Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. HP and all its characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I just play with it... :)
A/N: So this is just some random Hermione/Ron fluff I've been wanting to write since I saw the movie... It takes place the night after Hermione's tortured by Bellatrix, and no they're at Shell Cottage. I'm not sure I captured the desperation I wanted, but I figured I'll publish it here... :)
I laid myself down on cold, untouched sheets in an unfamiliar bed at Shell Cottage, surrounded by blackness, trying to sleep. I'd close my eyes and see nothing but Hermione, her face contorted in pain as it was when Bellatrix held the knife to her throat, as she tortured her. All around me, Hermione screamed, if only haunting me inside me mind.
And in my dreams, no relief either. . . .
A shrill cry pierced through the black in the cell where I was trapped.
Hermione.
She was being hurt. She was in pain. She could be dead or dying. I pounded my fists on the dank stone walls of the cell, calling her name. It was all I could do. It was like my whole self was possessed by her screams, by the knowledge that she was up there, being tortured, and I could do nothing but thrash around and cry out to her like a wild animal. All there was was her. I wasn't sure if I was exactly sane, but I couldn't control myself as I was overtook by this horrific feeling of dread, and of pain and loss and panic. Hermione could not be hurt. She could not die. She couldn't. I loved her. She couldn't.
I was vaguely aware of Harry's hands on my shoulders, pulling me away from the wall, telling me that I couldn't help her, and that I was only injuring myself. But I could not be reached. His words only made me thrash harder, cry out louder. She only kept on screaming, her cries choked with an unbearable amount of pain and helplessness that cut into me like a knife.
I pounded harder. "HERMIONE!" I yelled, feeling my voice going hoarse and cut off. I started to cry. I could feel my legs collapse under me as I sobbed uncontrollably and beat my fists against the walls.
I screamed and sobbed and wished for death, for any relief away from this misery. I was trapped in a piece of me that belonged to Hermione, and Hermione was not safe. Her screams filled the room and slashed at my heart, my skin, my soul from the inside out, burning me, murdering me.
". . . Ron . . ." I heard just a faint whisper of a voice in my agony. "Ron!" It grew louder. I clapped my hands against my ears, trying to block out the sounds, but they were coming from somewhere outside this hell. "RON!" It yelled, over and over. "RON! RON!" Until-
"RON!" I felt rough hands shaking me awake. My eyes shot open. I bolted upright and was staring through tears and sweat at Hermione, her hand cupping my cheek, hovering over me in my bed at Shell Cottage again. Not at Malfoy Manor. The nightmare was over.
"Ron, thank God!" she shouted, but before she could get out another word the delusional side of me grabbed her with all my force and crushed her body into me as I sobbed and blubbered out her name some more.
And so we sat there for a few minutes, hours maybe, I didn't know, as I cried and pressed her as close to me as I could, holding her and relishing in the fact that she was here, with me. She was alive. She was okay.
I finally mustered the strength to speak. "Hermione! . . . Hermione, you're . . . you're . . . Hermione . . ." But I couldn't even talk, utter a sentence through my tears. Part of me warned that this wasn't the strength Hermione needed, that it was embarrassing for her to see me cry, to see me so broken.
"Yes, I'm here. . . . I'm here . . ." she whispered into me, trying to calm me down. I was just so desperate.
"'Mione, I'll . . . I'll n-never let them touch you again," I stammered. I was speaking so fast, I didn't know if she could even understand me. I seized her face in my sweaty hands and stared at her in the face. "Hermione, I need to you know, I'll never leave you. . . ." I was so shaken. I needed to tell her so much, so urgently, she probably thought I was insane. I wasn't entirely sure I disagreed. But I had to tell her. I just wasn't strong enough to do it coherently.
"Hermione, I n-need . . ." I whimpered.
"Ssssh – shhhh," she whispered, pulling my face to her shoulder and one hand in my hair, soothing me.
"I mean I love . . ."
"I know," she said, and wiped the tears away from my soaked face with the sleeve of her sweater. She brushed my hair off my forehead for a moment and kissed it, so softly, and wrapped her arms around me again. "I love you, too."
That night, we sat together in the darkness and cried and comforted each other. She held me and I held her. We never let go. Once, I kissed her tenderly on the lips and we laughed a small, hopeless sort of laugh and held each other again. All night. Nothing in the world ever could compare to the comfort of knowing that tonight, nothing evil could touch us. Not tonight.
Tada! (how do you even spell that...?) Go watch Titanic, in that scene where Rose jumps out of the lifeboat and her and Jack run to each other and meet on the stairs and cry and kiss and stuff. That's sort of what I was going for with Ron... How'd I do?I'd appreciate it if you guys would review it... just once... it's one of my first fics. Cheerio. :)