The Interlude

Disclaimer: Most chapter titles are lifted lyrics from songs. This one is from "Caught Up in a Dream," by Tesla.

Author's Note: This was written as a prequel to another one of my stories, "The End." Aside from spoiling some major points of that story, I think that this can be read alone. If you disagree, please let me know and I'll see what I can do to make things clearer.

Also, "The End" was begun before Half-Blood Prince was released, and although I've corrected most of it for the new canon, there is one element that I thought was best left alone, and it bleeds into this story a bit. In this story, Side-Along Apparition is extremely difficult and dangerous, to the point that hardly anyone ever tries it, and most who do come off the worst for it. I apologize for any confusion this may create.

Enjoy.

Chapter 1: Right Now I'm Alive

It felt like he was in a thick fog or deep underwater. Yes, underwater, that was it. The charmed sleep he'd been placed in for the second task prevented him from remembering the incident, but he supposed it must have felt something like this. Everything felt fuzzy and far away, and while he couldn't see, he could hear many people around him, all talking at once. It sounded like gibberish; all garbled and confused, until someone leaned close and commanded, "Let's get him on a bed!"

"He's not breathing!" someone else exclaimed.

He choked on something and all of a sudden, the fuzz around his brain cleared slightly. He couldn't tell who they were talking about, but it sounded like whoever it was must be in a fair amount of trouble.

"Ronald Weasley!" someone shouted in his ear. "You're at Saint Mungo's. We're trying to save you, can you wake up?"

Oh. It had never occurred to Ron that he might be the person in trouble. He tried to prove that he was awake, but his ears seemed to be the only things that were connected.

"What happened to him?"

"He got cursed." The voice sounded familiar to Ron, but he couldn't place it.

"What spell?"

"I don't know, I'd never seen it before. There was no incantation."

"That's alright, sit down, son. You should have known better than to try and Apparate with him."

"I'm not leaving. He's my friend."

Harry! The voice was Harry. In spite of himself, Ron couldn't help feeling relieved. Harry wouldn't let anything happen to him.

"Harry! Are you alright! What about Ron!"

"I'm fine, Hermione, but Ron, he's..."

"Oh, Ron!"

That voice wasn't Hermione's, it was his Mum's. Ron wished more than anything that he could give some sort of sign to prove he was alright.

"Healers, ready!" someone unfamiliar said.

"No, wait!" Harry exclaimed. "I already tried, magic only makes it-"

"Finite Incantatum!" several voices shouted at once.

There was a collective gasp around him. Ron heard a voice screaming and slowly realized that it was his own.

***************

The first thing Ron noticed when he woke up was that he wasn't where he was when he had fallen asleep, or gotten knocked out, rather. At least, he assumed he wasn't, because the last thing he remembered happened considerably earlier than the last thing he thought he'd been awake for.

The next thing Ron noticed was that he couldn't feel his right arm. He tried to flex his bicep, but if it worked he couldn't tell, so he desisted and settled for attempting to wiggle his fingers instead, but was met with no success at all. Ron immediately became worried that sometime in between what he last remembered and when he woke up, he'd managed to lose his arm.

With this thought, Ron attempted to sit up, and, thus, the third thing he noticed was a shaking, bushy haired someone pushing him gently back into his pillow. He would have fought his way back up again if his head wasn't swimming so badly or if he hadn't already caught a glimpse of his arm. It was covered from fingertip to shoulder blade in gauze five centimeters think, but the limb was clearly still attached. This left him free to inquire about the identity and purpose of the person who had pushed him down, not that it took him long to figure out, as she had taken to kissing and wringing his left hand, crying, "You're okay, you're okay."

"Hermione," Ron said quietly, fumbling until he found one of her hands and grasping it.

She stood up and gave him a kiss on the forehead, giving Ron a chance to see the rips in her clothes and the deep scratches beneath them. Her nose looked a little swollen and blood had congealed in her hair around some cut. It almost looked to Ron like she'd refused to be treated in favor of watching him sleep, but Hermione was much too smart for that.

"What time is it?" Ron asked.

Looking a bit surprised, Hermione glanced at her watch then replied, "About two in the morning." She must have noticed Ron trying to do the math in his head, because she added, "June 23. Harry brought you here yesterday morning."

"I've been asleep for an entire day?" Ron said, disbelieving.

"Almost," Hermione sighed.

"You look terrible," Ron pointed out.

"You're in a bit of a state yourself," Hermione quipped tearfully. "You gave us a real scare, there."

