No, no, no, no, no. She could not be dead. She just couldn't. Hermione being dead was just so impossible.

'Surely she's just unconscious,' Ron told himself as he dragged her limp body from the broken shards of glass that had left cuts all over her face. 'Just unconscious.' Not dead. The girl he loved could not be dead.

'Ron, catch - and GO!' he heard Harry yell to him as he threw one of the wands he's been holding. Ron pulled one of his hands away from Hermione and caught it easily.

With a wand now in his hand, he concentrated on Shell Cottage and twisted. He saw Harry also twisting where he stood with Griphook and Dobby, and he barely saw the surrounding Death Eaters, before he disappeared from the scene.

'Shell Cottage,' he thought over and over again, 'Shell Cottage.'

He felt something on his arm, that was wrapped so tightly around Hermione's chest, and with a flicker of hope thought it felt like the repetitive pumping of a heart.

And then he was there, he and Hermione had landed on the porch of Shell Cottage. The starry sky was clear tonight and there were waves crashing against rocks close by, but he paid no attention to anything around him, all that mattered now was the girl he was holding. Nothing mattered if he didn't have Hermione.

He dropped the wand immediately and sat at the top of the wooden stairs, cradling Hermione in his arms.

He grabbed her wrist and the pulse he felt against his fingers confirmed the heartbeat he's felt. She was alive.

He let out a dry sob and murmured, 'Thank god.'

But still, she wasn't stirring.

'Hermione,' he whispered. She didn't move.

Ron pulled her in tighter to his chest. Her eyes and mouth were closed, as if she was in a peaceful sleep, but of course, he knew she wasn't. He knew her whole body must be aching, he couldn't even imagine the pain she had felt when Bellatrix Lestrange had used the Cruciatus curse on her.

Ron's eyes became slightly watery as he remembered her screams while he had been stuck in the basement unable to help her. He had never been so terrified in his life, never before had the chance of losing Hermione been so real. Each scream had cut through him like ice. Hearing her being tortured had been like torture for Ron itself.

'Hermione,' he whispered again, 'Hermione, please wake up.'

This time she did move. First, her eyebrows contracted a bit, then she turned her head slightly and nestled into his shoulder.

Ron's heart beat faster.

'Hermione?'

Her eyes fluttered open and for a moment they seemed unfocused, then she looked up at Ron. His breathing stopped and he stared back into her brown eyes.

Slowly, with a trembling arm, she lifted her hand up to touch his cheek.

'Ron,' she said quietly.

Ron let out his breath out and smiled down at her. She gave a tiny smile back to him, though it seemed like it took some effort, and closed her eyes again. As she did so, her hand slipped from his face and came to rest against the crook of his neck.

Ron put his own hand on top of hers and squeezed it lightly, never looking away from her bleeding face.

'Ron!' and voice he knew called from behind, but he didn't look. Bill then appeared on his knees beside him, 'Ron, what's happened? Is she - is she?… she's alive isn't she?'

Ron nodded very and carefully shifted his arms' position on Hermione and stood up.

'She needs to go inside,' Ron said firmly. Bill got to his feet as well and led the way to the door. Ron followed, carrying Hermione and couldn't help but feel relieved. Hermione had woken up, and what was even better had said his name right away, so her brain must not have been affected from the torture. Like Neville's parents. He couldn't bare to think of that happening to Hermione. Hermione without her brain was hardly Hermione at all. The Hermione he loved could do anything with that brilliant mind of hers.

His brain barely registered what he saw when he stepped inside the familiar Shell Cottage. It was painted a light yellow and was quite pretty. Ron swept past the dark wooden door to the kitchen and into the living room where a bright fire was ablaze in the fireplace.

Dean and Luna, who had been anxiously waiting in armchairs , jumped to their feet the second they saw Ron.

'Is she alright?' Dean asked

Ron nodded tersely without looking at him. He walked around the couch that sat facing the fire and laid Hermione down on the soft cushions.

'Ron, what happened?' his brother asked from where he stood behind the couch.

