When all is said and done. Who: Ron Weasley, Anthony Goldstein, Madame Pomfrey Where: Infirmary, Hogwarts When: May 22nd, late night What: Ron wakes up, but it's a bit disoriented. And upset. Notes: Ron has a potty mouth and does not act his age. Fair warning. Status: Complete
When Ron opened his eyes the first time, the sudden brightness forced him to shut them close again. An instant headache did not help any and his chest felt too tight to even take a proper breath, but breathing he was. He couldn't really tell where he was, not even by sound, since there was something wrong with his ears. He waited a few moments before he tried to open his eyes again, and he blinked, trying to moisten his eyes which felt too dry. He slowly forced himself to sit up, wincing as everything seemed to ache, for no obvious reason he could remember.
Anthony was in a corner, his wand out, a long, sing-song spell flowing from his mouth as the patient's chest was enveloped in a warm, baby blue light. He stopped, panting softly, as the patient smiled.
Panting, he reached out and undid their yellow ribbon, and stumbled off towards the next patient.
He saw Ron sitting up, and he straightened, tripping over himself in his effort to get to him quickly.
"Ron." he said, breathing heavily. "Don't try and get out of bed. You're in a pressurized chamber."
Ron blinked again, stopping, but still not registering what the familiar boy in front of him said.
"What?"
His voice was hoarse and he coughed, wincing as it gave him more of a headache. Clearing his throat best he could, he tried again. "I'm where?" He looked around him, but he didn't see anything obvious.
Anthony shook his head. "Don't speak. You inhaled a lot of smoke. I've put you in a pressurized bubble to clear your system out quickly. Another few minutes in there, and I'll take you out for observation.
Ron nodded, feeling dizzy at doing that much. He almost leaned back to lie still again, when the last thing he remembered filtered through. "Inferi! They're in the castle." He coughed, as his throat seemed to close in on him for even speaking that much.
Anthony hissed. "I said, don't speak!" He knelt by Ron's cot. "The Hospital Wing is safe. The Slytherin dorm has been cleared out, and we've sent for reinforcements."
Ron shook his head, coughing a few more times. "Where's 'arry?"
"I don't know." Anthony said. "I haven't seen him." he said, looking around the Hospital Wing - might as well double check. "And I haven't heard anybody talking about him, so he's probably fine."
He closed his eyes, hoping that his friend was alright. Somewhere. Opening them again, he looked at the boy next to him. "How did I get here?"
Anthony blushed a little bit, and looked down at the ground. "A particularly unhappy looking House elf dumped you over there." he said, nodding at an area on the floor about fifteen feet away.
Ron snorted, shaking his head. "That would be Kreacher. Barmy elf." He bit his lip again as he realized that he couldn't remember the boy's name, though he was part of the DA with them. He hoped it would come to him sooner or later, instead of having to ask. "Am I alright now to leave?" he asked instead, hating to hear his voice sound like it did, but having no other choice.
Anthony shook his head. "You shouldn't even be talking!" he said, standing up ."You need to rest - I'll take you out of the pressure in a few minutes, but I'll want to keep you under observation. Make sure there wasn't any more serious damage.
Ron shook his head again. "There's no time! Has anyone checked Hufflepuff? The Library? These things could be anywhere by now!"
Anthony bit his lip, looking worried at Ron. "Please, Ron. Enough - please stop talking. You can damage your lungs."
Ron glared. "My lungs will be the least of anyone's worry if these things keep killing. Where's my wand?"
Anthony shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't take it - if it's not on you, I don't know where it is." he said, drawing his own wand and puncturing the bubble of pressurized air, letting it out slowly, then vanishing it.
Soon as Ron felt is safe to move, he reached over to grip the boy's hand. "I need to get out of here. I'm not much use to anyone here. I'm not in danger anymore, yeah?"
Anthony blushed immediately, and looked downwards, shaking himself out of it. "No, no, it's not." he said, quietly. "You've gotta lie down - your lungs need to readjust." he said
Ron sighed and said, "Look...Anthony? Is that your name?"
Anthony nodded. "Yes, it is." he said, a little shiver running up his spine.
