I love Shell Cottage Romione stories, so I decided to write one. It really doesn't have a plot at all, just a Drabble. :) Reviews are always welcome.
I do not own Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, or any of the other characters mentioned. They belong to the brilliant JK Rowling.
Ron woke up with a start.
Well, waking up would imply sleeping, and he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to sleep properly ever again.
He did, however, open his eyes and start taking in his surroundings. As it seemed to be the middle of the night, he wasn't sure of the exact time, it was dark in the room and difficult to see. He was sitting in an uncomfortable chair next to a bed that currently held a tiny female frame. Hermione.
Everything came flooding back to him. Malfoy Manner. Bellatrix Lestrange. Fenir Greyback. The Cruciatus Curse. Hermione screaming. Dobby. Voldemort. Ron shivered at the thought and reached out to grab Hermione's hand. He needed to feel her there to know that they had truly escaped the horrors they had just experienced.
"It's ok, Ron. I'm here," said a small, shaky voice.
Ron's eyes darted up in an instant and found Hermione's giant brown eyes staring at him. He let out a heavy sigh before responding, "I'm sorry if I woke you. You should get some sleep, Hermione. You need to rest."
She smiled at him weakly before saying, "I've been sleeping Ronald. You need some sleep yourself. How long have you been sitting in that chair?"
"Since Fleur stopped trying to make me leave."
"Yes, I figured. I passed out after we arrived. Is Harry ok? Are Bill and Fleur going to be safe with us here? How did we get here, by the way? Did someone get the sword?" Hermione's voice became more worried and frantic with each question.
"Hermione STOP! Harry is fine. Bill and Fleur are fine. They're happy to see us safe. Dobby brought us here along with Luna, Dean, Mr. Ollivander and the goblin. Harry got the sword," Ron said as he began to stroke Hermione's hand soothingly. "Now I need you to relax before Fleur comes in here and yells at both of us."
"Sorry," she said quietly.
"It's ok.. You wouldn't be you if you weren't worrying about everyone but yourself. It's a good thing you've got me here to worry about you," Ron said as his ears turned a bright red.
Hermione gathered all of her strength and pushed herself up to a sitting position. It was painful and the ache she felt, which was stronger after each round of that horrible curse, settled in her limbs. When Ron noticed her moving, and the obvious pain on her face, he began to scold her. "Stop moving around so much Hermione. You need to relax. You need your rest."
"You just finished saying that I can't help but worry about other people, and that is never going to change. Just as much as you're here to worry about me, I'm here to worry about you," she smile affectionately at him. As they both blushed, she continued, "so please come here."
Ron moved over and sat on the edge of the bed. Hermione started to scan him with her eyes, as if checking to see if it was really him sitting next to her. As their eyes met, she asked, "Did you let Fleur take care of your injuries as well?"
Bracing himself for a fight, he sighed, "No Hermione, my minor cuts and bruises were not important, ok. You were my priority. Everyone's priority. A little dittany and I'll be fine."
She stared at him for a moment before saying, "Reach into my sock on my right ankle and give me the beaded bag, please."
"You.. You have the beaded bag? You were able to hold onto it through all of that?" Ron asked with a look of shock and admiration on his face. Hermione blushed hard as she nodded. He reached down into her sock and sure enough, he found the beaded bag. "You're amazing, Hermione. You do know that, don't you? A bloody genius," he said as he handed it to her.
"Language, Ronald." Hermione started digging through the bag and before Ron had the chance to say anything else she pulled a small bottle out and set the bag on the table next to the bed. "Here we are," she said as she un stoppered the bottle of what Ron recognized as Essence Of Dittany. "Now come here... Closer to me. I need to be able to see you."
"You don't have to do this, Hermione. I'm hardly hurt," Ron pleaded with her. Why couldn't she just rest and let herself get better?
"Please," she said as her voice lowered and her head dipped, " it's the least I can do for you after all you did for me today."
She looked so small to Ron and in that moment if she had asked him to jump out of the window, he would have done it. "Okay. You can heal my cuts."
He scooted all the way up to the top of the bed so he and Hermione were sitting face to face. She started putting the dittany on the many cuts and scratches that he had on his arms. The feeling of her soft touch and the healing power of the dittany was making him feel light headed. Then, before he had a chance to realize what was coming, Hermione leaned in close to Ron's face, brought up her hand, and started gently applying the healing potion to a cut under his eye. His breath caught in his throat as he felt the tenderness of her touch. As she moved her hand up higher to reach a cut in his hairline, he noticed the red, raw flesh under the sleeve of her shirt.
Catching her wrist before she could try to move it away or hide it, Ron asked, "Hermione do you have a cut on your forearm?"
As he thought, she tried to wiggle it out of his hands, "Ouch, Ron. That hurts. Please let it go," she pleased as her eyes filled with tears. Ron swallowed a giant lump in his throat and stopped breathing as she said, "it's nothing, really."
As Hermione began to cry outright, Ron very carefully pulled her sleeve up to reveal a large bloody carving in her forearm. Mudblood. Ron sighed as he reached for the dittany to try and make that ugly word disappear from Hermione's otherwise perfect body.
"It won't ever go away," Hermione sniffled as Ron tried to put more dittany on her arm, "it was put on with dark magic. It will always be a part of me."
"What a bloody idiot," said Ron.
"Excuse me?"
"Bellatrix," said Ron as he shook his head like he felt sorry for her. "She's a bloody idiot. Don't you see what she's done?"
"Yes, obvi-," Hermione started. However, Ron cut her off saying, "She basically guaranteed a victory for us."
"Sorry, what?!" Hermione shook her head and stared at Ron incredulously.
"Well, she thought by putting this word on you it would make you feel weak or hurt you, but she doesn't know you like I do," Ron looked her straight in the eyes, "I know that this is going to make you so much stronger and braver and when the time comes, that bitch is going down."
Hermione smiled, but it quickly melted away as she said, "And then this word will be with me until my dying day. It's ugly. It's hideous. It's -"
Again, Ron cut her off, "It doesn't matter Hermione. It's impossible to think of anything about you as ugly. It will be a mark of your courage and all you've done to make the world a better place."
"Yes, but I can never get rid of it. I'll wear this for the rest of my life. I'll be telling people what it means for the rest of my life," Hermione said as her eyes started to tear. She looked down at her hands.
Ron put this finger up to her chin and lifted her head so she would look into his eyes. "Well then, when you're old and saggy and your great great grandchildren want to know what that means, you can tell them that it means you're a bloody brave witch and you helped save the wizarding world with your incredible brains."
She smiled and said, "Yes, I'll tell them that. All but the curse words. I don't think I'll want to teach my great great grandchildren curse words."
Ron chuckled, "No, of course not. But I'll be around, so they'll learn it from someone."
Hermione's eyes widened comically and Ron barely realized what he'd said before she asked, "You'll be around when I'm old and saggy?"
Ron smiled, "Of course. Didn't I just tell you I'm going to be here to worry about you and take care of you? Even when you're old and saggy, Hermione."
"Yes. And I'll be here for you too."