His palm tentatively settled around the slick, gory bones.
"Your friend is still in there, waiting," Severus whispered in that near-hypnotic voice of his. "Only you can help him now. You can do this, Harry Potter. I know you can do this."
Harry turned and met Severus' gaze. He didn't know what he'd expected to see, but the intense, burning belief in those bottomless eyes cut through his own doubt. Giving a slow nod, he turned back to Ron, closed his eyes, and concentrated on forming the magical bridge between their joined hands.
Vaguely, he was aware of Severus withdrawing from his side and moving to the other sickbed.
Returning his full attention to Ron, Harry reached out for him magically, the same way he reached for Severus every night. Connecting with Ron felt . . . different, easier in some ways. It took him a moment to realize that the Sanguinis Philos was assisting the joining. If felt like his own blood was already there in Ron's veins, calling to him, making the connection feel almost natural.
For all that hooking up was simplified; the connection was radically different. Where Severus was usually a burning furnace of power when they touched magically, Ron was little more than a flickering candle. Harry could feel how close that feeble light was to extinguishing.
Instinct guiding him, Harry shored up that candle, feeding it his raw power until it was close to a raging inferno. Only then did he move his focus to a corporeal level.
The damage was terrifying in its scope. Neural pathways had been overloaded with magical power and burned out in the assault, while the skin and flesh had been physically ignited. Harry couldn't imagine the pain Ron must have endured when he'd taken this hit. All he knew was that he was going to fix it, and then he was going to fix the devil that had done this to Ron, fix him permanently.
Resolve pulsing through him, Harry focused his intent, imagining Ron's nerves healing, his flesh rebuilding. He poured everything he was into the connection, using the Sanguinis Philos and his own instantaneous magic to achieve his desired results.
Severus had said he could do this, and . . . he knew he could. The same way he knew he could effect whatever magic he worked on Severus in bed. This was what he was born to do, what all this unnatural power was for. Ron would be well again. His flesh would heal. His nerves would be repaired.
A gasp sounded from the other side of the bed, then he heard Hermione whisper, "Oh, my God. Look, Molly, look!" on a rising note of joy.
Buoyed by the hope in Hermione's voice, Harry opened up levels of his power that he'd never touched, accessing repositories that made the power he'd used to defeat Voldemort seem like a first year's abilities by comparison. He fed it all to Ron, picturing Ron's freckled, smiling face, imagining every familiar inch of his oldest friend covered with healthy skin.
Just as it did when he focused this energy on Severus, the power peak was as intense as a sexual climax. Harry felt a jarring jolt. Actual lightning seemed to crackle through the infirmary, for Molly and the old woman on the other side of the room both cried out in alarm, and, then . . . and then . . . .
Strong arms caught him as he fell forward, utterly drained by his effort.
"Harry!" Hermione's frightened voice penetrated the fog surrounding him, even as Harry recognized the long, strong body that supported him until a chair was summoned.
Gentle arms settled him down into what had once been a plain hospital chair, but had now been transfigured by one of his friends into a thickly cushioned armchair.
"Harry?" Severus' voice called him back from the edges of unconsciousness.
Feeling like he'd just fought Voldemort again, Harry forced his eyes open.
Severus' worried face hovered in view, with Hermione's right beside it. Finding that breathing was nearly too much of an effort, he forced himself to focus and then rasped out, "Ron?"
"Look, Harry, look," Hermione urged, stepping out of the way.
Almost afraid of what he'd find, Harry looked at the bed. He knew the level of power he'd funnelled into Ron's healing, so he expected some change. Only . . . he was utterly unprepared for the sight of Ron's familiar, completely unblemished face. Ron's hands, and seemingly the rest of him, also appeared perfectly normal.
"It's a miracle," Molly said, moving to the bed to take Ron's hand, while Arthur surreptitiously wiped at his eyes.
It was then that the true miracle occurred. Ron's eyes opened. He gazed blearily around him and then asked in the weakest voice Harry had ever heard him use, "What are the lot of you staring at?"
"Ron!" Hermione's pleased cry was drowned out by the slightly hysterical laughter that filled the room as Molly and Arthur's worry was vented.
Harry could only sit there and gape at Ron, because the change was simply unbelievable. When they'd been working on the potion, Severus had told him that it could be days or even weeks of power transfer before Ron even began to respond – if he responded at all.
Almost frightened by what he'd done, Harry sought out Severus' gaze.
Those night black eyes were regarding Ron with the same complete incredulity that Harry was experiencing. Then Severus looked straight at him.
The blood seemed to solidify in Harry's veins as he waited for the fear that any wizard would exhibit after such an unnatural display of power to overtake Severus' features. He was afraid of what he'd done himself, because it should have been impossible.
But instead of terror hardening his features, Severus' face seemed to soften. He stepped silently up to him to rest a hand on his left shoulder, while Hermione and Ron's parents sobbed and fussed over him a few feet away.
"You, ah, weren't expecting this, either; I take it?" Harry whispered.
Severus gave a slow shake of his head. "I believed you could cure him – in time, but I was certain it would be a slow, arduous process. This is . . . . "
"Yeah," Harry agreed.
"How do you feel?" Severus quietly questioned.
"Weak as a kitten," Harry reluctantly confessed.
Harry looked to the other side of the room, where Alice McGregor held her brother's hand. He could sense the power she was feeding to her brother, and also sensed that it was having no discernable result.
"Do you think I could . . . ?" Harry whispered to Severus.
Severus followed his gaze. "Normally, the Sanguinis Philos requires that the power donor be someone who loves the patient, but . . . in your case, you might be able to manage a healing without an emotional bond. But . . . not now. You must rest."
"Oh, Harry! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Hermione seemed beside herself with joy as she left Ron's bedside and leaned down to fling her arms around Harry.
Harry returned the hug as best he could, saying into her shoulder, "There's nothing to thank me for. You know that."
She nodded and pulled back to meet his eyes. "Yes, but . . . oh, God, Harry, he's going to be all right. I didn't think . . . . "
"I know," Harry said. "Neither did I. If it weren't for Severus, I wouldn't have thought to -"
Realizing that he owed Ron's healing to his lover, Harry turned to gaze up at Severus.
"Thank you, Severus," Hermione said and then leaned forward, standing on tiptoes, to place a quick kiss on Severus' right cheek. "You were part of us, for Harry's sake, but now . . . there's nothing you can ask of us that we won't do."
"It's never wise to make such a pledge to a Slytherin," Severus warned her.
Hermione laughed. "Maybe not, but it's true."
Severus took a quick step back as Hermione made a move to embrace him again.
"Please, madam, keep your emotional displays to yourself," Severus frostily requested.
Hermione and Harry both laughed.
"Harry?"
At Ron's weak call, they all turned immediately to the bed.
