The story takes place during the trio's journey during Deathly Hallows, while they are camping and Ron hasn't still gone (and I doubt he will, here).
Thank you a lot, Charlie (harryjpotter) for having checked this for me; you're great!
Now, I hope you like this pretty long one-shot and have some time to leave me feedback. Kinder eggs for feedback leavers!
~Dessi~
Disclaimer: None of the following characters, magical places, and related stuff belong to me; they all belong to JK Rowling.
A rush of fever and something else
The rain battered the whole tent; even on my side it was visible, the streams of water slipping down the canvas outside. A bolt of lightning lit the space. The thunder sounded like a crack of giant knuckles. Surely the wind was bloody cold and implacable. And my insides growled. There were fifteen minutes left before my watch began. However, the girl sitting at the entrance to the tent, with her nose stuck inside a book and the glimmer of the wand as the only comfort to the night, had already done enough for us as to deserve to be released fifteen minutes before.
‘Hey,’ I said, dropping myself next to Hermione, who jumped startled by my sudden appearance. ‘Go to sleep.’
Hermione looked to the watch. I noticed she was pale, but not because of my presence or something of the sort, and that she was wearing so many sweaters she barely could move her arms freely, and despite of which she was trembling.
‘It’s 3:45. It’s not your turn yet,’ replied Hermione, trying to suppress a teeth chattering.
‘Never mind, I ─ can’t sleep, anyway,’ I assured her, poring at her in concern. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Fine. But it’s still my turn, Ron, why don’t you go bed, and I ─’
‘Are you sure you’re fine?’ I insisted, without listening. ‘You don’t look it.’
‘I said I’m fine, Ron!’ replied Hermione, slamming her hand on the book.
‘Don’t shout.’
‘Honestly, Ron, get back to ─’
‘I’m not getting back to bed: you go bed now or bear me for ten minutes,’ I said firmly, lounging against a pole and sheltering myself with the cloak.
Hermione seemed about to smile, but she cleared her throat and shrugged, looking back to her book.
A minute or so went by before I asked, ‘How many sweaters are you wearing?’
‘Excuse me?’ Hermione raised her eyebrows.
‘That ─ you’re trembling, Hermione.’
‘Of course not ─ it’s just ─ the sweaters are too thin .. what do you care? Stuttered Hermione, getting upset.
‘Maybe you’ve got temperature, let me see,’ I stretched out a hand to touch Hermione’s forehead, but she prevented me.
‘I’m fine, Ron, F – I – N – E. You won, it’s your watch.’
Hermione released my harm brusquely, stood up and strolled into the tent, not without giving me a furious glance.
I sighed, lightening my wand and peering though the heavy rain. She was so stubborn. And I liked her stubbornness, despite I argued with my own stubborn head. I have to admit I like the bickering of stubbornness-es. But I rather wanted her to agree with me, to be fine with me, because both were nicer. And this horrible atmosphere didn’t do any favour to us. I felt pressed, without reason. I saw everything distorted sometimes, and the others seemed not to realize of that everything was wrong. And that upset me. But when my reason was back, I only saw Hermione giving her best for us, to make this a bit more bearable, and I wanted her to know that I liked her, her way of bossing on me and her way of taking care of everyone she loved, and I wanted to hug her to relieve the fever, because she was ill, I knew it even when she didn’t.
The rain became a drizzle with the dawn, and I got ready to sleep once more when Harry replaced me.
Before I closed my eyes and abandoned myself into the nightmares, I turned to Hermione, whose bed was at the same level as mine. She was breathing hard, and her forehead was red.
‘Er, Harry …’ I said in a low voice when we were having our usual breakfast (tea and old bread only sometimes), once Hermione placed herself on the entrance that morning, ‘I think Hermione ─ er, needs to rest.’
‘What?’ he said, puzzled.
‘That ─ I believe she’s ill,’ I whispered.
‘Ill ─ did she say anything about it?’ asked Harry, looking at Hermione’s nape.
