A/N: Yes, this is another Shell Cottage fic, and no, I am not ashamed! This one has a little different twist; I hope you enjoy it. Please be forgiving when you read my Fleur: I have tried to make her as authentic as possible, but it is a struggle. As always I want to thank my support group: you know who you are. I meant what I said about marrying any one of you!
To all of my followers: THANK YOU! I appreciate every kind word and glorious review! I see you, you beautiful people! I am blessed to share a love of these two with you!
"She needs to rest, now...she weel be fine, won't you 'Ermione?"
Hermione, still wrapped in the soft blue shimmer of Fleur's dressing gown, nodded at Ron with a weak but genuine smile. How can she look so beautiful after all she's been through today? He swallowed past the lump in his throat, trying to steady his voice.
"Are you sure? I can stay right here, in case you need me," he didn't want to admit it, but he was afraid to leave her. Afraid that if he let her out of his sight he might wake to find they hadn't made it out after all.
"I just need to sleep a little, and you need to clean up and put some dittany on those cuts," she looked down at his hands, still holding on to hers; helping Harry dig the- he pushed back against the word grave, hole, that's better, had made some of his wounds worse, but he honestly didn't feel a thing save the weight of her fingers against his.
"Ok...I'll shower and heal these up, but," he cut his eyes meaningfully toward his sister in law, "then I'm coming back to check on you, no arguments,"
She looked back at him, seemingly unphased, "I will bring you a towel and something of Bill's to change into, oui?"
"Sure...thanks," he gave Hermione a light kiss on the top of her head as he helped her settle into the bed. The same bed that he'd spent so many sleepless nights in not so long ago best not think of that.
Walking the short distance to the loo, Ron tried to shut out the tightness in his chest, to fight the urge to run back down the hall and make sure she was still there. His legs felt like lead, so he decided to sit on the edge of the tub to wait for Fleur. He wiggled his bare toes on the cold floor Dobby.
Fuck! That bitch and her bloody knife!
Suddenly it was if switch was flipped inside him. What if we'd been two minutes longer getting out of that cellar? What if Dobby hadn't come at all? Those monsters would've killed her, killed everything worth fighting for! All he could see was her, like Dobby, lifeless in the ground. Someone covering her like they had him, All of Ron's fear and sadness drained from him and instantly he was filled with a white hot rage. He gripped the side of the porcelain, gritting his teeth to trap the scream racing up his already aching throat.
"'Ere you are..I think these will fit, you are just a bit taller than your brother, but it should work."
He nodded blindly at her, afraid that of what might happen if tried to speak. He felt the walls closing in on him, squeezing him; it was all he could do to breath. Gotta get out of here. Trapped.
Fleur still stood in the doorway holding her bundle. He didn't want to startle her, but he had to get out Now! He knew he must look like a maniac: dirty, cut, bruised, shoeless, gasping like a hunted animal, but he could be arsed to care.
"Ron?!" The Veela squeaked as he pushed past her into the hallway.
He did not apologize or explain Mum would be so disappointed, stalking down the stairs before literally running into his brother.
"Whoah! Where are you going?" Bill grabbed his shoulders, trying to impede his progress.
Looking into his brother's face, Ron felt his rage boil over: Greyback! He pushed him out of the way and slammed out of the cottage. He ran blindly: running away from memories that haunted him; running toward a revenge that taunted him. Oblivious to the rocks and shells digging into his gallantly bare feet, he made it to the shore, collapsing on the sand, just as he had hours earlier. But now, instead of relief, he felt anger: a wall of fiendfyre crashing into his heart like the waves in front of him. He tipped his head back and unleashed a scream, full of hatred and anguish.
The pressure of a hand on his shoulder brought him back to himself, and he turned, expecting to find Bill, admonishing him for his outburst, "Not now Bill...I know I'm acting like a twa…" Instead, when he turned he found himself looking up at his sister in law, "tahhh...uh...Fleur?" Fucking great! Now I gotta answer to Mum and Bill!
"Oui...mind if I sit with you?" If she were insulted by his behavior or his outburst, she gave no outward sign.
"Uh...look...I'm sorry but I…"
"I know," she sat down beside him in the sand, hugging her knees into her chest.
"You do?" That I'm nutters?
"Of course...in ze beginning, when you realize that they are alive...actually alive, you are so relieved," she didn't look at him, but out, past the waves, to the horizon, "you cannot eemagine feeling any other way. You thank every single one of ze gods zat they were saved."