Ron nodded, and tried to throw his legs over the bed, making a move to get up. "Anthony, you and I both know that this, today, was not normal. How many more of us are going to die before this war is over? As long as I can walk, and have my wand, I'm not fit to be here."
Anthony pressed his hands against Ron's shoulders. "And I have an obligation to do no harm. I can't let you kill yourself, no matter how much you might want to." he said, "You might not have your wand, but I have mine. Lie down." he said, his voice authoritative.
Ron would have gotten another word in, but he started to cough, as his throat closed up again. When he was done, he banged his hand against the cot and glared.
Anthony growled softly. "I don't want to have to intubate you, but I will if I have to."
"You can't stop me," he threatened, but without his wand, was practically defenceless and lying.
Anthony pulled a metal laryngoscope and hefted it from hand to hand. "Don't tempt me." he said.
'You can't keep me here, dammit," he argued, and forced himself not to cough.
Anthony shook his head. "Come on Ron. I don't have time to argue. You've got to stay here - for your own health. Besides, what can you do without your wand?"
"I managed quite well without one, thanks," he mocked and settled for glaring again.
Anthony turned, shaking his head a little bit and blushing a little bit. "Ron, Ron, Ron." he muttered to himself.
Ron watched him. "I can fight. You know I can. Let me go."
Anthony had moved to the next cot, and was checking the Slytherin's wounds. "You can't. I won't let you."
"Then how long do you intend to keep me prisoner here?" he called after him, feeling his temper right on the edge.
Anthony turned. "Until your lungs have had time to heal. A few hours of silence, and then overnight for observation."
Ron finally stood up, not caring if he was stopped or not. "That's bloody madness! Everyone could be dead by then! I can fight, for as long as I need to, even if they kill me."
Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose. "Madame Pomfrey!" he called, and she waddled over. "What is it Anthony?"
"Can you go deal with Mr. Weasley if the red's are stable?"
She nodded, and walked over to Ron. "What is the problem Mister Weasley?" she asked, her voice icy cold.
"I need to get out of here, right now"
"Hypoxia." Anthony muttered to Madame Pomfrey, as he examined the slashed chest of the Slytherin.
She tut-tutted. "You're going nowhere Mr. Weasley. Lie down and act your age."
Ron turned around and yelled, loud as he could, even if he lost his voice, kicking the cot he'd been laying in, frustrated.
Madame Pomfrey rolled her eyes and walked off to her patients.
Anthony on the other hand, winced and turned to Ron. "Ron..." he said, grabbing his shoulder and shaking it a bit, pulling out his wand.
Ron glared at him. "What do you want? Knock me out? Gag me? What?"
Anthony rolled his eyes. "I will use perfectus totalus on you." he threatened, half-heartedly.
Ron reached for his hand with the wand and pointed it at his chest. "Do it, then. You're threatening me, then you better be good on your word."
Anthony bit his lip. "P... silencio." he cast. "Enough. No more. Rest your voice."
Ron grabbed his hand, forcing him to look at him. "You're making a big mistake," he mouthed, letting go of him and going back to the cot, lying down away from him, knowing he would not be able to sleep until he knew if his friends were alright.
Anthony bit his lip, and shook his head. It needed to be done, he thought to himself, turning to the Slytherin and beginning to heal the punctured lung.
He wished Hermione were there. At least if she made him not talk or stay there, she would at least make it sound less terrible. He hated being there, could understand why Harry had always hated it. Of course, thinking about Harry made him worry for him, but short of risking being knocked out, he couldn't very well leave to look for him.
~~~~~~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~~~~~~~
A few hours, Anthony came over to Ron. The bags under his eyes had bags of their own. Though he looked like death warmed over, his attitude had improved, and he still seemed to function fully.
Pepper-up potion.
"Finite incantium." he said, pointing his wand at Ron. "How are you feeling?"
Ron had decided not to move once he lay there, but his one side had gone numb, so he found himself switching over and over, but he did not sleep. He hadn't wanted to hear the sounds of other students hurt, but he couldn't quite force himself to block it out either. It was almost a surprise when Anthony returned, since he had his back turned again, but when he heard his voice releasing the spell, he sighed, grateful to hear himself again. He turned over and just looked at him, face impassive. "Fine."