‘No … But she’s got ─ a feverish face, you know … Well, with seven brothers, I’ve kinda learnt a bit about it,’ I explained. It was true: my mother always knew when we were about to get ill by the look of our faces. ‘She told me she’s fine, but ─ we’ve got to touch her forehead and find out, ‘cause … maybe she denies it ─’
‘What are you two talking about so closely?’ inquired Hermione suspiciously. She had came inside and was standing right behind Harry.
I shook my head almost unnoticeably to insinuate Harry not to mention the topic openly.
‘Um, nothing just ─ this horrible weather … ‘ commented Harry as a casual matter. ‘We should try somewhere else because ─ it’s likely to get you ill, don’t you think?’
Harry gave a brief laugh and looked at me for help, and I nodded. Hermione looked at us disconcerted.
‘And …’ went on Harry doubtfully, ‘er … Have you noticed your face is red? Are you hot?’
‘No, I’m fine,’ replied Hermione, impassive.
‘Are you sure you ─ aren’t running a fever?’
Hermione seemed to realize of the trick and her eyes glared at me.
‘Ron, stop saying I’m ill!’ she said. ‘I’m not ill!’
‘Then why the ruddy hell you’ve got the cheeks burning, dark rings under your eyes that reach your jaw and you’re shaking like a leaf despite the twenty sweaters?’ I retorted, angry with her pigheadedness ─ this was one of the moments she really drove me up the wall ─ ‘I can tell the signs, Hermione!’
Hermione’s eyes glinted with more than annoyance.
‘I had no idea you wanted to be a Healer, Ron. I’m going to the toilet, if you're done with your diagnosis,’ she said pointedly, locking herself in the tiny toilet.
‘It’s no use, then,’ Harry shook her head at their defeat. ‘She won’t admit she’s ill until we’ve got to get her into the bed by force.’
‘Don’t say that,’ I told him off, shivering. Any little thing that could happen was a menace, lost and secluded as we were. Even more if it happened to Hermione. She was strong, but she was still a girl, a girl not used to diseases. She was my girl. Well, actually, she wasn’t. And it was likely she'd never be.
That day, Harry and I kept our eyes on Hermione, and in a few occasions, we insisted on taking her temperature, at which she always refused in a burst of angriness and left away from us.
‘We’ve got to do something, Harry. I bet she’s acting like this just to show she’s stronger than we think, but if she gets worse … We don’t have any mean to relieve a disease, you know.’ I was saying to Harry when we were picking some wild fruits and fungus for dinner.
‘Yeah, you’re right. What can we do?’ said Harry, biting his lip.
‘We’ve to force her to admit it, or realizing of that she’s ill, and that we won’t get upset if she has to stay in bed,’ I replied, summoning a few wet berries.
‘I say she think we’d disappoint of her if she’s the one in bed,’ said Harry, putting on his hood as the drizzled resumed.
‘Women … All crazy,’ I pointed bitterly. Was it worse to rest in exchange of some health?
The same night, I woke up earlier than my turn of watch on purpose. I had a plan. It could be cruel, since I was still too unsure to go beyond, but that was precisely what encouraged me: the fact that, if I assumed she had nothing for me, then it wouldn’t be cruel at all, except perhaps for me, and if she did feel something … Well, heavens knew how happy I’d be, but that was beside the point. I had to find out if she was ill.
As expected, she almost jumped, wand in hand, when I appeared and sat down next to her.
‘Oh, it’s you again,’ she said in a bad mood, but I didn’t care.
‘Hermione ─’
She didn’t want to let me begin.
‘Look, Ron, if you came to keep bothering and insinuating I’m ill, you can go ─’
I hurried to retort.
‘No. I came to ─ apologize, Hermione. I’m sorry if I upset you, I didn’t mean to. Harry and I were just worried, but we believe you, and I reckon I’ve been rude to rude.’
I had to chew my tongue to say that.
But she looked at me in a curious way. Even in the dim light I spotted she still was red-faced and shaky.
‘It’s ok,’ she said as only response. A couple of minutes passed, in which she stayed with her gaze on her book, and I watched at her, forgetting about my plan. I know it sounds stupid, but I couldn’t help it. Besides, I had never before felt the urge to watch somebody like I did with her.
