It was an ordinary afternoon when Ron first noticed the gnawing ache in his muscles. It began as a dull throb in his back, like he had slept wrong, but quickly escalated into a wave of pain that wrapped around his entire body. He felt hot, but at the same time, his skin seemed cold and clammy, as if a constant chill was crawling beneath his skin.
"Ron, you okay?" Harry asked, watching him shuffle slowly across the Burrow’s kitchen, his movements sluggish and stiff.
"I’m fine," Ron grunted, trying to shake off the feeling that had started to seize his limbs. He rubbed at his forehead, but the sweat only made it worse. It dripped down his face, mixing with the growing heat in his body.
"You don’t look fine," Hermione said, her voice full of concern. "You’re sweating."
Ron shook his head. "I’m fine, really."
But then, just as he took a step forward, his legs buckled beneath him, and he stumbled, barely catching himself against the counter.
"Ron!" Harry was at his side in an instant, steadying him.
"I said I’m fine," Ron insisted, but his voice was strained, the words coming out in a breathless rasp.
"Ron, you’re burning up," Hermione said, her hand on his forehead. Her expression immediately turned to one of worry. "This is more than just a little fever."
"I’m fine," Ron repeated through gritted teeth, though his body shook beneath their touch, his muscles stiff from the exertion.
-----
Ron was barely able to stay upright as they guided him up to his room. His face was flushed with heat, his skin slick with sweat as his body shook violently. His knees gave out once more as they reached the top of the stairs, and Hermione had to catch him to keep him from collapsing to the floor.
"Ron," Hermione murmured, her voice filled with soft concern. "You’re burning up. You have to rest."
Ron’s only response was a weak, incoherent mutter as Harry helped lift him into bed. He collapsed into the sheets, his body suddenly feeling too heavy to move, and his chest heaved with each labored breath.
"I’ll be fine," Ron whispered, his voice hoarse. He closed his eyes, but the pain in his head was unrelenting, throbbing with each pulse of his fever. He could feel it behind his eyes, a dull pressure that made it feel like his skull was being squeezed.
"You’re not fine," Harry said, his voice firm. "You need to rest. We’re staying with you."
Ron’s eyes fluttered open for a moment, and he met Harry’s gaze. "I’m fine," he insisted again, but his voice was weaker now, lost in the haze of the fever.
But it didn’t take long before the fever took its hold on him completely. His body twisted in the sheets, restless and in pain, as if his very muscles were protesting the heat coursing through them. Sweat soaked through his clothes, dampening the sheets beneath him, but it didn’t stop the chill that crept up his spine. His limbs trembled with every breath, the exhaustion settling deep into his bones.
The pain in his head grew sharper, blurring his vision as he fought to stay awake.
"Ron, you need to drink some water," Hermione urged, holding the glass up to his lips. But Ron shook his head, too weak to even hold his mouth open properly.
"I’m fine," he mumbled, though his body was clearly rejecting the idea. His voice faltered, the words slurring and fading as his body became more and more detached from his mind.
-----
It was a battle to get Ron to rest. His body fought against the weakness, trembling uncontrollably as the fever continued to rise. He was coated in sweat, his hair matted to his forehead, his teeth chattering with the cold that seemed to seep into his bones despite the overwhelming heat of his fever.
"You have to let us help you, Ron," Hermione said softly, brushing the damp strands of hair from his face. Her hand lingered there for a moment, her fingers cold against his fevered skin. "Please, just relax."
Ron’s body twitched beneath her touch. He squeezed his eyes shut, the pain too much to bear. "I’m fine," he repeated weakly, though his voice had lost its usual conviction. "Just a bit of a fever, I’ll be alright…"
But his words were lost in a shiver that ran through him, his body jerking involuntarily as his teeth clattered together. His chest heaved, the effort to breathe seeming to take everything out of him.
"Ron, you’re burning up," Harry said, his face filled with concern as he hovered nearby. "You need to let us help you."
Ron’s body shook harder, the tremors moving through his limbs as though the fever was tightening its grip on him. His breath came out in sharp, ragged bursts, and despite the cold sweat that covered his body, he could feel the heat radiating from within. It was as though his very skin was on fire.
"Please," Hermione urged softly, placing a hand on his trembling shoulder. "Let us help you rest. You can’t keep fighting it."
But Ron was too weak to resist much longer. He let out a low, pained groan, his body sinking further into the sheets, sweat dripping from his brow.
"I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking with the exhaustion that overwhelmed him.
"Shh," Harry soothed, placing a hand on his forehead to wipe away the sweat. "You don’t need to apologize. Just rest, Ron."
-----
Hours passed in a blur of feverish delirium, and despite their best efforts, Ron couldn’t seem to escape the physical agony of the fever. Every time he thought he might sleep, the pain would flare up again—his muscles screaming with every small movement, his head throbbing unbearably.
At times, he would groan in his sleep, his body shuddering with the fever's intensity. He couldn’t speak, only weakly shifting in the bed as his friends tried to make him comfortable. The pain had completely taken over his body, leaving him unable to focus on anything except the relentless heat and the sharp ache in his limbs.
"I can’t…" Ron mumbled, struggling to even get the words out. "It hurts…"
Hermione pressed a cool cloth to his forehead again, trying to soothe him as best she could. "I know, Ron. I know. Just a little longer."
-----
It wasn’t until the fever finally broke in the early hours of the morning that Ron was able to rest without pain. The sweat still clung to his skin, and his body felt heavy and drained, but the worst of the agony had passed.
Ron lay in bed, his chest rising and falling in deep, exhausted breaths, his body still trembling from the aftereffects of the fever.
"You’re okay now," Hermione said softly, her voice a quiet reassurance.
Ron nodded weakly, still too exhausted to speak.
Harry sat beside him, his hand on Ron’s shoulder. "You’re gonna be alright, mate."
Ron’s lips twitched upward in a faint smile, though his eyes were heavy with fatigue. "Thanks," he whispered, his voice still rough. "Sorry… for making you both worry."
But Hermione simply shook her head, smiling down at him. "We’ll always be here."
And with that, Ron allowed himself to finally drift into a much-needed rest, the physical pain ebbing away as sleep finally claimed him.