the aftermath
Harry had managed to get Ron into a sitting position on the bathroom floor, though the other boy’s shoulders slumped, and his head rested against the cool tiles. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, still struggling to catch his breath, feeling the aftershocks of his stomach’s violence ripple through his body. He couldn’t even summon the energy to complain about the sickly taste in his mouth.
“Ron, you need to drink some water,” Harry said softly, crouching beside him, a bottle of water in his hand.
Ron just shook his head weakly, his stomach still in revolt. “I can’t… everything feels wrong… I can’t…” His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.
“I know. But you’ve got to try,” Harry insisted, handing him the bottle. “Just a sip, alright?”
Ron’s hands were trembling too much to grasp the bottle, but Harry was there, gently lifting it to his lips. He could feel the coolness of the water on his parched skin as it touched his mouth, and for a moment, he thought maybe it would settle the turmoil inside him. But as soon as the liquid hit his stomach, it turned on him, causing another round of nausea to rise like a tidal wave.
“No… no, Harry, please…” Ron whimpered, his hand clutching his stomach as the cramping returned, even worse than before.
"Ron, relax, it’s just water," Harry soothed, but his voice faltered slightly, unsure if he was offering comfort or just trying to convince himself.
But Ron didn’t have the strength to argue. Instead, he closed his eyes tightly, his hands digging into his stomach as the cramps intensified. His body was wracked with the desperate need to expel everything, but it didn’t come—just a gnawing, empty sensation that left him helpless.
“I’m sorry,” Ron whispered, his voice breaking, as he finally let himself lean against Harry for support, no longer able to pretend he was okay. “I didn’t want you to see me like this…”
Harry’s hand rested gently on his shoulder, squeezing it in reassurance. “It’s alright. You’re sick, Ron. You’re not the only one who’s been there.”
Ron’s throat tightened, and he swallowed hard against the lump that had formed. He felt too weak to speak, but Harry seemed to know exactly what to do—his steady presence was a balm, and for the first time since he’d started feeling ill, Ron was able to breathe a little easier.