In a small, oceanside cottage, Ron was sitting beside Hermione, who was lying on one of two couches in the combined living room and kitchen, conscious, but weak. Bill and Fleur stood over her, murmuring the necessary spells and administering necessary potions while Ron waited for Harry to arrive as well.

The attack at Malfoy Manor had been insane - if it hadn't been for Dobby showing up out of the blue like that, and Harry throwing Ron the wand so he could Disapparate with Hermione, Ron knew they wouldn't have made it out alive. Bellatrix had summoned Voldemort only moments before their escape; if they had escaped a minute later, Voldemort would have killed them.

Hermione looked up at Ron dazedly, brown eyes wide and confused. "Ron?" she croaked, raising a hand to her sweaty forehead, brushing some of her bushy brown hair out of her eyes. "Where are we?"

"Shell Cottage," Ron said, "with Bill and Fleur. Take it easy, Hermione, we're safe now."

Hermione lifted her head and looked about. Her eyes fell on Bill and Fleur, but she looked past them, as if expecting to see someone else. "Where's Harry?" she asked.

"I dunno," Ron muttered; he didn't like not knowing his best mate's whereabouts, especially considering what they had just come from. "He was right behind me when we Disapparated…"

Hermione looked horrified. "You mean you don't know where he is?"

Ron opened his mouth to respond when a crack took the place of his voice. Fleur jumped nearly a foot in the air, an empty potion bottle flying out of her hands, and Bill leapt to the side.

"Dobby!"

The house-elf raced forward desperately, ignoring Bill and Fleur, running straight for Ron, his huge, tennis-ball like eyes wide and watery. He grabbed Ron's sleeve and yanked hard, grunting with the effort though he garnered no results.

"Dobby!" Ron exclaimed. "What is it, what's wrong? Where's Harry? Didn't he come with you?"

"Y-yes, s-sir," Dobby stammered. Tears dripped copiously from Dobby's eyes like leaking faucets. "But h-he's...h-he's…"

"He's what, Dobby?" Hermione inquired kindly, though her voice, too, trembled with fear of what he would say. What little color had returned to her face since coming to the Shell Cottage drained again, and she was left with a pallid, terrified complexion.

"H-he's been grievously hurt, s-sir!" Dobby sobbed, and whatever dam had been holding back his tears now burst. "He's hurt, sir, Harry Potter is hurt! Dobby had to get help, Dobby had to, he had to!"

"Where is he, Dobby!?" Ron demanded desperately as Hermione gave a shriek of horror.

Dobby pointed a shaking hand towards the door. "J-just o-out there-"

Ron was on his feet before Dobby even finished speaking and he ran for the door, shouting, "Don't move, Hermione!" over his shoulder. Bill, after asking Fleur to stay with Hermione, followed his younger brother, and together, the duo raced outside, into the cold, salty evening.

It wasn't very hard to spot Harry once they had gotten outside; lying like a dead thing on the ground yards away, could have been a rock tossed up by the sea, though Ron knew it wasn't, he knew it was Harry, he knew it was his best friend.

"HARRY!" he shouted, not that it did any good. Somehow he managed to outrun Bill in his attempt to reach Harry, and once he did, he skidded to his knees in the sand and grabbed Harry by his shoulders, pulling him into a half-sitting position half-embrace.

"Harry," Ron said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "Harry, wake up, please, wake up, mate…"

Harry opened his eyes, blinking blearily, squinting at the sky as if he had never seen such a thing before.

"Harry," Ron said, relief clear in his voice. Harry wasn't gone, he wasn't dead, not yet. "Blimey, Harry, you scared me. Don't do that…"

He was trying to ignore the obvious; the red blotch of dark crimson was spreading through Harry's shirt and Ron was trying to ignore it, at least until Bill got here, Bill would know what to do...speaking of which, he looked over at his older brother and screamed, "HURRY UP!" just for good measure.

At least if he screamed at Bill he didn't have to worry about the amount of blood Harry was losing, or the silver knife in his stomach…

Harry grimaced. "Could you not scream, Ron?"

Ron didn't answer. "S'alright, mate," he muttered instead, a little more than a whisper. "S'alright, look, it's going to be fine, don't worry…you're the bloody Boy Who Lived, Harry, you're going to be fine..."

"Yeah, sure...quite literally bloody, though…"

"Don't worry."

Ron was worried.

