After

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Monday 25th November

Tears cut hot paths over his slashed cheeks, but Ron let them fall. It was dark in the hospital wing. He bit his lip so hard he bit the skin off completely; he felt the blood about to drip, he saved it with his tongue. It tasted like metal.

Then, a clear voice, like the song of glad water flowing down into the night, came falling like silver to meet him.

"Ron!"

So much poured into the unilateral word.

Ron had to focus on the face for a few seconds before he knew who it was.

When he saw, he almost tasted salt again. It was the only person he could bare to see right now.

Harry.

***

"Why don't you tell me again," said Harry, slowly, placing a hand on the crisp white sheet of Ron's bed, "and start from the beginning."

Ron took a deep breath, shuddering, and started again:

"It's difficult, I... It's all blurred... But I know it was in Hogsmeade.
Saturday afternoon. You and Hermione had gone to... I'm not sure-"

"Fred and George had asked us to look at an idea they had for your Christmas present..." Harry moaned, putting his head in his hands. "They told us to come and look in Quality Quidditch Supplies: they asked us if we wanted to chip in... I... We told you we'd be right back, and when we came back you were gone."

Ron nodded.

"When you went, I was suddenly... More aware, I guess, like before then someone was speaking through me, and when I was with you guys I was pretending... I remember... it was some sort of subconscious seed that had been planted in me a few days ago..."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, utterly perplexed. "Who are you talking about-?"

But he was cut off my Madam Pomfrey who came striding down the hospital wing, a lamp swinging in her hand.

"Visiting time's over, please return to your dormitory, Mr Potter."

Harry rose, looking nervously at Ron.

"I'll come and see you soon," he promised. "So will Hermione- she said she's really sorry she couldn't come tonight, but we'll see you tomorrow."

And he left as the light faded from the corners of the room.

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