Blazing Sands

Blazing Sands

~Hold not in your heart, heart of mine

The pain when these blazing sands of time,

Shall leave us wondering,

Whether it was the future we left behind~

Part II:

It was the shocking red of his hair that first attracted her to the sight of him.

The minute that figure she saw from afar retreating, she just had to make sure. Not to make sure that it was him, but rather it wasn't him. That is why she tried to help him...more importantly to see that face. She was almost sure it wasn't, particularly on hearing an unfamiliar voice, long before Harry came and shook the reminder into her that he was dead. Her Ron was dead. Almost sure.

Almost.

Yet something about his presence just made her press further.

And she wondered if she should have been happy that she did.

Hermione stared blankly at the unconscious form lying naked on her bed. She swallowed for the millionth time that night and hesitantly went to sit on the armchair which faced the bed. She watched the air turn frosty as she exhaled and pinched herself for the millionth and first time that night.

The last time she thought she saw Ron she almost killed herself. After which Harry couldn't take any more of her depression and pleaded with her to stop it. This time she wasn't even sure what she was doing. She looked once again, at the prone person on her bed. Remembering how exactly he came to be there.

The minute he collapsed on her, she had no idea how to react. Instinctively she tried to balance this man's weight. She reproached herself now, because when his face came into view she should have just gone away. This man was not her Ron. His body was larger and more masculine compared to the lanky boy she knew. More importantly his face was distorted by an ugly beard that covered almost all of his face and his hair was greasy and long all the way up to his shoulders. He was tramp...or she thought until she observed the colour of his hair and the freckles on his face. She looked at his face now as he lay motionless, the except for his strained breathing. She tried to imagine him without all the facial hair and all the scars and bruises and that nasty gash on his forehead. She thought his face was dirty before she tried to clean it only shocked to discover this man had more contusions on his face than all of the Auror army combined.

Hermione...it's me...Ron...

She stood up and looked at him. His face was too familiar for her to ignore the resemblance. And his voice...if Ro-...this man was indeed a hallucinated Ron his voice would have been all crackly as it was how she remembered him. Ron's voice had cracked rather late, she recalled. This man's voice was deep...and sincere.

And the way he said her name...

He was on fire, this man. The way his body temperature had raised so high. When she checked his temperature it was 42oC. She was a doctor, it was her duty to help him, because clearly this man was vomiting blood and badly wounded. His clothes were muddy and shown signs of struggling and there was a dark patch on his right side which indicated a wound underneath.

"I'll get you to a hospital..."

"No..."

He was not conscious; she knew that for a fact, he was delirious.

"NO! No hospitals please...no doctors."

"Listen to me..."

"Hermione...nobody should know..."

Hermione shivered and hugged herself. For some reason she did not comprehend she brought him home. Her single bedroom house in Muggle London. It was the way he constantly pleaded in his delirium not to take him anywhere, and mumbled something like nobody should know, she dragged his bulky weight on her and brought him.

She was MediWitch after all, she could stabilize him. If he was Muggle she could charm him and send him off.

If.

When she checked his eyes, she noticed with his dilated pupils that his eyes were blue. The same blue that belonged to Ron.

It was a hard night for her. With neither assistance nor any hospital at her disposal she stripped him and dumped him in the cold water bath, ignoring his nudity, considering she was the doctor. She almost cried out loud at the side of the large wound on his right side, which barely missed the liver and kidney and bled profusely. With all her knowledge of both muggle and wizard medicine, she was doubtful he could survive the night. Yet looking at the scars, wounds and that particular wound and judging the time for which he had it, she just knew he would.

Just like he did for god-knows how long a time now.

As she struggled to stop the bleeding and bring his temperature down and pump fluids into his body at the same time in the confines of her rather small bathroom it hit her with so much shock that this man, whoever he was could be anyone, anyone but Ron.

Because Ron Weasley was dead.

He had been dead for six years.

By the time she dragged him, wondering where she got the strength to do so much and dropped him on her bead and covered him, so he wouldn't become hypothermic she observed his wound again before she started to seal it. It had a particular shape...if she concentrated harder it almost looked like...a dragon? She was sure she was just mistaken. It wasn't uncommon for wounds to resemble shapes. Yet this one was rather complex, it didn't seem like any...

She gasped and covered her mouth realizing that it was no weapon that caused this wound. It was a curse.

She scanned her memory for all the wound-causing curses she knew, as she frantically chanted the words to seal up the wound before it got any worse. If it induced the sort of poison it did, it must have been an unforgivable curse. She could stop the bleeding, but there was poison in his blood without doubt. He was having a typical allergic reaction, to it. Yet she could neither figure out the poison with all the anti-poison potions she was trying, because it had no response.

Even though it wasn't a fact she could confirm, she was sure of one thing, this man was attacked by the likes of a wizard. A very evil wizard.

