This is actually a re-editted version of this story, so please read it again if you've already read it, as it's gotten much better. Anyway, whether you've read it before or not, enjoy!

Shell Cottage. Bill and Fleur's. Shell Cottage. Shell Cottage. PLEASE take me to Shell Cottage!

I concentrated harder than ever before on my destination, my head spinning all the while with unwelcome and unpleasant thoughts. I couldn't afford to mess up, not this time. If I splinched her...

I felt my knees hit solid earth and had to resist gravity as I began to crash to the ground. I managed to hold myself up, ignoring the searing pain in my knees, because I couldn't let her fall. She was hurt enough already and I had no intention of dropping her. I looked around and saw the small cottage in the distance. I'd never been happier to see the place or to hear the waves and smell the sea air. We were there. We were safe. She was safe.

I looked down at the figure in my arms, pale as death, light as a feather, and cold, too cold for my liking. Her lips were apart slightly, but if any air was passing between them, it was undetectable. I refused to believe that she was...I couldn't even think the word because that would make the idea possible, and it just couldn't be. I knelt down and took hold of one of her wrists and felt for a pulse. For what felt like hours, but was probably no more than ten seconds, I waited, desperate to feel something, anything...And then it came, a tiny thump. I'd never felt anything more spectacular than that little thump that meant that she wasn't...I still couldn't think the word. The possibility was still too fresh, too real.

I stood up and started walking to the cottage. I would've run, but I didn't want to jostle her. She'd been through enough tonight.

"BILL!" I screamed, aware that Harry, Griphook, and Dobby would've landed somewhere else on the cliff, and Griphook would need help. "FLEUR! Help! Quickly!"

They appeared at the door, looking terrified. I could tell that they'd been waiting for us because, though there was no doubt that they were terrified, they did not look at all surprised that it was me. They did look surprised at the state of Hermione. I saw their eyes widen in shock.

"Please," I whispered. I couldn't manage anything else. I was too exhausted. Too afraid.

"Is she-" began Bill, but I cut him off. I wasn't about to let him say it either. That would only make the idea more real.

"No. Not-not yet," I panted, carrying her inside. It killed me to have to say 'Not yet,' but they needed to know the state that she was in if they were going to help her. I heard voices, probably Dean and Luna, though I wasn't about to check, in the kitchen, as I headed into the living room. I lay her down on the couch and knelt down beside her. "You've got to go out and get Harry, Dobby, and Griphook," I said to Bill and Fleur, "We'll be okay for a moment."

Fleur looked at Hermione for a moment and then said in her heavy French accent, "I will need to mend some of 'er bones, it looks to me as if 'er arm is broken, and I will 'ave to get the glass out of 'er arms and tend to the cut on 'er neck, but other than that she should be alright. I can brew 'er a potion later that will 'elp her to recover more quickly."

"Thanks," I said, not able to manage anything else.

Bill was looking me up and down with a strange expression on his face. It could almost have been called pity, but it was verging on pride. "Alright," was all he said, and, after touching my shoulder briefly, he and Fleur left in search of the others, Dean and Luna following after them.

I held onto her hand, and fought back tears. What right had I to be crying? I'd failed. I'd done nothing. All I could do was scream, powerless. You did save her. Said a small voice inside my head. But, I couldn't get to her until after that-that woman, that excuse for a human being had...There weren't words for the fury I felt. I could still hear Hermione's screams, ringing in my head, each one cutting through me, like being slashed with a knife. I wished it could've been me. I would've taken it a thousands times over in her stead.

I felt a small movement in the hand I was holding with both of my own, and I looked up into Hermione's face, desperate to see her eyes open, desperate for concrete evidence that she'd be alright.

However her eyes did not open, they fluttered for a moment, but nothing more. Fleur bustled back into the house, Dean behind her, carrying Griphook, and Luna behind him, all three looking somber. Luna bustled into the kitchen and I could hear her fumbling around with the kettle while Dean stood with the goblin, looking slightly lost, waiting for instructions from Fleur. Luna came out and handed Fleur a glass before returning to the kitchen, and Fleur poured some of the skelo-grow into it.

"Take 'im upstairs, put 'im in the smallest bedroom." she said, "And give 'im this," she handed him the glass and pocketed the bottle. She then walked over to the couch and said, "Ron, you 'ave to move. I need to see 'er."

I would rather have done anything than let go of Hermione's hand, but I wanted her to get help, and Fleur apparently couldn't do that with me in the way, so I stood up and walked into the small kitchen. Luna was making tea and setting out mugs for herself and Dean. Dean returned after a moment and accepted the mug with a word of thanks. I nodded to them, but they seemed to realize that I wasn't in any state to interact with people beyond that, so they let me be. I went over to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of fire whisky and poured myself a glass.