Anthony gently rested his hand on Ron's neck, checking his pulse. "How is your breathing?"
Ron shrugged, looking over his shoulder. "I'm breathing, so I guess it's good."
Anthony smiled. "Good, good." He pulled his hands away. "You're recovering well. We might have you cleared to leave before the night is up."
"I'd like to go now, if that's okay," he said softly.
Anthony sat down on the edge of his bed, looking out over the ward, and pinching the bridge of his nose. "You can sign out against medical advice, if you wish."
Exasperated, Ron leaned up on his elbows and whispered angrily, "Stop treating me like I've lost my head, or cannot be trusted to make my own decisions. They may not always be good, but they're mine."
Anthony bit his lip. "I can't clear you to leave without a few more hours of observation. I'm sorry."
"Can't you just check my lungs now?"
Anthony nodded. "Yes, I could. But I also need to check you for neurological symptoms from the hypoxia - and I can't do that now."
Ron threw himself back down on his pillow, rubbing his face hard. "I hate you. Argh. Don't know you well, but I hate you."
Anthony stood and took a few steps back. "Excuse me." he said, turning and fleeing the room to Madame Pomfrey's office to regain his composure.
Ron watched him go, feeling bad then for having said it when he really didn't mean it. He stared at the ceiling for twenty seconds before he sat up.
"Bloody, buggering, hell."
Attempting to stand would have been a bit funny, had he had time to laugh at the whole ordeal, but he couldn't very well let Anthoy complain to Madame Pomfrey about him, because then he would tell his Mum and then things would be bad for him. He moved slowly among the other cots, until he reached toward Pomfrey's personal office. He hesitated several times about going in, going back and forgetting the whole thing, or imagine Hermione's yell at him being impolite to someone who was trying to help him.
"Anthony?" he called hesitantly.
Anthony was inside, slumped against the wall, sobbing. With Ron's final outburst, it had just been too many things going wrong in one day.
When Anthony did not come out, Ron just sighed and swallowed a bit of his pride. "Look, I know you're doing your job and you're trying to help. I'm grateful for that, really. I just--I'm not a very good patient and I can't just stay in one place not knowing. And I...I really didn't mean what I said. Before, you know, before you left."
Anthony didn't hear him as he muffled his sobs in his robes. He was only awake from the potions, so his mental energy was spread very thin indeed. He had dealt with a disaster situation heavily understaffed, lost his first patients, had to allocate resources away from the incurable, thus causing their deaths, seen the boy he'd watched from afar dropped like a sack of potatoes on the ground, helped him, been spat at by him, and now told that he was hated by him.
He waited, hoping Anthony believed his apology, but when he did not come out, Ron was really glad then Hermione was not there. "I really am sorry. I'll just, you know, go wait for you to check on me. Later. Or something." Right. He sounded like an idiot, but he apologized.
Anthony didn't hear a word. leaning back and banging his head against the stone wall gently. He needed sleep, but that was the one thing he couldn't have. Oh, and the straight, not-single guy who had just told him he hated him.
Still no reply and Ron just sighed and walked back towards his cot, lying on his back and trying to ignore the sounds around him.
Anthony stood up and rubbed at his eyes, trying to clear the tears away, and walked out of the room, closing the heavy wood door behind him. As he walked back to the Slytherin patient with the punctured lung, he stopped at a cot.
The prone figure of the girl he had passed over for medical help earlier now lay cold, her eyes open and unblinking. He sat down on the edge of her bed, the tears beginning to trickle anew. "I'm sorry..." he half-sobbed, gently dragging his hand down her face, closing her eyes forever.
Ron heard Anthony leave the office and turned his head to look at him, wondering if it would be worth it to try apologizing one more time. He could see him stop at a cot where a girl lay, but then sat up as he saw him shake as if he was crying and he decided to walk over there again, not sure if his company would be welcome but wanting to do something.
He could see Anthony pass a hand over the girl's face and he knew that she must have died. He was really quiet, as he didn't know if Anthony would continue to ignore him, but he supposed he deserved it.