Harry didn't look worried, but he didn't look very alive, either. He was pale and covered in his own blood; if it hadn't been for his rising and falling chest and his somewhat coherence, Ron would have thought he was dead for sure.

Ron barely had time to think elsewise before Bill finally caught up, and when he did, he instantly moved and put his hands on Harry's legs, eyes moving from the blood to Ron.

"Grab him under his arms, Ron, we have to move him," Bill said, and Ron hastened to do as Bill had told him; he forgot about magic. He forgot about everything.

Harry was the Boy Who Lived, he couldn't die now, certainly he couldn't. It didn't seem possible, and yet…

As soon as they managed to get Harry inside the Shell Cottage, Fleur, with a gasp of horror, directed them towards a sofa opposite of Hermione's, where they laid Harry shortly afterwards. Hermione was staring at Harry, more pale faced than ever, tears slipping silently down her cheeks.

"We need bandages," Bill told Fleur urgently. "Now. Do we have anymore on hand?"

Fleur barely had a chance to shake her head before Hermione took hold of one of the extra wands they had snatched in her shaking hand, pointed it at thin air, and whispered, "Ferula." A long, thick strip of bandages unrolled from the tip of the wand.

"Thank you, Hermione," Bill said, taking the bandages gratefully while Fleur said, "Now get some rest, dear."

Fleur left for towels while Bill carefully gripped the hilt of the dagger. He nodded to Ron, who took Harry's hands in both his own in case he thrashed, and quickly pulled the dagger free. Harry screamed; Hermione sobbed.

Bill quickly rolled Harry's shirt up to examine the wound after casting the dagger aside with disgust. What they found was ominous; green ooze along with blood were both cascading from the open wound, and Bill lowered his wand at once, looking grave.

"The pus," he said, lifting his eyes to Ron.

Ron nodded shakily; he recognized the green pus, too. "It's like what was on dad's wound," he said. "It...it kept the wounds being healed by magic…"

Bill only nodded. "We need an antidote," he said, "and blood-replenishing potion, quickly."

Ron knew that. Anyone who looked at the wound would have known that.

"Essence of Dittany!" Hermione cried so suddenly they jumped. "The Essence of Dittany, would it work?"

"I don't think so, Hermione," Ron said. Fleur returned with the towels at that moment, and while Bill folded one to be held over the wound to staunch the flow of blood, Ron continued, "The healers at St. Mungo's would've used it on dad if it'd been that easy."

Hermione didn't look too upset. It was as if she had known before her suggestion that Essence of Dittany wouldn't help. Instead of looking upset, her worry increased, however.

"There has to be something else!" she cried. "There has to be!"

"I vill go to Muriel's," Fleur said at once, standing. "'Arry saved my sister's life, I vill not stand to see 'im die."

"You shouldn't go by yourself," Bill interjected.

"I vill be fine!" Fleur said. "Molly vill know something we can use to put on ze wound, but you need to stay 'ere and help zem." She looked at Ron, Hermione, and Harry. "I vill be careful."

Fleur kissed Bill on the cheek, turned, drew a coat about herself, and left Shell Cottage without another word, taking her wand with her.

"Ron, hold it here," Bill said, and he stood, letting Ron take up the task of applying pressure to Harry's wound. "I'm going to…" In his haste to leave, he didn't actually finish his sentence, but that was alright, because Ron already had a good idea of what his older brother was going to do. He was going to look for a blood-replenishing potion, obviously enough. Ron just hoped he could find one…

An idea suddenly struck him. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it before.

"Dobby," he said, turning back to the room, prying his eyes away from Harry's pale face. The house-elf was sobbing dryly in the corner, but at the sound of his name, Dobby perked up instantly.

"Harry Potter has been hurt!" the house-elf cried. "It is Dobby's fault, it is! Dobby should have taken the knife! Dobby should have been hurt!"

"No, Dobby, no, please don't!" Hermione cried; it was bad enough seeing Harry so hurt without dealing with Dobby blaming himself, too.

"Dobby, we need your help!" Ron said urgently. "You can Apparate into Hogwarts, can't you?"

Dobby nodded, trembling.

"You have to Apparate into Hogwarts," Ron said, surprised by the steadiness of his voice, considering the situation, "and find a blood-replenishing potion. Try looking in the hospital wing...you know where that is?"

Dobby nodded feverishly. "Y-yes, Dobby knows where it is!" he said. "Dobby met Harry Potter there once! Dobby will do it! Dobby will help Harry Potter!" And with a crack, the elf was gone.