I took a sip as I walked back into the living room. The burning in my throat helped bring a bit of the life and energy back into me. As I watched Fleur administer to to Hermione I had to bite my tongue from crying out in anger, in agony.

Fleur got all of the glass out of Hermione's arms from where the chandelier hit her, cleaned the cut on her neck, and, with a flick of her wand, mended several of the bones in Hermione's right arm. Then she stood up and said, "She should be just fine. I 'ave to go upstairs and tend to Griphook and check on Olivander. Will you be alright 'ere?"

I nodded, walking back over to the couch as Fleur drifted upstairs. I just sat on the floor by the couch and held her hand, trying to stop my mind from wandering anywhere too dangerous. What if I'd never left them? What if she'd taken me instead? What if I'd gotten there a bit sooner? Every 'what if' swept in another wave of guilt. But those 'what if's were better than the other kind, the tragic kind. What if I hadn't gotten there in time? What if Hermione hadn't come up with such a brilliant lie? Those 'what if's led to more terrifying possibilities.

I looked at Hermione's pale face and thought about how amazing she was. Of course she was beautiful, even now, her face pale as death, her hair matted in blood and sweat, but she was more beautiful on the inside than on the outside, which was saying something. She was smart, brave, kind, and loyal. She always did what was right, no matter what she wanted, and she always thought of others first. And she'd been my friend. She saw me as just Ron, rather than another Weasley, or Harry Potter's best friend. There was something comforting about being just Ron. She'd put up with me for years, and knew I could be pretty thick sometimes, and she forgave me after I left...I wished every day that I hadn't done it, that I hadn't left. I would've done anything to take it back, but I couldn't. I would've never spoken to me again, but Hermione did. She understood me, and I understood her. I knew her insecurities, most of them pretty stupid because she was basically perfect, I knew what few faults she had, I knew her pet peeves and what buttons to push to get her angry, and she knew the same things about me. Of course we fought, but that made life interesting, and we always made up because in the end we each couldn't get by without the other. We needed each other. She was my foil, my greatest rival, my motivation, my best friend. My Hermione.

Bill came in from outside, interrupting my thoughts, and said, "How is she?"

When I spoke my voice was thick from un-shed tears, "She'll be okay."

Bill looked at me and said slowly, "It's amazing to me, the man you've become Ron, and I don't remember when it happened."

I stood up wordlessly and gave Bill a hug. I was trying to resist the urge to break down, though I knew that Bill wouldn't have thought less of me for it.

"Bill," I said desperately, "She could have-she could have-" I still couldn't bring myself to say the word. The possibility was just too real.

"But she didn't," he said calmly, "You got her here, and she's safe. Now," he pulled away slightly to look at me, "Enough of the worrying about what could have happened. You'd better pull yourself together before she wakes up. I have a feeling I know who she'll want to see."

"Thanks," I said, pulling away and kneeling back down by the couch, watching her with new energy.

"Ron," said Bill after a moment. I jumped a bit in shock; I'd thought he'd left the room, "Ron, you have to tell me what happened. Hermione looks as though she's been tortured, we've got a dying Olivander in one of the spare rooms, and a half-conscious goblin in the other, and Harry's outside with a dead house elf! What's-"

"What?" I nearly bellowed as my mind caught up with what he'd been saying, "Dobby, is he-"

"Dead?" said Bill quietly, "Yeah, he is. Stabbed. I'm just here to get some water before I go out and grab a spade for Harry to bury him. Ron, what's happened?"

I thought for a moment. I wanted, more than anything, to tell Bill the truth. I knew that, after all he'd done for me, for all of us, I owed it to him, but it wasn't my story to tell, and I couldn't betray Harry's trust. I shook my head slowly, and said, "It's not my business to tell you what happened," a sudden thought struck me, "But there are a few things you've got to know. We have to get the whole family, Ginny too, protected. The Death Eaters know I'm with Harry. They'll try and get to the family. We've got to move them, immediately. Is that possible?"

"Yes," said Bill, his brow furrowed. He conjured his patronus, an owl, and sent it soaring out the window, to the Burrow, I assumed. He then turned to me and said, "And is that all the reply I can expect to my question?"

"Yes," I said, "It's a mission given to us three, and we aren't supposed to talk about it, so I won't."

Bill shook his head at me for a moment before heading into the kitchen to get a glass of water. I wasn't looking at him, but I could tell that from the kitchen doorway he was watching me watch Hermione. I wasn't embarrassed. He left after only a minute or two, leaving me to my vigil.