It occurred to her now that he could be a very evil wizard.

She jumped back startled and reached for her wand as though he would wake up any moment and attack her. Realizing her stupidity she left the wand where it was. This man could not feign unconsciousness. He did not have comprehension of either pain or temperature in his state...not even the other sensations were present. He was totally numb and oblivious. Even if he was a dark wizard...he was still a man. So she had to save him, because she took an oath to save anyone in need, as a healer.

She would save him. Whoever he was.

She knew now as her sense of person returned slowly as she checked his temperature, she should have taken him to a hospital. She could not afford to have him here. A hospital had the resources to pump out the poison in him. A hospital could be better suited to replenish his blood. She was playing with his life by keeping him here. She had to take him. His temperature was rising slowly. It could just be an intermittent rise, she thought, she would have to wait.

She checked the time. It was almost dawn. She had no idea this much time had passed as she had struggled to keep him alive. She was right. A hospital was where this man should be. And it struck her now as to why she didn't take him to one in the first place.

No time for reproaches, she thought. She could not stay at this man's side forever. No matter who he told her he was, or how much nobody should know. She debated whether to take him to St. Mungo's or the General Hospital. The type of wound he had would be difficult to explain in a Muggle hospital, besides there would be a police inquiry into such a case. St. Mungo's would be a better decision. She did, after all, work there. She could order people around without them wondering how she met this man.

Having made her decision, she debated how to clothe him. His clothes were not suited for him now. They were dirty and as good as useless. She opened her cupboard and found a robe that belonged to Harry. She often kept Harry's clothes with her, including some spare underwear because Harry stayed over whenever he had work in Muggle London. He hated commuting over long distances, unlike her, who commuted to St. Mungo's every day from home. The idea of living entirely in the wizard world was associated with too many painful memories.

Speaking of painful memories...

She went towards him and sighed before pulling away the sheets. She ignored his rather virile appearance, knowing fully well such a thought was taboo. Summoning her strength she sat down on the bed next to him, and slid her arms under his body and exerting fully she pulled his upper body up, he collapsed on her and she almost fell out of the bed. Wheezing at the feeling of suffocation as his bulk weighed on her chest; she brought him into an feeble embrace as she tried to pull the robe on him.

He suddenly grunted and the pace of his breathing changed.

The next thing she knew she was staring into fiery blue eyes being held tightly by her shoulders, with a vengeful face. A sense of panic struck her at his sudden gesture.

He was still delirious...that she could make out from looking at his eyes itself, yet his expression that screamed murder changed to slight recognition.

"Hermione...?" His hold on her loosened as he suddenly swayed grimacing.

"I..." She caught him and steadied him before he fell back onto the bed. It would be easier to clothe him, if he was slightly conscious. "I...have to get you dressed."

He nodded as though in a trance, and leaned towards her. Hermione swallowed. "You're bleeding profusely...you have to go to a hospital. I can't help you..."

"NO!" He caught her violently and chill of fear ran down her spine as he jerked her. His eyes were certain and stubborn. "You can't..."

"I have to..."

"NO!" He swayed again, wincing. "Besides...no hospital can help me..." He began to cough.

Hermione reached for her wand and muttered a charm. She couldn't risk him vomiting any more blood.

"Hermione..."

She was not accustomed to hearing her name from his mouth.

"Please understand...I cannot see anyone. I shouldn't be here..."

Not completing he swayed again and fell back on the bed so hard she shook with it.

Hermione checked his pulse. It was quickening and she felt his temperature. It was increasing again. She tried to shake him back to consciousness but he was out cold. She paused and wondered frustrated, she should take him somewhere. Get him to a hospital.

No hospital can help me...please understand...

For the nth time that night she did something she should never have done, in her opinion, again. She 'understood' and left him in her bed.

*~*

The pain came like a torrent of fire in his lungs. I was so intense that it jerked him into reality and he wheezed and coughed as he curled his body trying to dull the pain. Perspiration bathed his entire body and he caught hold of the sheet that covered him to wipe his brow.

Sheet?

For a second he forgot about the pain and opened his eyes and squinted as sunlight stung at it. His head became dizzy as he forced himself to open it again. He was on a bed in a room. In someone's bed in someone's room. Naked.

The pain kicked his side again and he groaned wondering which woman he had slept with. The pain increased in intensity and began pulling at his heart. Where was he? He cried as he pulled his knees towards his stomach hoping it would decrease the pain. Yet it didn't. The burning sensation started again. Frustrated and tired he looked around confused. He had never been in a room similar to this before. It was rather, homely and neat. There was an armchair in front of him with something similar to a robe draped on it. He screwed his face up in concentration trying to remember all he could.

The only thing he could either feel or remember, right now, was pain.

Slowly an image formed in his head and he coughed again.

I have to get you to a hospital...