Ron made to shrug off the statement, but stopped when he was reminded of just how strange it was to try and move anything related to his right arm.

"What about Harry? Ginny?" Ron asked.

"Ginny's outside with your parents," Hermione replied. "And Harry..."

She gestured to the foot of the bed then helped Ron sit up far enough to see the back of an unkempt head of black hair resting on a pair of crossed arms near his right foot.

"Is he alright?" Ron asked warily.

"As far as they can tell," Hermione said. "He's asleep now. He dragged you to Hogsmeade then Apparated you here. It took a lot out of him."

"I thought Apparating with another person was impossible," Ron said, gingerly sitting up.

"Apparently it's just dangerous," Hermione replied, grabbing a few pillows and arranging them behind him. "No one's figured out how he did it yet."

"What happened?" Ron asked.

"Actually, we were hoping you could tell us that," Hermione said, "seeing as you were there and all."

"I don't think I can help with that," Ron said sadly. "I must have blacked out or something."

"Then you don't remember a thing?" Hermione asked, growing panicked.

"No, why?" Ron asked warily. "It's just the last bit after Harry and I got ambushed that I can't think of. I remember everything else."

"Because they don't know how to fix you," Hermione cried. "Harry said he didn't know what spell Voldemort used, and-"

"I got cursed by You-know-who?" Ron interrupted, impressed.

"Ron, this is serious," Hermione continued, grasping his hand tighter. "None of the Healers have even seen anything like that spell before and they don't know how to undo it."

"But I feel fine," Ron stammered.

"You're not fine, Ron," Hermione replied. "Have you tried moving your right arm?"

"Yeah, I can't, I can't even feel it," Ron shrugged, "but that's temporary, right?" Hermione's face fell. "Isn't it?"

"They don't know," Hermione cried. "That spell messed you up inside. M-magic doesn't work on you."

"What?" Ron breathed.

"They tried to cancel out the spell, it only made it worse," Hermione said. "The Healers tried a few other spells too, none of them helped."

"Give me my wand," Ron said.

"Ron, no," Hermione pleaded. "Until we know what's wrong, you could really hurt yourself."

"Please, I need to know," Ron replied.

"Alright," Hermione conceded, reaching for her pocket, "but do something simple."

"This is yours," Ron said, eying the wand Hermione offered him. "Did something happen to mine?"

"Harry has it," Hermione explained. "I didn't want to wake him."

Ron nodded and gripped Hermione's wand in his left hand. He pointed it at a flower vase near the window and gave it a flick, "Wingardium Levio-ah!"

It felt like he'd been shocked: a surge of energy coursed through his fingers and the wand slipped from his grasp. The vase remained unmoved.

Hermione leaned over to retrieve the fallen wand then sat up, trying and failing to keep her face impassive, but Ron wasn't looking at her anyway.

"Seven years of magical education and now I'm a squib," Ron told the ceiling, blinking rapidly.

"You're not," Hermione replied, taking Ron's hand in her own. "It's the spell, and we'll figure out how to fix it."

"But you said the Healers don't know what it did," Ron said.

"I didn't say they'd fix it, I said we would," Hermione replied.

"If anyone can figure this out, you can," Ron conceded, turning to face her.

"I won't rest until I've solved this."

"I know you won't," Ron said, tucking a strand of hair behind Hermione's ear. "You should get someone to look at that, though."

"I will," Hermione replied, gingerly reaching up to touch the cut along her hair line. "But first I need to tell your parents you're awake. Your Mum only stepped out to get some tea; she'll flay me if I wait much longer."

When Hermione was almost at the door, Ron called her back.

"Does this change anything? I-I mean...because I'd understand if you don't...or...if you want to-"

Ron was abruptly cut off when Hermione lowered her lips on to his. It was several minutes before either of them could speak again.

"This doesn't change a thing," Hermione said, finally backing away.

"Thanks," Ron replied.

She was nearly at the door again when Ron called, "Hermione?"

"Ron, I promise not to go running off with Fred or someone," Hermione sighed.

"Fred?" Ron demanded, forgetting himself. "Wait, that's not what I meant. What about You-know-who?"

"Oh!" Hermione said, brightening up. "Harry won, Voldemort's gone. It's over."

"It's over," Ron breathed, testing the idea.

"We don't have to fight anymore," Hermione continued.

"It's over," Ron repeated.