Hermione turned, grasped the blanket thrown over the back of the sofa, and took a step towards Ron and Harry. She looked like she would have covered Harry with the blanket if she could have, and absolutely devastated by the look of intense pain on Harry's face. He'd closed his eyes now, but he was still, remarkably, conscious. She set the blanket to the side and knelt beside Ron in front of Harry, carefully taking Harry's limp hand in both her own.

"He's freezing," she whispered.

"Bloodloss," Ron said. "Where the hell's that blood-replenishing potion when you need it…"

He let his voice trail off.

"Is this how it is for Muggles, Hermione?" Ron asked, desperate for a change of subject. "Is this how they feel when someone gets hurt?"

"I don't think I know what you mean…"

"Helpless, Hermione," Ron said. "Without being able to do magic to heal injuries...do they feel helpless?"

"S-sometimes, I suppose," Hermione said quietly. "Muggles aren't all helpless just because they don't have magic inheritance, Ron. Their medics are quite capable, actually."

"Well, I hate this," Ron growled. "I hate being helpless." Bill and Dobby had to hurry, why weren't they hurrying, couldn't they see, didn't they know, Harry was dying...

"Ron," Hermione whispered, and when Ron followed her gaze, he saw the splotch of red soaking through the towel. Ron didn't remove the one he already had on; instead, he grabbed another one, and pushed it too against the wound.

"It's a miracle he's held on for this long, Ron," Hermione said quietly, her voice heavy by tears and exhaustion. "He's...he's already lost too much blood…"

"Don't say that," Ron said warningly, but he knew Hermione was right. "Harry, I know you can hear me, just hold on, just a few more minutes, alright?"

Harry jerked his head in what could have been a nod.

There was a sudden crack, and Ron and Hermione's heads whipped around as Dobby appeared out of thin air, arms ladened with small potion bottles.

"Dobby!" Ron panted in relief, rushing forward. "Did you find it? Blood-replenishing potion?"

Dobby nodded shakily, holding up one of the bottles. Ron snatched it out of the elf's hand and raced back to the couch, uncorking the bottle as he went. "Hermione, he needs to drink this," Ron said, "now."

Hermione nodded, took the bottle, and held it to Harry's mouth. "C'mon, Harry," Hermione whispered, taking a deep breath. "Just drink it...you need to...there, there you go…" She set the empty bottle to the side and gasped heavily in relief. "He'll need another one," she said, "if we can't close the wound soon."

"Dobby brought many," Dobby said quietly. "Dobby brought many potions."

"Thank you, Dobby," Ron said distractedly.

"Scar…" Harry murmured suddenly, and Ron and Hermione jerked their heads in his direction instantly. "Scar...You-Know-Who...angry…"

"Is he delirious now, too?" Ron panicked.

"No, Ron," Hermione said, "I don't think so."

"What's You-Know-Who angry about, mate?" Ron asked.

"We escaped," Harry muttered. He seemed more aware since taking the potion, but no color had returned to his face. "He's punishing the Malfoys now…and Greyback...ick..." And he clapped a hand to his forehead, right over his scar.

"Should've gotten a potion for pain," Ron said.

"Dobby brought many potions, sir!" Dobby squeaked. "Dobby wanted to help Harry Potter!" He trotted over to the couch and released the potions onto the side table, where they rolled until they were set upright.

"You're a lifesaver, Dobby," Hermione said, and she reached over and pulled Dobby into a tight hug. "Thank you."

Bill chose that moment to reappear from what Ron thought was a basement. "I couldn't' find anything," Bill said, frenzied. "Fleur should be back from Aunt Muriel's soon…"

"We got him a blood-replenishing potion, Bill," Ron said. "Dobby nicked some from Hogwarts."

Bill sighed in evident relief. "Good, good," he said. "It buys us some more time."

Hours passed; they'd lost count of how many blood-replenishing potions Harry had had to take in that time, but remarkably, he stayed conscious. He had to; if he passed out now, there was no telling when he would wake up. Whenever he looked close to losing consciousness, Ron and Hermione would do everything they could to make sure he stayed awake.