Shut up Hermione, he told his conscience as he buckled again and this time landed loudly on the floor.

The minute his ribs collided with the floorboards, a cry escaped his lips as he rocked himself to control...the fucking pain! Bright light began flashing about in his vision. He was going to pass out. Where was he? Was he supposed to be there? As he tried to keep conscious against the sinking feeling he heard something like a crash and then the pounding of steps. Someone was coming. He needed his wand. Where was his wand?

He cursed as he remembered where or rather in which state his wand was now. He opened his eyes in disbelief as the pain clawed at his insides. The last memory he had was being in some dingy alleyway. How did he turn up here?

His answer came as the door burst open. He raised himself to his knees and grappled on the edge of the bed with his elbows and his fists curling into the sheets as he raised his damp head and looked at his host.

It couldn't be...

She seemed rather surprised but a little concerned.

Ron was sure that it couldn't have been her. He was just imagining her like he always imagined her. Then why did her footsteps approaching him, vibrate on the floor?

He backed up as he collapsed on the floor and observed as she hesitantly approached the armchair. She could be either a figment of his imagination or some trick. Some dark wizard trick to compromise his secrets. Either way she was not Hermione, according to him.

Her tearstained face suddenly flashed in his memories. He grunted at both the pain and as the memories of the restaurant building flashed before him. As Harry shaking her violently suddenly drew itself in front of his eyes.

I'm sorry...I...I...I thought you were someone else.

"Hermione," he managed.

In a split second, or for all he cared, it could have been an hour, for all he knew, because he could do nothing to react with this goddamn pain, he was squinting at a wand pointing at his face held by the only woman who could pull it out that fast and look that dangerous.

Ron was sure that now if never, this was indeed Hermione Granger.

"Who are you?" her voice was low, and daring.

He tried to stand up but the pain forced him to remain seated, he could see from her face that she had noticed his pain but she wasn't about to let him make any surprised moves on her.

"I..."

"How do you know my name?"

"Hermione..."

"How?"

He could see the tip of her wand becoming red. That was something he had never, ever seen a wand do before. But then again, this was Hermione's wand.

Somewhere between the nausea, the pain and the intense desire to collapse it occurred to him, how exactly he had reached in that state. If she didn't know who he was he shouldn't tell her. He'd only put her in danger. And compromise his priorities.

"I'm sorry," he whispered before grimacing.

"My name," she persisted, "how the hell do you know it?"

It couldn't be Hermione if she actually swore.

"Answer me." Her eyes were flashing in anger now.

"I'm nobody."

"Clearly you're not one to me," she muttered. "Answer me...you..."

He knew by her 'you' that she wanted to call him by name. He wondered if he should tell her again. Tell her it was indeed him. Yet she naturally wouldn't believe him, how can someone who was dead for six years come and tell her that he wasn't actually dead. He could see the conflict in her eyes as she searched his. She was fighting the recognition.

Yet the way her eyes held his own for a fleeting moment, the pain was gone and an ache to reach out to her. For once he decided to trust his traitorous heart.

"It's me."

"You can't be," she said immediately, but it came in a whisper. He knew from the time lapse of her response that she had considered him very carefully while he was out.

The burning in his throat started again and he growled at the feeling in his head. He caught his stomach protectively and bent over.

The minute she touched him, he reached for her. She retreated a little; he could see the caution and fear in her eyes and the typical concern, he could only associate with her.

"Hermione," he groaned, "It's me, I swear it."

She looked at him intensively and then swallowed before saying detachedly, "You're burning up again. Listen to me...we should go to a hospital..."

"NO!" he said fiercely, realizing it wasn't the first time he had said it since they were attacked. "I shouldn't be here. I should leave." He saw her kneel and hold his shoulders.

"You're not going anywhere with that wound." Her voice was sincere. He looked into her eyes with a plea on his face.

"Hermione, understand...please..." He gritted his teeth at the pain. "I can't..."

He couldn't complete as she pulled him up to his feet. He tried to make it easier on himself as he balanced his swaying body tried to steady his vision of her, she was multiplying. He leaned on her as she grunted before seating him on the bed. "Listen to me..."

"Hermione...I know you don't believe me..."

"I don't care who you are..." Her expression became fierce. "You could be a figment of my imagination for all I care! Or some escaped Death Eater out for revenge! You're not him that is all I know. Now you need help."

"NO!" He couldn't blame her. He was thinking along the same lines as she said, but help as she mentioned was not acceptable.

"NOBODY SHOULD KNOW!" he managed before the pain made him cry out.

"Who are you?" she said forcefully as she pushed him down. He looked into her eyes. She was torn and upset and there were tears glistening.

"Ron Weasley." He swallowed as the pain radiated in his larynx.

"Ron Weasley died six years ago," she said as she pulled the sheets over him.