He did not answer, instead he positioned Hermione more comfortably and made the pillows fluffier under her head. When he was satisfied with the their condition, he went down on both knees beside Hermione's face and gazed at her, willing her to reawake.

Fleur came down the stairs and hurried to Bill's side.

'Ron! Tell me what's going on!' he demanded now close to yelling.

Ron looked up and saw fear etched in all their faces. 'Harry,' he croaked, 'Harry should be outside. Find him.'

The four others did not hesitate as they ran out the door into the night. He watched them go, then turned back to Hermione.

Her eyes were open and she was looking up at him. He quickly lowered his face down to her level and said quietly, 'Hi.'

'Hi,' she said, looking rather drained. 'Where are we?'

'Bill and Fleur's - Shell Cottage,' he told her.

She looked confused and began to say, 'How - ?' but Ron cut her off. 'How are you feeling?' he asked with extreme concern.

She took a deep, shaky breath and breathed 'Fine.'

'Fine?' Ron doubted very much that she was fine.

'Yes.' But at the look of disbelief on Ron's face she said, ' Well, I…' her lips trembled and she dropped her voice to a whisper, 'I…I hurt.'

Ron's heart just about broke. He didn't want her to hurt, to ever have to feel pain. He wanted to make it all go away for her, but didn't know how.

He reached out and pushed a stray lock of curly hair out of her face, then stroked her cheek. All the while, Hermione lay looking at him tenderly.

'You were brave tonight, Hermione,' he told her, 'Well, you always are, really.' he let out a small laugh and Hermione smiled. Speaking slowly, he continued, ' I was really scared. I've never been that scared. They were hurting you , and Greyback had said - thought he'd be able to -' Ron's voice caught in his throat and he took a few deep breaths. 'I was scared I'd lose you. What the hell would I do without you? I couldn't live without - without you,' he finished.

Hermione didn't say anything but Ron saw surprise flash across her features, and he knew why. That was the most straight forward he'd ever been with her about how much she meant to him. He was starting to feel a bit embarrassed when her expression softened again and she continued to stare at him. Ron did the same and his stroking of her cheek came to a halt. He felt a bit of his worry slip away. The way Hermione was looking at him seemed to be mirroring all the feelings he had towards her and had always hoped she'd felt as well. And now, gazing into her tired eyes, he was sure she felt them too.

They stayed staring at each other in silence for several long moments, each looking at the other affectionately. The only sound was the crackling fire that was warming Ron's back.

Then Hermione finally broke the silence, 'Ron. Ron, you're hurt!'

'What?' he said.

'You're bleeding…' Slowly, she placed her fingers on Ron's lips, just touching them as if she was worried too much pressure would hurt him. Ron's stomach lurched happily at her touch, and then he realized his mouth must still be covered in blood from when the Snatchers had hit him back at the tent. It felt like it had happened so long ago.

Hermione's eyes left Ron's mouth to examine the rest of him, her fingers still on his lips. He watched as her eyes move from the bruise on his left eyebrow where he'd been punched the first time by the Snatchers, to the welts on his cheek just below that where Bellatrix Lestrange had slapped him and then to the blood covered hand that rested on the couch's edge. He had ripped his skin open while he had been pounding the basement walls, screaming Hermione's name and searching for a way out, and had managed, just minutes later, to spill more of his own blood when he was pulled Hermione out of the chandelier wreckage, where broken glass had been everywhere.

'I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me,' he said in a firm tone and Hermione's hand dropped from his mouth. He reluctantly pulled his hand away from her cheek.

'But Ron -'

'Don't worry about me. I really am fine. A few scratches aren't going to kill me. They make me look a bit like a real warrior, don't they?' Hermione didn't smile. 'You're the one I'm worried about.'

'But -'

'Hermione, please,' he said gently. She did not fight back this time. 'You're bleeding too - from all the glass.' And she was, she had cuts covering her usually smooth face, all of them staining her skin with red.

'Glass?'

