Varied Effects of Captivity

Varied Effects of Captivity

They broke off their kiss.

"I love you."

They were still looking at each other, standing awfully close to each other, holding each other, and tasting each other.

Hermione shut her eyes closed tightly, withdrawing her hands from their loose embrace and burying her face in them. After a few seconds, which seemed to Ron like an eternity, she placed her bruised hands on his chest and opened her eyes, raising her head and locking her eyes with his once again.

Ron had always thought that when he finally got around to telling Hermione that he loved her, she would be happy. And that she'd smile and kiss hum or hug him or say that she loved him too or... something.

He hadn't been expecting this.

Hermione's eyes were shiny and wide, tears threatening to flood them. She bit for a moment before shaking her head repeatedly. He hung his head and was about to step away from her when she shoved his chest and made to push him back. Her touch had been weak, but the gesture was enough to get her point across. The numbness in his head had increased.

Finally, she spoke, in a small voice just above a whisper.

"No, Ron, no. You shouldn't have said that. Don't say that, Ron."

He had only been trying to tell her how he felt, lest anything happen to him when the Death Eaters found them. But he'd hurt her. He really didn't think he could fight the urge to cry anymore.

He tried to apologize, but his mouth wouldn't cooperate. It probably was for the best if he just left silently, though. He'd said just three words, and that had messed everything up.

But he had to get that out of his system before he walked to his death.

He was about to turn around when she felt her strong grip on his arm. She was holding him tightly now, with both hands. When he reluctantly brought his eyes to meet her face, he saw her eyes were closed again, but her expression was incredibly soft.

"I hate you, Ron! Why did you have to say that?" she began, her voice forceful and loud again.

Then she wrapped him up in a hug so fierce he felt breathless and light-headed. He didn't understand why she was hugging him if she'd just told him she hated him. But at least she was hugging him. It would be the last thing he got from her, in case he died tonight. He didn't return the embrace, though, but instead let her press his arms against his sides. The sort of warm numbness returned.

"Ron, I've waited so long for you to say that. But how dare you wait until now? How dare you, when we're trapped here and waiting for them to find us and torture us and-" She inhaled sharply, unable to continue. She looked up at him and sighed, warming his neck with her breath.

She continued speaking fast as she often did, but her voice was touched with something it didn't have when she was explaining something about potions or nagging him about homework. She was speaking right into his shoulder, but he could understand every muffled, quavering word.

"Ron, promise me you won't die. I love you too, but I won't say it like- like it was goodbye! I need you, Ron. Please, please don't die. Promise me, Ron! Promise you'll be all right."

Her grip had weakened by now, and her body was starting to shake slightly. She wasn't making a sound now, but he guessed she must be crying. He'd never known what to do when people cried -let alone when Hermione cried- but he brought up one hand to stroke her hair while he pressed the other one around her.

He was about to say something along the lines of "Don't worry, I won't" when he started really thinking about what she had said. Here they were, trapped inside Malfoy Manor, unable to contact anyone, with their wands taken away, with Harry probably locked up in some other place and no sight of the Order or the rest of the DA members who had fallen into the trap with them, but were probably still in Hogsmeade.

"I-- I can't promise that, Mione." She pressed her wet cheeks against his chest and, upon realizing it, withdrew from him altogether. He could see her clearly, despite the dim light in the dungeon. Oh, how he wished she were the one able to promise him that very same thing.

He remembered the look in Lucius Malfoy's face when he'd taken their wands. He remembered the smile he gave Hermione before he left. And he knew. He knew they would try to torture her, to make her suffer, and finally kill her. They'd make them watch. Both Harry and him. Then they'd kill him and make Harry watch.

Over my dead body.

He'd glue himself to her if he had to. But he wouldn't let them put a finger of her if he could help it. The numbness in his head was going away and now it had started to ache. He knew he was going to die, because it was the only way to stop them from doing those horrible things to her. At least they had some time until the battle in Hogsmeade was over and Voldemort arrived.

He wanted so much to get her out of here. He wanted to blast away the stone walls and fly away with her. He wanted to do something -anything- that would solve their problems and take them someplace safe. But he didn't have a wand and he didn't have a broom and he couldn't apparate. She could, but she'd assured his that the house had wards and that, even if it didn't, she wouldn't leave him or Harry for a second.

He looked at her again, and placed a tentative hand on her cheek, slowly wiping her tears. He couldn't believe this was the same Hermione that had been with him ten or twenty minutes ago, muttering about something she'd read on dungeons and breakouts and house elves and wandless magic. This Hermione was nothing like the one that had been pacing on filthy floor, biting her lip in thought and shushing him every now and then.

"It will be all right, Mione. We'll both be all right," he found himself saying. It was pretty much the same thing he'd told her ten or twenty minutes ago, when she'd stopped pacing and sighed in frustration. It was pretty much the same thing he'd said just before kissing her.

She smiled and shook her head. "Ron, you're not making any sense."