"You'll be fine, Harry," Hermione said gently, moving his hair out of his eyes, fingers brushing briefly against the lightning scar on his forehead. "Just stay awake a little longer, alright? You'll be fine…"

"Fine...yeah…" Harry murmured, shutting his eyes. "Stay awake...I'll try…"

Bill was pacing the floor. Fleur still had yet to return. Dobby had left for Hogwarts again when they ran low on blood-replenishing potion, but it was getting ridiculous now, how many of those potions Harry had taken. Ron was becoming worried. Fleur hadn't returned, and until they found the antidote, there was no way to seal the wound.

And at that moment, nearly five hours since the stabbing, there was a knock on the door of the Shell Cottage. Bill stood instantly and raced to it, wand in hand. After asking the necessary security question, Fleur was ushered inside, her blonde hair in a bun, a green bottle full of dark liquid in her hand.

"It took forever," blustered Fleur, shutting the door behind her and racing forward with Bill towards the couch, "but here iz ze antidote. Molly so happened to know how to make zit. She'd learned after what happened to Arthur."

"How did she take hearing about what happened to Harry?" asked Ron as Bill took the bottle from Fleur and mixed it with a sleeping drought.

"I did not tell her," Fleur said. "I told her it was a precaution just in case we came across something like this wound in ze war. I think she was suspicious, but she didn't question it."

Ron could only imagine his mother's reaction to hearing Harry had been hurt. Ron knew his mother saw Harry as a son and knew she would panic if she ever found out how wounded he was. He was partially glad she didn't know.

"Thank you, Fleur," said Hermione, never relinquishing her hold on Harry's hand.

"You are welcome, my dear," Fleur answered.

"Alright," said Bill, holding up a bottle to the light. "Here's the antidote and a sleeping drought. We need him sleeping to seal the wound."

Hermione nodded, took the potion, and managed to coax it down Harry's throat. Almost instantly, Harry's eyes shut, and his breathing evened out.

"That ought to do it," said Bill. "Ron, Hermione, step back…you can come back in a minute," he added when he saw the looks on their faces. "Just give us some space."

Ron nodded, and after a while, so did Hermione. Ron wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders and led her towards the other couch, where they sat down next to each other, watching Fleur and Bill work.

Hermione choked on a sob and buried her face in her hands, crying in near silence. Ron wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, at a loss of what to say. Hermione embraced him back tightly.

"Do...do you think he-he'll be okay, Ron?" stuttered Hermione.

"I'm sure he will," said Ron. "He's always okay, isn't he?"

Hermione shook her head. "N-no," she whispered. "No, h-he's not. We...we went to Godric's Hollow, a-after you left…we...we saw his parents' grave, Ron...h-he wanted to leave as soon as he saw it...but then we...we were attacked...and...and..."

Ron had heard the story before; they'd been attacked at Godric's Hollow by Voldemort's snake, and soon after, Voldemort himself. Hermione had made it out unscathed, but if what Ron heard was true, Harry hadn't.

"I know what happened, Hermione," Ron said, "you told me once. Harry's pretty tough, alright? He'll be okay."

"I-I missed you when you left, Ron," Hermione whispered brokenly. "Harry did, too. It...it wasn't the same without you...what if...what if Harry doesn't...what if he doesn't…"

"He'll pull through, Hermione," Ron insisted. "He'll be alright, you'll see...you'll see…" Hermione and Harry had been upset when Ron left temporarily; Ron didn't know how Hermione or himself would react if Harry left permanently. He didn't know what they would do. Harry dying just seemed...impossible. Ron had never thought much about it before. What would he do if Harry didn't actually survive?

At long last, Bill and Fleur stepped away from Harry and made their way towards Ron and Hermione. "He's stable," said Bill, to which Hermione and Ron sighed in relief. "He'll need to take another blood-replenishing potion as soon as he wakes up, and he'll be pretty out of it for the next few days, but he'll be alright."

"You two should get to bed," Fleur said. "Dean and Luna have already gone, you should, too-"

"Especially you, Hermione," said Bill, "you're still recovering yourself-"

"We'll be fine here," Hermione said, looking up from her hands momentarily. "I'd...I'd like to stay with him," she added with a look at Harry.

"Yeah, me too," said Ron, nodding. "I'll make sure she rests, Bill, don't worry. We'll be fine out here."

Bill looked ready to protest that both Ron, Hermione and Harry needed to sleep, but Fleur caught his hand and gently pulled him away, saying something about, "letting 'Arry's friends stay with 'im."

Soon after, the room was quiet. Only Ron and Hermione remained, the others having gone back to bed, and Dobby, under Hermione's insistence, returning to Hogwarts to get some rest himself.

