Splinched

A/N- bit of a gorier version of Ron's splinching in Deathly Hallows. I always thought it was strange that Hermione didn't feel any guilt about the accident so I've added that in. I don't know anything about medical procedures or how this would actually work lol. Cover art is by me.

Harry slammed into the ground and all the wind was knocked out of him. He gasped and rolled over, slightly discombobulated, trying to figure out where he was.

He and the others had found themselves quite alone, in an unfamiliar forest. Autumn light dappled through the leaves overhead and the ground was soft and dry.

He heard a low groan from Ron a few feet away and scrambled to his feet. He took two steps towards Ron and Hermione, and he felt his stomach drop out.

Ron was lying on the leaf strewn earth, Hermione on her knees at his head, and blood soaked his entire left side. Ron was shaking and whimpering in pain, Hermione murmuring panicked words of comfort to him. His face was chalk white and his extremities were jerking- Harry was reminded horribly of the time Ron had been poisoned. He couldn't see the extent of Ron's injuries as Hermione was blocking his view of them, but considering the steadily growing pool of blood that Ron was lying in, it was serious.

"What's happened to him?"

"Splinched," Hermione told him. Then she moved slightly, and Harry saw what had happened. His blood went cold.

Ron's whole left arm was missing.

Everything from the shoulder socket was gone. Momentarily, he had a grotesque vision of Ron's left arm back at the ministry, still twitching.

"Oh my god," was all he could muster.

Hermione seemed to be in shock- her movements were mechanical and without remorse as she removed her cloak, bundled it into a ball and pressed it to the gaping, blood-spurting hole in Ron's shoulder. He roared in pain and anguish. "I'm sorry!" Hermione cried, using her other hand to hold Ron's right shoulder down. He bucked weakly, screaming in agony.

"Hermione, you're hurting him!" Harry shouted, panic stricken.

"We've got to stop the flow of blood!" Hermione yelled back. "Get the Dittany out of my bag, Harry, quick!"

Harry hastened to obey, summoning the bag from where Hermione had fallen, and pointing his wand into it.

"Accio Dittany!"

The little bottle came souring out and Harry grabbed it, wrenching off the stopper and holding it out to Hermione.

She took it from him and removed the robes  now sodden with Ron's blood, then carefully dripped the potion over his wound. Greenish smoke billowed upwards and Harry and Hermione leaned back to avoid breathing it in. When it cleared, the wound was no longer bleeding, and looked partially healed. New skin and pearly scar tissue stretched across what had moments before been a horrific gaping hole. Ron now lay motionless, his eyes rolled back into his head.

"He's unconscious," Hermione said, sounding relieved.

"I'm surprised he stayed awake for so long," Harry admitted. He was trembling a little, the adrenaline wearing off and the dread sinking in. What a situation to have gotten themselves into. How on earth were they going to get through this?

"What now?" He asked, trying not to look at the horribly wrong vision of Ron's upper body.

"We need to keep him warm," Hermione said. "Let's put up the the tent."

"The tent?" Harry repeated, looking at her quizzically.

"I told you, I've had everything packed for weeks. Perkins lent Mr. Weasley his old tent, and Mr. Weasley said I could take it. It's in the bag. Get it out, would you Harry, while I clean Ron up?"