For a moment, it was all they could do to stare at each other, ecstatic grins creeping over their faces. After years of trials, they had finally won. The world could move on.

"It's over," Hermione agreed, turning back to the door.

"Wait, Hermione?"

"Yes."

"Don't tell them about, you know..." Ron trailed off, gesturing to the vase he'd failed to levitate.

"Of course," Hermione replied, "you can tell them when you're ready."

"And Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you're alright."

"You too."

Hermione paused with her hand on the doorknob and looked up at Ron. A few seconds and several unspoken words passed between them, then she smiled, nodded, and opened the door to the waiting Weasleys in the hallway.

Mr. Weasley jerked out of his uneasy daze at the sound of the door and looked up at Hermione.

"Is something wrong?" he asked quickly. "Should I get a Healer?"

"No, everything's great," Hermione replied placatingly. "Ron's awake."

Quite forgetting that Ginny was sleeping with her head on his leg, Mr. Weasley jumped to his feet, nearly knocking her to the floor. Remembering himself at the last second, he caught his drowsy daughter by the shoulder and gently sat her up. Ginny didn't need to ask why she had been woken up: one look at her father's elated expression told her everything she needed to know. She leapt to her feet, teetered slightly as she sleepily found her balance, and darted through the door to Ron's room, leaving Hermione and Mr. Weasley to wake up the rest of the dozing family.

Just as Hermione was prodding Charlie awake, Mrs. Weasley returned carrying several cups of tea, which she dropped as soon as she surmised what had happened. She bustled into Ron's room without bothering to clean them up.

Mr. Weasley gave Hermione a look and a shrug and raised his wand to clear away the spill, but the sight of his wand reminded Hermione of the secret Ron was trusting her with, and she found herself unable to look at Mr. Weasley and she followed Bill and Fleur into Ron's room instead.

It was completely silent in the room, but not unpleasantly so. Instead, there was a growing energy, as though everyone had realized simultaneously just where they were, that the war was over, and that everyone was alright. Mrs. Weasley had resumed her place next to Harry at Ron's right side and was running her fingers through Ron's hair, apparently trying to reassure herself that he really was there, awake and alive, and Ron was silently pleading with her to stop.

Ginny was doing what Hermione could not: gently jostling Harry awake. He finally straightened up, blinking blearily as he straightened his glasses. Harry's eyes met with Ron's and his face cracked into a wide smile which was soon echoed all over the room. Before long everyone was laughing merrily as though someone had just told some grand joke.

The spell broken, Fred reached forward, patted Ron on the foot, and said, "Welcome back, Ronnikins."

Ron stammered for a moment at being called by that juvenile nickname, and finally said sheepishly, "I didn't really go anywhere."

"You seemed far away to us," Ginny replied.

"Sorry," Ron said, dropping his attention to his left hand.

"Don't," Harry said suddenly. His voice sounded tired and tense.

"What?" Ron asked. Everyone was looking at Harry now.

"Don't be sorry," Harry clarified. "It wasn't your fault. The...um...the spell was meant for me. You saved me, and...well, that's what happened."

It felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room as nine people gasped at once at this new bit of information. In the meantime, Harry had returned his attention to his knees.

"I saved you?" Ron breathed.

"You don't remember?" Harry returned, sitting up straighter.

"I remember most of the battle, but none of that," Ron replied, eyes wide. "As far as I remember, we got ambushed in that hallway and I woke up here."

"Oh, Ron," Mrs. Weasley sighed.

"It's alright," Ron maintained. "Maybe that spell did something to my memory and it'll come back when we figure out how to fix it, or maybe I blocked it out, in which case I might not want to remember.

Mrs. Weasley still looked a bit worried about this revelation, but Ron couldn't bring himself to be troubled by it, because he had finally accomplished something that his brothers could not. He had saved Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived, and in that one way he was greater than the rest of them. It felt a bit selfish, but Ron couldn't help but marvel in that for a moment.

"We thought you'd need something to do," George said after a moment, "so we brought you some stuff from the shop."

He tossed Ron a bright purple bag. After two years as a keeper, Ron was an excellent catch, even with only one hand, but when he leaned forward to grab the bag his limp and bandaged right arm slipped off the bed and onto his mother's knees. She glanced down at it in surprise, which quickly melted into concern when Ron didn't automatically move his arm. It was a moment before Ron realized why he was suddenly being pulled to the right, and, blushing, he put down George's bag, reached over, grabbed his right forearm in his left hand, and lifted the limb back onto the bed.