As soon as they were alone, Hermione detached herself from Ron's protective embrace and got up off the couch, moving towards Harry again.

"I told Bill I'd make sure you rested, Hermione," said Ron, but he stood, too, and followed her over.

"Do you think he's in pain?" whispered Hermione.

"Nah, he's sleeping," said Ron. "And he's a pretty heavy sleeper from what I remember. Not to mention the sleeping draught-"

"Not the wound, Ron," said Hermione. "I meant his scar." She knelt down and took Harry's hand; Ron knelt beside her. "He doesn't say anything about it," said Hermione. "He has a bad habit of 'suffering in silence.' But you can tell, Ron, can't you?"

"'Course I can," said Ron. "We've known Harry six years. He couldn't hide a splinter from us."

"But he tries," Hermione sighed. "I...I just want it to end, Ron. This war...it's destroying everything. But...but I'm scared of what the end is, Ron. The prophecy said that 'either must die by the hand of the other because neither can live while the other survives', didn't it?"

Ron nodded. He didn't question how or why Hermione had chosen to memorize the prophecy after Harry told it to them. "Yeah, you're right," he said.

"Ron, I don't want to lose him," said Hermione, lowering her head. "He's...he's like...I don't know…"

"You love him," Ron blurted.

Hermione whipped her head around to face him. "But it's not like you would think," she said. "It's not...not a romantic sort of love at all, it's more like-"

"A brother-sister type love," said Ron, nodding. "I know. Harry's already told me."

Hermione sighed. "Just think," she said. "Think of your brothers, your sister...how would you feel if you suddenly lost them?"

Ron didn't know how to answer.

"Harry and I...we're both only childs," said Hermione. "We don't have brothers or sisters, we just have...well, each other, I suppose."

Ron thought about this; Hermione had brainwashed her parents to protect them from Voldemort and his Death Eaters; Harry's parents were dead. At this moment, the only thing Harry and Hermione had was each other and Ron.

"I don't know what I'd do without him," said Hermione. "He's like my brother. And I'm not saying I don't care about you, Ron," she added quickly. "It's just, I don't look at you like I look at Harry. It's a little...well...different, I suppose."

She blushed. So did Ron.

Silence fell for a time before Ron trusted himself to speak again. "Hermione, look," he said, "I'm sorry."

"Whatever for?"

"I walked out on you two," said Ron. "Back in the forest, all those weeks ago…"

"It doesn't matter anymore, Ron," said Hermione quietly, though there was an edge of resentment residing in her tone. "You came back, after all. Harry forgives you." She said the last part as though it were hard to believe.

"Yeah, but I don't," said Ron. "I don't forgive me. I shouldn't have walked out on you two. I shouldn't have said what I said."

Hermione looked at him, her eyes suddenly cold. She squeezed Harry's hand, almost defensively. "No," she agreed. "You shouldn't have. It was a low blow, even for you, I don't care if you were wearing the Horcrux or not. You've never been without family, Ron. You've been away from them, yeah, and sometimes they've gotten hurt, but you still have a family. My parents don't know I exist, and Harry's…"

"I know," Ron cut in. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean a word of what I said. I know Harry cares about my family, I know he's trying his best to get rid of the Horcruxes, I know he's giving it his best go…"

"You just need to think, Ron," said Hermione crossly. "You've got your family, and even I still have my family. Harry can see thestrals, for goodness sakes, Ron. He watched You-Know-Who kill Cedric, he watched Snape kill Dumbledore, his own family is dead, and now there's a prophecy that says either Harry will kill You-Know-Who, or You-Know-Who will kill Harry. He doesn't even know if he's going to make it out of the war, no one does."

"I know, I'm sorry-"

"You should be sorry!" said Hermione shrilly. "Harry needs us more than ever now! He needs us on his side!"

She quieted down dramatically and looked towards Harry as if to make sure he hadn't woken. Then, she looked at Ron. "I love you, both of you," she said. "I don't want anything to happen to either of you, but Ron, don't you think Harry's been through enough without you having a row with him?"

Ron sighed. She was right.

"It was weeks ago, Ron, I know," said Hermione, "and I know Harry's already forgiven you, but I think it'd mean a lot to him if you tell him straightforward how wrong you really were about what you said, how much you regret it...you do regret it, don't you?"

"Of course I do," said Ron. "I already told you I do."

"Good, then," said Hermione. "As soon as he wakes up, I expect you to apologize."

