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tattooedsirenTitle: Rain
Ships: Harry/Ron/Hermione
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Say it with me now ~ me ... don't ... own.
Summary: And so, while Voldemort walked away, cackling and victorious, Ron and Hermione clutched and cried over their best friend, unmoving on the muddy ground.
Authors Notes: I swear its not as sad as the summary makes it sound!! :O) For the lovely![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chocky_mousse - hopefully she can sneak online at some point to read it. :O)
Rain
It was raining. Surprisingly, out of all the different ways he imagined this day happening, it never occurred to him it would be raining.
It also never occurred to him that they would lose.
Ron was wrong on both counts.
Voldemort was smart. He knew that killing Harry would just unify everyone and they would come after him until the day they died. But if he injured Harry just enough to permanently incapacitate him, then the whole world would focus more on hoping for Harry’s cure, wishing him well so he could defend them once more, and he would have free reign.
And so, while Voldemort walked away, cackling and victorious, Ron and Hermione clutched and cried over their best friend, unmoving on the muddy ground.
Ron picked him up and carried Harry away, Hermione supporting his head in her hands. The three of them apparated as one to Grimmauld Place. Everyone was there waiting for them of course. One look at them, Harry’s limp body, Ron and Hermione’s desperate and devastated eyes, and they knew. Molly collapsed onto the couch, sobbing, Arthur immediately bending to comfort her. Tonks turned away, rocking on the spot as she ran a hand through her short black hair. Remus just stared, his eyes focused on Harry as a single tear escaped his unblinking eyes. Only Moody and McGonagall had the presence of mind to actually move forward and help them. Moody took Harry from Ron’s arms. He took him upstairs, Ron and Hermione trailing behind them, gripping onto each other for strength, McGonagall bringing up the rear, her hands soft on the backs of her two formal pupils.
Ron couldn’t process anything. He couldn’t hear the sobbing of people, the frantic search for any potion that might help Harry, nothing registered through the white noise crackling in his mind.
Moody got Harry into bed and immediately apparated to St Mungo’s to fetch a medi-wizard. In the meantime McGonagall waved her wand over Harry’s limp body, ascertaining the extent of his injuries, doing all she could for him.
Ron and Hermione simply stood back and watched, crying silent tears. Their fingers automatically interlaced, squeezing tight enough to turn their knuckles white.
The medi-wizard arrived in haste. McGonagall stepped back and allowed them to examine Harry. She glanced to Hermione and Ron, huddled together in the middle of the room, and grabbed a blanket from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around them, muttering something about pneumonia.
Ron didn’t remember much after that. It all became too much and the events blurred together. He vaguely recalled a bone crushing hug from his parents. He remembers the medi-wizard saying something to the effect of there being nothing he could do. He remembers comforting Hermione as she cried, and in turn being comforted when it all became too much for him. He knows he and Hermione fell asleep that night on either side of Harry’s bed, each of them grasping one of his hands in theirs.
When he awoke the next morning, for the briefest of moments, he had no memory of what had occurred the day before. But then he lifted his head and saw Harry, pale and still beneath the rich blue duvet, and he remembered. And it broke his heart.
“Come on, mate,” Ron said in a whisper, careful not to wake Hermione. “You can wake up now. Please. Hermione and me, we need you. Don’t leave us.” He lifted Harry’s hand to his lips, kissing it softly.
Hermione stirred not long later. Ron could see her experience the same thing as him, those few brief seconds of ignorant bliss before remembering the truth. Her eyes fell to Harry, to the steady rise and fall of his chest, and her eyes began to gloss. She stood slowly, stretching her tired body, and went around to Ron’s side of the bed. She kissed Harry’s cheek before sitting down in Ron’s lap, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. He put an arm around her, his head resting beneath her chin, and his stubble felt like an offence to her soft skin, though he knew she didn’t mind. He still held Harry’s hand in his, the three of them joined together, just like always.
Time marched on. First hours, then days, with no change in his condition. They would talk to him; either in love and humour, hoping their good vibes would wake him, or in anger and frustration, hoping they would annoy him so much he would wake up simply to yell at them. None of it worked. They kissed him and held his hand and whispered in his ear. None of it worked.
The world ceased to exist outside that bedroom. Ron and Hermione had no idea how the defeat of Harry had impacted their world. All they knew was that members of The Order were at headquarters less and less. It wasn’t that they didn’t care. But they had already given so much to this fight. And they couldn’t give any more.