'The chandelier fell on you. You were unconscious,' he explained.

'Oh,' she said flatly, 'I have Essence of Dittany in my bag -'

She pushed herself up onto her elbow and groaned.

'Don't!' Ron shouted, pushing her lightly back to lay down. He then lowered his voice again, 'Don't get up. You're not ready to move yet.'

She moaned and said, 'Ron, I feel so weak! I hate it.'

'Don't worry about it,' he said to soothe her, 'Just let me take care of you. I will take care of you.'

'I know,' she whispered.

'Here, I'll get the dittany for you.'

'Oh, thanks Ron. The bag's in my sock.'

Ron moved himself over to the other end of the couch where Hermione's feet were and gently pulled up the hem of her jeans, revealing a bulging white sock. He hoped he wasn't blushing as he rolled back her sock and removed the small beaded bag, exposing her now bare calf.

He dug around inside the bag and eventually found the small bottle of dittany. He returned to his kneeling position on the other end of the couch where Hermione was and opened the brown bottle.

'Ron, use it on yourself first,' Hermione said.

'Blimey Hermione, stop trying to help me. I'm helping you,' Ron laughed.

Hermione sighed and allowed him to drop the substance on her wounds. He watched them heal themselves and proceeded to apply it to his own cuts so that Hermione wouldn't argue with him about it.

'Ron?' Hermione said suddenly.

'Hm?'

'I think I want to try to sit up now.'

He looked at her with uncertainty. 'Are you sure?'

'Yes,' she said with defiance.

Ron stood up so he could help her up easier. 'Alright, ready?' he asked her. She nodded and he grabbed one of her hands.

Slowly, but surely, she lifted herself up and swung her legs to the floor, wincing.

Ron watched her to make sure she wasn't about to fall back over before sitting down beside her.

'You okay?'

'Yeah.'

'Good.' They smiled at each other, but quickly turned their attention to the door, which had just swung open to Dean, Griphook in his arms. Fleur came in behind him and turned into the kitchen.

Dean walked past them, giving them a sad look that Ron didn't like at all and went up the stairs.

'Harry!' Ron and Hermione exclaimed, looking at each other in horror.

Had something happened to Harry? While Ron had been focusing all his attention on Hermione, had Harry been in trouble?

Fleur burst into the living room holding SkeleGrow and they looked at her, pleading for information.

'Ron,' Fleur said, 'you must take 'er upstairs.'

Then she went up the stairs herself and out of sight.

'But what about Harry?' Hermione whispered. Ron didn't know what to say, so he got up off the couch.

'Come on, I'll carry you up,' he said.

'I think… I think I want to try to walk,' she told him.

Ron frowned.

'With help,' she added.

'Alright,' Ron said, 'up you get then.'

He held both his hands out to her and she grabbed them, gripping much more tightly than he expected with her being in such a weak state.

'One…two…three,' Ron counted, and on three he pulled her up. She staggered, then fell against his chest.

He let go of her hands and anchored his hands on her back to hold her steady.

'Oh,' she said dazedly.

'Just - you know - pull yourself together first,' Ron said, ' then we can try walking.'

Hermione stood up a little straighter and took a few deep breaths. She looked up into his eyes for reassurance and at the same time took a tiny step to the side.

'Okay,' she said and Ron admired her for putting on such a brave face, 'let's go.'

Ron turned towards the stairs and kept one arm wrapped around Hermione.

He walked with her as she took her unbalanced steps. Ron would have liked to just carry her up, so she wouldn't have to be working so hard, but the look of determination on her face as she looked down at her feet told him it was best to let her get the walking over with now.

When they reached the stairs, Ron had to lift her up a bit at each step to lessen the weight on her feet, so she could step up to the next stair.

When they reached the top, they found themselves on a small landing with three doors.

Fleur stepped out of the first room, hers and Bill's room. She glanced at them then said into the room, 'I will be back to 'elp ze goblin soon.'

'Alright,' came Dean's voice from within the room. She closed the door behind her and turned to Ron.

