I'm naked
I'm numb
I'm stupid
I'm staying
And if Cupid's got a gun
Then he's shooting

- "Until We Bleed"- Lykke Li & Kleerup.

"BILL!" roared Ron, his voice thick from shouting and panic. "BILL!"

He was too scared to pick Hermione up from the wet sand of the beach. He'd heard what Bellatrix had done. There was probably no bone in her body that wasn't shattered. That was what her screams had indicated anyway.

Hermione's arms and legs twitched. Her eyes reeled round, not focusing on anything. Her breath came out in violent shuddering gasps, like she was trying preparing to scream but couldn't. More panic was building in her.

"Hermione," Ron began, unsure what to do now. His hands moved around the air above her body as he rapidly tried to think what to do. Carry her. Levitate her. Drag her. Kiss her. "'Mione, please... please, it's me! You're safe, you're safe..." it was a lie. Or at least, the truth in his words would only last so long. As long as Voldemort and his monsters were still alive, none of them were safe. They could come back and finish her. That thought made his stomach lurch.

It was Fleur who emerged from the cottage first, with a dish in her oven-gloved hands. "Ron?" she called, not believing it was him. Ron tore his eyes from the shuddering girl beneath him to throw Fleur a look of desperation from across the beach. He saw her eyes widen. She dropped the dish which thudded into the sand by her feet. "RON!"

She ran with a graceful urgency, staring with an expression of pure terror at Hermione as she approached. She threw herself to the ground beside her.

"Pick 'er up, Ron! Now!" Fleur ordered. Despite Fleur's obvious concern, she spoke with a soothing and melodic voice that gave Ron the confidence to do whatever she told him to. She would make Hermione better. If she did not, then...

Somewhere further up the beach, Harry was shouting. The sounds were quickly drowned out by more of Hermione's screams. They were nowhere near as horrific and desperate as the ones in the hellish manor they'd come from, but they still brought pain to Ron's chest as they pierced through him like sudden death.

He was running with her. He wasn't thinking, he wasn't trying.

"Fleur? RON?!" Ron barely acknowledged his brother's presence. Instead, he marched up the stairs with her, crashing into every wall and banister so that Hermione didn't have to. This was proving difficult: her head and arms were hanging limply. She was panting now. Shaking, sobbing, gasping for breath.

"In zere!" exclaimed Fleur, pointing to a room with an open door. The four terrified adults filled the room. Without anybody telling him to, Ron lay Hermione gently on the double bed in the middle of the room. Hermione continued to sob as Fleur prised open her jacket.

"Bill, go and 'elp ze others," Fleur ordered. Bill didn't move. He stood frozen, staring at the writhing girl.

"FUCKING GO!" roared Ron, lurching towards with clenched fists. Bill dashed behind the door and disappeared down the stairs. Ron was back at Hermione's side in an instant. He grabbed her hand. She squeaked.

"Hermione, listen: they're all gone. We're safe. You're safe!"

Fleur drew out her wand from her pocket and made a slashing movement above Hermione. A huge rip formed down her t-shirt.

"Ron," Fleur began, clearing her throat. She was leaning over Hermione, holding her arms down. "Zere is a spell I need to cast, to flush out ze remaining residue from ze curse..." Fleur lifted one of her hands to wipe tendrils of hair from Hermione's damp forehead. "It will hurt. A lot."

"Ron..."

The two of them looked down. Hermione's eyes were shut but she'd definitely spoken. She was far from sleep. Ron felt her hold on his hand tighten. "Please..."

Fleur straightened up and permitted them a shred of privacy by searching for something in the cupboards at the other side of the room. Ron knelt down on the floor beside Hermione's head and leaned close.

"'Mione..." he whispered. He could think of nothing else to say. A tear slid down the side of her face at the sound of her name coming from his lips. "'Mione, please don't cry," but his voice cracked. The lump in his throat tightened and tears stung his own eyes.

"Ron..." she opened her eyes and looked straight at him, her eyes full of the love and adoration that he'd dreamed of seeing for years and years. Maybe he'd see that look again someday, when she was not hurting. "Make it stop."

Tears rolled down his cheeks. "It'll be over soon," he promised her. "Just..." he bit his lip. Of course he couldn't bring himself to tell her that it would be worse before it got better. "Just be patient. It'll all be gone, soon."

