A/N : I wrote this as a request for my amazing friend Kristen – she came up with the idea and everything, I thought it was really interesting! However it does make the story pretty much AU.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the Harry Potter world!

Broken

Ron held onto Hermione as though their lives depended on it, she was trembling beneath him and her fingers lightly grasped the sleeve of his jacket. They were surrounded by death eaters, pieces of metal, crystal and glass were scattered on the floor. Bellatrix Lestrange started forward from the opposite side of the room, Ron felt Hermione grip him tighter.

"You stupid elf! You could have killed me!" She shrieked, in her erratic, high voice. She was wandless, Ron knew, or they would all have been killed by now. Dobby stood between Ron, Hermione, Griphook and Harry, and pulled his shoulders back proudly.

"Dobby never meant to kill! Dobby only meant to maim or seriously injure!" the little elf squeaked.

At this comment, Narcissa Malfoy drew her wand into the air, ready to strike. Immediately Dobby snapped his fingers and the wand vanished from Narcissa's hand, and appeared in Dobby's, who smiled cheekily.

"How dare you take a witches wand!" Bellatrix shrieked, unable to believe what she had just seen.

"How dare you defy your masters?" She spat.

"Dobby has no master." He stated, his tone changing immediately. "Dobby is a free elf!" he shot back at her. "Dobby has come to save Harry Potter and his friends" and with that he grabbed Harry and Ron's hands, and all five of them disappeared from that place.

Ron held onto Hermione ever tighter as they were pulled through time and space, he hoped she was strong enough to make it through the apparition without becoming splinched. With a thunderous crack, Ron landed hard on the ground. He began to cough and splutter, his mouth full of cold, wet sand. He was relieved to know that they'd reached their destination; he pushed himself up and wiped his sandy hands on his jeans, which were also covered in the wet dark sand. It was very windy, and the air was cold and stung his cheeks.

He slowly opened his eyes and let in the sunlight that shone brightly around him, he could hear the seagulls flying lowly in the sky. His heart leapt into his mouth as he realised that he no longer had a hold on Hermione. He gasped and turned in every direction, seeking her out. His eyes fell upon her silent, still form lay upon the wet sand about twenty feet from where he was standing, he ran as fast as he could to her side, as her drew closer to her he realised that she was not still at all – she was trembling violently, little gasps of pain were echoing from her. It wasn't until he'd knelt down right beside her that he noticed the knife; the evil silver knife which belonged to Bellatrix, nestled deeply into her stomach, blood was seeping from the wound in vast quantity, covering the sand around her, covering his hands.

"Merlin!" He cried. "No, no,no!" His hands were shaking just as badly as she was as he reached to take the knife from her.

"I'm…I'm going t-to take it out ok?" Ron stuttered. "It's p-p-probably going to hurt."

Hermione's eyes found his, she looked terrified, in pain, and in love all at the same time, as she nodded and shut them firmly. Ron's right hand grasped the hilt of the blade and after mentally counting to three he tore the knife out of her. Her screams filled the air, gut wrenching, heartfelt – he couldn't bear it. Her hands found their way to the wound, her breathing getting raspy, still as fast as ever. She lifted her hands up and looked at the blood which now covered her fingers, her eyelids began to flicker, she was getting cold.

"R-Ron..Ron, I.." She began. Ron tore a ling strip of material from the shirt which he was wearing and placed it over her wound and applied pressure. Teardrops fell onto his bloody hands.

"Don't you dare die!" He commanded. "Hermione, don't you dare…" he said again, as her eyes closed. His tears were flowing freely now, however he didn't seem to notice. He picked her body up from the floor and scooped it into his arms, and he ran. He ran faster then he'd ever run in his life, his tears dripped onto her unconscious body. Finally he reached the porch of his brother's cottage.

"Bill!" He screamed. "Bill, help me!" he sobbed. The front door to the cottage flew open, Bill Weasley stood in the doorway.

"Ron?" He said, surprised. "What are you – " he began, then stopped in his tracks as he saw the unconscious, bleeding Hermione cradled in his arms.

"Quick!" he ordered. "Get inside, upstairs, the bedroom first door on the left, as quickly as you can!"

Ron strode into the hallway and leapt up the stairs two at a time, he entered the bedroom to the left of the staircase, it was small, only one bed, a chest of drawers and a chair. There was a tiny window which let in a bit of light but not much. Ron set Hermione down on the bed as gently as he could, he then found her left wrist, he felt like collapsing with relief when he could feel her pulse. He looked down at her hand, so small in his – and he noticed droplets of blood travelling down from her forearm, down to her wrist and fingers, curiously he pulled back the sleeve of her jumper and was disgusted at what he saw.

Grotesquely carved, bleeding endlessly, the world 'mudblood' was presented on her arm. How could anybody do that? How could anybody do that to his Hermione? His thoughts were interrupted as Fleur raced into the room, wand in hand, and many magical medical supplies.

