stopped.
‘Will you tell me yours if I tell you mine?’
Despite the bizarre situation, Ron smiled. ‘Yeah, of course.’
‘I’m Ginevra, but everyone calls me Ginny, even Mummy and Daddy.’
Ron stared at the tree, his mouth open a little.
‘So what’s your name?’
Ron cleared his throat.
‘Could you come out from behind the tree please, Ginny?’
‘Only after you’ve told me your name. I’m not allowed to speak to strangers.’
‘Oh, yeah, right. It’s Ron.’
Ron held his breath as he waited for ‘Ginny’ to come out from behind the tree. When she did he gasped.
It was his little sister.
‘Ginny! What the hell are you doing here? Have you time traveled? Mum never told me you did!’
‘What happened to your head? You’re covered in blood.’
She walked towards him and he couldn’t help but stare at her. She couldn’t be more than four years old. Her fringe was thick and too long; she kept pushing it out of her eyes. She had healing scrapes on her knees and the toes of her shoes were scuffed.
‘How did you get here?’
‘I’m always here!’
‘In the woods?’
‘No, in your head!’
‘In my…head.’
Ron blinked and opened his eyes again. Ginny had disappeared. His head throbbed.
‘Ginny?’
‘I’m over here!’
He looked over his shoulders, trying to find the source of the voice. The sound of rustling leaves grew louder and filled his ears.
‘Ginny?’
‘I told you, I’m over here!’
Black spots invaded his peripheral and he frantically tried to see where she had gone. The sound grew louder and his head started to spin. His sister’s laughter filled his head and the blackness overtook him completely.
For the third time, he fell unconscious.