The Hospital Wing

The Hospital Wing

Ron lay on his back, facing the ceiling. The gentle, even breathing next to him told him that Hermione was asleep. Ron wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon, though. The marks on his arms were aching, and he didn't feel like bothering Madam Pomfrey this late in the night.

"Ron?"

Ron jumped (which is a very awkward thing when you're lying down on your back). He could have sworn he was the only one awake.

"What, Hermione?"

"What are you thinking?"

Ron grumbled something about that being a stupid question and rolled over so that his back was facing her. She was honestly waking him up at this hour to ask that? Granted, he hadn't been sleeping... But still, what if he had?

"No, I mean, well. Not in that silly, 'what are you thinking now?' type of way. I meant, what do you think about it all? You know what I mean, everything?"

Ron turned back to face Hermione. "No, I don't know what you mean. Could you be a little more specific, or at least a little less vague?"

Hermione gurgled with a sort of half-giggle, but that upset her injury and she clutched at her chest. Ron felt a little concerned, but he didn't really know what to say.

"I've just been thinking. I guess I've been doing a lot of thinking since we got here, there's not much else to do. Except, I guess, sleeping and being in pain. But those are such bores."

Ron scoffed. He wouldn't exactly count the pain he was in as "a bore."

Hermione continued, "I was thinking about how things would've been if Harry hadn't been famous, hadn't been 'The Boy Who Lived.' How would things be different? I imagine we'd all still be friends-"

"But we've bonded more," Ron interrupted. "Getting into a bunch of life-threatening situations with people will do that to you, I guess."

Hermione looked at Ron, surprised. "You do understand. I thought I was the only one who thought about things like that."

"Nah," replied Ron. "I don't imagine I'd like you much if it weren't for a certain unnamed troll, or a great big snake, or a crazed murderer, or various other plots to kill Harry. You are a bit irritating, you know."

Hermione harrumphed and rolled over in her hospital cot. Ron threw an empty chocolate frog wrapper at the back of her head.

"I was only joking, you know."

"I know," was Hermione's muffled response. "And you're no prize yourself. High temper, always in trouble, constantly copying my notes-"

"Excuse me?" interrupted Ron. "High temper? Me? This coming from the queen of angry fits?"

"I do not have angry fits!" said Hermione very sternly, sitting up on her bed and glaring at Ron. (She hadn't yelled for fear of waking other patients. But it was definitely a statement that had the feel of a yell.)

"There you go. You're having one right now!" replied Ron with a satisfied look on his face.

Hermione fumed. "Well, it's not my fault. You're always the one who causes them!"

Ron tried his best to get an indignant look past his spreading grin. "Am I now? Imagine that. Really, what could I possibly do to get you mad?" He threw another chocolate frog wrapper, this one hitting Hermione right between the eyes.

Rather than yelling at him some more, or ignoring him, Hermione picked up the closest piece of paper she could find (incidentally some potions notes that she would have to beg Ron to give back later), crumpled it into a ball and threw it straight at Ron.

Ron easily ducked it, and smiled proudly at Hermione. "Just my outstanding Quidditch reflexes, I suppose."

"What reflexes?" asked Hermione as she threw another ball of paper, hitting Ron on his nose.

Ron threw a chocolate frog wrapper, this one with a chocolate frog still in it, at Hermione's head, just missing. "Oh sorry, that one almost hit you, your hair must've stopped it. That stuff has a mind of its own!"

Hermione glared at him and reached up with her left hand, patting her hair to draw attention away from her right hand, which snatched up a card from her bedside table and threw it at Ron. It was wildly off aim, and Ron caught it before it hit the floor. He picked it up, un-crumpled it, and began to read.

Dear Hermione, ("Crossed out and re-written three times, who wrote this, an ape?" added Ron.)

I heard you are ill. Please get yourself better quickly. I eagerly await news of your recovery.

Love from,

Viktor

"Oh, so it was an ape, then," said Ron with disdain, tossing the letter back to Hermione.

"Shut up, Ron," said Hermione, rummaging through the numerous wrappers that had been hurled her way. At last she appeared to have found the one she was looking for and held it up with a flourish.

"Let's see what this one says: 'Ron, owl me!' Then three hearts, and 'Hannah' in stupid curly letters."

"Hey! Give that here!" demanded Ron, a blush starting at his ears and working steadily down his face.

"Oh, no," said Hermione with a wicked grin, tucking it into the pocket on her nightshirt. "I think I'll be keeping this, as a little souvenir. Besides, the fool girl wasn't smart enough to leave an address anyway."

Ron sighed exasperatedly. "Well, I'm not actually going to owl her. It's just... y'know, bragging rights with the guys, and such."

Hermione looked at Ron with intense disgust. "'Bragging rights'? That's horrible! Some poor girl likes you, and you tell everyone so you can seem like some sort of stud or something? Ew!" But to Ron's delight, she threw the wrapper back.

He did, however, feel a little guilty about being so "disgusting."

"Well, if it was actually a girl I liked, I wouldn't have told everyone."

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Well, okay, maybe Harry."

"What about me?"

"What about you?"

"Would you tell me?"

Ron pulled a face. "Of course not! You're a girl."

"So? I'm your friend just as much as Harry is, why can't I know if you've got a secret admirer? Which, by the way, I already do know."

Ron's face brightened. "Really? Who?!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Three-hearts Hannah, stupid."

"Oh... right. Anyone else?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"Because... uh, because, erm-"

"Exactly, I shouldn't," said Hermione.

"Yes you should! I want to know. Is it Lavender? Parvati? How about Katie or Alicia? Maybe they go for younger guys..."

"I'm not telling you. Unless..." Hermione got a strange, half-smiling expression that was really not like her at all.

"What? What?" demanded Ron.

"Do you know of any guys who like me?"

Ron screwed up his face in a "thinking" expression. "Well, I guess me and Harry think you're okay..."

"Not like that, you big lox."

"Oh, right. Well, how should I know?"

"Exactly. How should I know who likes you?"

'Well, don't girls always talk about that sort of thing?"

"I wouldn't know, I spend all my time with you and Harry."

Ron smiled stupidly. "Oh, right. Well, if you must know--"

"Yes? Yes?" demanded Hermione, leaning towards him and grabbing her blanket.

"Hah! I was just kidding. If anyone likes you, I doubt they'd tell me or Harry anyway." Ron leant back on his stack of pillows, reached over and snatched a chocolate frog off of his bedside table. Hermione prepared to duck, but Ron just popped the tasty morsel in his mouth.

Hermione turned out her lamp and wiggled under her sheets. "Well, I'm going to sleep now. I suggest you do the same."

Ron turned out his lamp as well. There was silence in the hospital wing for a few minutes.

"Hermione? What's a lox?"

The only reply he got was a snore, which sounded slightly too exasperated to be genuine.