Hermione lay, barely conscious, in Ron's arms, vaguely aware of anything. Her body lay limp, but her mind ran wild. The pain had been unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. She didn't know how many times Bellatrix had uttered the Cruciatus curse,but just having it inflicted upon her once had been all too much. It had been like ever single cell in her body were exploding, and all she could see was utter darkness.

Although pain seemed to be Bellatrix's forte, she seemed quite content to threaten Hermione with other horrible things, like the death of her friends, or the torture of Ron right in front of her.

"No, no. Please! I'm telling the truth! Please! Don't hurt Ron!" Hermione had begged.

Bellatrix had laughed viciously at that and dragged her knife sharply across Hermione's cheek. "Don't hurt Ron? The Weasley?" She seemed barely able to speak as she was beside herself with laughter. "Perhaps I should bring him up here after all. Torturing you obviously isn't getting us any real answers."

"NO! Please, I'll tell you anything you want to know."

"How did you get into Gringotts? Into my vault?"

"We didn't! We didn't I swear-" but her words were lost in her throat as pain enveloped her body once more. She screamed and struggled, but no matter what she did the pain would not stop.

"Perhaps you want me to harm the Weasel, for you have neglected to give me any honest answers thus far. Now, how did you get into my vault?" Bellatrix cried as Hermione's body slowly stopped spasming. Her answer did not come quick enough however, and Bellatrix struck her upside the face. "Tell me now or I'll kill the boy right in front of you."

"NOOO! No! Please, I love him. We never entered your vault! Honest!"

Bellatrix's next curse halted as she let our derisive laughter. "Love? You love the boy? A mudblood in love with a pureblood? Pathetic!"

Hermione's body once more experienced the most acute and horrible pain she'd ever felt. Her skin was surely ripping off; her bones were surely breaking. Just let it end, anything to end the pain. She screamed louder than ever and thrashed about, wishing for death…

"Hermione! Hermione, please stop screaming. It kills me to hear it... It's all right now. Everything's okay," he shook her by the shoulders gently, willing her to wake.

Her eyelids flickered and she finally awoke. "Ron!" she cried, grasping him tightly in order to assure herself he was real; that he really had not been murdered at the hands of Bellatrix. She squeezed his shoulders tightly and ran her fingers through his red hair before finally determining that it was in fact him. She let go of him rather reluctantly and took in the room.

It was quite small, with a simple oak dresser and mirror hanging above. The window overlooked the shoreline, and potted plants sat on either side table of the bed that she lay in with Ron hovering over her, still looking worried.

"I heard you screaming from outside with Harry and Dean. We're digging-" the rest of his words died fast in his throat and he wouldn't meet her eyes.

"What Ron?"

When he didn't answer she looked at him sternly and asked, "What is it, Ronald?"

He finally met her brown eyes sadly and relayed to her the somber news, "Dobby's dead."

"What?" she cried, falling back into her pillow as new tears formed in her eyes.

"Yeah… as we were Apparating from the mannor... Bellatrix chucked her knife in after us I suppose," he told Hermione, his own eyes becoming damp now. His expression hardened then, and he vowed, "I'll kill her myself, the filthy-" and he said a word for a woman so vile Hermione would, were it nearly any other woman, rap him on the head for uttering, but not for Bellatrix.

Hermione began sobbing silently and without a word, Ron crept into the bed beside her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest, allowing her to sob into his jacket. Hermione was aware that Dobby knew Harry best, but he had been her friend too. Hermione remembered how fondly he'd looked upon her when she'd knitted him a new pair of socks. He'd been such a loyal and kind house elf. He'd saved their lives tonight.

"Don't worry Hermione, we'll get her for what she's done," Ron spoke into her fluffy mane of hair. Hermione wasn't sure whether he was speaking about what she'd done to her, or Dobby, or any of the other great wizards and witches she'd killed. Perhaps he was speaking for them all.

Hermione was unable to speak for a long while, and simply sobbed silently into Ron's chest. He held her tightly in his strong embrace, and Hermione felt more safe than she ever had since starting this dreadful Horcrux hunt.

When at last her tears subsided, Hermione raised her head from Ron's chest to look into his eyes. His usual bright blue eyes, full of determination, now seemed dull and bleak, but when he caught her looking at him, he offered her a small smile and gave her a squeeze.

"Hermione I-I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. Harry and I-well, we'd be as good as dead."

She grinned broadly up at him, but hastened to reassure him, "Oh don't say that Ron, you and Harry are both very capable wizards."

"No where near as good as you."

Hermione shook her head slightly but chuckled. "Where are we, anyway?" she asked, looking around the room once more.

"Shell Cottage. Bill and Fleur's place," Ron told her.

"Oh." She seemed at a loss for what to say. "Ron-thank you, thank you for saving me from Bellatrix."

Her words puffed him up with pride, but he tried to appear humble. "Oh, well it was nothing. I mean, Harry did most of it. I mean, well, I did help take out Wormtail but it was really a group effort I mean, I-"

But the remainder of his explanations faded quite fast as Hermione leaned in closer and closer to him. He nearly felt like his heart was going to pound straight out of his chest in anticipation. It was like they were moving in slow motion. She was so beautiful: her wet chocolate-colored eyes gazing up at him trustingly, her bushy hair flung all about in a mess even larger than usual, her plump lips moist and parted. Her lips were at his chin now, and he angled his head down to meet her, closing his eyes in abandon.

The instant their lips met, Ron began to wonder if it was possible for one to die from too much pleasure, because if so, he was surely going to fall victim to that cause of death. Hermoine's lips were so warm and wet, and the way they felt against his own was unlike any magic he had ever encountered. Because of the kiss he was suddenly so aware of just how close their bodies were and how perfectly Hermione's figure seemed to melt with his.

Just as he began to part his lips against hers, the door opened and Fleur appeared, holding a tray of medicinal herbs and tonics. She did not seem to realize the tender moment she'd interrupted, and barely acknowledged Ron's presence except to order him outside for she had to tend to Hermione.

On any other occasion, Ron wouldn't have left, but he knew Hermione was hurt, and he wanted her to heal as soon as possible. So he left, though very reluctantly, and turned back at the door to catch one last glimpse of the girl he'd waited all this time to call his own.

She smiled at him from the bed, her eyes still shining with what was left of her tears. Her cheeks were flushed from his kiss and she was breathing heavily. The kiss must have affected her as much as it had affected him. He wanted to do it again, and tell her everything he'd wanted to confess since fourth year, but they had horcruxes and dark wizards to kill. After, he promised himself, After it's all over, I'll tell her.