"So you were told." He needed her to trust him. Or else she would take him somewhere and he would risk being exposed. He squeezed his eyes shut as a cry erupted from his lungs as the pain began taking control of his body. Those damn flashes of light were back, he was sinking again. He needed to revive. He caught hold of the only ray of strength. That, so, happened to be her shoulders.

"Hermione, I cannot help you...but I cannot be discovered."

She did something. He had no idea what but the pain began dulling with her soft beautiful voice in his ears. "Sleep now."

He couldn't afford that. "No...I am risking too much." He forced his eyes open and looked at her determined face.

"Listen, you, if you don't want me to take you to a hospital, at least do as I say. Because if you collapse out on the road again, someone else will."

That had to be Hermione. Only she could apply logic like that on him and get away with it.

He gritted his teeth and fought to remain awake, what if he was dreaming. It could be an induced delirium by some enemy. She couldn't be here with him. He never had that sort of good fortune. Maybe they would extricate his memories while he was unconscious and kill Harry.

Harry...

"Hermione?" Harry's voice rang in his head and he forced his eyes open to see her looking towards the door with alarm on her face. She was still seated next to him. He caught her hand and tried to speak but his speech was slurred.

"Don't move..." She looked towards the door as Harry's voice called for her again.

"He cannot know," Ron whispered with all the strength he had left. "He mustn't know."

She looked at him, her face showed doubt.

"Please...Hermione." He closed his eyes trying hard to ignore the comfort of the darkness that beckoned him. "He must not know. Don't tell him anything."

Hermione did not respond in anyway only push him back onto the bed and cover him with the sheets, "Don't move too much." She ordered as she stood up and went to the door.

"Please," he whispered as he allowed the darkness to claim. He was aware of her pausing as he said that before she went out closing the door behind him.

Hermione leaned on the closed door, aware of Harry calling for her in the living room. She had to be hallucinating. None of this was happening. Yet she hadn't slept the whole night staying by his side, watching him mutter things she couldn't comprehend, calling her name occasionally. She didn't know what to think. Her mind was still numb from shock at seeing Ro-...this man and her own actions. He could be evil. There were many people who still wanted Harry and the rest of them who survived, dead.

...who survived...

Ron's body was never found was the last thought in her head as Harry's concerned face appeared over the landing to the steps that led down to her dining and living room.

"Hermione?" His face showed relief. "Oh God! I thought...why didn't you answer? I was calling for a long time."

Hermione's hand clasped the door handle protectively. She should tell Harry. She should confirm it with Harry that what was behind the door was real.

He must not know...Don't tell him anything...

"I..." she said after a tired sigh, "I was in the bathroom."

Harry looked cautious as he stood on the landing. Hermione bravely made her way down. "What is it Harry?"

"Umm..." Harry looked hesitant, before she was able to reach him he made his way down to her dining room and she followed him.

He turned about at the entrance of the kitchen and looked at her sympathetically, "I just..."

Hermione crossed her arms and looked expectantly at him, wondering whether she should take him upstairs and show him the man in her bed.

"I am sorry," he whispered, finally.

Hermione frowned and wondered what he was talking about. "For what?"

"For...last night. I'm sorry I got so angry."

Hermione recalled his furious face as he shouted at her the previous night. She had forgotten about that with this ordeal with Ro-...the man.

"Harry it's..." She started to say it, but simply settled for, "Forget it."

"No Hermione, I was..."

"Harry!" She had enough of awkward apologies in her life to have another. She was too tired for it now. "Just forget it. It's okay."

"You really thought you saw him, didn't you?"

She looked up at the cracking in his voice; his face was not upset but rather torn. She decided to tell however much of the truth she could afford to. So she nodded.

"I miss him, too...you know, I know what it is like." Harry's eyes showed some sort of struggle.

Hermione swallowed and smiled reassuringly. "I know. It's just..."

"Difficult," he completed for her.

Hermione looked into his brimming eyes. They were glistening with the tears that would fall if she didn't put an end to this conversation. She would not be able to control herself. Her mind was already playing enough tricks on her for her to have her best friend lose his hold on his emotions. Difficult was an understatement.

"Difficult." She agreed then decided to change the subject, "Do you want some tea?"

Harry seemed to regain control of himself and he smiled, "No...I thought about it but..." he suddenly frowned as he looked at her.

"What is it?" she checked herself.

"You look... You...didn't sleep last night did you?"

Hermione sighed and shook her head; she didn't need to be reminded of last night.

"Hermione..." Harry went into his lecturing tones once again.

"Harry," she interjected, "I'm fine. I just had some work to do and I got carried away."

"You were always a terrible liar."

"Well, I'll catch up on my sleep now," she said hurriedly. "It's not easy to sleep when you think you see the dead walking around."

