Chapter Text
He had no ability to orient himself to time so whether hours, weeks, or months had passed was a mystery he hadn’t the energy to solve. He was never quite alert enough to speak or open his eyes but the few times he drifted to consciousness he was never alone. Hermione was always there, gripping his hand and narrating whatever book she was reading. Harry was almost always there too and the rest of his family drifted in and out of his dreams. Ginny, his dad, sometimes he heard George cracking jokes or his mother stroking his hair.
He slept for longer and longer, coming to less and less. The pain started to feel far away. He was aware of potions being shoved down his throat so often he wondered whether or not they were trying to drown him. And then, the pain got worse.
Someone was moving him and it wasn’t with magic. Hands lifted him into a sitting position and then held him up as a second pair of hands pulled his legs over the side of the bed. An anxious voice protested. “I don’t think this is a-“
“Ambulation has proven in the aid of muscle recovery,” said a smart-sounding, older gentleman. “If he’s ever going to recover from the damage that the poison wrecked, then he needs to be moving.”
Again, the first man’s voice. “I don’t know about-“
“This is a scientifically proven and standard practice in the muggle world. Now if you’ll excuse us.”
Vaguely Ron knew the voice but before he could place it, he was hoisted to his feet and all he could manage was a groan. His arms were lifted and draped around someone’s shoulders. The man in front of him took a step and then hands on his calf guided his feet to follow.
“Have you spoken with his parents about this? Perhaps they’d better be able-“
“I am his wife,” Hermione said fiercely from below him. “And I have the full support of his parents on this. I don’t need magical healing techniques explained to me by anyone. Now, if you’ll please, let us focus.”
Ron couldn’t help the second groan he emitted, wondering why on earth someone has decided to try out a muggle torture technique on him. They took the third step and he shouted out again.
“I know,” Hermione’s voice whispered in his ear and he’s suddenly aware of her hands on his side, encouraging him. “I know, just one more step.”
He managed to contain his noise of protest and with a final step, he’s turned and slowly lowered into a chair. He tried holding his head up as the person who’d been supporting his steps back, panting.
“See?” the smart-sounding man’s voice said triumphantly. “He’s already more alert.”
Whoever had been protesting rushed over and there’s a cool wash of magic. “Well, there doesn’t appear to be any damage at the moment.” He lowered his voice and muttered to himself. “Muggle technique, honestly this is what happens when they let muggleborns-“
“ Hey .” Ron groaned in protest and the whole room fell silent.
“Ron?” Hermione asked, hurrying over and putting her hand on his arm. “Ron, did you say something?”
Her voice is eager and she sounded close to tears. Gently, her hands lifted his face and he tried opening his eyes to look at her, but can’t seem to manage. They flutter for a moment, but it’s too much effort and the comfort of darkness is much more inviting.
“What did you say to him?” Hermione demanded of the healer eagerly and he muttered something, embarrassed.
“Please make sure someone from my staff is here when you decide to continue this experiment ,” the man said disdainfully. “I wouldn’t like an injury to go unreported.”
“Unreported injury,” Hermione muttered angrily and the door shut before Hermione pulled away. There’s anxiety in her voice when she spoke again. “Are you certain this is a good idea?”
No , Ron thought at once, but she wasn't talking to him.
“It just seemed to hurt him,” Hermione continued.
“I know dear,” the man’s voice said. “But it’s only because he’s lost so much because they’ve kept him in bed for so long.”
Hermione sighed, fussing with his collar.
“There are still things to be learned from the muggle world,” the man said gently but there’s a certain arrogance in his tone. “That’s why you called me, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is,” Hermione admitted softly. “I just didn’t know what to do.” There’s a hitch in her voice and the man shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Thanks, dad.”
The next day he’s prepared when he’s awoken by Hermione’s chipper voice and the sheets are stripped from him. But it’s not Hermione’s dad who lifted him, but someone closer to his own height.
“Be careful,” Hermione said anxiously as he’s lifted to his feet.
“I got him, Hermione,” George reassured her. His voice his right in Ron’s ear and much too loud. “I remember what you did to Marietta, I’m not about to get on your bad side.”
“ Don’t,” Ron groaned.