"Hey," he called out softly, trying not to look at the dead girl, who he could briefly recognize.
Anthony hung his head, and turned slightly, his vivid blue eyes stained dark with tears. "Yes Mister Weasley?" he said, the formality guarding his emotions.
Ron felt the sting of the formality but he guessed he deserved it. "I'm sorry."
Anthony let out a soft chuckle of self-loathing. "Don't worry about it." he said, standing, still not looking at the other boy. "It's just been a hell of day."
Ron looked at him, understanding the sentiment. "Well--I didn't help it and I already apologized about that, but this," he pointed at the girl. "No one deserves that. Someone's responsible for this and they will pay."
Anthony bit his lip. "Yes. I am." he said, sweeping away and walking over to the unconscious Slytherin, inspecting the wound carefully - too carefully. Anything to get him away from the girl he failed, and anything to distract him.
Confused, Ron at him. "What? What do you mean, you are?" He looked away from the dead girl, hating to see this again so soon. It was too damn soon.
Anthony didn't answer, gently running his wand along the boy's chest, checking the healing of the bone.
"You didn't kill her. You couldn't have."
"I might as well have." he said, the knuckles on his hand turning white he was gripping the wand so tightly. "I passed her over for medical care. Intentionally. Knowing she'd die if I did."
Ron felt a cold shiver run through him at the almost expressionless words. "Why did you?"
Anthony shook his head, and moved away from the Slytherin. This was too much for him - he didn't want to be reminded of his own failure.
Ron stared down at the girl, not wanting to believe that Anthony, who was a Ravenclaw, a member of Dumbledore's Army, a Healer in training, could deliberately let someone die.
"Was it because she was a Slytherin and you didn't wish to help her?"
Anthony felt like a trapped animal, and he fled into Madame Pomfrey's office, bursting into tears once more. He grabbed a calming potion, and downed in in a single gulp, throwing the vial against the wall in a sudden burst of anger, which quickly slipped back down into sadness.
Ron heard the sounds of glass breaking and ran over to Madame Pomfrey as fast as he could, which really was not fast at all. "Madame Pomfrey, you need to check on Anthony."
Madame Pomfrey gave him a strange look. "What the hell are you talking about Mister Weasley?" She closed the folder of papers and stared at him.
Impatient, Ron shook his head and pointed at her office. "He went in there and I heard glass break."
Madame Pomfrey waved her hand dismissively. "He probably dropped a potion or something. I don't have time to entertain your wild imagination, Mister Weasley. Both Anthony and I have our hands full until the Ministry arrives."
"Exactly! He just had someone die on him, but don't you think that this might be affecting him just a bit much?"
Madame Pomfrey's expression softened a bit. "Anthony's pronounced more than one patient today, Mister Weasley. And I don't think he's lost anyone."
Ron pointed towards the body of the dead girl, not even knowing her name. "There's a girl back there. She was in Slytherin. She's...she's dead, and I think...I think he needs a bit of help with that."
Madame Pomfrey looks over at the girl. "That girl was triaged as dead."
Ron stared at her in disbelief. "You won't talk to him?"
Madame Pomfrey gestured to the prone figure she was working on. "I don't have time! I have full faith in Mister Goldstein. He won't abandon his patients by doing something stupid. He's a Ravenclaw, Mister Weasley. They think first."
'He may be a Ravenclaw, Madame Pomfrey, but he's still human just like everyone else," he said after a few moments, wishing he knew what the right thing to do was. "He may have just reached his capacity to detach himself from all this."
Madame Pomfrey growled softly, and picked up her wand. She pointed it at her office, and closed her eyes for a moment. "Respiration normal, heartrate a little elevated. He's fine, Mister Weasley."
"Of course he is," Ron said as he left the nurse and walked over to the nurse's office and knocked on the door. "Anthony, I know I'm probably the last person you want to see right now, but open this door."
Anthony said nothing, crying inside. The door was heavy, but unlocked.
Ron sighed and rubbed a weary hand over his face. "Look, it's going to get rather awkward to talk through a door, so unless you want me to bugger off, would you open it?"
Anthony wanded open the door, and waited for Ron to come in, curled up on the desk. "What do you want?"