She had absolutely no idea where the last part came from. The way Harry winced alerted her that she actually did say it. But she was tired, and confused and now irritated. There was a wounded man upstairs claiming to be Ron and Harry was down here trying to be nice, and she was snapping at him, for no reason. She only knew that her life should be less complicated.

She decided against apologizing. She meant it. It really isn't easy to sleep when you think you see the dead walking around. Particularly when they are real and are in your bed at this very moment.

Harry nodded, fortunately and decided against arguing. "I...I was just wondering if I could stay the night."

Hermione's mind went on alert. What if Ro...the man was still there?

"How come?"

"I just had some business in Diagon Alley and I thought..." Harry didn't seem too sincere.

"Harry," she said, cutting him off, "you don't have to check up on me, you know."

"No Hermione...I didn't mean it that way...I am serious."

"I've known you for thirteen years now, don't try to lie to me." She crossed her arms. "I will be okay."

"Hermione."

"Harry," she sighed, "it takes time, okay? I need to sleep now, I am not going to work today. If you still have that business in Diagon Alley then give me a call..."

Harry smiled. "I'm sorry. Don't blame me for worrying about you, okay?"

"I won't." She smiled, but she had to convince him not to give her a call. "Besides...I have a date tonight."

"A date?" Harry was nonchalant.

"A date." She smiled bravely. "There is this bloke from work."

"Who?"

"I won't tell you." She had to say that because she herself knew no one.

"Good..." Harry came towards her and hugged her, "I'm glad you're getting out."

Hermione smiled as cunningly as she could feign. "So I don't want you here when I am getting some!"

Harry's infective laughter was a welcome sound to her ears as he looked at her and made a face of mock warning, "He better be good enough!"

"Yes..." She smiled at Harry's protectiveness as she stepped out of his embrace and saw him to the door.

As she came back into the kitchen to drink a glass of water she looked up at the ceiling, more precisely what was the floor of her bedroom. Ron would be hungry, she thought absent mindedly. Yet he couldn't ingest anything just yet, he would probably vomit it all out. Though, she was sure that it would probably make no difference to his appetite.

The glass fell to the floor and crashed into pieces as the water escaped through and spread slowly all over the floor.

Ron was dead.

This man could not be Ron.

She looked up once again and swallowed. For the sake of finding out what hurt him, if nothing else, she had to get to the bottom of this whole...mess.

Cautiously she climbed up the stairs, ignoring the water on her floor which would seep into the wood and cause mildew; she looked at the door of the bedroom and shivered a little as she caught the doorknob.

Closing her eyes she turned it and opened the door slowly. Not pushing it further than a slit, she hesitated. She had left her wand on the side table in the room. Silently cursing her carelessness. This man could very well be a spy or an assassin. Wounded or not, he could still prove a threat. Some Auror she would turn out to be.

Opening it a little wider she peeped in and looked at the bed. She couldn't see the side facing the window very well so she opened it a little wider.

He wasn't on the bed. She stopped the door from opening any further. There was no way anyone hurt that badly or put under a sleeping spell like that could have made it out of the bed. Which amounted to one thing, he was feigning unconsciousness and had some sort of physical alteration that made him appear like that or something and he was hiding somewhere to kill her. She looked at the door and realized he could be behind it. She didn't have the time to close the door and run down to get something that would hurt him. So she had to use her own strength to get her wand. Inhaling deeply she pushed the door wide open so if he was hiding behind it would surprise him at least, if not knock him out. Rushing in she kicked it shut, satisfied to see no one was behind. She scanned the room quickly and spotted her wand just where she left. She checked under the bed on either side. She saw the window was locked from the inside, besides it was too small for a man his size to get out. She looked at the badly arranged sheets again.

He was nowhere to be seen.

Breathing deeply, trying to calm her frayed nerves she wondered if she had just imagined everything.

It was a croaky cry that alerted her attention to the bathroom.

She burst into the bathroom relieved to find him there and chiding herself at the same time for being so paranoid. It took her few seconds to get in her seconds he was over the water closet vomiting. Vomiting blood.

For the second time since this man came into her life she said the one name she never thought she could utter to another living person, again.

"Ron?"

Surprised at her own taking his name she went to him and put her arm on his back as he coughed into the water closet. He spat it and wheezed air and sat on the floor. Hermione felt his temperature as she reached for the towel which was lying about on the floor and wiped his blood stained mouth and tried to wipe his damp forehead. Still coughing he leaned into her.

"Burns," he whispered before his mouth bloated a little again and he reached towards the water closet and vomited again. Hermione looked at his vomit and observed its texture.

"It's not blood," she whispered as he coughed and reached for the towel.

"What?" He wiped his mouth.

"That's not blood, Ron..." She broke off realizing, she said his name. "What is it?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to know?" he spat out again. He cried out again as he clutched his stomach. "Fucking pain!"

Absentmindedly Hermione took the towel from his and wiped the vomit which caught in his beard and reproached, "Don't curse."