‘Can’t sleep again?’
She surprised me, but even so, I spotted the change of her voice.
‘Er ─ no.’
I took a deep breath, encouraging myself. It was a trick, just a trick, you won’t be doing anything you could regret later, I repeated to myself. But was I able to just stop there?
‘Hermione?’
‘Yes?’
‘I ─ wanna ─ wanna tell you ─’ I forced my hand to touched gently her cheeks.
That was all I needed, I thought. But there were triumph and alarm in my head: triumph for having beat her in her refusal and could show she was ill, and alarm for the same fact of that.
‘What Ron?’ replied Hermione, mesmerized. Her expression made me wandering off track for a moment, and I think I felt more alarmed. She was expecting something to happen, then. I pulled myself back.
‘That you’re boiling, indeed,’ I frowned. ‘Hermione, why don’t you admit you’re ill? You’ve got the right to fall ill once, you’re not a super hero ─’
But Hermione threw my hand off her and stood up.
‘Leave me alone, Ron! Leave me alone! That was all, then? All the apologize? You’re so ─ you’re so ─ ah.’
‘Hermione!’ I shouted, and lunged forwards. She had fainted.
‘Harry, wake up, Harry!’ I went shouting, lifting Hermione in my arms and carrying her to her bunk bed.
‘What’s wrong?’ replied Harry, jumping out of his bed.
‘Bring some wet rags and ─ I dunno, water! Do something!’ I kept saying.
Hermione was fainted. Her fever had increased, and we had nothing to cure her. I took the rags Harry was handing and placed them on Hermione’s forehead as Harry knelt next to me.
‘Blimey, what did I say? She couldn’t resist ─’
But I shook my head at Harry’s words.
‘It was my fault, Harry, I tricked her to check her temperature and she went mad on me, and then she ─ she collapsed.’
‘What else could have you done? She’s getting worse and worse, at least now she can rest,’ said Harry. ‘Rouse her and give her some water, I’ll keep the watch.’
When Harry set out to the entrance, I pointed my wand to Hermione and murmured, ‘Rennervate.’
She stirred feebly and opened her eyes, confused.
‘What …? What …?’ she managed to mumble, but I shushed her.
‘Drink some water.’
I offered her the glass and poured the liquid through her lips.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said at last, looking away with a tear running down her face. ‘It was stupid, wasn’t it?’
I couldn’t repress a sad grin.
‘I only … didn’t want to fail Harry, and you,’ said Hermione quietly.
‘You can’t be a superhero.’
I relieved Harry on watch duty as regular and he took care of Hermione for a while, but he was exhausted and as there was nothing to do for her, he went to bed.
When it dawned, Hermione was sleeping quietly, pale and sweated, but I reckoned she was better after the collapse. I settled in my bunk bed more relieved and stared at her before falling asleep myself.
‘Ron … Ron …’
I opened my eyes when I realized of the calling: it was Hermione, turned towards me and with an urging expression.
‘What’s wrong? How do you feel?’ I hurried to ask, springing out of the bed so wildly that I bumped my head with the upper berth. I saw she made a pain grimace of sympathy for me.
‘I ─ I just wanted something to eat,’ she said at last.
I considered what we had: berries, fungus and a week-old bread weren’t good enough supplies to anybody ill.
‘I could sneak out food somewhere,’ I said.
I knew not even my own starving stomach would have moved me to risk my neck under the Invisibility Cloak, stealing to Muggles, but the only sight of those feverish eyes did.
I don’t know how I managed to find a pie cooling on the window sill of a cottage in the fields, in shelter from the rain, but I took it and brought it to Hermione. Even in her hunger and weak mood, she didn’t restrain a question.
‘You left some money, didn’t you, Ron?’
I didn’t.
I stayed the night after my watch sitting next to her: she was asleep, but very agitated; she stirred in the bed, as though troubled with nightmares, breathing fast; her temperature had increased again.
I tried to calm her, keeping the wet rags fresh, and I stroke her head, her hair spread on the pillow, but she couldn’t rest.
