A/N: This is just a little drabble I came up with after noticing the absence of any real mention of Hermione after her torture in both the book and the film. Anyway, thank you for reading and please review.

PS. I do not own Harry Potter

They landed with a thud in the wet sand. In an instant Ron was back on his feet, carrying Hermione's unconscious form towards the cottage, pushing past his brother as he went. Inside he gently laid her ghostly pale form down on the bed. She was very light, but still felt heavy. He was carrying his feelings for her as well, especially the guilt he felt for leaving her.

Her clothes were torn and shallow cuts littered her smooth skin. Ron could see her chest rise and fall, and felt the relief wash over him. He realised this could've been a lot worse, which was ironic, considering she might never wake up or be herself again.

He sat next to her, holding her hand, only looking away when Fleur started to undress her. When this happened he would focus on her face, her beautiful face, imagining her eyes opening and remembering her smile. He stayed next to her until long after everyone had gone to bed. He wasn't going to leave her, not this time.

At some point his tired mind realised that Hermione's breathing changed. He watched as her eyes slowly opened. Her expression turned into a frown as her eyes looked around, finally stopping on him. "Ron" she whispered. Her voice was hoarse from all the screaming. Ron felt as if all the weight had been lifted off his shoulders. She was alive- she remembered him.

He saw her wince as he helped her sit up, feeling the wound dressing above her hip. With his wand he filled the glass on the bedside table with water, urging her to drink slowly. Once the glass was empty Hermione leaned back against the pillows, slowly pulling her shirt up. Most of her torso was covered in bandages from where the spells had scorched her skin as Bellatrix tortured her. "How bad is it?" she asked meekly.

Ron swallowed. "I only caught a glimpse of it, but they look like electrical burns. Fleur says they will heal without leaving scars though" he answered.

Hermione nodded, staring down at the angry letters shining through the dressing on her arm. "That one will leave a scar" Ron said sadly. "There was something on the dagger-a curse or something. It won't heal with magic, we tried. It will have to heal on its own"

Her eyes glazed over. "Dobby's dead, isn't he? I caught a glimpse of the blood when you picked me up, before I passed out again" her voice was shaky, and it sounded more husky than usual.

Ron simply nodded, squeezing her hand as tears started running down her cheeks. "It's my fault" she sobbed. "I was the one that wanted to go see Luna's father." Ron got up from the chair and sat down next to her on the bed. She felt so cold and small as he held her to him, assuring her that it wasn't her fault. None of it was.

*#*#*#*

It's been nearly a week since they arrived at Shell Cottage. Hermione was improving, but was still very weak. She didn't eat much, except for soup and the occasional slice of bread. Bill said that the other food was still too rich for her. She moved slowly, and could now climb the stairs with some help. Her pain finally started to subside a bit and was now mostly just a dull ache. She slept restlessly, for she was haunted by nightmares.

When she woke this morning, she decided that she needed a sense of normality. She got up and went over to the cupboard to get dressed, something Fleur would usually help her do. Luna's bed was empty; she was probably already outside.

Dressing went much slower than expected. It hurt to lift her arms, or legs, or bend over, or sit down to tie her shoes, or move, or breathe. After many hisses and muttered cuss words, Hermione stood back to admire her her handiwork in the mirror. She was disappointed when she noticed it had taken her over ten minutes to put on some underwear, a pair of jeans, a jersey, socks and shoes. She was even more disappointed when she saw that she still looked like chopped up liver.

She then decided that she needed to brush her hair, and possibly braid it as well. Hopefully that will make her look a little better. She searched in her beaded bag for her brush. Slowly she started to run it through her messy curls. Fleur had helped her wash her hair the previous night, but it was already tangled. She wasn't getting far- she kept having to stop to take a break. The pain was getting worse from all the movement.

A soft knock sounded from the door. Ron entered, carrying a mug. Hermione could smell the mint in the tea. He looked surprised as he handed her the mug. "You're already dressed" he said, sounding impressed. A small smile crossed her lips. "How did you manage that?" he asked.

"I've been told I'm a very determined person" she answered. Ron scoffed at this.

"Would you like some help with your hair?" he asked after spotting the brush on her knee. She said yes, softly adding that she can't even do that by herself anymore.

"You'll get there" Ron said gently. "Meanwhile you should enjoy this, it's not often that I do these things." Hermione gave him a soft smile before moving to make space for him to sit behind her on the mattress. She had one leg tucked under her while the other dangled over the edge, sipping her tea carefully.

Gently Ron started to brush her hair, taking his time to loosen the tangles. When her hair was a smooth as it could be, he divided it into three sections. Luckily his big hands could easily manage the frizzy hair, so he didn't have the same problem as Hermione's small hands did. With much concentration he started weaving the sections into a braid. When he reached the bottom, he used the elastic around the handle of the brush to secure the braid.

"Done" he said, giving her shoulder a soft squeeze. Her muscles were tight. She raised her arms to feel the back of her head.

"Not bad" she said. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

"Ginny used to force me, plus I've watched you do it plenty of times over the past couple of months" he answered.

"So how do I look?" she asked, getting up to go look in the mirror.

"Like Hermione Granger, the bravest girl in the world" Ron answered. This answer came in second to 'beautiful', but last time he told her she looked beautiful she started crying, explaining that that was what Greyback had called her as well.

"So I don't look like I washed up on the beach?"

"Of course not"

Secretly Ron's heart did about a thousand somersaults. She was feeling a lot better. She had finished her tea and dressed herself, and these might be small victories, but to Ron they meant everything.