Ron's face suddenly jerked towards her. He looked into her eyes and squinted before groaning in pain again and almost falling on her. Hermione checked his pulse as he began to tremble against her.

"Shit!" she said. "Ron, you have to stand."

He growled and shook his head.

Hermione inhaled before summoning her strength and slipped her arms under his and dragged him, literally across the floor towards the bathtub. He looked about bewildered as he tried to stop her from doing that, mumbling, "Hot...very hot."

She ignored trying to reason with him; right now all she had to do was bring his temperature down. She knew that the temperature was way over 44oC the minute his body began jerking up and down. He was going into a heat rigor and she had to cool his temperature.

She thanked the gods whoever they were that it was winter and pulled open the tap on full flow and pulled up his convulsive body. Trying her best to balance him she just pushed him into the tub as the water filled slowly around him, in the process she almost fell in, but stopped before she could get wet. She supported his burning neck on the rim of the tub with a thick towel and then ran to the room to her cupboard and pulled up a neck support pillow and wand. After shoving it under his neck and supporting his head properly on it and muttered a cooling charm into the water. It was splashing all about as his body convulsed violently. She checked his mouth and was relieved to see that his tongue was not caught in his teeth. He wasn't having an epileptic fit. He must have been partially conscious, she could make out as she checked his pupils as she frantically tried to get his body to stabilize, because he seemed to be exerting some mental control on himself. She was surprised as to how he was able to make his way to the W.C. and admired his resolve for a second before she ran out of the bathroom, as good as drenched with all the water that he was thrashing about in and bounded down to the cabinet that built into the wall of the landing and searched through the bottles of potions.

She thanked the gods again she had the potion she needed as she ran upwards. She came and was relieved to see that the rigors had stopped and that he was breathing deeply but he seemed semi-conscious. She stopped the charm from cooling the water any further, or else he would freeze to death. He reached one trembling hand for the side of the tub, she knew instantly with look of determination in his face that he was trying to get out.

"Oh no you don't," she ordered.

Ron could barely make her out as he felt the heat dissipate and his body temperature falling. He shouldn't be here. He was bringing about unacceptable risk to his purpose. He tried to comprehend that sudden cold feeling in his side as he saw his wound and almost gasped in surprise. It had stopped bleeding. Strange. It was as good as impossible to seal something like that. Then again, the owner of the voice that made him resign to his state in the tub was someone who managed to do impossible things rather possibly.

That thought was the last in his head as the sudden taste of slime entered his mouth. He tried to spit it out but Hermione would have none of it.

"Drink this."

If any of them knew he actually listened to a woman, they'd give him hell for it. He smiled faintly and opened his eyes to see that she looked a little startled at his smile.

"You always knew how to get to me, Granger," he muttered.

Her face which was screwed up in concentration suddenly became pale. It dawned on him that she still did not believe him. When she took the vial from his lips and tossed it somewhere, and judging by the sound of its crash it must have been the dustbin, he sank deeper into the water, finding it cooler than before, but it was good. It was helping his burning stomach.

"I heard a crash." He had no idea why he was trying to make conversation with her, but he decided that he should attribute everything to his traitorous heart.

Hermione frowned and said, "What crash?"

"Something broke...? Down...I think..."

She shushed him. "Don't talk..."

Who was she to order him around? "Fuck off."

"I wish," she muttered and looked at him annoyed. "While you are here, stop cursing."

"I don't want to be here," he said, knowing fully well he did. This was Hermione and for some reason coming to her was like coming home.

"You should be in a hospital." She felt the water and pulled her hand back. She leaned further to look somewhere. Down there.

The realization that he was completely naked hit him with the wave of cold he suddenly felt. He looked at himself through his now rather clearer vision and swore before thrashing about the water much to her alarm and covered himself with his hands.

"What the hell...?" She looked at him, "Are you crazy? Movement could be fatal to you." She looked at what he did and rolled her eyes, for a second Ron thought he was in Hogwarts arguing with her again and smiled faintly.

"Honestly!" she responded, with a smile too. "A little late for that, isn't it?"

Ron knew that for that instant at least, she let her carefully guarded resolve down. It was difficult to resist teasing a woman with a smile like that.

"Only a devious woman would undress an unconscious man," he quipped.

Hermione gave him a look that told him he should never make a comment like that to her again and he smiled in apology. She pulled his hands away and looked back down there.

"Do you mind?" He shifted in the water uncomfortably, aware that the fatigue was setting in again.

"Oh don't worry," she muttered, "I'm not looking at that. Besides...I've seen better."

That comment wasn't lost on him; he hastily covered himself

"Hey!"

Hermione looked at him with a look of pure irritation, and pulled his hands away and said, "That wound doesn't look very good."

"It looks a lot better than it did," he said warily. In fact it should never have gotten better.