'She eez alright?'

'Not completely,' Ron said, 'but she will be.'

'Zis way,' she motioned for Ron and Hermione to follow. She led them to the last room and opened the door to a dark room with twin beds. It was the room Ron had stayed in while he'd been apart from Hermione and Harry at Christmas. It was a room he associated with feeling empty.

When they reached the closest bed, Hermione extracted herself from Ron and dropped onto the mattress. The journey upstairs had obviously taken more of her energy than she'd let on.

Fleur pulled out her wand from her white apron and pointed it at a lamp beside the bed. Light filled the room immediately.

'Where's Harry?' Hermione asked Fleur now that she could see her properly, 'Is he alright?'

Fleur looked at her with pity and said, 'Yes, 'e iz alright.'

Hermione relaxed, but Ron didn't. Something was wrong.

Ron furrowed his eyebrows, turning on Fleur and said loudly and with force, 'What do you mean 'he' is alright? What happened?'

Fleur exhaled then said, 'Ze 'ouse elf. 'E iz not alright. 'E iz dead.'

'Dobby,' Ron breathed. He swayed a bit where he stood as he experienced a sinking feeling.

'Dobby?' Hermione squeaked, 'Dobby was here?' Ron nodded. 'And he's dead?' she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

''Ere,' Fleur handed a small blue bottle to Hermione, 'Drink zis, you will feel better,' then she left the room with a last pitying look at them.

Hermione opened the bottle Fleur had given her and took a swig.

'Ron, what happened?'

So Ron told her about what happened while she was being tortured and questioned. He told her how they had been locked in the basement with no way out, how Dobby had appeared and disapparated with Luna, Dean and Mr. Ollivander. Then he told how Wormtail had died and how Griphook had lied about the sword for them and then how when he'd ran into the drawing room, Bellatrix had held Hermione with the knife at her throat (Hermione reached up to gingerly touch the cut on her neck at this part).

'She was going to let Greyback kill you,' he told her, 'but then somehow Dobby made the chandelier fall and I ran to pull you out from the glass ,' he paused. 'I'm not sure, really, what happened after that. I was a bit distracted trying to get you out. Harry must have disarmed the others. He threw a wand to me and we both disapparated. He had Dobby and Griphook. I reckon the Death Eaters did something to Dobby before they left. But he saved us. Dobby saved us all.'

Hermione had tears rolling down her face, 'He did,' she said, 'He did save us.'

They stayed in silence for a few minutes, both with thoughts of Dobby and death and everything that had happened that night going through their minds.

'Hermione, you should sleep.'

She looked at him in shock. 'I'm not going to sleep now!'

'But you need to get better.'

'I am! I've just taken this potion. I already feel much better!' Hermione declared, sitting up straighter, to prove that she really did have her strength back.

Ron sighed. Why did she have to be so stubborn? He looked down at her as he tried to compose what he hoped was a face that resembled that of a father scolding his daughter.

'Hermione, you've been up all night and -'

'As have you!' she cried.

'Yes, but that's different. You're not well.'

Hermione scowled at him and opened her mouth to retort, but not before Ron spoke first.

'Hermione, if you don't try to sleep I'll have to use a sleeping charm on you,' he said firmly.

Her eyes narrowed and she said slyly, 'You don't even have a wand on you.'

'How can you be sure?'

'Even if you did have a wand, you don't know that spell.'

Ron laughed. 'You're right, I don't know that spell, so I'll just have to stun you, and force you to lie there.'

Hermione raised her eyebrows. 'You still don't have a wand,' she said, crossing her arms.

Ron frowned, but the frown quickly turned into a mischievous grin. 'Then I'll have to use my stunning good looks against you. That should leave you good and stunned.'

Ron was glad this made her laugh, because he thought it had been a rather lame joke. But she didn't laugh for long. When she looked up at him her laughter faded, as if the sight of him had reminded her of Dobby. Her face froze in a fixed smile.

