DISCLAIMER: I am NOT J.K. Rowling. So none of this belongs to me. There are a couple quotes from DH but they're obvious ones...like "Crucio!" and "HERMIONE!" and "Ron—catch, and GO!"
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know it's been done about a million times before, but I just had to do my own version. Sorry if I accidentally copied something from anyone's version of this scene; I've read so many it's hard to keep track of them all...
Hermione lay shaking on the ground, hardly able to hear Bellatrix Lestrange's voice, even though the woman was standing directly above her. Moments before she had been subjected to Cruciatus Curse after Cruciatus Curse, all the while struggling to convince Bellatrix that the lie she had fabricated—that the sword of Gryffindor was a mere copy of the original—was the truth. Numerous times she had been on the point of passing out when Bellatrix would give her a hard kick in the ribs, jolting her back to painful reality.
The only thing that was keeping her going was Ron, trapped in the cellar below her, yelling her name. The sound both broke her heart and kept her sanity whole. He was still alive—he cared—if he could he would be there for her—
"Crucio!" howled Bellatrix once more.
Screaming in intense pain, Hermione struggled to keep her ear pressed against the ground, listening, listening...
"HERMIONE!"
Ron's voice. Hermione closed her eyes and listened through her screams, which didn't sound as though they were coming from her...
"HERMIONE!"
She pictured Ron, in front of the fire in the common room, smiling at her...she imagined she was pressuring him to do his homework...she was on prefect duty with him...the images went by in her head faster and faster, and then everything went black.
She felt herself lifted off the ground and held roughly. Something sharp was sticking into her neck. Trying and failing to open her eyes, she resigned herself to listening to Bellatrix's voice howling in her ear.
"STOP OR SHE DIES!"
She heard a faint clatter and muffled voices. Nothing was clear anymore. The blackness came upon her again and she gave in to it.
The next thing she knew, she was lying on the ground, pinned beneath something that was pressing hard against her already broken ribs. She moaned in pain, but no sound came out. She could hear scuffling all around her, but when she tried to open her eyes to see what was going on she couldn't.
Then she felt the heavy object—whatever it was—lifted off of her, and she felt a pair of arms come around her.
Oh, no.
But then she heard the most wonderful sound in the world. Ron's voice.
"I'm here, Hermione. I've got you."
"Ron—catch, and GO!" Harry's voice.
Harry? Ron?...but Bellatrix...the cellar... She couldn't think any more. She let herself succumb to the blackness. She was with Ron. She was safe.
Ron had never been more scared in all his life than when the chandelier fell on top of Hermione. The second it was safe to do so without getting pinned beneath it himself, he rushed forward and lifted it singlehandedly off of the girl, who lay unmoving on the floor.
He knelt and carefully lifted her in his arms, hoping against hope that she wasn't dead...she couldn't be dead...Hastily he felt her pulse, put a hand in front of her mouth to see if she was breathing.
She was still alive.
"I'm here, Hermione," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I've got you." He wasn't sure that she could even hear him, but he had to talk to her, to reassure her, just in case she was listening.
"Ron—catch, and GO!" shouted Harry.
A wand flew through the air and Ron caught it in his hand, preparing to Disapparate.
Throughout all their travels, Hermione and occasionally Harry had done all the Apparating and Disapparating. It was an unspoken rule that he would never do it—he had a horrible record of splinching himself when he was Apparating alone; who knew what would happen if he tried to take someone with him? And even Hermione had had trouble with Side-along Apparition when they were escaping from the Ministry and Yaxley. If she couldn't do it, how could he?
But he had to. If he didn't, Hermione would probably die. She was breathing very slowly and painfully as it was. He had to do it. He shut his eyes. Shell Cottage...Shell Cottage... And he spun, and Disapparated with a crack.
Despite his best efforts, Ron lost his grip on Hermione as they landed hard on the beach, maybe a hundred meters from the cottage. He suddenly found himself kneeling in the water, shaking all over, and glanced around hurriedly for Hermione.
She was lying on her back about a meter from him, the waves washing around her, soaking her. Ron saw her shivering and forced himself to his feet and to her side.
"Hermione?" he whispered.
She shifted her head and muttered something unintelligible, her brow knitting. He brushed a hand over her face and she seemed to slip away again—into sleep or unconsciousness Ron didn't know. All he knew was that he was staring down into her pale face, that they had escaped, that she was alive...although this last could change if he didn't get her inside.