She looked at him and seriously, "Who are you?"

Ron couldn't break her gaze and swallowed aware that he was getting dizzy, "I'm Ron."

"Weasley?" she said again, but softly.

"Ron Weasley."

He nodded and then he realized for the millionth time that he shouldn't be where he was. He tried to sit up and that wave of nausea struck him again, right after she said, "What are you doing?"

"Trying to get the hell out of here," he muttered as he caught his head, closing his eyes tightly feeling pin pricks in his wound.

A sudden pressure was applied to the midline of his stomach and a fiery line of pain smarted through his food pipe all of a sudden. He cried and looked at her grimacing every second.

"What the fuck was that for?"

She was constantly prodding and poking about his bruised abdomen with her face screwed in concentration as she ignored him and began pressing randomly with her palm. In response to most of her actions he yelped in pain cursing her.

"I said..."

He gritted his teeth as she poked again, trying to move her hand from his body. She caught his hand with a swiftness that told him he needed to work on his reflexes.

"What the..."

Not looking at him but putting his hand on the brim of the tub she said icily, "I heard you."

The damn poking and prodding started again.

"Do you feel something in your throat when I do this?" She pushed at a point on his stomach again.

A guttural sound escaped his lips in response as that acrid burning feeling came in his mouth again.

"I thought so," she said, taking it as a response.

"What is your problem?" he groaned as the throbbing began in his temples again. He gripped the sides of the tub painfully as she traced his wound gently, observing his reaction.

"I have a long list," she answered in the same tone.

"Stop it! Who are you?"

"I told you..." Damn woman.

"Ron Weasley died six years ago."

"Did you find my...I mean...his body?" Why did she have to argue with him now?

"You don't find a body with an AKD."

An Avada Kedavra curse combined with a Detonus curse. So that is how they were told he died. Not a bad excuse.

"Excuse?" She frowned, as she pointed the wand at the water and muttered something.

He swore at his stupidity. He should have stopped his mouth before saying what he thought out loud.

"Excuse." He nodded. He was giving away too much information.

"I don't believe you, by the way," she said.

"Ask me something, anything..." He was trying. Why was he trying? He didn't have to tell her anything. He should get out of here. Damn the pain!

"How do you have this wound, 'Ron Weasley'?" Trust Hermione to ask the choicest of questions.

"Anything but that..." he muttered.

"Okay, if you are Ron Weasley how is it that you are alive, when everyone else thinks you're dead?"

Damn you, Hermione.

"And that..." He squeezed his eyes shut.

"I thought so."

She stood up. He opened his eyes as she went to the W.C. and looked in it.

"Hermione, please...you have to believe me..." He gasped the latter half of the sentence causing her to look at him. He twisted painfully in the water and gasped again as he felt goose bumps all over his body.

"What?" She came to him.

"Believe me Hermione...I..."

"No not that, you twit! Is it hurting?"

He nodded and said, "It's getting cold."

"Good," she said and reached towards his legs. She pinched the soles of his feet and pulled his legs towards him one after the other.

"What the..."

"Don't curse," she ordered., "You felt that?"

"Oh course I bloody felt that! What do you think I..."

"Good."

"What?"

"Your sensations are back. You could barely feel your own temperature yesterday."

"Huh?"

"Never mind...where is it hurting?" She pointed to his wound. "Here?"

What difference did it make where it was hurting? The point was that it was hurting, but knowing better than to argue with her he concentrated and he was pointed to his midline, observing her expression keenly. It changed from relief to worry.

"What?" he said.

"Look...do you..." She broke off, clearly noticing that he had begun to shiver, "it's best I get you out now."

He nodded and tried to sit up but only had to fight the urge to collapse which he almost did if she hadn't caught him. He chose to inhaled the scent of her as she pulled him into an embrace and pull him up.

The very action of rising sent pain all over his body and made him unsteady and he felt pricking pain inside his forehead, he grabbed her to avoid losing equilibrium.

"Carefully..." She tried to steady him and encouragingly whispered to him. He found it rather annoying except that he was able concentrate with all the banging in his head. He stepped out uncertainly supported entirely on her as they staggered out of the bathroom. Just when he was sure he would faint she let go of him and he crashed onto the bed his body screaming in agony. He curled almost howling with the pain as Hermione mumbled something quickly and it began dulling. He reached for her hand and gripped it tightly and loosened his hold on as the ache gently subsided. He opened his eyes and whispered her name just for the comfort of knowing she was actually there, with him.

He noticed her face seemingly relieved as he looked into those brown eyes. She smoothened his hair and said, "Better?"

He nodded and turned to the side she sat on noticing her wand was with her. He assumed she had it in her hand but was too much in agony to notice it. He then, wondered why he needed to notice it.

"Stay still," she said and left him. The feeling of her fingers leaving his gave him a sense of ache as he breathed asthmatically, forcing his nervous body to calm.