"I will."

"Or maybe you should wait until he's completely coherent, so he doesn't think he's delirious-"

"I will-"

"Or so he can slap you in the face if he wants to-"

"Hermione..."

"I'm serious."

"I know, I'll apologize, alright? I promise."

Hermione smiled timidly, took off Harry's glasses, folded them, and set them on the nightstand.

Ron didn't remember falling asleep, but he opened his eyes the next morning and found himself staring at the ceiling. He sat up; Hermione was sleeping on the ground beside him, curled into herself. Ron was about to wake her up and have her move to the couch, which would be more comfortable, when a familiar, frustrated voice cut through his musings.

"Accio glasses...accio...accio...accio glasses…"

"Harry!" Ron shouted, instantly wide awake as he whipped his head towards the couch; Harry was awake, still lying down, twirling a pencil in his hand. He looked over at Ron and smiled tiredly.

"Ron," he said. "Morning."

"Morning, mate," said Ron. "How're you feeling?"

"Erm, lousy," Harry decided, draping an arm over his eyes. "Dizzy. Everything's spinning...accio glasses…" He flicked the pencil again and frowned. "Why isn't it working?"

"What are you trying to do?" asked Ron, confused.

"I'm trying to summon my glasses," Harry said, staring at Ron as though he'd grown another head. "But it isn't working…why would you wonder?"

Suddenly, Ron understood, and he laughed. "You know you're using a pencil and not a wand, right, Harry?" he asked.

"I'm using a what?" Harry asked, and he held the pencil up to his face. "Oh," he said quietly. "Right...I thought it felt different…" He tried to set the pencil on the nightstand and failed miserably, dropping the pencil to the floor a foot away. He groaned. "Everything's spinning," he complained softly, and he put his hands over his eyes.

Ron was about to grab Harry's glasses from the nightstand, when Hermione suddenly stirred. She bolted upright instantly, head jerking frantically in Harry's direction. When she saw him, a smile spread over her face, and with a triumphant cry of "HARRY!", she flung herself at him, capturing him in a tight embrace.

Harry sucked in a sharp intake of breath, but said nothing about being in pain. "Hey, Hermione," he said, hugging her back with one arm. When she pulled away, he blinked rapidly. "Sorry, there's four of you right now-"

Hermione reached to the nightstand and handed Harry his glasses. Harry put them on, shut his eyes, and opened them again.

"Well, everything's clear now," he said, "but there's still four of you…"

"Blood-replenishing potion," said Ron suddenly. "Bill said he'd have to take another when he woke up."

"Right," said Hermione, reaching over and grasping the bottle of potion. "Here, Harry."

Harry sniffed it, pulled a face, and downed its contents in one swig. "Blimey, that felt weird…but familiar..."

"You've taken over ten in the period of twenty four hours, Harry," said Hermione.

"That explains it, then," said Harry, blinking rapidly again. He shook his head. "Thanks," he said, looking at Ron and Hermione, "only one of you each now."

"How do you feel?" Hermione asked worriedly. "Does it hurt? What about your scar?"

"Scar's fine," said Harry. "Had some weird dreams about a poisonous duck, but I don't think it had anything to do with Vol - I mean, You-Know-Who." He looked up at them, groaned, and draped his arm over his eyes again. "I'm sorry," he said. "I should have remembered the Taboo. It's my fault we were captured-"

"Harry, don't say that," said Hermione.

"But it was," said Harry, not looking at either of them. "I was stupid, I shouldn't have said the name, they wouldn't have been able to track us if I had remembered-"

"Forget it, Harry, forget it," Hermione pleaded, shaking her head. "We're safe now, that's all that matters. We're at Bill and Fleur's."

Harry didn't seem convinced.

"Who stabbed you?" Ron questioned, changing the subject.

"Bellatrix," said Harry. "I think she was aiming for Dobby, but it's hard to have good aim when your targets are Disapparating. You-Know-Who wasn't very pleased...I think Bellatrix realized her mistake the minute the knife hit me...but I think somehow he knows I survived, because he didn't kill Bellatrix...I don't think he did..."

"You just said you dreamed about a poisonous duck," Hermione said.

"That was after the scar dream," said Harry. "And the poisonous duck was almost more terrifying than You-Know-Who's anger, now that I come to think about it. The vision was fuzzy, like looking through muddy water...the poisonous duck, though, that was vivid."