Hermione’d never quite gotten over the lasting effects that Marietta had been forced to endure. She’d tried several times since graduating to reach out to her, but all that had returned was a howler that arrived perfectly during her first time sitting in on an interdepartmental meeting between her office and the Ministers.
They’d stopped moving the moment he’d tried to speak.
“You there?” George asked jokingly.
“Ron?” Hermione asked, putting gentle pressure on his side.
They waited for a tense few seconds, but he couldn’t summon the energy to speak again.
“He does that sometimes,” Hermione explained, sounding hopeful.
“It’s good, isn’t it?” George asked, taking another step.
“That’s what the research said,” Hermione agreed. “It helps cut down on recovery time. According to my dad if we’d been doing this all along then we’d have prevented a lot of the muscle loss.”
“I thought you didn’t get along with your dad,” George said unassumingly as Ron was lowered down onto the chair.
“He’s never really forgiven me for sending them away,” she said, sounding worn. “But, I just didn’t know what else to do. I needed my parents to tell me everything was going to be alright after he slipped into the coma.”
Ron tried opening his eyes, wanting to comfort her, but they remained stubbornly shut.
“And of course, my dad launched into it at once. I woke up the next morning and he had all these options lined out. He couldn’t help identify the curse of course, but there’s plenty more we could have been doing.”
“Waited until the last minute to sort that one out, didn’t they?” George asked, sounding more like himself.
“All that matters is they did,” Hermione said softly, and Ron felt her fingers brushing back his hair. “Now we need to focus on him getting better.”
They were quiet for a minute and Ron heard George sit down.
“How’s Angelina doing?”
“She’s alright,” George said suspiciously.
“Is her morning sickness any better?” Hermione asked.
“I didn’t know you knew,” George said, surprised.
Ron could almost picture Hermione rolling her eyes.
“Honestly, Molly told everyone the second she knew,” Hermione said. “She was here with Harry the other day and started laying into him about how they needed to get serious about their future.”
“As if Ginny would get pregnant in the middle of the season,” George said, chuckling. “No, she’s alright. Taking it easy. She’s not able to help in the store as much, but we’ve been talking about hiring on anyway. The store runs itself most days as it is.”
Hermione didn’t say anything and they lapsed into a comfortable silence.
“You know we’ll be here for you, no matter what happens,” George said after several minutes. “Whatever you need.”
“I know,” Hermione said gently. “Ron already made Harry promise to take me in if it all goes…” she trailed off and Ron could feel her gently stroking the hair on his arm. “I really did luck out with my in-laws, didn’t I?”
“I don’t know about that,” George said seriously. “You have ended up with Percy as well.”
Hermione snorted.
“Not to mention that Potter bloke should my sister ever decide to make an honest man out of him.”
That time Hermione actually laughed.
“Merlin Hermione, how did you dad manage to carry him all the way across the room?” Harry said the following day.
“He’s not that heavy,” Ginny chided. “Put some effort into it, Potter.”
“Easy for you to say,” Harry muttered. “You’ve just got his legs.”
“Just because my dad is short doesn’t mean he’s not strong,” Hermione said. “You need to straighten up, don’t bend backwards.”
Ron felt the belt around his waist tugging and Harry let out a breath of relief. It was much the same as the last few days. He was woken, the belt threaded around his waist and he stepped three times and sat in a chair for some time before going back to the bed.
“Have you seen Neville?” Harry asked once Ron was comfortably in the chair.
“Neville?” Hermione asked, doing her usual fussing over him. “No, he hasn’t stopped by for a few weeks.”
“Oh, well, he handed in his notice today.”
“He did what?” Hermione asked in alarm.
“What happened?” Ginny continued.
“He got accepted into the advanced herbology course here at St. Mungo’s,” Harry explained calmly. “It starts in May, but he decided he wasn’t going to wait that long. Not after all that business with the Chinese Fireball up in Devon.”
“Don’t remind me,” Hermione said dryly. “They pulled everyone in my department too. Whole place has smelled like smoke since. As if we didn’t have enough going on. Is he going to propose then?”
“He’s already tried,” Ginny said, “But she said no unless he has a job that let him be the cheerful, kind man she fell in love with. I told you about this ages ago.”