I had dozed off in my armchair, but so alert that I distantly heard my own snores before losing track of time and space. That’s why I jumped like with an electric shock at the first moans.
‘No … no …’ Hermione mumbled, clearly asleep, and she withdrew all the blankets covering her. I bent over her and put them back on their place, but she struggled with me to avoid the blankets.
‘Hermione,’ I said calmly, ‘it’s cold, you must keep them.’
‘No, I don’t want,’ she replied, frowning in dreams. ‘It’s hot.’
‘It’s cold, and you’re ill, you keep them.’
‘No, no, it’s hot!’ she repeated, turning around.
I took out my wand and managed to stick the blankets on her, but she stayed writhing and moving in discomfort. I dampened the rags again and placed them carefully on her forehead.
Hermione’s eyes flung open: I started, but even more by the fact that I knew she wasn’t awake. Her eyes weren’t bright but unfocussed, despite that she blinked at times.
‘Mum?’ she whispered. Hermione was delirious.
‘No ─ no ─’ I mumbled, shocked at first.
‘Dad, is it you?’ she slightly frowned.
‘No, Hermione ─’
‘Mom … it wasn’t me, I don’t know how could I save the dog, I swear the car just didn’t crash on me, mom,’ said Hermione, ignoring me and shaking her head in concern. I had no idea of what was she talking about, but from what I could get, it seemed something related to her first signs of magic. I would have laughed in another situation, but the gravity of the it was frightening me.
I doubted about calling Harry or not: perhaps Hermione wouldn’t have wanted us to hear her unconscious and I should have left too, but I couldn’t leave her alone, babbling in her fever.
‘It’s ─ it’s ok, Hermione. Nobody blames you,’ I whispered, unsure, the first words I could seize.
‘I’m sorry. I disappointed you, mom,’ said Hermione, a tear sparkling in the corner of her eyes. I felt pity for her. She had always seemed so sensitive but sure of her feelings that I could never have guessed how was her relationship with her own family.
‘’Course not. You’re … er, great,’ I retorted softly, running the back of my hand on her cheek. She seemed to change then; tilting her head on the pillow, she murmured, ‘And why are you so cold with me?’
‘What?’ I asked her, disconcerted again.
‘What am I supposed to have done this time?’ she went on, now looking at me. ‘I thought you …’
And she suddenly started to cry in grief, burying her face on the pillow.
I attempted to calm her down, desperate by her tears, and I slipped off of the armchair, dropping myself on my knees next to her bed. I took her hands, and she closed them tight around mines.
‘You haven’t done anything wrong, Hermione. We ─ we couldn’t have survived without you. You …’
‘You kissed her. And you were going with me to the party, weren’t you, bloody jerk, what have I done now?’
I recognized with surprise what she was recalling in a whisper, and I felt almost glad I hadn't called Harry. I was split between a need to laugh or concern. And tenderness. And I did feel a jerk of the past as tears kept flowing from her unaware eyes.
‘I’m sorry.’
That was what I said softly. I released her hands and, placing one of my arms under her back, I attracted her close to me. I felt her snuggling, and she finally fell asleep. I followed her and snoozed right there, just slightly leaning on her.
She woke up minutes after I did. I reckoned we had slept off no more than half an hour or so, but I felt a bit more rested, though.
‘What are you doing, Ron?’ asked Hermione. She was no longer delirious, I checked relieved, but she was still weak and heated.
‘Taking care of you,’ I replied quietly, straightening up.
‘Thanks.’
We held our gazes locked until it was unbearable.
I blinked.
‘I will always.’
‘What?’
‘I ─ will always take care of you.’
I had to tell her.
Hermione lifted herself with effort, using her elbow, and placed her burning lips on mine. It was brief, a mere contact; just the necessary as to let me know that she had got my words. I opened my eyes when she broke apart and she feebly smiled.
Then my friend entwined her fingers with mine and turned around in the bunk bed, dragging my arm around her as well. I rested my head on her arm.
‘It’s going to be all right.’
The rain broke out again above us with all its will, and the thunder drowned my words.