"Stay," she whispered. Her eyes fluttered shut as calm finally lulled her to sleep. Ron let a sob escape him. It was so unfair...

"Ready?" asked Fleur, turning back round. She held a white towel in her hand, dripping with water. Ron gulped and nodded, gripping Hermione's hand tighter. She stirred in her sleep. Fleur placed the sopping towel on the nightstand by the bed and ever so carefully tugged Hermione's jacket and shirt open. Ron might've blushed had be not been violently hit with guilt, sorrow and rage: all over Hermione's stomach and chest were dozens upon dozens of deep cuts and scratches, angry streaks of dark red scorching her skin. Every purple blotch in between was a blood-curdling thud of fist or boot against rib in his ears. He surprised himself with his own heart-breaking sobbing.

"Ron, zat was not ze hard bit." Fleur picked up her wand and held it above Hermione. Her hand was trembling. "Zis will only take a minute, OK? It'll be over soon." She looked down at her patient and gulped. With one dramatic swoop of her wand arm, Hermione's body lurched upwards and an ear-piercing shriek erupted from her lips.

Every single one of those cuts started gushing black liquid.

"NOOOOOO!" screamed Hermione. Ron watched in horror as she writhed around violently, oozing black blood, ripping the sheets that were knotted in her hands. "PLEASE! PLEASE!" Ron dived for her hand.

"No, Ron! Don't!" barked Fleur, throwing her hand out. Hermione screamed and screamed and screamed. Black liquid soaked the bed and spread around the mattress. Hermione's body lurched so violently that she was almost sitting upright. Fleur quickly ripped Hermione's jacket and t-shirt off her body.

"KILL ME!" she shrieked, fisting her hair and clawing at her neck and chest. "PLEASE! LET ME DIE, LET ME DIE, LET ME DIE!"

"Fleur, please!" sobbed Ron, "What's happening?!"

No sooner had he spoke, Hermione froze in mid-air, completely tense. "Ron..." she wheezed before collapsing limply onto the bed. Fleur breathed a sigh of relief. Ron felt his blood start to boil.

"What the bloody hell was that?" he asked in a low voice. "What have you done to her?"

"Zis black liquid is ze curse residue. She will be OK, Ron."

Sure enough, Hermione was breathing deeply and healthily. If it weren't for the black inky substance that coated her torso, Ron would be certain that she was sleeping normally, as though nothing had happened.

Before Fleur left the room, she draped the wet towel over Hermione's torso. It became permeated with the curse residue immediately. She pulled the towel away and Hermione's body was skin was visible again. If he wasn't so anxious, Ron might've blushed. Her bra was on show.

"Zere iz a potion on the dresser zat will help wiz ze stinging when she wakes up. Zere is also some dreamless sleep. Give her zat if she wants it. Goodnight, Ron."

Fleur left the room. Once the door had clicked shut, Ron felt incredibly awkward. For so many years now, he'd dreamed of him and Hermione in a bedroom together, her lying on a double bed with her shirt torn and her bra on full display. It was a sick joke now that his dream had come true.

Ron noted another point of morbid irony in the melancholy sounds of Hermione's calm breathing, the tranquil lapping of the waves outside and the distant cries of the seagulls. Only seconds ago, all anybody could hear for miles around was Hermione screaming, begging for someone to end her life.

Ron collapsed into the chair and sobbed. Blimey, if Hermione woke up now he'd be fucked. She'd tease him for sure. Or scold him for not covering up her indecency. Right. Where's a blanket? Ron thought, looking around. He then remembered what Fleur had said about Hermione's skin stinging, so he let the thought drop.

"Hermione..." he found himself saying. He looked at her, worried he'd woken her when she stirred. A cute little snore escaped her lips. He smiled. She was zonked. He said her name again slowly, letting each syllable roll of his tongue. He loved how natural her name sounded when he whispered it, and how he could think of nothing he'd rather say to break a silence. Well... there was something else he could say, but even though she was asleep, he would wait. He'd say it one day, for sure. But in this period of time, in which she was healing from many types of scars, he would keep his thoughts to himself.

A/N: Please leave a review!

Nel X