Title: Reunion (3)

Author: tarotgal

Fandom: Harry Potter

Rating: PG

Parings: Harry/Ron (smarm)

Spoilers: None, really, as long as you know the characters

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. I write this only in fun and mean no harm.

Summary: Harry, Ron, and Hermione agree to meet in Hogsmeade the December following their departure from Hogwarts to catch up.





     "Where *is* it?" Ron moaned, tossing off the couch cushions in desperate pursuit of the elusive gift. "And why is this place such a bloody mess? We just cleaned it last week!"


     Harry nodded, coming out of the bedroom with an extra sweater for Ron. "Yeah, but we got sick this week." He looked around the living room, which was indeed a bloody mess. Blankets and pillows which had been strewn about the couch were now on the floor. There were dirty dishes on the coffee table, surrounded by piles of used tissues and everything in the way of muggle remedies from nasal sprays to bottles of aspirin. "How are you feelig by the way?"


     Ron shrugged, sighed, and sat his butt down on the carpeted floor. "Exhausted. You?"


     Harry shrugged back and rubbed at his nose. "Sabe as I've beed." He tossed Ron the sweater. "Put it od, you're still gettig chills." Ron, who was already wearing two layers, did not protest but shivered as he pulled the sweater on. Harry rubbed harder at his nose. "Ugh... Berlid... I'b so stuffed. Where are the tissues?" He looked around the living room.


     "Good luck finding them in this mess. You want a handkerchief?" Ron offered, bending over and checking beneath the couch.


     Harry shook his head, sniffling. "Doe, I'b goig to save theb for goig... out..." his breath caught and he cupped a hand over his nose and mouth. "ehhhChishh! ihhTCHhhh!" He sniffled wetly and groaned, gave another look around, then mumbled, "Could you get be a hadkerchief, Love?"


     Ron nodded and handed one over. "Bless you." He waited for Harry to blow and wipe his nose, then kissed the nose gently. "Wish I could make you feel better." He ran his hand through Harry's hair tenderly and kissed him softly on the lips.


     With a sigh, Harry kissed him back, then pushed him away. "Careful. That's how you caught by cold id the first place."


     "Well, I've already got it so it doesn't matter if I kiss you more." Laughing, Ron reached for his stomach and tickled there. He went forward, pushing Harry back, flat against the floor. He kissed more passionately, then broke off with an "Aha!" He reached up beneath a chair and dragged out a small bag with a bright colored package within. "Found it!" He climbed off Harry with the present, making sure it was intact and free of any stray tissues. "You ready to go?"


     After running a hand through his unruly black hair, Harry nodded, paused, then shook his head and held up a finger. "Hold od, adother sdee... sdeeze..." He waited a moment, panting at the effort of trying to draw out the sneezey tickling sensation.


     Ron sat patiently, waiting, watching.


     "hehhhh..." Harry rubbed at the side of his nose to try and either intensify the tickle or cut it off. Either way, he was still panting, a pained expression on his face.


     Ron reached over and patted Harry's back. "It's ok. Just wait. It'll come." He gently stroked his fingers on the back of Harry's hand which held the handkerchief at the ready.


     At last, Harry tightened, his eyes squinted closed. He drew back and fell forward at the force of the release. "IHHshhhh! Heh-Ehshhhh!" he sneezed finally, into the folds of the handkerchief, soft against his raw nostrils. "Ugh..." he moaned, then emptied his nose into the handkerchief, balled it up, tossed it into the nearest pile of tissues, and opened his eyes. "We have the worst tibig id the world. Why did we have to get sick this week? We've had this beetig pladded for ages."


     Ron shook his head. "At least it helped us get the week off from work so it was clear for this meeting." He stroked the bridge of Harry's nose. "You ready to go now?"


     Harry nodded and stood, grabbing both of their coats. "Yeah, let's go."




     They used floo powder as neither felt quite up to apparating. They walked a bit to The Three Broomsticks and gave synchronized sighs as they were enveloped by the warmth of the place.


     Hermione was already there, sitting at a wooden table with three butterbeers and an order of stuffed mushrooms. She gave them a smile and rushed to them both, nearly bumping a number of other customers in the process, and wrapped arms around them in a tight hug. "I've missed you both so much!" She steered them to the table and passed them their drinks. "How are you?"


     Harry and Ron exchanged looks. "Have a little cold," Harry said softly, stuffily. He sipped his drink which felt lovely against his throat. Butterbeer could warm anyone up and he was most thankful for it though if he'd had his way, he probably would have ordered some tea.


     Hermione nodded in understanding. "That explains why your nose is a bit red." She looked over at Ron, eyes widening in further understanding. "What? You, too?"


     Ron nodded, sniffing miserably to make a point.


     Hermione laughed musically. "I should have guessed. You two always did everything together, right from the start." They exchanged another knowing look and laughed with her.


     Harry took one of the mushrooms, eating it slowly. "Thaks for orderig for us. Add sorry we're a little late. We had a late start. Have't beed out of the house id days."