“Oh,” Hermione said absently, “Right.”
“He’s got a whole trip planned for them,” Harry continued. “Going to go on that traditional world tour that no one from our class seemed to do.”
“Yes, well we were a bit preoccupied with You-Know-Who you know,” Ginny said dryly.
Harry snorted. “Yes, well there was that.”
“What about you two?” Hermione asked. “Anywhere you’d like to travel?”
“I’ve never given it much thought really,” Harry said noncommittally. “I seem to get around enough with work.”
“That’s not traveling, Harry,” Ginny pointed out. “If you spend every moment looking over your shoulder waiting to be cursed it’s not much of a vacation.”
“I dunno, it’s how I’ve lived since I was eleven. Is there really a better way to live?” Harry asked jokingly and Hermione made a noise indicating she was not amused. Harry hurriedly asked her, “What about you?”
“I’d like to go back to France,” Hermione said. “I used to go with my parents all the time. I’ve always wanted to take Ron there, show him the sights.”
“Ooh, we’ve never been,” Ginny said. “Bill and Fleur invited me last summer, but I don’t think I could stand being around her family for so long.”
“We could all go,” Hermione said, sounding suddenly enthused.
“Yeah?” Harry asked, sounding interested.
“Yes,” Hermione said and it was the most genuine excitement he’d heard from her since waking. “Oh, we could go next winter. Ginny, you’ve got a few weeks off, don’t you? And everything pretty well shuts down in our departments around Christmas. I could show you all the sights. Ginny, you and I could go to the museums and Harry you and R—“
She broke off very suddenly and emitted a loud sob. There was a flurry of movement and both Harry and Ginny seemed much closer.
“He’s going to be alright,” Ginny said hurriedly. “The healers all agree he’s doing loads better.”
“I know,” Hermione said miserably. “But it’s been a month since they found the counter curse and he’s just only starting to improve.”
“But he is,” Ginny said soothingly, “He is improving.”
“His breathing is better, he’s able to hold himself up a little more.”
“I know,” Hermione sniffled. “I just really miss him.”
She’d evidently pulled away because Ron felt her at his side again, taking his hand in both of hers and bringing it up to her mouth to kiss the back of his hand. Ron tried to squeeze back, but only managed to make his fingers twitch.
“You should come and stay with us,” Ginny said suddenly, breaking off the mutterings going on in the background. “Just until-“
“He’s not dying,” Hermione said, sounding aghast. “I’m not going to move in with you because he’s not going to die. I won’t allow it.”
“Go home, Hermione,” Harry said insistently.
“I’m fine,” she said tensely.
“Really?” Harry asked. “When was the last time you were away from this room?”
Hermione sighed, “It’s not too bad here, I can get comfortable-“
“Then I’ll be just fine,” Harry interrupted.
“Are you sure?” Hermione asked in a quiet voice.
“Go,” Harry insisted. “I’ll be here if anything happens.”
Hermione let out a trembling breath and Ron felt her fussing with the covers and then her lips to his cheek.
“If anything happens,” Hermione said in an anxious voice.
“Then I’ll get you before the healers,” Harry said sarcastically and she snorted. “Go, Hermione. Get some sleep and relax. Nothing’s going to change tonight.”
Ron heard her gather her things before bidding Harry goodnight and the room was rather quiet in her absence. But only for a moment.
“I need you to wake up, mate,” Harry said, suddenly urgent. “It’s been long enough now, you should be doing better than this.”
There was a pause and Ron pictured Harry staring down at him hopefully. Finally, Harry sighed and his chair creaked as he adjusted in it.
“I want to propose,” Harry said hurriedly. “I left work early that day to go ring shopping and then I stood around the store like an idiot for almost an hour because I realized I needed your help. I don’t know what I’m doing or what she’d like and I don’t know if you’d be much better but…. I need you, Ron.”
Ron strained against the bonds holding him back but was only rewarded with his eyes fluttering, a trick he’d picked up days ago and had long since impressing whoever was looking over him.
“It’ll devastate her you know,” Harry went on. “For all we take the mickey out of you for rushing off to the altar, you make a good husband. I know that you are happy and that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, for the both of you.”