They would crawl into bed with him at night, one on either side, arms wrapped protectively around him. They would kiss his cheek goodnight and curl up together, just as they had done a hundred times before. Only this time there would be no waking to bright green eyes, to playful grins and roaming hands.
The first time Molly Weasley came into the bedroom and saw them asleep together she smiled, moving forward to the bed and tucking them in. She had no idea about the other relationship the three young adults had, all she saw were three people who loved each other, and that was enough.
At the end of the first week it was getting harder to remain optimistic. Aside from the rise and fall of his chest Harry had barely moved all week. Order members and medi-wizards and professors and experts had all been in to see him, hoping someone would have a solution to wake him, but none had known what to do.
Ron hated himself for the moments of anger he had towards Harry. Moments of weakness where he wished Harry was stronger, wished Harry would just pick life or death, wished they had never met. How could he do this to Hermione and him? How could he make them fall in love with him only to abandon them months later?
It was during those moments he was most tempted to flee. To run out into the mockingly beautiful sunshine and runaway as quick and as fast as he could.
But he couldn’t do it. Because as angry and as scared and as hurt as he was, he loved Hermione and Harry more. So he focused on something solid; the touch of her hair, the touch of his skin, and it gave him strength.
More days passed. And still there was no change.
One evening, while Hermione was in the bathroom across the hall, washing the day away with some hot water, Ron drew his chair up close to Harry’s bed. He took his hand in his and leaned in close to his ear. And then he whispered, “I love you, Harry.”
When Hermione re-entered the room ten minutes later, she was startled to see Ron with his head on Harry’s bed, sobbing into the mattress. She immediately hurried to him, kneeling beside him and running her hand soothingly up and down his back. He barely acknowledged it, just kept crying. She didn’t ask what was wrong, and there was no way she could have been able to guess. She had no idea that Ron had just told Harry he loved him, that he had said the words out loud for the first time, and that part of him believed that those words made everything okay and once he said them Harry would wake up, grinning, before turning his head and pressing their lips together.
Time moved on. Ron and Hermione kept vigil by his side. They read to him, they talked to him, they shared the silence with him.
One night, nearly two weeks later, Ron was sitting by the window, watching the steady stream of rain fall outside. His mind was empty, only occasionally focusing on the drops of water splashing the windowpane. If his eyes unfocused he could see the reflection of Hermione and Harry in the glass, Hermione reading to him while her fingers idly danced over his hand.
But then Hermione suddenly gasped, sitting bolt upright. Ron turned around. Hermione was staring down at her hand and when she looked up and met Ron’s eyes, they were overbright with tears. Ron instantly hurried to her side and when he looked down he could immediately see the reason for Hermione’s reaction. Harry’s hand was gripping hers, his thumb moving slowly back and forth over hers.
Ron grinned, his eyes flying to Harry’s face. He still hadn’t opened his eyes but Ron knew this was it. After placing a quick kiss on top of Hermione’s head he rushed around to the other side of the bed, one hand resting on Harry’s shoulder while the other threaded through his messy hair.
Leaning in close, Ron said, “Harry, I know you can hear me. Listen to my voice. Hermione and I are both here and we need you to wake up, okay.” He quickly brushed away a tear and continued. “I know you can do this. Wake up. Wake up, Harry.”
And then, slowly but surely, Harry’s eyelids fluttered open, revealing the beautiful green of their best friend. They were both crying now, gripping on to him so tight it probably hurt. Harry smiled faintly at them and their sobs increased. Hermione got up on to the bed, wrapping an arm around him as she cried into his shoulder.
“You feeling okay?” Ron asked at last.
Harry nodded weakly. “Yeah,” he said, his voice soft and hoarse, and it was the best sound either Ron or Hermione had heard.
Ron reached out and held Harry’s hand. The three of them stayed like that for a long while, tears raining down their cheeks.
Harry was awake. Everything would be okay.
Ships: Harry/Ron/Hermione
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Say it with me now ~ me ... don't ... own.
Summary: And so, while Voldemort walked away, cackling and victorious, Ron and Hermione clutched and cried over their best friend, unmoving on the muddy ground.
Authors Notes: I swear its not as sad as the summary makes it sound!! :O) For the lovely
chocky_mousse - hopefully she can sneak online at some point to read it. :O)Rain
It was raining. Surprisingly, out of all the different ways he imagined this day happening, it never occurred to him it would be raining.
It also never occurred to him that they would lose.
Ron was wrong on both counts.