"Yeah, cause you know that no matter what they think, the truth is...they are the best part of...well of everything, and without them," his voice broke, and any other time he would have been self conscious about it, but not now, he wasn't, not even a tiny bit.
"Without them...you cannot even let yourself think about it! And when you do," a slight shake in her voice compelled him, so he turned to look at her. A single tear slid across her luminous cheek, "that is when the anger comes. You want to burn ze world down with your rage...to make those monsters pay...make them suffer!"
She did turn toward him then, a fire in her eyes that he had not really expected she possessed. He remembered then, the image of her at Bill's bedside, fierce as dragon in her love for him. He wasn't sure why he was so surprised? Everyone always said he and Bill were very much alike, wouldn't it follow that both would love women who were so strong? Fourth year Ron wouldn't have believed it, but Fleur and Hermione were more alike than they appeared. Misunderstood, underestimated, fiercely loyal, and apparently just the sort of witches that lanky gingers were barmy about. And while there was no denying her Veela heritage, he realized that she could never hold a candle to Hermione.
"Wouldn't even need magic...rip em apart with my bloody hands!"
"Peu à peu."
They both sat in silence for a long moment. The anger was still there, but for some reason, he felt better knowing that there was someone who understood what he was feeling. Maybe I'm not a complete lunatic after all.
"Look...I'm sorry about before...I know I was rude."
"Ron, you 'ave nothing to apologize for. You have to let this out, just not in front of 'Ermione, oui?" He nodded at her in agreement, "She needs you, more than anyone, to heal properly. It is your job, just like it was mine with Bill, to reassure her that your love of her is bigger than your need for vengeance."
"My love for her is bigger than that...it's bigger than...well, anything," Shit! He'd never said that out loud to anyone! Too late now...guess he wasn't really hiding it anyway! " but Fleur?"
"Oui?"
"How can I do that? Convince her I mean?"
"Oh, from what I 'ave seen, she doesn't need that much convincing," she smiled her Veela smile at him, but the only feelings it stirred were for the amazing witch recovering upstairs.
"Thank you, Fleur...not just for this, but for everything. For healing Hermione, for loving my brother, for taking me in when I was a prat."
"You are more than welcome, and if you need to talk, or just come out here and yell, I am 'ere," she patted him on the shoulder as she got up to return to the house.
Ron suddenly felt the need to tell her, "Greyback," Fleur stopped in her tracks and he could see her shoulders tighten, "he was there, today...if it weren't for Dobby...if we hadn't gotten to her in time...he would have...would have," he couldn't even say the thousand horrible things that clawed through his mind.
"But you did...and he did not…'Ermione is safe, and you must celebrate that...but," she turned around, jaw set, and eyes flashing.
"But?"
"If you ever get ze chance you must rip that bastard's head off, magic ou pas," he gestured in accordance. "Now, let us get you cleaned up so that you can be helpful to your love," she wrinkled her nose as he stepped closer, "you are no good to 'er smelling like a troll!"
Ron followed her back inside, pausing long enough to exchange an apology hug with Bill. He was overcome with a feeling of peace knowing that his brother had a witch that loved him in the way that he deserved. By the time he finished his shower and made it back to Hermione, she appeared to be sleeping, and for a moment he was afraid he might disturb her.
"Ron?" Her voice was soft, but strong.
"Yeah, it's me...sorry, didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't...I mean...I was hoping you would come back."
"Do you need anything?" he came and sat on the edge of the bed to see her more clearly in the darkened room.
"Just you," she reached out and touched his arm, "would you mind staying with me, for a little while?"
"You don't even have to ask...I'll stay as long as you like," he crawled into the bed beside her, careful not to jostle her too much as he brought her up onto his chest.
"Hmmm...that's a long time," she smiled into him, and he felt her relax with a sigh, "do you feel better after your shower?"
"Yeah, much better." Now that I'm here with you.
"Did Fleur help you heal those cuts?"
"Yeah, she…, uh, really...helped."
As he held Hermione in the fading light, her soft puffs of breath helped keep the fire of his anger at bay. He would, for her sake, keep it locked away until the moment was right His first priority, of course, was to keep her safe, to make it through this war and into a future where he could properly take care of her, to love her the way she deserved to be loved.