"The Healers said your hand was numbed," Mrs. Weasley whispered, "but you can't feel it at all?"

Ron gave a half-hearted shrug and pointedly returned his attention to George's bag. Rummaging through it, he pulled out a deck of exploding snap cards, a few varieties of Skiving Snackboxes ("We thought you'd like something to torment the Healers with," George commented when he saw them. Mrs. Weasley didn't approve), Ron's wizard chess set, and a few of the twins' patented daydream charms.

"Ah," Fred said winningly. "We thought you'd like those best of all, what with all the time you'll have on your...all the time you'll have now. Although with the object of your daydream right here I suppose you won't really need them."

Remarkably, as if on cue, Ron turned an impressive shade of pink and all the color drained from Hermione's face.

"I thought so," Fred said, raising an eyebrow as he glanced between them.

Cottoning on, Mrs. Weasley followed Fred's gaze and gave Ron and Hermione a surprised look. Turning paler still, Hermione scooted her chair a bit further away from Ron's bed.

"The two of you?" Mrs. Weasley gasped.

Knowing they were caught, Ron and Hermione nodded.

"Well, were you planning on telling anyone?" Mrs. Weasley demanded.

She turned sharply to Harry and Ginny, who determinedly looked anywhere but at her, but Mrs. Weasley had been around long enough to know what that meant.

"When were you going to tell me? Arthur, did you-"

Mrs. Weasley cut herself off mid sentence and glanced around the room. Mr. Weasley was nowhere to be found, he had never come in from cleaning up Mrs. Weasley's spilled tea.

"Arthur?"

A moment later, Mr. Weasley poked his head into the room, looking quite troubled.

"What are you still doing out there?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

Mr. Weasley hesitated, clearly experimenting with the words he was about to say.

"Percy's out here," Mr. Weasley finally replied. "He'd like to come in."

"Percy?" Mrs. Weasley cried, jumping to her feet.

A lanky shadow crossed the doorway and several expressions darkened, but Mrs. Weasley immediately crossed the room and threw her arms around her wayward son, drawing him into the room. Mr. Weasley followed them inside.

"Percy, you came!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, still not releasing him. "I knew you would. Ron's doing much better. He saved Harry, can you believe that?"

"That's great, Mum," Percy said uncomfortably, patting her back.

Finally, Mrs. Weasley pulled away, holding Percy at arms length and observing him through watery eyes.

"You look so thin, have you been eating well?"

"I'm fine, Mum," Percy replied. "There's something important I have to say."

Every eye in the room swiveled toward him at these words. Percy cleared his throat nervously.

"I owe all of you an apology. You were right all along; I never should have sided with the Ministry. It just made things worse in the end."

"And the beginning, and the middle," Fred stage whispered to George.

Percy cringed and, surprisingly, directed his next statement at Ron.

"I hope you'll forgive me."

Glancing nervously around the room, Ron pushed himself up straighter.

"You're asking for forgiveness now."

"Yes," Percy replied, nodding emphatically. "I've seen I was on the wrong side."

"It's easy to choose sides when the fight's over," Ron said, looking at his family for guidance.

"I wanted to come back before," Percy pleaded, dropping to his knees at Ron's side. "It's just so hard; I didn't know where to start..."

"Fighting a war is hard, watching your friends die is hard, coming back to your family is not, and neither is admitting you're wrong," Ron replied.

"You don't understand," Percy cried. "It is for me, because-"

"Because you value your own ego, your own ambition, more than the truth," Ron spat. "We fought a war, Percy; you sat and watched at pointed fingers at the person next to you whenever someone suggested that something was wrong. You abandoned us when we needed you. You're family, but if you want us to welcome you back then you've still got something left to prove."

"Very well," Percy said stiffly. He stood up, reached under his glasses to wipe his eyes, and left without another word.

Ron released a tense breath and sand back into his pillows, but looked up again when he realized Fred and George were giving his feet high fives. Wordlessly, Ron drew his legs in so he was sitting cross legged. Bill and Charlie both looked undecided, Ginny looked defiant, and Harry and Hermione were diligently keeping their opinions to themselves. That was unfortunate, really. Ron knew they thought this was a purely Weasley issue and that it wasn't their place to interfere, but he would have valued their input, because off to his right his Mum was sobbing into her hands while his Dad rubbed circles on her back. Percy seemed to make a habit of ruining even the happiest occasions and as Ron sank deeper into his pillows he hoped that he hadn't ruined things as well.