He looked back at her, his ears reddening. "Well, you weren't making any sense either just a few minutes ago, y'know?" he replied.

She opened her mouth to respond, but then closed it and put her hands on his shoulders, squaring her jaw. "Ron, listen to me. We're going to find a way to get our wands back and a way to contact the others back at Hogsmeade. We're going to get Harry out of wherever he is and we'll go back home. We'll go check on Ginny, and she will be conscious and healthy. We'll go to a nice place and only then and only there you can properly tell me that you love me and I can properly respond in the same way. Understood?"

He had so many things to say. A million arguments and responses, really. But his head was spinning so much now that he guessed it would be useless to pick a fight or something like that. And besides, he already knew he loved her back. Well, he'd known that for quite some time, actually, but now he was pretty sure.

"Okay, Mione," he said, rolling his eyes and placing his hands on her waist. She stood on her tiptoes ad he brought his head down to kiss her deeply. She returned it eagerly and ran a hand through his hair.

"Merlin!" she gasped. She'd pulled away abruptly and now she held her hand in front of her, eyes wide.

It was bloody.

Ron stared at her hand as well, dumbfounded, and instinctively brought a hand to his head. "Ron, sit down," Hermione ordered. He looked at his hand. It was covered in blood, too.

No wonder he'd been feeling funny.

"Ron! Sit. Down." She repeated, this time more forcefully. He obliged, and she fell on her knees beside him, examining the wound. Ron couldn't see her face, but the way she kept repeating "Oh, boy..." didn't comfort him at all.

"What is it?" he demanded. Hermione shushed him and instructed him to lie down on his stomach.

"What?"

"It'll keep your blood running through your body evenly, at lest for a while," she said, sitting down Indian style on the floor and patting her lap. "Come on, Ron. Don't be stupid."

He lied down and rested his head on her legs, looking up at her frowning face. "Not that way, Ron! On your stomach, for Merlin's sake." He shifted around until he was breathing into her skirt.

Then he felt her fingers on his head and a faint lukewarm breeze shortly after. "Was that cold?" she asked.

"No," he replied, "but the floor's really cold, though."

She huffed. "Right, but we can't have you lying on your wound. That's insane." She grabbed him by the shoulders and moved his body aside. "Don't move."

Ron made to sit up, but she pushed him back down.

He was getting frustrated and he felt stupid. "I can move by myself, y'know," he snarled. Tilting his head to look at Hermione out of the corner of his eye, he noticed she had taken her cloak off and was spreading out on the floor.

Ron stood up straight away. "Mione, what are you doing? I was perfectly fine standing up. It's just a bloody cut, anyways."

Hermione stood up as well and glared at him. "A very bad cut, Ronald! Which means you have a concussion, and we don't know for how long you've been like this. And if you insist on doing as you please, you certainly won't be feeling that well later. Didn't your mother even teach you basic first aids or what?"

"But, Hermione, you'll freeze your butt and I already told you that I don't feel injured at a-"

"Ron, you said you couldn't promise me that you wouldn't die." Still glaring at him, Hermione sat back on the floor with her arms crossed. "But you could at least cooperate!"

Ron sighed and did as he was told. Hermione smiled and started speaking fast. "Right. Now, we need either something cold or something to stop the bleeding. We don't have wands, so I can't conjure ice. Oh, I know!" She took off the bracelet he had given her last summer and placed it over his head.

"Is that cold?"

"Mmrh."

"Stay awake, Ron!"

She was now shaking him rather harshly. How could she not expect him to fall asleep when he had his face pressed against her skate and he was using her as a pillow? And even if they were in danger, and even if they were trapped in a dungeon in Malfoy Manor, that warm numbness was catching up with him again.

She continued shaking him.

"Ron, stay awake! Answer me. If you fall asleep you could go into shock, and we don't want that! Come on, is this cold or not?"

Right. He couldn't fall asleep or they'd come to take her and he wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

"Um, a little," he finally responded.

"Good," she said. He felt something else on his head now. "Now I've put the necklace from my parents on you, Ron. It's gold and it has a heart-shaped medal with an 'H' on it. Ron, are you listening? Ron!"

"It's not cold anymore."

"Oh, shit."

"Mione, you swore."

"Oh, come on, Ron."

Some time passed and he couldn't hear or feel much anymore. Then he felt something on his head again.

"Ron, I conjured ice! It was wandless, Ron! I've got ice!"

He jerked his head when he felt something too cold on his head.

"Don't move, Ron!"

She placed the ice on his head again.

More time passed.

"Ron?"

Her voice was very faint.

"Ron!"

He couldn't fall asleep. But he felt asleep...

"RON! Wake up, Ron! Come on, say something! Um, how are the Chudley Cannons doing this season? What's your favourite colour? What age were you when you last wet your bed? Ron!"

He realized she was shaking him. He'd been falling asleep.

