Chapter 1: Refuge

Shell Cottage, Shell Cottage. Ron's entire being was bent to a single purpose, bent to moving the precious life cradled in his arm to Shell Cottage and safety. He allowed no other thought, saw and heard nothing. He was all will and he willed Hermione to safety and himself with her.

It was only when his knees crunched into sand that he began to breathe again, short shallow breaths. His heart was racing and fear coursed through his body. She has to be alive, she has to pull through. But Hermione did not stir in his arms.

He saw the lights of Shell Cottage, very close. Several people were standing just outside the front door, silhouetted by the light within. He staggered to his feet and ran to the entrance carrying Hermione unaware that he was calling out "help."

"Quick, inside," said his brother Bill, but Ron was already through the door. He moved swiftly to the couch then, as gently as he could, lowered Hermione onto it. He was shaking as he desperately sought her pulse but when he found it, it was so weak and he could see no rise and fall of her chest. She was deathly pale and her shirt was soaked in blood.

He became aware of Bill and Fleur hovering over him.

"She's been tortured, Bill, cruciatus, " he said, looking up to his brother with watery eyes. He knew he was on the verge of tears. "I need to know what to do…I don't know what to do."

Fleur waved her wand over Hermione, examining her. "She is going to be alright, Ron," she said, but Ron could see the doubt and fear in her eyes.

Just then there was a loud pop and Bill rushed back outside. Fleur disappeared into the kitchen but quickly returned with a bottle of Dittany.

"Take 'ermione upstairs to the guest bedroom. You need to put the Dittany on 'er wounds. I'll be up there shortly." Fleur briefly brushed Ron's cheek with her hand and then dashed after Bill.

Ron gathered Hermione into his arms, lifting her as gently as he could, and carried her up the narrow staircase, carefully protecting her head from any bumps. He took her into the bedroom that he had used himself that last joyless Christmas and laid her down on one of the two beds.

He kissed her tenderly on the forehead and then he felt his tears begin to flow. "You have to come back to me, Hermione. You have to."

He examined her head to foot. The wound on her neck, inflicted by the monster's knife, was still oozing blood and there was a splinter of glass lodged in her cheek that was also bleeding. Ron pulled out the splinter unconcerned that he cut his fingers in the process. He dabbed dittany on the wound and was gratified when it healed almost instantly.

He also dabbed dittany on the neck wound. It hissed and steamed and Hermione flinched which both terrified and heartened Ron. The oozing slowed almost completely, though Ron could still see a bead of blood slowly forming.

From her bloody shirt Ron knew that Hermione had some bad wounds on her upper body. "Forgive me, Hermione," he said as he began to unbutton her shirt. A small part of his mind was aware that unbuttoning Hermione's shirt was a cherished fantasy, but this was no fantasy come to life, it was an utter nightmare. As carefully as he could, he removed Hermione's shirt.

He let out a pained cry and began clenching and unclenching his fists when he saw the many black and blue spots on her blood smeared skin, each one marking where a cruciatus curse had torn through her body.

A deep gash just under her left breast, made by a shard of broken glass, bled profusely. The shard must have shifted when he removed the shirt and the blood was now pumping faster and faster. He had to act quickly but he wasn't sure what to do. He knew that dittany was useless for such a deep cut and would only make it worse. Removing the shard would accelerate the loss of blood but if instead he pressed on the wound to staunch the bleeding, it would just drive the shard deeper, damaging her more and causing internal bleeding. His breathing became rapid and shallow and he felt cold. He heard himself cry out "help, Fleur, Bill, I need help." But he was alone, it was up to him.

Terrified, he held the tip of his wand close to the wound. With his left hand he pulled out the shard. Blood began to pump freely.

"Vulnera-Sanentur, Vulnera-Sanentur, Vulnera-Sanentur," he said three times concentrating on the complex hand movements, giving one last counter clockwise turn praying that he had the direction right.

Slowly, the blood flow halted and then the wound sealed over leaving an angry red scab. .

"You 'ave to put Dittany on it now, else it will scar."

Ron had not heard Fleur enter the room. He looked up at her now, relieved and then did as she bade.

Fleur knelt down beside Ron. She felt for Hermione's pulse then lay her hand on her forehead. Ron could see the pain and sadness in Fleur's eyes as she gently touched several of the cruciatus marks on Hermione's body. She then cast a spell, moving her wand rhythmically over Hermione, chanting to a slow soothing beat.

'That will 'elp 'er to rest and to heal. You need to leave for a while, Ron. I must check the rest of her body for any other injuries."

"I'm not leaving her. I have to be here when she wakes up."

"Ron, I 'ave to clean her and change her into fresh clothes. And you must clean up and change too. If 'ermione wakes and see you like that she will die of fright."

It was only then that Ron realised how much blood had soaked into his own clothes and how shocking he must look.

"Go, you can borrow some of Bill's clothes." said Fleur. "If she awakes while you are away, I will tell her you are just outside."

Ron stood. "Is she going to be OK, Fleur?" his eyes bore into Fleur, pleading.

She turned away from his gaze. "I am not a Healer, Ron," she said, almost inaudibly.

Ron left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

He heard footsteps coming up the stairs and thought it must be Harry coming up to check on Hermione, but it was Bill.

"How's Harry?" he asked feeling slightly guilty that he hadn't thought of Harry at all or checked if he had even arrived safely.

Bill hesitated. "He's OK. He is digging a grave for the elf."