Suddenly, Hermione's hand, which I'd held in mine since Fleur'd finished with her, began to twitch. I held it tighter and waited. Her brow was furrowed, though her eyes were still closed, and she looked as though she was having a terrible dream. I gazed at her as she sat bolt up right, wrenching her hand out of mine, her eyes whipping open, and she looked around, trembling slightly.

She was looking around, her eyes wide at the foreign surroundings. When her eyes found me she let out a sigh and leaned back into the couch, but her eyes continued to dart around the room.

"Where are we?" she said, panic barely concealed in her voice, "Where's Harry? How did we escape?"

"We're at Bill and Fleur's," I said, covering her hand with my own, "Harry's fine, and Griphook and Ollivander are as well. Dean is here too, and so is Luna. She and Ollivander were in the cell at Malfoy Manor. Dobby helped us escape."

She glanced down at the bandages on her arm, and slowly reached up to feel the cut at her neck, which I guessed must have been pretty painful. "What happened to me? I-I don't remember anything after..."

She drifted off, and her screams seemed to echo in the space between us. She couldn't remember anything after she'd been tortured, nearly to death. I was glad she hadn't said it though. I didn't want to hear it.

"Chandelier," I murmered, "It fell on you while we were escaping. And the rest was just..." I didn't want to say her name.

"Her?" she asked, shuttering slightly.

I nodded.

Just then Bill came in, "Hermione," he said with a sigh of relief.

"Where's Harry?" I asked when I saw that Bill was alone. I'd expected Harry to return with him.

"He's out digging the grave. I was thinking that you and Dean could give him a hand. He doesn't want to use magic," replied Bill.

"Grave?" asked Hermione in utter panic. I sent Bill a look. I hadn't wanted to tell Hermione about Dobby just yet. She was exausted, weak, worried, she didn't need any more stress. But, I supposed, we couldn't hide it forever, and she'd have been angry if we just hadn't told her.

"It's Dobby," I whispered, "He's dead."

Hermione gasped, but her eyes were dry. She bit her lip, and nodded.

"I'm gonna grab Dean, and then you two can go out and help Harry" Bill said.

"Alright," I replied, and I watched Bill head into the kitchen. "You okay Hermione?" I asked, looking at her.

She nodded, "I'll be fine."

I gave her hand a squeeze, stood up, and went out into the yard with Dean. We took spades from the tool shed and headed out to where Harry was digging.

I said nothing as I jumped into the hole Harry had started. I just dug. The physical release was just what I needed. It helped me work off a bit of my anger, my panicked desperation, my pain. But, without Hermione there, the silence made way for the screaming to return to my head. I thought it would drive me mad. I dug furiously, as if hoping that it would drive away the echoing screams that filled my head, but it did not.

When Harry judged the hole big enough, he went to get Dobby's body. He lay Dobby in the grave and put his jacket on him. I looked at the elf and noticed his bare feet. It wasn't right. He surely would've wanted to be buried in socks. I sat down and took off my socks and shoes and put them on his feet. I nodded a bit as I looked at him, Dean having given his woolly hat to the elf as well. That was a bit more like how Dobby would've wanted to look.

"We should close his eyes," came a voice, and I saw Bill, Fleur, Luna, and Hermione walking towards us. I had the urge to run to Hermione and help her, but I knew it would've looked foolish and irritated her to no end because she would've seen it as weakness on her part...rubbish, but all the same, I didn't want an argument, no matter how small. When she reached us I put my arm around her, and as she leaned on me I realized just how weak and unsteady she was. She was leaning almost entirely on me, but I didn't mind supporting all of her weight. She clearly had barely enough strength to stay standing.

I listened to what Luna said about Dobby, to Dobby, really, and felt grief take hold of me. It was unfair that he had to die. It was unnecessary. This war was killing hundreds, destroying hundreds of families, and as I looked around at the people assembled, I realized that any one of us could go next. I saw my brother and sister in law, whom I loved. I saw Dean, who had a family, a best mate, and a life to live. I saw Luna, oddly enough one of my closest friends, who had goals, and expectations, and dreams for her future. I saw Harry. The person I could joke with, talk to about Hermione, help out, and receive help from without feeling embarrassed. My best mate. And then I looked next to me. Hermione. My Hermione. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to her. I'd rather die, and I knew now I wasn't exaggerating. Not even a little.

As we trudged back into the house I thought over what was coming, and I looked at the girl now leaning heavily on my shoulder. I wasn't going to leave again, I wasn't going to run away. I was going to stand by them, stand by her, until the end. No matter when or where that end came.

I've always wondered what happened when they got to Shell Cottage, because the book doesn't say, so this is my own interpretation of it. Please leave a review and tell me how it was!

XOXO

GossipGirlHere