Horrified, Ron tried to stand up, but he was barely on his knees when he felt a strong wave or pain and dizziness wash over him, and fell in a heap to the floor. He didn't even have time to put his hands in front of him, but Hermione was able to stop his fall somewhat.

"Ouch."

"I told you, Ron!"

He lied back down on her lap, but then she started breathing heavily. Ron rolled around and looked up at her, his eyes widening instantly.

Hermione was holding both hands in front of her, palms facing upwards. Here eyes were tightly shut and her brow deeply furrowed in concentration. She seemed to be under great strain, panting and breathing heavily. A line of sweat was forming on her forehead.

Then, water seemed to be filling up inside her hands, and a white mist surrounded it shortly afterwards. Soon, she was holding two pieces of ice on her palms.

When she opened her eyes and her body relaxed, Ron was still looking up at her. Hermione instantly put her hands over his chest to prevent him from rising. The back of his head connected with her leg.

"Ouch!"

"Oh, sorry, Ron. Lie on your stomach, for Merlin's sake!"

"Hermione, what was that."

"Nothing, Ron. I just conjured some ice. Lay back on your stomach."

"But...Hermione, that's criminal! I mean... the way you were wearing yourself out... for some bloody ice!"

"Don't sit up, Ron!"

He did as he was told. He skirt was practically drenched in his blood, though she paid no heed to it. But he wasn't going to let her get away with this.

"Really, Hermione. You shouldn't waste your energies on chunks of ice."

"You mean I should leave you to die here or what?" she demanded angrily.

"I was just trying to say that if you're going to kill yourself from weariness you should try conjuring a lock pick or something like that."

"I'm not 'killing myself from weariness', Ronald," she replied tersely. "And the door doesn't have a lock. It's locked with a Sealing Charm, but it's got something else in there too and if I don't know the name of the spell I can't do Finite Incantatem. You need to know that for wandless magic."

She seemed to remember the ice now lying on the floor. Picking it up, she made for his head. Ron tilted his head back in place with a groan.

"You're welcome. How do you feel?"

"How should I know?"

That seemed to be enough for Hermione. Gently stretching her leg from underneath Ron, she pulled off her shoe and sock.

"What are you doing?"

"Wait."

She put her shoe on again and told him to try and sit up slowly, grabbing his arms for support. Ron sat up successfully and looked at her. He hadn't noticed her removing the ice from his head before. But now she was slipping it inside her sock and started to tie it around his head.

"Hermione, what are you doing?!"

"Oh, trust me, Ron, it will help."

"I feel stupid."

"Well, I don't know what else to do to keep you awake. I've tried the Summoning Charm a hundred times already, but I can't manage it. Namely because I don't know where exactly in this house our wands are at the moment. Really, it looks so easy when Harry does it."

She gasped loudly.

Ron nearly screamed. She'd frightened him.

"That's it! Harry! I wouldn't be surprised if this place had a Torture Room, which must be located right above the dungeons, which means Harry's just above us, waiting for Voldemort. But I don't think they left him alone, like they did with us. That would mean we'd get caught if we tried to summon something from there. And even in spite of that, we've got no windows, and the door is locked. But then, Fred and George were able to summon their brooms even if they were chained."

Hermione squealed again. Ron couldn't quite catch up with her words, though, and he was growing dizzy again.

"The brooms! Now, these rooms have only one hallway and two rows of cells. That means that wall is either the East or the West wing of the house. The backyard would probably have a broom shed outside, and if I could just..."

He wanted to remind her to breathe, but he felt himself drifting far away, vanishing. He couldn't fight it anymore. But he had to. He had to stay with Hermione and her muttering and her plans and her ice. He had to be useful instead of a burden. He had to come up with something, too. He had to stop the Death Eaters from taking her when they returned from Hogsmeade. He had to stay alive.

And he really wanted to go back home.

---

But the blackness won in the end.

He was lost in unconsciousness as the dark overwhelmed him until he couldn't feel Hermione shaking him anymore. He couldn't see the bloodstained bracelet and necklace on the floor beside him, or feel the ice-filled sock, now soaked in blood, wrapped around his head. He couldn't hear Hermione begging him to stay awake and proceed to press her hands on his head, trying to heal him with wandless magic that was entirely too complex and great to be possible. He didn't notice her collapse from exhaustion, still cradling his head in her lap.

His mind was devoid of thought and feeling. It didn't register their situation anymore. It didn't pray for the Order to arrive and save them. It didn't plant worries in his heart, didn't wonder about Ginny fallen in Hogsmeade or Luna, Dean, Neville, Susan and Terry still fighting, or about Harry in some horrible, godforsaken place. It didn't tell him that he had to be awake in case someone entered and tried to take Hermione. It didn't remind him that they had to survive so they could go back home, and he could take her someplace nice and tell her properly.

Ron's mind was no longer able to tell him anything of the sort.

But he loved Hermione.

And she loved him back.

And -at least until they woke- they would still have each other.