"Glad you're feeling alright," said Ron.

"Better, at least," said Harry. "What happened? I don't remember actually getting here...I think I passed out on the beach..."

"That's where I found you, yeah," said Ron. "You were still conscious, but I didn't think you were completely coherent. Bill and Fleur patched you up, Dobby nicked some potions from Hogwarts...really, that's about it."

"Are you alright, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Fine," nodded Hermione. "A little tired, but fine otherwise. How do you feel, though? If your scar doesn't hurt, does anything else?"

"I'm sore," Harry said, "but I'll manage. The others...are they alright? Luna, Dean, Griphook, Dobby…"

"All alright," said Hermione. "We would have heard if they weren't." She rested her hand against Harry's forehead and frowned. "You're still cold," she said.

"Give it a few minutes, Hermione," said Ron calmly. "The potion'll kick in in a minute."

Hermione removed her hand and rose to her feet. "I'll go see Bill and Fleur," she said, throwing Ron a look that instantly reminded him of his promise to apologize. "I'll ask if there's anything we can make for breakfast. I'll be right back."

And she left the room.

"What's up with her?" Harry asked.

"You, of course," said Ron. "She's protective of you, Harry, haven't you noticed? She was worried when you were hurt, we both were. I don't know what'd I'd do if you didn't pull through there."

"I'm fine."

"You are now," said Ron, "but you weren't yesterday. Hermione said it herself, it was a miracle you'd survived for as long as you had without taking a blood-replenishing potion."

Harry looked down distractedly. Ron did as well; his shoelaces suddenly became very, very fascinating.

"Harry," Ron said finally, "I'm really sor-"

"I know," Harry said, nodding. "I know you're sorry. I heard what you said to Hermione last night, about how bad you felt after what you said those weeks ago. And it's alright, Ron, I forgive you, don't beat yourself up over it anymore."

"You were supposed to be sleeping!" Ron protested. "We gave you a sleeping draught!"

"I still heard it," said Harry pointedly. "You said it yourself, you wanted to come back as soon as you left, and you did come back, didn't you? That's what matters."

"Thank you, Harry," said Ron. He rose to his feet and looked towards the door Hermione had left in and took a step towards it. "I'll tell Hermione. She won't approve of you eavesdropping-"

"It wasn't eavesdropping," Harry retorted. "I just happened to be partially awake when you had your row."

"It wasn't a row."

"It wasn't eavesdropping."

Ron sighed. "Alright, fine," he said, making for the door. "Don't move, Harry, alright? Hermione'll throw a fit if you do."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Harry. "Oh, and Ron."

Ron turned back towards him, one hand on the doorknob. "Yeah?"

"Thank you," Harry said, nodding. "Hermione was right, you know. I do feel better hearing you say it for yourself, even though I already knew you regretted it."

"You're welcome, Harry."

"And thanks for apologizing to Hermione," said Harry, and he smiled - no, it was more of a smirk than a smile, actually. "I'm glad you two finally got together," he said.

This made Ron pause. "Got together?" he repeated. "What are you talking about?"

Harry looked confused. "I've known you two for six years, Ron," said Harry, almost persuasively. "You two have been...well, I mean, it was only a matter of time before you realized how you truly felt about each other-"

"What are you talking about, Harry?"

"Your feelings!" Harry insisted. "You two…you know, together, as an item..." He suddenly stopped. "Oh, wait, you didn't realize it...oh, I blew it...oh no…"

He reached towards the side table, almost frantically. Ron turned around and raced back, just as Harry grabbed and uncorked a sleeping drought.

"No, wait, Harry!" Ron shouted; "What did you say!?"

Harry didn't answer; he downed the sleeping drought and set the empty potion bottle back on the table, looking relieved.

"You can't do that, Harry!" said Ron. "You can't say something like that, and take a sleeping drought!"

"I thought I just did," Harry muttered, already shutting his eyes. "Goodnight, Ron."

"Alright, fine, but when you wake up, you're going to tell me exactly what you said."

"Never waking up...Unless I have another dream about a poisonous duck, then I'll have to wake up."

"Harry Potter-"

"Goodnight, Ron."

"For goodness' sakes, Harry..."

But Harry was already asleep. Ron sighed heavily and shook his head. "Whatever, mate," he muttered. He took off Harry's glasses, folded them, and set them back on the side table. "I'm...I'm just glad you're alright."

Ron stood, gave Harry one last look, and left to help Hermione.