He heard the sound of splashing behind him, and suddenly Bill was there. "Ron—what's going on?—Luna and Dean told me—the Cruciatus Curse...oh, Merlin, they weren't joking..."
Ron lifted Hermione in his arms and stood. "Help me get her into the house," he whispered. It was all he could manage; his voice cracked as he spoke.
Waving his wand, Bill evaporated the water from Hermione's clothes, and she let out a gasping sigh. "Come on," Bill said firmly, grasping his brother's shoulder and leading him toward the door.
Hermione came to again just as she landed on what felt like sand. The water around her was ice cold and she shuddered as it soaked through her clothes. Water? What... she thought confusedly, struggling to open her eyes.
She heard the sound of someone coming toward her. "Hermione?" she heard Ron whisper.
"Ron? Is that you?" she muttered, trying to turn toward him, but Ron didn't seem to understand. She thought she felt his hand on her face as she slipped into unconsciousness once again.
Ron hardly managed to set Hermione on the couch in the living room (the bedrooms were already taken by Griphook and Ollivander) before his strength gave out and he dropped to his knees beside her. "Please," he croaked, taking her hand. "Please wake up, Hermione."
Coming up behind him, Fleur draped a blanket over the girl's still form. "Ronald?" she asked. "Iz zere anysing I can do?"
He blinked away the tears that had sprung into his eyes unbidden. "A potion," he mumbled. "Something for pain—I think she'll need it..."
Fleur smiled sadly at him. "I'll 'ave it 'ere in just a minute," she replied, hurrying from the room.
She felt something soft beneath her head and something warm draped over her. And she felt someone clasping her hand.
At last, she opened her eyes, and saw Ron kneeling beside her, heard his quiet pleading with her to wake up. He had his eyes shut tightly and he looked like he'd been crying—and, on top of that, he had a black eye and a long cut on one of his cheeks.
She blinked a couple of times, trying to figure out what was going on, and then tried to speak.
"Ron?"
His head jerked up, and his blue eyes met hers. "Hermione!" he breathed.
"Hey." She managed to smile weakly.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.
She thought for a moment. "As well as can be expected," she finally answered, turning toward him. "Oh!" she groaned, as her broken ribs shifted uncomfortably.
"What is it?" His forehead was creased with anxiety now.
"I think I have some broken ribs," she gasped.
Ron bit his lip. "Here," he muttered, pulling out a wand. "Episkey."
Immediately the pain subsided and she felt the bones go back to normal. "Thanks."
"No problem. Here," he said, helping her sit up. "I got this from Fleur." He lifted a small vial and held it out. "It's a potion for pain relief."
Hermione nodded, breathing heavily. Ron unstopped the flask and helped her to drink it.
"How's that?"
She nodded again. "Better," she whispered. Suddenly she couldn't take it any more. "Ron...I...I'm so afraid," she moaned, a tear rolling down her cheek.
Ron reached up and brushed it away, then gathered the girl in his arms. "It's okay," he whispered, rocking her gently back and forth. "We're safe now."
For a few minutes there was silence except for the sound of Hermione's quiet crying and Ron's sniffs as he fought back tears of his own. "You're all right. Everything's all right," he kept repeating over and over.
Finally she quieted down and managed to speak again. "Where are we, anyway?"
"Bill and Fleur's house—Shell Cottage."
"Oh." Hermione's eyes were closed, her head still on his shoulder. Ron couldn't help but notice how her freckles—far fewer than his own, but still abundant—stood out on her extremely pale face, and how the cut on her neck was an angry red in the dim light from the window.
"You should get some rest," he whispered, laying her back down on the couch. Hermione didn't reply, and Ron smiled gently as he saw she'd fallen asleep. He straightened the blanket over her and stood, staring down, his hands stuffed in his pockets to keep from throwing something. Never again, he vowed. Never again will anything like this happen to her.
"Ronald?" Fleur's voice echoed in the quiet room. "Er... 'Arry is in ze garden...'e is burying ze 'ouse elf..."
"Burying?" Ron's heart nearly stopped. "You mean...Dobby's dead?"
"I am afraid so," replied Fleur sadly.
He let out a shuddering sigh. "I'd better talk to Harry," he muttered, heading for the door. "Fleur, will you..."
Fleur nodded with understanding. "I'll look after 'er. She weel be fine, Ronald, don't worry."
Biting his lip, Ron nodded and left the room.