“Wake up, Ron,” Harry begged again. “I need my best mate and that’s always been you.”
“I know you’re there Ron,” Hermione’s soothing voice begged. “Come on, I know you are.”
Her hand was clasped in his and the fingers of her other hand gently stroked up and down his forearm. The sensation was pleasant, soft.
“I’m doing everything I can to bring you back,” Hermione whispered, “But you’ve got to meet me halfway here.”
She sniffled and he tried to open his eyes, to squeeze her hand, anything.
“They found out what cursed you,” she went on. “That little old lady put up quite a fight you know. Harry took back all the teasing he did about you not being able to best her.”
“The healers have done everything that they can. Now all that’s left is for you to wake up.”
She paused, hopefully, and after a minute sighed.
“I miss you so much,” her voice was losing its confidence. “It’s been too much to bear and I just, I need you to fight this Ron.”
He could hear her swallow, feel her hand squeezing his as she rose and felt her lips on his cheek and her voice in his ear.
“Fight it, darling, fight it for me.”
He tried, tried to open his eyes even though they felt like they were made of lead, tried to squeeze her hand, give her some kind of hope but nothing in his body seemed to cooperate. All he could manage was a noise that rather sounded like a grunt even to him. He could feel her face hovering inches from his, studying him. Eventually, she gave up, sitting back down but didn’t remove her hand from his.
She was right—but when wasn’t Hermione right? He had to fight this, had to try harder. He didn’t know for how long he’d been out, lying in this bed hopelessly while those he loved hovered around waiting for his death. This wouldn’t be the end of his story, not now.
“Er-my-knee,” it took all of his energy to mumble her name and he wasn’t really sure she’d heard him.
“Ron?” a sleepy voice answered.
“Her-my-o-nee,” it took more effort this time, trying to force open his eyes, trying to come to.
“Ron?” Hermione asked again, her voice eager and full of life. “Ron, can you hear me? Squeeze my hand.”
It took every ounce of concentration he had to remember how to work his fingers, his fist, but Hermione laughed with relief.
“Stay right here, I’m going to get a healer.” She told him, squeezing his hand and laughing again before rushing from the room.
Where else would he go?
There was a bustle of movement, someone brightened the lights and then the cooling sensation of magic on his skin.
“Ron?” an unfamiliar voice called. “Mr. Weasley, can you hear me?”
“Er-my-knee,” he groaned again, wondering where she’d gone.
“I’m here,” she said, giving that delighted laugh again.
Merlin, he’d missed that laugh. That laugh was the best sound he’d ever heard. He was going to make it his mission to hear that laugh every day for the rest of his life.
“Can you open your eyes?” the commanding healer asked.
He liked that sound a whole lot less but tried to obey her never-the-less. He managed to flutter his eyes but someone had made the lamps too bright and all he could make out were distant silhouettes. He turned towards the one with the bushiest hair on his left.
His fingers tensed against her palm and she squeezed back.
“I’m here,” she assured him. “I’m right here.”
It was like swimming to the surface of a very deep river, fighting against the current, his muscles straining from lack of air and the closer he got to the surface the more inviting the thought of having a rest was.
“I was talking to him earlier,” Hermione was explaining now. “I thought he might be listening but he didn’t respond… I’m not sure exactly, I must’ve drifted off.”
Funny, he thought she just had been talking to him. It took a lot more effort, and several low groans but finally he was squinting against the lamps and looking, for the first time, at the face of his wife.
“Ron,” she said, laughing with relief. “Oh, darling, you don’t know how happy I am to see those eyes.”
He wanted to return the sentiment but couldn’t get his mouth to work right, but it didn’t seem to matter. The healer that’d been flitting in and out of his dreams cleared her throat.
“It’s good to see you again Mr. Weasley,” she said, “Let’s get you some water.”
He hadn’t realized how parched he was until she’d said something but when she reappeared before him with a cup of water it was the answer he’d been searching for.
The water felt strange drifting down his throat. Had he forgotten how to swallow? But Hermione was there at once, wiping off his chin and grinning at him stupidly.
He looked only at her, trying to work his mouth into the question but it wouldn’t cooperate.
“Too long,” she answered, understanding without words. “But it’s alright. You’re here now.”