With one last look behind him, Ron walked inside and then looked over at Anthony, then pointed at the door. "Do you...want me to close it or...?
Anthony curled up tighter, sobbing quietly. He had a bit of tape on his wrist - just as the patients do. A little timer.
Ron hated to see girls cry, but he found he hated it more when other boys cried. He really had no idea what to do or say. But he figured he could try and do something, since he was stuck in the infirmary for the time being. He watched Anthony for a minute and then approached him slowly, watching him. "Im sorry about pushing you earlier, when you were only trying to help. It was unfair and," he flushed, but mumbled the next words anyway. "Childish...immature, well, you get the idea." He tried to laugh it off, but it was only funny for him as Anthony didn't break a smile.
Anthony continued sobbing quietly, curling up tighter on the little bed of medical records. "I... couldn't save her." he whimpered out, as tears streamed down his cheeks. "I had to leave her...."
"What...what was wrong with her, that you couldn't save her?" he asked softly, trying not to sound accusing, still walking towards him.
Anthony whimpered softly, curling up tighter. "I... I couldn't. I wanted to, but I couldn't." he mumbled, almost incoherently. His breath was ragged, and he sniffled every few seconds.
Ron got close enough to a chair and sat down on it, watching Anthony as he leaned forward. "Anthony....you need to calm down, alright? You're a Healer and everyone out there is depending on you. Madame Pomfrey is counting on you and thinks you've been doing a bang up job of it so far."
Anthony gave a small smile through his sobs, and held up his wrist. "Fi... five minute timer." he said, still sobbing, then collapsed back onto the desk, curling up tight into himself.
Ron stared at his wrist, not knowing what it meant. "What's the timer for, mate? I..I don't know much about being a Healer, you know. In fact, I don't know much of anything, except I love Quidditch and Chess."
"Back to work... three minutes." Anthony tried to explain, though his voice was muffled by his knees and arms. He shook a little bit, trying to curl up tighter, escape from the world.
"Oh, right. Sorry," he mumbled, knowing that should have been obvious before. He was honestly at a loss as to what to do and maybe Hermione would have been able to talk to him much better than Ron would, but of course, there were many things Hermione could do that were naturally better than Ron. He missed her and hoped she was alright and that she had found her parents by now. He did not think Anthony could curl his body anymore than it already was. "So...will you talk to me for three minutes or do you want me to leave?"
Anthony uncurled a little bit, and looked at Ron, his tear-filled mournful azure eyes cutting into Ron's. "What do you want to talk about?" he said, after a long steadying breath.
Ron, shrugged, his own eyes watering as he stared into Anthony's, for some odd weird reason. "Well...we can talk about what is making you, you know, upset."
Anthony's gaze was steady, and a bit sharp, as Anthony found himself a little angry at the other boy. He didn't care - why was he pretending to? "I've just pronounced people dead. Four. Including one that I couldn't save. I think that qualifies me to be a little upset."
Ron bowed his head, having figured that was part of the problem. "I know that, and, I'm sorry. I think you're more than allowed."
Anthony broke his gaze, and closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh. Why couldn't love just be simpler? His hand gently ran along the medallion around his neck, and he smiled bitterly.
Ron looked up when he didn't respond and saw him touch his neck. He couldn't see very well and didn't want to seem like he was staring. He coughed a few times, surprised that he had after being free from it for almost a half hour.
Anthony swung himself off of the desk and stood up, smoothing out his robes. His expression was fixed - he had to get through this, and damn the consequences to his mental health. Ron hated him. So what. He'd been the death - a horribly agonizing death - of a girl. So what. He had to heal those still living.
Surprised, Ron held still, waiting to see what Anthony would do. His face had changed and it was almost as if he had become another person, no trace of his previous agony present. "Back to work then?"
Anthony nodded, gritting his teeth. "Indeed." he said, tightly, and stepped through the door, back out into the main wing, and began tending to patients once more.
Ron stood up, looking at him as he left without a word, thinking that Anthony needed someone to help him deal with all this, because Ron was not good at any of this stuff and perhaps he needed more professional help, but he already knew Madame Pomfrey wouldn't give it.