Promises are Mended

The constant stream of questions was painful. But, to Hermione, it was nothing compared to hearing Ron's anguished cries from the cellar. It was faint, but unmistakable to her. Ron was hollering her name. She doubted anyone else heard it. After all, it was her Ron. And, at the moment she heard it, she knew that he cared. The thought took only a split second, but its effect was lasting. Why would he bellow like that if he didn't care? He must.

But reality blares when you have an evil witch pointing her wand at you. His calls kept her from spilling anything. She knew that if she did, that voice would be silenced. For eternity. That was it. So, she stood strong. Attention was drawn away from causing her distress every now and again, and it helped.

Then came the Cruciatus Curse. Every nerve in her body felt like it had been punctured by nails. Simultaneously. But, though it nearly maimed her to do it, she continued to fight back. Then, a crack was heard in the cellar.

Oh God. Please.

Wormtail was sent downstairs to check out the noise. She barely had time to think that maybe Ron had gotten out, when Bellatrix pulled her close and whispered menacingly in Hermione's ear.

"If you don't answer my questions, your trouble-making, blood traitor boyfriend won't live to see tomorrow."

Hermione stopped the gasp at the last moment. She got as tall as she could in the position Bellatrix was keeping her in and said, "I won't say a single word. You won't get a damn thing from me."

"You little…" Bellatrix spat. Then she smiled. "Crucio!"

The second so close to the first was too much for her strength to handle. She crumpled to the hardwood floor.

As she lay there in her darkness, she heard Bellatrix say, "And now, we call the Dark Lord! And I think, we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her."

And everything went black.

She was standing in the Forest of Dean. Softly, rain began to fall on her. A drop here. A drop there. Ron's warm hand in hers was a reassurance that this time, rain wouldn't mark his departure. He turned to her and said, "Don't leave me, Hermione."

She slowly came into consciousness, beginning to open her eyes. There was the low light of very early morning. The first thing she saw was Ron. He was wiping her wounds with a wash cloth in one hand and holding her hand in the other.

Wait. Wounds? Where did I get wounds?

He was crying softly, the tears silently flowing down his face. Then he looked up and saw her stirring.

"Hermione," he croaked. "Oh, thank God. You're alive."

"No," she said, quietly, crying with relief at his face. "Thank God you're alive."

He wiped his wet face with the back of his hand. "I'm so glad to hear your voice."

She smiled. "You too." She squeezed his hand. He went back to cleaning her up. She saw he had already taken care of her legs. "Where are we?"

"Shell Cottage. Bill and Fleur's house.

"What happened?"

Ron frowned slightly, touching her neck softly. The touch made her start. There must have been a large wound there. He seemed to concentrate on it for a moment. "The filthy bitch held a knife to your throat," he finally said, through gritted teeth. "And then a chandelier fell on you. The glass cut you everywhere when I pulled you out. We don't know any healing spells, and I used what was left of the Dittany on your neck, so you're gonna have to deal with the marks for a while."

"It's fine. A few scratches aren't going to bother me."

Ron looked at her sadly, and then down at their joined hands. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" she said, watching him curiously.

"I broke my promise again. I promised to take care of you, and I just left you in danger."

She shook her head. "Ron - "

But he continued, nonetheless. "But Hermione, I swear, I did all I could. I tried everything I could think of. I wanted to break down the walls. I tried to bust out of there, but all I did was nothing. Because you still got hurt. And I broke my promise. I'm sorry."

"Ron - "

"I don't deserve your trust again. I can't do anything to protect you. I just - "

"Ron!" she said, summoning all her strength into the single word. He finally looked up, his eyes finally meeting hers. "You screamed my name. You gave me hope and courage to keep quiet. You pulled me out of the wreckage. You wiped my wounds and held my hand, sending the bad dreams away. You took all the care in the world."

"But it isn't enough!" he said vehemently, piercing her with his protective gaze. "I should have saved you. I should've died before I let you get hurt! You're the only that matters to me, and I promised you! And I broke my promise to you. Again."

The only thing that matters…"I don't want to talk about the things we've gone through. You've taken care of me. And I thank you for it." Her little argument and speech had drained her, and tiredness came over her. Ron noticed her eyes drooping, and smiled sweetly at her. "Go to sleep. I should probably check downstairs anyway. I'll send Fleur up to check you out."

She closed her eyes. "But I don't need Fleur. I don't want Fleur."

Ron grinned. "Yes, you need to be checked over. I insisted on cleaning you up, but Fleur has more training than I do."

She was extremely touched by this, and didn't have the strength to argue about Fleur being sent up. Hermione nodded, and felt Ron's hand lift hers and pressed his lips to it. "I'll see you in a bit."

She nodded again, and his weight left the bed. The absence of his hand chilled her for a moment, and she shivered. He tucked her into the covers of the bed tightly. Then, he leaned over her and kissed her forehead gently.

She heard his footsteps toward the door. Then, she thought of it. "Ron?" she said, as she was swiftly carried off to dreamland.

"Yes?"

"You've gained all my trust again."