Ron's grin faded as well and he spoke softly when he said, 'If you won't sleep, please at least lay down and rest.'

She looked at him, tight lipped and then finally agreed.

Ron pulled back the blankets and Hermione crawled in underneath them. While she made herself comfortable, Ron pulled up a chair and sat down beside her bed. He was suddenly reminded of all the times at Hogwarts spent in the hospital wing, where he, Hermione and Harry had each had their own share of days lying in bed while the other two sat at their side, as he was now. But the memory that stuck out the clearest was one where Ron had been the one in bed. He had just been poisoned and then saved by Harry on his birthday, roughly a year ago. He had woken up surrounded by people, but the only person he noticed was Hermione. All he could do was stare at her in disbelief. She was here, with a look of deepest concern on her face, after nearly four months of not speaking to him, hardly even looking at him. But she was back, she was looking at him now.

He always thought that was the moment he had realized he was in love with her. Lavender Brown didn't matter to him, she never really had. She was pretty enough, but she was no Hermione. The only reason he had gone out with her in the first place was because he'd been angry at Hermione. But in that moment, he didn't think of Lavender at all, or compare her to Hermione, or stop himself from feeling the rush of emotions he was having for a girl who wasn't his girlfriend. In fact, he had completely forgotten Lavender existed until he had heard her annoying voice echoing in the hall outside the next day, demanding to see him. He had quickly pretended to be asleep when she came running in. He had been thinking about Hermione the whole time he'd been lying in his hospital bed and Lavender had completely slipped his mind.

But now he sat here, just him and Hermione, completely Lavender free. He had wasted time being with Lavender while he could have been with Hermione. He just hoped it wasn't too late.

Hermione was laying on her back, staring up at the ceiling. He watched her as the silence in the room stretched on. Not once did she close her eyes, she didn't try to sleep, just as she said she wouldn't. He knew she must be tired, but she would never show it. She was too tough.

Eventually, Fleur came back into the room with a dressing gown in her hands.

'You are feeling better?' she asked Hermione.

'Yes, thank you.'

'I 'ave a gown for you 'ere, if you wish to change out of your clothes.' Fleur said, holding out what she carrying.

Hermione nodded and looked at Ron.

'It's okay, I'll go out and find Harry,' he told her.

'I will take good care of 'er,' Fleur added.

'Okay,' Hermione said.

Ron stood up, gave Hermione's hand a squeeze and turned to go, but couldn't go anywhere because she hadn't let go of his hand.

'Ron?' she said quietly.

He turned back to Hermione and took a step closer. 'Yes?'

She looked at him for a few seconds before murmuring, 'Thank you.'

He smiled and without hesitating, without worrying that Fleur was watching him, bent over and kissed her forehead. His lips lingered there a moment longer than necessary because for a split second he imagined kissing her lips instead. He also knew the sooner he broke contact the sooner he'd have to leave her, and he didn't want to leave her yet. But he had to.

When he pulled back she was smiling brightly. 'I hope you feel better soon,' he said quietly, and then left the room.

He hurried down the stairs to get to Harry as quickly as he could. He jumped two steps at a time and nearly collided with Bill who had appeared at the foot of the stairs, glaring at Ron.

'Ron, you need to tell me what's going on right now!' he said

'I can't,' Ron said calmly.

'You can't?'

'No.'

Bill stepped up onto the first step so he as face-to-face with Ron. 'You show up at my house in the middle of the night with a bunch of injured people,' he thrust his arm in the direction of the upper level, indicating Mr. Ollivander, Griphook and Hermione. 'you bloody bring a dead elf here, and you can't tell me why?'

'No Bill, I can't. Sorry.'

'Ron-'

'Look I'm not telling you anything, so drop it and move out of the way so I can get to my best mate!' Ron said, raising his voice.

Bill looked taken aback at being spoken to like that by his little brother, but he stepped out of the way.

'He's in the garden.'

'Thanks,' Ron grumbled, striding past him.

'I'll come too,' said Dean, who was rising out of his chair by the fire. Ron nodded and together they stepped out the front door into the salty air.