"Here, tend to this one first." Ron said, pointing to Hermione's stomach. "She's been stabbed." He said, emotionless. If Hermione doesn't make it through this….

"But 'oo has done zis Ronald?" Fleur said, gasping at the deep wound.

"I – I can't tell you that." Ron said.

"Yes you will." Said Bill, who had stepped into the room suddenly.

"You know I can't Bill." Ron said.

"Ron this isn't a game, this is life or death! You show up on my porch, covered in blood, holding Hermione in your arms who looks like she's been tortured!' he argued.

"If I could tell you, I would." Ron mumbled, and then turned his attention back to Hermione.

"This will heal most of 'er wounds." Fleur said, as she dabbed liquid potions onto the worst of Hermione's wounds. "But she will need to rest for days, weeks maybe."

Ron nodded, he walked over to the bed and took Hermione's left arm in his hands.

"Can you do anything about this?" He asked, showing it to her. Fleur winced at the wound. She took Hermione's arm and cleaned it very carefully, wiping away all of the blood, cleansing it, then she added the potion to it. It did nothing, it vaporized away instantly. Fleur shook her head.

"Zis must 'ave been done with dark magic." She stated. "I can't heal it. Nobody can, zis is why your brother, 'e 'as no ear."

Ron went numb inside, of course he remember that his mother was unable to heal or recreate George's ear because it had been blasted off with dark magic. The knife Bellatrix has used was obviously cursed or she had channelled her magic through it, the realisation hit him that Hermione would have that scar for the rest of her life.

"What about the stab wound?" Ron asked.

"It will heal with time. It's not like this one." Fleur said, gesturing to the mudblood carving. "'ooever did that wanted to be sure that she would have it for the rest of 'er life." Fleur said solemly.

"Come on." Bill said, taking Ron by the arm. "You should leave her to rest."

Ron barely knew what was happening as he was being dragged out of the room.

"I will let you know if she wakes, Ronald." Fleur called after him.

He sat alone, his legs dangled over the cliff's edge, the wind rustled his ginger hair. He didn't move, he barely blinked, he barely moved as he watch the sun set beyond the horizon, making the sea turn many different colours, then eventually he sat in the dark. He hadn't spoken to anybody since he'd arrived at shell cottage, Hermione had been unconscious for nearly eight hours now, and he wanted more than anything for her to wake with him at her side.

His mind welled over the events of that day; the cellar, the screaming his relief when they'd apparated away from the manor, and his utter terror when he'd discovered the blade of Bellatrix's knife buried deep into Hermione's stomach. It made him feel sick just thinking about it. He couldn't believe how close he'd come to losing her today. What if she'd died? What if he was sitting beside her grave right now, crying into the freshly dug soil, admitting how much he loved her and what a git he'd been for leaving.

It was that very night, Ron made a pact with himself, to never let her out of his sight again, to never let anybody ever touch her again. Even if she didn't want him, he would forever be there, watching out for her, loving her.

"Are you alright, mate?" came a voice from behind him. Ron turned his head slowly, and frowned. Harry was approaching the cliffs edge. Ron stood himself up and met Harry halfway.

"Is she?" Ron asked, hopefully. Harry shook his head.

"No she's not awake yet." Harry said, looking down at the pebbles on the ground, and awkward silence loomed in the air around them.

"How could you, Harry?" Ron asked, emotions thick in his voice as tears began to fill his eyes.

"Er.." Harry began.

"I TOLD YOU!" Ron bellowed, not caring that his tears had begun to fall. "I told you about the taboo!" He shoved Harry as hard as he could.

"I told you not to say his name!" He bellowed, shoving him again. Harry didn't do anything; he didn't even try to defend himself.

"I even stopped you mid-word!" He bellowed, with a final shove, Harry fell to the floor.

"But you said it anyway.." Ron whispered, looking down at his best friend.

"I – I don't know what to say Ron." Harry said feebly, "I'm sorry."

"If it wasn't for you, Hermione wouldn't be unconscious, recovering from a stab wound and have the word Mudblood carved into her arm, which for YOUR information, she will have for the rest of her life!"

"Ron, it was a mistake!" Harry said. "A really stupid mistake, and you have no idea – no idea how guilty I feel, I never wanted Hermione to get hurt, I never would want any of us to get hurt!"

Ron stared down at his best friend, his expression lightened a little.

"You have no idea how guilty I feel, seeing her up there, injured, unconscious and broken, all because of me. You have no idea what a prat I feel like."

Ron offered a hand a helped Harry up off the floor.

"Sorry." Ron said. "I was just, a bit distraught."

Harry smirked.

"It's alright." Harry said. "Come on – let's go see if she's awake yet."

Ron followed his best friend back into the tiny cottage, hoping to the Gods that his lovers eyes would be open, and that she would find him.