Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, there would have been more than one R/Hr kiss. (;
Summary: This sort of goes back and forth between Ron and Hermione's POV during the end. I wrote it on the spur of the moment just for fun, so sorry about that. It's set during DH at Shell Cottage.
It was like a part of his mind had temporarily disappeared—nothing existed but the there and now. He didn't know where he was; all he knew was that he had to get to Hermione and protect her.
All his senses seemed to be dulled and heightened at the same time. His hearing disregarded the others in the dungeon conversing, but Hermione's screams seemed louder than ever: they were all he could hear, all he had ever heard.
His sight was blurred. Everything seemed to be happening too fast for him to process – he would think to turn, and then a second later he would see himself turning. Everything was distorted and hazy and confusing.
His sense of touch, however, was completely gone. As he beat his hands against the cold stone wall, he was oblivious to the blood streaming from his palms and the bruises forming on his knuckles. He was oblivious to everything but her.
His thoughts were racing, and undesirable images were burned inside his brain. Hermione writhing in pain as the Cruciatus Curse was used on her again and again. Greyback and Hermione… his mind couldn't bear to form the words, though he kept picturing it. As awful as it was, he kept thinking that it wasn't fair that Greyback would get to, well, be with her and he couldn't. He was aware he was being an idiotic, selfish git, but he couldn't help but think it anyhow.
He was dimly aware of the others trying to calm him, and then eventually giving up. They seem to realize that the only thing that would make him okay at that point was her.
And then they were out and they were finally free and freedom had never, ever felt so good in all the situations he'd been in, and there she was. He fell to his knees next to her. His only thought was of making absolutely sure she got out of here and nothing ever hurt her again, even if it killed him in the process.
All he could think of then was that this is how Neville lost his parents, and he can't lose her.
Looking back, he doesn't really remember dissapparating, but he knows that did. He remembers getting to Shell Cottage and refusing to let go of her. He remembers fighting with Bill, screaming at him. He doesn't remember much. He just knows he was confused and everyone was the enemy but her. Fleur and Bill tried to pry her out of his arms and he tried not to let them. Finally, Bill got her and handed her off to Fleur, who took her inside. He fought Bill blindly until he was crying too hard to continue and he just let his older brother give him a hug.
He remembers hearing the Dobby died and wondering why he didn't cry for him. Then realizing it was because he was already crying and being surprised.
That's the last thing he remembers, because then he collapsed of exhaustion.
She is lying in the bed afraid to fall asleep. She's afraid of what she'll see in her dreams; it's frightening enough to relive everything in her waking moments: she can't imagine what her imagination can conjure up in sleep. Fleur tried to cover her arm after wiping away all the blood, but she saw what it said. Mudblood. Surprisingly, she doesn't care as much about this. I'm proud to be a Mudblood as long as I'm never like one of you: a vile, loathsome, heartless killing machine, she thinks.
Her head and arms are throbbing, and she's having trouble thinking straight. Fleur hadn't told her the extent of the damage since she was so weak, but she could only guess. The cuts on her neck and arm from the knife, and the scratches from the chandelier falling, as well as bruises from Bellatrix sitting on her chest and being tossed around. Besides, there had to be something wrong with her throat after all that screaming. She just hopes there isn't any psychological damage from the Cruciatus Curse being used so much. She has a feeling there may be: her racing thoughts and inability to focus on anything but the day's events worried her. Hopefully it was just shock. At least Greyback hadn't gotten a hold of her, she thinks, shuddering.
His dreams are nightmares that consist of images flashing through his head to the sound of her screams. Her and Greyback, her broken body on the floor at the Malfoy's, that chandelier nearly killing her. He wakes up screaming and shaking. Harry is leaning over him without glasses, squinting in a concerned manner.
After a second, he remembers where he is and pushes Harry aside to go find Hermione. Harry attempts to warn him that she isn't in good shape, but he ignores him.
He stumbles to the room he stayed in when he ran away from her, because somehow he just knows.
She hears footsteps pattering down the hall. The occasional heavy step followed by the mumbled curse lets her know that it's Ron. She wants to laugh, but her muscles are too sore and she just can't muster up the amusement anyway. The door creaks open and she pretends to be asleep. She hears his footsteps stop and knows he's staring at her. She knows what he must see: her hair has to be bushier than ever, and her skin sickly. How lovely.
Then he walks slowly over to the bed, hesitates, then kneels next to her. She feels him take her hand and feels butterflies in her stomach, just when she thought she'd feel nothing but fear ever again. Then the unthinkable happens. She feels hot tears fall on to her hand and slip between their fingers. She decides that now would be the perfect time to "wake up". She tries to smile and him but can't, so instead she just tries to tug him down next to her. Her lack of strength frightens both of them.
After they've both settled themselves comfortably, she begins to panic. What is he leaves? She doesn't want to wake up with out him there, and she doesn't quite know why. She has a sudden flash of him bursting into the room at the Malfoy's to save her. She knew Harry must've been there as well, but all she saw was him. She kept her eyes trained on him until she passed out. He was her only reason to keep fighting.
"Stay," she whispers, and she feels him nod. His face is pressed into her neck, and he kisses the cut there. She finally falls asleep.
When he gets there, he stops abruptly in the doorway.
She's lying on the bed and still looks like complete shit. She's too pale and too still. Her arms is wrapped in think bandages, and he knows that "Mudblood" is carved into her skin under them. Her eyes seem to have bruises under them made even more prominent by her pale skin, and her neck has a cut on it from that damned knife. There are various scratches on her from the chandelier, and he imagines that this is nothing compared to the internal damage she must have suffered. But she's alive, and that is enough for now. He rushes over to her and stops right before he lies down next to her, because he doesn't know if it will hurt her. Instead, he kneels next to the bed and holds her left hand in both of his. He is dimly aware that he has started crying again, and that the tears are dripping onto her hand.
Of all moments for her to wake up, the moment that his eyes were as red as his hair is definitely the last he would've chosen.
"Um, hi," he mumbles awkwardly. She tries to smile and winces. She wants to say hello to him but her throat is raw from screaming. Her whole body aches from being tortured and her brain is completely fried. So instead, she uses all her strength to tug him closer to her and incline her head to the pillow next to her.
Being Ron, it took him a moment to catch her drift, but when he did, he was all too happy to oblige. Hearing her ask him to stay in that cracking, pitiful voice broke his heart and healed it at the same time. He tells her he loves her, but he waits until she falls asleep first. Here, with his face buried into the crook of her neck and her hand grasped tightly in his, he can finally rest. He'll worry about everything else in the morning.
T h e E n d .
Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed; that was my first Harry Potter fanfic. That being said, don't go easy on me at all. Review and tell me everything I did wrong - it's the only way I'll improve. (Feel free to point out anything you liked as well, though, hehe.)
P.S. If someone reviews my story, I'm likely to review one of theirs in return. ;)