It was slightly lighter out now than it had been when he had held Hermione on the porch. He saw the wand he'd cast away upon apparating there not far from where he's sat with her on the steps and pocketed it.

They spotted Harry, or rather Harry's upper body, sticking out of a hole he was digging by shovel between two bushes. Dobby's body lay beside.

Without speaking, he and Dean walked to the edge of the unfinished grave.

Harry looked up at him and said, 'How's Hermione?' then picked up more dirt in his shovel.

'Better,' he told Harry. 'Fleur's looking after her.'

Harry inclined his head and stabbed his shovel back into the dirt. His eyes flashed when he glanced at them, as if daring them to laugh at him for not using magic, but Ron understood. He was doing this for Dobby.

Ron looked at Dobby in the grass and the sound of Hermione's screams seemed to ring in his ears again. 'We found it - we found it - PLEASE!' He shook his head, picked up his own shovel and jumped down into the dirt with Harry. Dean did the same.

The three of them dug in silence, with their own thoughts. Ron thought of Dobby and how unfair it was that he had to die. It was always unfair when a good person (or elf) had to die, and yet it seemed to happen unbearably often. Now Dobby had joined Mad Eye, and Sirius, and Dumbledore. They hadn't deserved death. Why did the heroes always have to die?

Then he thought of Hermione. Of how Bellatrix Lestrange had hurt her. He attacked the dirt ferociously. It was probably Bellatrix who had killed Dobby as well, that vile woman.

Each hit his shovel made against the dirt helped him release his anger and his worry for Hermione. She was going to be okay now.

They dug until Harry decided the hole was big enough, then they all hopped out and looked down at Dobby.

Ron realized Dobby wasn't wearing his normal clothes. He usually wore several socks, a mountain of woolly hats piled on top of his head and sometimes a jumper. He looked strangely empty in their absence.

Ron sat at the edge of the grave and took off his shoes and socks and placed them on Dobby's feet. Dean placed a hat he had conjured on him as Ron stood up.

'We should close his eyes.' A voice behind him made him jump. He turned and saw Luna, followed by Bill, Fleur and Hermione. She was in Fleur's dressing gown and was walking on her own, unsteadily, but still on her own.

She reached the spot where Ron stood and he put his arm around her to keep her as close as possible. Her body was warm against his.

They watched as Luna closed Dobby's eyes and Harry lowered him into the grave. Ron's breathing suddenly became heavy as an image of Hermione lying there instead of Dobby flashed through his mind. It had come so close to it really being her beneath the earth. So close. So horribly close.

Ron tightened his grip around Hermione's waist and she entwined her fingers with his. If he hadn't had Hermione to hold onto he was sure he would have broke down cried.

'I think we ought to say something,' Luna said. 'I'll go first, shall I?'

Ron looked at Luna as she began her speech and could tell everyone else was looking at her as well.

'Thank you so much, Dobby, for rescuing me from that cellar. It's so unfair that you had to die, when you were so good and brave.' Ron felt his throat tighten and it was all he could do to stop his eyes from becoming teary. Weren't they always the ones to go? The good and brave. 'I'll always remember what you did for us. I hope you are happy now.

When she finished she turned and looked right at Ron. He cleared his throat to make sure sound would still come out of it, it felt so small at the moment. He managed to say, with difficulty, 'Yeah… Thanks Dobby.'

A few of the others murmured their thanks and after Dobby was buried beneath the dirt, Harry asked if he could stay there longer.

'Sure thing, mate,' Ron muttered and Hermione said, 'Of course.'

He patted Harry lightly on the back with his free arm before steering Hermione back towards the cottage.

They didn't speak as they walked. Neither could think of anything to say with the loss of Dobby being so fresh on their minds. But Ron didn't need to hear words from Hermione right now, he just needed her close. That was where she belonged, and Ron knew it because it just felt right to have her in his arms. She needed him close just as he needed her close.

And he would keep her close forever.