QLFC - Round 3

Write about someone asking for forgiveness
1. (emotion) regret

2. (object) book
14. (word) impatient

HA - Assignment 9 - Games and Sports

Task 2 - Write about getting injured

Word Count: 1012

Two Words

It felt like he was swimming through treacle - his mother's treacle which was always the thickest, stickiest treacle he had ever eaten. Ron had always struggled to wake up in the morning, his bed was far too comfortable, but consciousness had never been this elusive. His limbs felt heavy, his mouth felt dry and his head was somehow swimming even with his eyes closed. Something was obviously wrong, but he couldn't really remember where he was or how he had gotten there. Where was Harry, and Hermione? And well, Lavender?

Minutes passed, or really they could've been hours, but Ron felt his eyelids begin to react. It was frustrating, he was hardly the most patient of people but he struggled impatiently and so they fluttered and shivered and eventually opened. First all he could do was squint - it had obviously been some time since he had opened his eyes if the knife-like pain in his pupils was anything to go by - but eventually his sight adjusted and he blinked the hospital wing into focus. The domed ceiling above him was an unfortunately familiar one and he briefly wondered if it was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named that had put him here this time too. Then, like a bad dream, it came back to him.

He'd been with Harry, desperately searching for Romilda Vane, who for some reason he had been deliriously in love with. Something about those chocolates had certainly tasted off, but they had gone to see Slughorn and they had been having a nice drink whilst they waited for Romilda to get there and then…

Ron paused, uncertain for the first time. What had happened after their drink?

A rustle and shuffle beside him brough Ron back to the present. He tilted his neck to the side, moving his eyes from the ceiling to the visitor's chair where he was surprised to see Hermione sitting. Harry, sure. Lavender would've been a bit awkward, considering how his feelings for her had rapidly dwindled but Hermione - weren't they still fighting?

She hadn't noticed that he was awake yet, she had a book gripped between her fingers. If it had been anyone else he might have expected them to be reading something fictional to pass the time pleasantly, but not his Hermione. No - he squinted at the title, half-hidden by her fingers - she was reading about poison antidotes, of all things. He watched her quietly for a few moments as she flipped through the pages of the book, her eyes moved so quickly he didn't understand how she could be taking any of it in, but Hermione was an impatient creature. She was as impatient for knowledge as she was for her breakfast in the morning and sorry was the fool who came between her and either of them.

It almost felt like they were back to normal. Hermione curled up with an unnecessarily advanced book whilst Ron looked on in lazy disbelief. It made his chest ache, even as his head swam with confusion about why he was here he felt the emotion rising up within him - longing. He longed for their easy, comfortable relationship. It was so much more natural than the sloppy, clingy creature that he had found in Lavender. He'd been cruel to her, in words and actions - behaviour which he had regretted the moment it had happened - and even though she'd been just as petty in revenge it was his fault and really he should be the bigger man.

So, rather than over thinking it like he knew she would, Ron opened his mouth. "I'm sorry."

In a flurry of movement, the book went flying and Hermione almost leapt from the seat. She let out a high pitched squeak of fright but as the book landed on the tile floor with a thud Hermione was on her knees beside him and gripping his hand.

"Ron, oh Ron. You're okay! You're awake. How do you feel? Is your head alright?"

"Hermione-"

"Do you need anything? Can I get you some water?"

"Hermione-"

"Shall I call for Madam Pomfrey?"

"Hermione!" Ron croaked as loud as he could and it seemed to finally register in her head that he was speaking. Her questions stopped dead and she looked at him with wide eyes. Ron turned his hand in hers so he could squeeze it with the little strength he could muster. "I'm sorry."

Hermione's mouth tightened and her dark eyes, which she started to blink rapidly, filled with regret. "Oh Ron," she started, her voice coming out all strange and strangled, "I'm sorry too." A stray tear escaped from her lashes and she scrubbed at it with a watery laugh. "Why are we like this?"

Ron laughed, "Like what?" He reached up to push away the unruly curls that had escaped her hair tie.

"Oh I don't know? Argumentative. Stubborn. Take your pick. I mean it did take you getting poisoned for us to stop being so petty."

"We're both strong personalities, that's all," Ron shrugged, though it was more of a wiggle than an actual movement. Then his brain caught up with him, "Poisoned? I was poisoned?" A vague memory surfaced, foaming and choking. Harry looming over him with some sort of brown rock. Slughorn a pale statue in the corner.

"Harry saved you," Hermione told him, "with the help of the Half-Blood Prince it seems. It's the only book he's ever read where the information has actually gone in. Much as I'm loath to admit it," her face twisted to match her tone, "something good has, for once, come from that nasty little object."

Ron shook his head, his eyes flitting briefly back to the ceiling in disbelief. "Well, okay. Let's make a pact," he told her, turning back to meet the warm brown eyes. She was nodding, though he wasn't sure that she knew she was. "Next time we have an argument, let's just say sorry before it gets to this, okay?"

Hermione smiled again, this one less watery, and squeezed his hand tighter. "Deal. Two words, that's all it is."

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Much Love, MaryandMerlin