     She nodded, concerned. "You should have called and cancelled. We can do this another time." She turned to Ron. "You look like you're going to pass out. Hungry?"


     He sniffed and shook his head. "Tired. Not hungry." Ron's cheeks were flushed, but he grew slightly paler to look at the food. He turned away and Harry patted him on the back comfortingly.


     "Do't push hib to eat," Harry explained to Hermione. "That was how I was yesterday. It'll pass." He rubbed at his nose. "There's the horrible codgestiod to look forward to whed the fever add dausea pass... excuse be..."


     Hermione looked puzzled. It was hard enough to understand him through the congestion. "Excuse...?" but then she saw.


     Harry blinked, and he pulled out a handkerchief, pressing it to his face as he swayed back and forth with pre-sneeze breaths. Then he pitched forward, "ihhhHetchhh! ehhhChhhhhh!" He routinely blew and wiped his nose, trying to be quick about it, and lowered the handkerchief to his lap so it was ready for the next sneezes. "Excuse be," he repeated, and Hermione understood this time.


     "Bless you," she said. "Is there anything I can get you? Either of you?"


     Ron shrugged, Harry shook his head. "Dunno. It's just a cold, Hermione." Ron, careful to keep his eyes away from the food in the center of the table, looked over at her. "Come on, tell us about yourself. How are you? How's the job go-ing..." this time his voice faded away, as the look of realization passed over him. He didn't have time to excuse himself, and barely time to go for a handkerchief. It was Harry who got there with one first, holding it steady with a hand on Ron's back as he sneezed. "Hah-Ahchoo! Hahtchoo! Hetchooo!"


     "Blesses," Harry whispered, wiping Ron's nose for him, rubbing his hand up and down Ron's back.


     "Tisk tisk," Hermione scolded after blessing Ron as well. "You both sound terrible."


     "It's odly a cold," Harry replied, brining the handkerchief back up for himself. "ehhhChihhh! Sniff, sniff! We've all beed through worse. Rebeber secod year whed--"


     "You should both be in bed," she insisted sympathetically. "With someone to take care of you." She sat up a bit straighter in her chair at that to indicate she was ready to take on the task. Then she motioned to the waiter, who was currently sprawled over the bar in front of Madam Rosmerta, that she wanted the remaining food boxed up to go.


     "Hermione," Ron said, attempting to reason with her, though he knew that it was futile to do so. "We're not little boys any more. And it's just a head cold." He shivered violently, though he was still in his winter jacket on top of his three layers of clothes.


     She shook her head. "All men turn into boys when they're sick. *Even* when it's just a head cold. Now," she stood and finished off her butterbeer. "I'm going to take you two home and look after you and we can catch up on things as we'd planned as long as you both stay in bed until you're feeling better." She zipped up their coats and wrapped scarves around their necks to bundle them up for the cold.


     Ron swayed on the spot, tired and feverish, and Hermione supported him, keeping him upright. "There now, you'll be home in a moment." She looked over at Harry and inquired, "How did you get here?"


     "Floo powder," he replied, sniffling. Quickly, he raised his handkerchief once again. "ehhHetchhh! ehhChuhhhh!" He paused, waiting for one more. Finally, it came, along with a companion. "ihhTchhhh! ehhhChhhhh!" He blew his nose again and tucked the handkerchief away, continuing on, "We've got edough left for all three of us. But you dod't have to cobe with, Herbiode. The place is a bess." He sniffled and hoped she understood him well enough through his congestion; he could barely understand himself.


     She nodded. "Well, you're sick. That can happen. I'll just have to help tidy it up while I wait on you boys hand and foot."


     "Oh!" Ron exclaimed, nearly swinging the gift bag into her stomach. "I almost forgot. We got you this. Early Christmas, late birthday present."


     Still supporting Ron, she took it with one hand and set it on the ground. With some difficulty, she got her wand out and aimed it at the package. She sent an unwrapping spell at it, and the bag, tissue paper, wrapping paper, ribbons and bows flew off, leaving the present hovering in midair. It was a mahogany box with gold markings, and in it was set a beautiful quill lined with both gold and silver. "To represedt the two of us," Harry said, pointing to himself and Ron.


     Ron continued the explanation, as though finishing Harry's thoughts. "It never runs out of ink, and it has several unbreakable charms, and one for finding it if it gets misplaced, and--"


     "And it's gorgeous," she said, fingering it ever so gently. "And perfect. Thank you so much. I'll use it to grade all my students' exam papers next term," she said, putting the gift back in the bag, slipping the handles over her wrist, and wrapping her arms around both boys waists. "Now let me get you boys home to bed where I can thank you properly by taking care of you. Lots of sleep for Ron, and extra soft tissues for Harry." She tiptoed and turned one way then the other to kiss each on the cheek as she named their needs. They each put an arm around her, and together the three friends walked from the pub out into the snow.