Ron clung to her with all he had, every fibre of his being was steadfastly holding onto her body, his hands fisted in her curls as they whirled into existence. They landed, sprawled on the moor mere meters from Shell Cottage.

He could hear Harry's tortured yells and a feeling of dread clutched at his heart, but he daren't look round, daren't let his mind wander into another disaster when he already held the last one shuddering in his arms. He screwed up his eyes in anguish and tore them away from her battered body, turned them on Harry.

Let him be ok.

Let him be safe.

He opened his eyes.

His best friend was stooped over the still body of Dobby, Ron let out a dry sob, part horror, part relief. Part of him longed to go and help Harry, take his hand and give some comfort, but the shivering girl in his arms let out a cry, she was conscious, her expression scared and confused.

"Ron?" She barely whispered his name.

He opened his mouth to reply but his throat caught and he found he could only give a feeble nod, she tried to move but winced violently and let out an audible squeak of pain, squeezing her eyes closed again. He hauled himself to his feet still clutching her to his chest and stumbled into the house. Fleur immediately ran to him, her beautiful face was stricken and she was wringing her hands.

"Iz she...alive?"

"Yes, yeah...Fleur...is there a bed?"

"Of course! Follow me."

Fleur led them through the kitchen, up the mahogany stairs and into a small, clean guest room. Ron immediately darted forward and placed the shaking girl onto the clean white sheets of the bed.

"Hermione?" he rasped.

He barely noticed Fleur leaving the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

"Hermione?"

She opened her eyes once more and looked up at him, giving him a weak smile.

"I heard you the first time, Ron."

He gave an awkward laugh of relief and reached out to brush a stray curl from her face, there was a pause and they stared at each other, each scanning their minds for what to say. Then before he'd even thought it through he was lying down beside her and holding her close, nose buried in her mass of brown curls, she smelt of shampoo and sweat and blood.

"You scared me." He murmured into her hair.

"Sorry." She said, voice reverberating in his chest.

He didn't answer but began to wind his fingers through her hair, gently teasing out the tangles. They stayed like that, silent, in each other's arms for what felt like hours.

"Where's Harry?" Hermione asked suddenly, sitting up fast, "Oh god! He's alright-? I didn't think-"

"He's fine."

She stared at him, unconvinced. She opened her mouth but Ron put his fingers to her lips, sitting up too, so that he was more-or-less level with her.

"Hermione, he's fine, I think..." his voice broke and he swallowed, "He needs to be alone for a bit."

Her eyes filled with tears, but they stayed unshed, she raised both her hands and enclosed them both around the wrist of the hand near her mouth, he made to move away but she held his hand firmly in hers, closed her eyes and kissed the pads of his fingers, his eyes widened but he did not pull away. When she opened her eyes again the action allowed several tears to slip down her face.

Something in Ron broke then and he suddenly leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. It was chaste and quick, barely more than a peck, but when he pulled away she was looking at him in a way she never had before. So he risked it, he leaned in once again and kissed away her tears feeling her sharp intake of breath as he did so, the taste of blood and salt and earth stinging his tongue. He moved down to her neck where an angry red mark stood out as a reminder of where Bellatrix had pressed her knife. He placed four small kisses along it, gently, barely letting his lips touch her skin. She shuddered and he awkwardly moved his hands from the bed and cupped her face.

There was a pause.

And then she rushed forward and caught his mouth in her own, this was a proper kiss, passionate. Ron felt his ears burning but closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax into her embrace, he wound his arms around her waist, she felt so fragile, so thin. A pang of guilt shot through him, he had been complaining about the lack of food for weeks, it had only really just occurred to him that perhaps Hermione was eating less than him and Harry, surrendering her portions in order to keep the peace.

She had thrown her arms around his neck now and was kissing him thoroughly, every so often tracing rhythmic circles on his ears with her thumb. She pulled away slightly and kissed him; once, twice, three times around his mouth not quite touching it but leaving enough of a presence there so as to make his lips tingle before capturing his mouth again.

A small part of him felt this was wrong, that he shouldn't be snogging a girl who mere hours ago was being tortured and beaten, but she was emitting little moans as she kissed him, Hermione seemed perfectly happy and unwilling to pull away. Ron himself needed this, needed the reassurance that she was there, alive, and well, she was certainly proving her vitality.

He moaned against her as her thumb brushed the soft bit of skin behind his ear and he pushed her to the bed, still trying to be gentle, studying her face before positioning himself above her.

"I'm not made of glass you know, Ron." She said, a touch of the bossiness reappearing in her tone, though it was lessened somewhat by her breathiness.

"Yeah," he croaked, "but you have been in a spot of pain for the past god-knows-how-long." It was meant as a joke but his voice wavered.

She stared up at him, tenderness lacing her eyes, her curly hair cascading over the pillow like melted chocolate. He dipped down and kissed her, hungrily.

Parts of rational Ron seemed to be trickling back now, his mind began sharpening at the edges, un-blurring, he pulled away from Hermione whose lips were red and pouted and eyes heavily hooded. He heard the dull 'thunk' of metal hitting earth and he sat up, frowning at the window.

"Ron?" she asked, her face now knitted in anxiety, "What's wrong?"

Ron slid off the bed and moved to the small rectangular window without a word, he heard Hermione do the same and the two of them gazed out of the glass pane, watching the silhouette of their best friend dig.

"What's he doing?" she asked, her voice shaking, as though she didn't want to hear the answer.

"Dobby died." Ron croaked, simply. "Bellatrix stabbed him as he was disapperating."

Hermione gasped, throwing her hands to her mouth.

"Is Harry..." she was so quiet under her hands Ron could barely hear her, "Is Harry digging him a grave?"

"Yeah, I think so." said Ron, just as dimly. He instinctively reached out and took Hermione's hand in his own, knowing they were both thinking the same thing. "I think we ought to leave him be."

Hermione was crying properly now, sobs wracked her body and she was shaking again, Ron pulled her into a tight hug and she clutched him, balling her fists in his filthy shirt. He took her to the bed and sat her down, rocking her, tears falling from his own face and balancing like tiny diamonds in Hermione's hair before melting away. Eventually her sobs became snuffles and he told her imperiously to get into bed, she nodded solemnly at him, probably the first time she'd ever taken orders from him and there was an awkward pause as Ron stood up to leave.

"I'll see you tomorrow, ok?" he said uneasily, wary of her reaction.

"Yes." She said in a surprisingly steady voice. She stood up, took his hand and led him to the door where she kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Goodnight Ron."

"Night." He pulled the door closed behind him, let out a long, long breath he had been unaware of holding and almost ran headlong into Fleur.

"'Ow is she?" asked the blonde.

"Yeah she's ok, I think." He glanced nervously at Fleur. "Maybe you could go fix her up a bit though." He added gruffly.

"Of course." she replied and bustled past him, wand at the ready. She disappeared into the room behind him and Ron turned to begin down the stairs as he heard Harry entering the house below.