She emerged from the bathroom carrying a vial with red liquid. It looked like blood; he followed her actions with his eyes as she went to the armchair and put the vial in a leather bag closing it. Strange, he hadn't noticed that bag before.

"What was that?" His voice had emerged croakily.

"Your vomit."

He hissed in disgust and said, "What do you want that for?"

"To see what it is. Don't talk too much"

"It's blood." He persisted as she came to sit by him and point her wand at his wound.

"No," she said, "it's not..."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that it is not blood. I told you, stop talking."

He knitted his brow, "How...? It looks like it."

"Just because you look like Ron Weasley, doesn't mean you are." She said bitterly.

"Look Hermione" he hissed as the pain started again. What would it take for her to understand? Then realizing the gravity of the situation he decided against making her believe but concentrate on getting back to his mission, "I don't have time for this!"

"Don't talk then." She said something incomprehensible afterwards and his eyes widened in shock as he saw odd shapes appear inches above his wound. In thin air.

"What the..."

She looked at it and pointed at various points with her wand, "That's your liver...that's your kidney...the spell caused some sort of rift from here to here. It bared grazed your stomach. I think the poisons..."

He was still staring at the image as she continued to talk in gibberish, not understanding anything she was saying.

"...I don't know what it is, but I think that liquid isn't part of your body at all."

"Are... is...are..." he pointed feebly to the images rotating in front of him. "Are those my insides?" he finally whispered.

She nodded and flicked her wand. The image disappeared.

"Yuck! I'm disgusting!" he managed.

"That's how everyone looks," she said matter-of-factly. "From the inside at least."

He was about to ask her how she knew when suddenly a spasm of pain its way around the wound. He cried and twisted again.

"Shit!" It wasn't lost on him that she actually did so but the minute she caught his face and looked into his eyes he just forgot everything.

"Listen...what...what was it?"

He groaned and turned his face as his head began to reel.

"I have to get you to a hospital. I don't know what is wrong with you."

He violently shook his head.

"Please...don't you want to live?"

"I died a long time ago," he muttered and began writhing again.

"For heaven's sake!" She shook him desperately. "You could die!"

And he had to live...no survive. For her sake, for Harry's sake, for everyone's sake, everyone's except his.

"Ron..."

He opened his eyes when she said his name, and he could see the uncertainty with which she did.

She sighed. "I am taking you to hospital. The poison is unlike anything I have seen. Please..."

"NO HOSPITAL!" He yelped again as the torture began in his body.

"THEY CAN HELP YOU!"

"No!" he said, forcing his memory to work. There had to be something.

"What hit you, Ron? What was it?"

He could make out she was frantically trying to say the same spell that dulled his ache before.

"I don't know," he whispered as the heat began taking control of his body.

"Do you remember the words, the weapon, anything?"

"A wand..."

"What type?"

He growled again and tried to remember, "It was ebony."

"Ebony?" he opened his eyes and caught her, "The words...it's...I can..."

"Ron?" she pushed him on the bed and said, "Ron, I can't let you go through this. I'm knocking you out. You'll have to be unconscious for a while."

"No!" A while was too long. He already lost this much time.

"You could DIE!"

He gritted his teeth and pushed back into the bed writhing as the pain was increasing. "Arrrrgh!"

He opened his eyes and in the middle his torment it struck him that he was looking at the smartest witch he ever knew. His best friend. If there was anyone he could trust. It was her.

"Maut," he whispered.

"What?" she leaned closer.

He swallowed the dryness in his mouth and in cracked tones said, "Maut, it is a...spell!"

"What kind of spell?"

"Used by the Raeties!"

"The what?"

She let go of him and he began sinking. He winced and saw she was standing over him staring at him in disbelief. Of course, she probably didn't know what they were. Nobody knew who they were.

He began to explain, "Raeties they are..."

"I know what they are." But of course she would know. Hermione Granger knew everything. She bent over his and caught his face, "They...they...exist?"

He nodded. "I don't know how to counteract it."

"Anyone who does?" Her face showed anxiety as she said. "The analgesia spell cannot last on you any more, Ron. Please...you could die. The Raeties used powerful magic."

"No shit!"

He arched his body upwards as the pain made its way into his spine. He suddenly collapsed on to bed as the darkness began to claim him. Her voice echoed in his ear as she tried to keep him awake. There had to be someone. But who? His mind scanned through all concerned and suddenly the vial of liquid she was holding flashed in his memory. He had seen a similar vial once before.

As the one person who could help him came to his mind, he gasped loudly and said, "Hermione."

"I'm here."

As she began casting the spell for him to become unconscious and to conserve his energy he gasped the address out loud before collapsing.

"Which alley did you say?" she whispered in disbelief.

Before he slipped into oblivion he whispered, "Knockturn Alley."