Voldemort was smart. He knew that killing Harry would just unify everyone and they would come after him until the day they died. But if he injured Harry just enough to permanently incapacitate him, then the whole world would focus more on hoping for Harry’s cure, wishing him well so he could defend them once more, and he would have free reign.
And so, while Voldemort walked away, cackling and victorious, Ron and Hermione clutched and cried over their best friend, unmoving on the muddy ground.
Ron picked him up and carried Harry away, Hermione supporting his head in her hands. The three of them apparated as one to Grimmauld Place. Everyone was there waiting for them of course. One look at them, Harry’s limp body, Ron and Hermione’s desperate and devastated eyes, and they knew. Molly collapsed onto the couch, sobbing, Arthur immediately bending to comfort her. Tonks turned away, rocking on the spot as she ran a hand through her short black hair. Remus just stared, his eyes focused on Harry as a single tear escaped his unblinking eyes. Only Moody and McGonagall had the presence of mind to actually move forward and help them. Moody took Harry from Ron’s arms. He took him upstairs, Ron and Hermione trailing behind them, gripping onto each other for strength, McGonagall bringing up the rear, her hands soft on the backs of her two formal pupils.
Ron couldn’t process anything. He couldn’t hear the sobbing of people, the frantic search for any potion that might help Harry, nothing registered through the white noise crackling in his mind.
Moody got Harry into bed and immediately apparated to St Mungo’s to fetch a medi-wizard. In the meantime McGonagall waved her wand over Harry’s limp body, ascertaining the extent of his injuries, doing all she could for him.
Ron and Hermione simply stood back and watched, crying silent tears. Their fingers automatically interlaced, squeezing tight enough to turn their knuckles white.
The medi-wizard arrived in haste. McGonagall stepped back and allowed them to examine Harry. She glanced to Hermione and Ron, huddled together in the middle of the room, and grabbed a blanket from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around them, muttering something about pneumonia.
Ron didn’t remember much after that. It all became too much and the events blurred together. He vaguely recalled a bone crushing hug from his parents. He remembers the medi-wizard saying something to the effect of there being nothing he could do. He remembers comforting Hermione as she cried, and in turn being comforted when it all became too much for him. He knows he and Hermione fell asleep that night on either side of Harry’s bed, each of them grasping one of his hands in theirs.
When he awoke the next morning, for the briefest of moments, he had no memory of what had occurred the day before. But then he lifted his head and saw Harry, pale and still beneath the rich blue duvet, and he remembered. And it broke his heart.
“Come on, mate,” Ron said in a whisper, careful not to wake Hermione. “You can wake up now. Please. Hermione and me, we need you. Don’t leave us.” He lifted Harry’s hand to his lips, kissing it softly.
Hermione stirred not long later. Ron could see her experience the same thing as him, those few brief seconds of ignorant bliss before remembering the truth. Her eyes fell to Harry, to the steady rise and fall of his chest, and her eyes began to gloss. She stood slowly, stretching her tired body, and went around to Ron’s side of the bed. She kissed Harry’s cheek before sitting down in Ron’s lap, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. He put an arm around her, his head resting beneath her chin, and his stubble felt like an offence to her soft skin, though he knew she didn’t mind. He still held Harry’s hand in his, the three of them joined together, just like always.
Time marched on. First hours, then days, with no change in his condition. They would talk to him; either in love and humour, hoping their good vibes would wake him, or in anger and frustration, hoping they would annoy him so much he would wake up simply to yell at them. None of it worked. They kissed him and held his hand and whispered in his ear. None of it worked.
The world ceased to exist outside that bedroom. Ron and Hermione had no idea how the defeat of Harry had impacted their world. All they knew was that members of The Order were at headquarters less and less. It wasn’t that they didn’t care. But they had already given so much to this fight. And they couldn’t give any more.
They would crawl into bed with him at night, one on either side, arms wrapped protectively around him. They would kiss his cheek goodnight and curl up together, just as they had done a hundred times before. Only this time there would be no waking to bright green eyes, to playful grins and roaming hands.
The first time Molly Weasley came into the bedroom and saw them asleep together she smiled, moving forward to the bed and tucking them in. She had no idea about the other relationship the three young adults had, all she saw were three people who loved each other, and that was enough.
At the end of the first week it was getting harder to remain optimistic. Aside from the rise and fall of his chest Harry had barely moved all week. Order members and medi-wizards and professors and experts had all been in to see him, hoping someone would have a solution to wake him, but none had known what to do.