Ron felt a chill in the pit in his stomach. "Dobby? Dobby is dead?"

Bill just nodded.

"I should go help Harry," said Ron.

"Harry wants to be alone at the moment."

Ron was relieved. It was just not right that Dobby should have died and he knew that Harry would be both furious and wracked with guilt but Ron did not want to leave Hermione. She was his first, second and third priority. He was a little angry at Harry that Hermione wasn't also his first concern.

Bill was talking again. "How is Hermione?"

Ron could feel his composure cracking once again. "I don't know. She seems OK for the moment but she is still unconscious. Hell, Bill, She's been so badly hurt." Ron seized Bill by the shoulders. "She has to get better, she just has to."

"Can you tell me what happened, Ron?"

"We were captured, taken to Malfoy Manor. Oh Merlin, they now know I've been travelling with Harry. You have to let the rest of the family know. They have to get to safety."

"I'm heading to the Burrow right now."

"Ginny? Can she get away from Hogwarts?"

"She's home on holidays, thank Merlin. It's Easter holidays, Ron.

Ron breathed a sigh of relief.

"Ron, what is going on. Why did they torture Hermione, what did they want to know, what is it you are doing.? We need to know."

Ron looked into his brother's eyes with sadness. "We've been through this before, Bill, at Christmas. I can't tell you."

"Don't you know how much danger you have put us all in, how much danger you have put my wife in, the rest of our family. We would never turn you away, but we deserve to know."

"Deserve? What's deserving got to do with it. Do you think Hermione deserved to be tortured? Do you think Dobby deserved to die? Knowing would just put all of you in greater danger than you are already in and it would put us in greater danger too."

"Do you not see the dreadful state you three are in. You need help. You are out of your depth."

Ron looked at his brother, his eyes full of anguish. "Don't you think we know that?" He turned and headed into the bathroom.

After he had cleaned up and changed he knocked gently on Hermione's door.

"Entrez," came the soft reply.

Hermione was still unconscious, but there was more colour to her cheeks and the steady rise and fall of her chest was now discernible. Fleur had changed the bedding as well as Hermione's clothes and she was now wearing one of Fleur's nighties and tucked snugly in the bed.

"How is she?" asked Ron.

"Better, I think."

"Thank you, Fleur, for looking after her."

"Is nothing."

"It's not nothing. We have put you in great danger."

"We are family Ron, we are all in this together."

Ron just nodded. He pulled a chair beside the bed and sat down facing Hermione, taking her hand in his.

Fleur put a hand on Ron's shoulder. "I have to go and check on our other guests. When Hermione awakes, get her to drink all that." She indicated a jug of purple liquid. "It will rebuild her fluid levels and ease any pain."

She left, closing the door behind her.

Ron closely examined Hermione's face. She looked so peaceful now, so beautiful. He hadn't seen her look this peaceful for a very long time. Even when asleep in the tent, there was a tenseness in in her expression, a shadow of the fearful alertness that never left them. He would have been pleased if he was not so afraid. The phrase the peace of death kept rebounding in his skull.

His mind dragged him back to the dungeon at Malfoy Manor and the horror of Hermione's ordeal, his utter impotence to stop it. "I'm so sorry, Hermione. I'm so sorry." He was squeezing Hermione's hand with both hand's now and he felt tears rise once more. He let them flow.

He bowed his head, as if to hide his shame. "You have to come back to me, Hermione. You just have to."

"OK" he heard a croaky voice.

He jerked up and found himself looking into Hermione's open eyes. She was smiling weakly.

They gazed at each other for some time, communicating at a level beyond words, taking from each other what they most needed, giving it in return.

"Where are we?" Hermione asked at last.

"Safe. We're at Shell Cottage, Bill and Fleur's place."

"Where you spent last Christmas," said Hermione, regretting it immediately.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Pretty sore. I am very thirsty."

"Here, let me help you sit up. Fleur says you have to drink all this."

He helped her sit up and blanched when she winced in pain. He fluffed up every pillow he could find and propped them up behind her. He then poured a glass of the purple fluid and handed it to her, watching carefully to make sure she could hold it steadily.

"Yuk, it tastes like rancid butter."

"Well you have to drink it anyway. You lost a lot of blood, and it will help with the pain too."

"Ron, how did I get here. Last I remember she was…she was…and then I have a vague recollection of someone holding a knife to my throat." She put her hand to her throat as she spoke and was surprised when she encountered a dab of wetness. She pulled it away and saw the blood on her fingertips. Her eyes went wide.

Ron gave her a quick rundown of what had happened and how they had escaped. He hesitated before adding: The thing is, Dobby got killed. I don't know how. Harry is down there now, digging the grave."

Hermione's hands flew to her mouth. "Not Dobby! That's so unfair. You should go and help Harry, he will be in a lot of pain."

"You're in a lot of pain, Hermione." Ron had taken hold of Hermione's hand once more. "I'm not leaving you again…ever."

"I'm Ok for now Ron, and you won't be abandoning me. I'll still be here. And I think I need to rest a little more."

"Alright," said Ron reluctantly. He let go of her hand and then refilled her glass. "But, you have to promise me you will finish all this.

"Yes, Mum."

He got up to leave and then, when he reached the doorway, he turned around. "We need to have a talk when you are feeling better." He left quickly before Hermione had a chance to reply.

As he skipped down the stairs, his heart was pounding. Where did that come from? But he knew the answer to that. Everything had changed now and he had to find the courage to say and do the things necessary.