Ron hated himself for the moments of anger he had towards Harry. Moments of weakness where he wished Harry was stronger, wished Harry would just pick life or death, wished they had never met. How could he do this to Hermione and him? How could he make them fall in love with him only to abandon them months later?
It was during those moments he was most tempted to flee. To run out into the mockingly beautiful sunshine and runaway as quick and as fast as he could.
But he couldn’t do it. Because as angry and as scared and as hurt as he was, he loved Hermione and Harry more. So he focused on something solid; the touch of her hair, the touch of his skin, and it gave him strength.
More days passed. And still there was no change.
One evening, while Hermione was in the bathroom across the hall, washing the day away with some hot water, Ron drew his chair up close to Harry’s bed. He took his hand in his and leaned in close to his ear. And then he whispered, “I love you, Harry.”
When Hermione re-entered the room ten minutes later, she was startled to see Ron with his head on Harry’s bed, sobbing into the mattress. She immediately hurried to him, kneeling beside him and running her hand soothingly up and down his back. He barely acknowledged it, just kept crying. She didn’t ask what was wrong, and there was no way she could have been able to guess. She had no idea that Ron had just told Harry he loved him, that he had said the words out loud for the first time, and that part of him believed that those words made everything okay and once he said them Harry would wake up, grinning, before turning his head and pressing their lips together.
Time moved on. Ron and Hermione kept vigil by his side. They read to him, they talked to him, they shared the silence with him.
One night, nearly two weeks later, Ron was sitting by the window, watching the steady stream of rain fall outside. His mind was empty, only occasionally focusing on the drops of water splashing the windowpane. If his eyes unfocused he could see the reflection of Hermione and Harry in the glass, Hermione reading to him while her fingers idly danced over his hand.
But then Hermione suddenly gasped, sitting bolt upright. Ron turned around. Hermione was staring down at her hand and when she looked up and met Ron’s eyes, they were overbright with tears. Ron instantly hurried to her side and when he looked down he could immediately see the reason for Hermione’s reaction. Harry’s hand was gripping hers, his thumb moving slowly back and forth over hers.
Ron grinned, his eyes flying to Harry’s face. He still hadn’t opened his eyes but Ron knew this was it. After placing a quick kiss on top of Hermione’s head he rushed around to the other side of the bed, one hand resting on Harry’s shoulder while the other threaded through his messy hair.
Leaning in close, Ron said, “Harry, I know you can hear me. Listen to my voice. Hermione and I are both here and we need you to wake up, okay.” He quickly brushed away a tear and continued. “I know you can do this. Wake up. Wake up, Harry.”
And then, slowly but surely, Harry’s eyelids fluttered open, revealing the beautiful green of their best friend. They were both crying now, gripping on to him so tight it probably hurt. Harry smiled faintly at them and their sobs increased. Hermione got up on to the bed, wrapping an arm around him as she cried into his shoulder.
“You feeling okay?” Ron asked at last.
Harry nodded weakly. “Yeah,” he said, his voice soft and hoarse, and it was the best sound either Ron or Hermione had heard.
Ron reached out and held Harry’s hand. The three of them stayed like that for a long while, tears raining down their cheeks.
Harry was awake. Everything would be okay.
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no subject
Date: 2007-04-18 10:56 am (UTC)And ooh - incapacitated - nice idea, I haven't seen that one before. =D
Just one thing -
I think you mean 'affected'?
no subject
Date: 2007-04-19 02:20 am (UTC)According to the word dictionary either word works. They seem to mean the same thing...
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Date: 2007-04-19 02:42 am (UTC)As in 'you affected the outcome and the effects were huge'.
*googles*
http://www.grammarbook.com/grammar/effVaff.asp
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Date: 2007-04-18 11:37 am (UTC)Has to be!
Amazing, beautiful.
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Date: 2007-04-19 02:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-19 10:15 am (UTC)Such hope at the end of the story. Thankyou.
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Date: 2007-04-20 02:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-20 01:10 am (UTC)There was something about this line that just got me; it was so very Harry. I'm so glad he woke up :-)
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Date: 2007-04-20 02:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-21 04:06 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2007-04-23 05:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-23 11:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-23 05:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-24 02:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-01 04:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-02 02:50 am (UTC)Your icon rocks. LOL.
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Date: 2007-05-04 04:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-05 09:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-26 08:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-26 10:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-14 07:51 am (UTC)"Harry was awake. everything would be okay." So simple and powerful.
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Date: 2007-08-14 08:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-04 12:47 pm (UTC)xxx
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Date: 2007-10-05 02:30 am (UTC)