Tangled

by Rsuth

DISCLAIMER: As the author of this fanfiction story I do not, in any way, profit from this story or claim any rights to the 'Harry Potter' universe. All creative rights to the 'Harry Potter' universe belong to J.K. Rowling. Thank you for letting me play in this amazing world.

A/N: If you haven't read the previous chapter (Ch. 8) yet, I suggest you do so before reading this chapter. Enjoy!

CHAPTER NINE

As Ron woke, he could feel the cool salty breeze from an open window fluttering his hair, invading his nostrils. He hated that smell now, all it had represented in the past days was fear, worry, anxiety. Hopelessness. It made him feel sick.

He could feel an aching tightness in his back and neck and without opening his eyes knew he had fallen asleep slumped beside Hermione's bed.

Hermione…

He struggled to open his heavy and gritty eyes, anxious to know how she was, ashamed that he had fallen asleep while watching her. He couldn't afford to fall asleep and miss a minute with her, not now…

Muffling a groan, he flexed his muscles and forced his body back to sitting. Something touched his arm. Opening his blurry eyes, he could see someone sitting on the bed near him, watching him.

"Hermione?" he mumbled, hoping that she had miraculously woken up again and was feeling better, in the time he had been asleep. A deep, quiet chuckle was his response. Harry

"If I said I was Hermione, would you tell me you loved me?" came the teasing answer, after a moment of silence. He felt his neck and ears flush as he rubbed his eyes, knowing now for sure that everyone had heard his proclamation earlier. But then again, he couldn't care less.

He could feel himself become serious as he considered Harry's words, and the months they had spent on the run, just the three of them. He finally opened his eyes again and saw Harry lounging on the bed beside Hermione, one arm laying protectively around her. A year ago, he would have been jealous at their closeness, but now he felt relieved that Harry had been with her while he was sleeping.

He glanced up at Harry, who looked tired and drawn, but had a smile on his face. His long messy hair and scruffy black beard somehow made him look comical, and Ron smiled back.

"I do love you, you daft git…but don't tell Hermione, she might get jealous" He shot back, knowing that he meant it, but needing to relieve the seriousness with a joke. "How is she? Did she wake up at all?" He asked after they had sat in silence for a few minutes, letting his drowsiness wear off.

"She woke up for a bit, and managed to eat some soup and bread. She was still in a lot of pain. Bill's just finishing up a fresh batch of pain potion, they've been going through a lot of it downstairs… Her fever's still there, but I think it's a bit better. But Ron…I need to warn you, she was still a bit confused…she doesn't seem to remember much about what happened to her…" Harry looked away from him as he confessed this. "Though maybe that's for the best, for now…" he trailed off.

Ron let his head hang down, exhaling a deep, shuddering breath. He knew he was expecting too much, too soon, in her recovery, but this waiting was driving him mad.

The door to the room suddenly squeaked open, and his older brother popped his head in, looking around before backing into the room with a full tray. He wife followed behind him, holding something long a white in her arms, likely a fresh nightdress.

He watched his brother look Hermione over, and talk quietly with Harry, carefully moving her away from him to lay her down flat. She didn't respond, just lay limply as Bill moved her. Ron wished it were him moving her, touching her, holding her like Harry had been.

"Why don't you two go downstairs for a bit, get something to eat? Everyone else has been asking about you three, I think they could do with some new company." Ron stayed where he was sitting, not wanting to leave the bedroom. Leave her. "Ron, I promise I will come get you as soon as we are done, it won't take long…I promise." Bill reassured him.

Harry was standing in the doorway, and nodded at Ron to follow him. After a moment spent watching his brother take a number of bottles off the tray, he reluctantly followed Harry out the door, preparing himself for his first trip to the main floor of the cottage since they had arrived.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ron was sitting on the hearth in front of the crackling fireplace, feeling uncomfortable as he regarded the people around the small sitting room, chatting cheerfully with Harry. They were all content to pretend that nothing bad had happened to them for a while, but he was still so worried, and he couldn't seem to shake off the dark cloud that was still following him around. Only one person could make the cloud go away…and they were still lying unconscious upstairs.

He wasn't really paying attention to their conversation, just nursing a cup of hot coffee as he looked from person to person. Luna was closest to him, leaning back in a worn armchair. He had been shocked the most by her appearance, not having had a good look at her in the dim dungeon. Always a slender girl, her time in captivity had given her the look of fragility, her eyes and cheeks sunken and pale, her limbs thin and bony. Her long hair hung limply over her should in a messy braid. Dressed in what he could only assume was some of Fleur's dark clothing, she almost looked like a different person altogether. But, she was still breathing, still talking, still animatedly trying to convince everyone in the room about some strange mystical creature that lived in the sand dunes. "Good value", he remembered once saying about her, always having appreciated her strange views of the world and naïve hilarity.

Dean, on the other hand, didn't look too bad, almost the same as the cheerful but quiet boy he had shared a dorm with, trained in the D.A with. A few bruises marked his dark skin, some almost-healed scratches on his arms and face. Looks like fingernail scratches, Ron thought with a shudder. But his face was worried, despite the smile on his face towards Luna, and Ron could only guess that he was concerned about his family. Like Hermione, he remembered Dean was muggle-born, and he felt his dark mood lift a bit knowing they had busted him out of the Manor before he was handed over to the Ministry. Who knows what they would have done with him, what they're doing with all the captured muggle-borns.

Ron had seen Mr. Ollivander a number of times throughout his life, having been with Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, and Ginny when they got their wands. Probably even Bill. He had been terrified of the man when it came his time to get his wand. He chuckled faintly, and looked up to see everyone staring curiously at him. He cleared his throat, and scratched the back of his head.

"I was just thinking back…well, the first time I got a wand from you, Mr. Ollivander, my brothers, Fred and George, had me convinced you weren't going to be able to find a wand for me, because I was a squib. I was terrified of coming into the wand shop, certain that it was going to mean bad news!"

Everyone gave a chuckle at this, having all met his brothers.

"If I remember, my dear boy," Mr. Ollivander's weak voice rasped out, "you had to try seven wands before one would even work for you. A difficult customer indeed." The old man gave another chuckle. Ron blushed a bit, remembering the anxiety of the day.

"Those two were always a terror! Who knew they'd go on to make more money than the rest of us with their Joke Shop…" came Bill's deep voice from where he was suddenly sitting at the bottom of the stairs, "I'll never forget the day they almost made you take an Unbreakable Vow, I've never seen mum and dad madder!" Ron smiled over at his brother as everyone laughed. He stood up quickly to walk over to Bill, who signalled to follow him into the kitchen.

"Is Hermione alright? Can I go back up?" he peppered his brother, eager to get back upstairs. He watched as his brother ignored him, pulling things out of the pantry, spooning something out of a pot.

"Ron, sit down," muttered his brother as he moved about the kitchen, and he pulled out a seat at the small table to wait. Bill set a plate of bread, and a bowl of steaming soup in front of him.

"Eat," he said as he sat in the other chair, a bowl of soup of his own in front of him, "I can see all your ribs Ron, and don't tell me you're not going to leave again as soon as you are able." Ron looked down at his bowl, not wanting to admit that Bill was right. "If mum knew I let you leave looking like a skeleton, she would have my hide…or my ponytail…" his brother joked, holding his long hair protectively.

Ron felt a smile turn his face up, and signed as he picked up his spoon as dug into the soup. His stomache growled loudly before he could even put the spoon in his mouth. He looked guiltily at Bill, who simply smirked at him, and started eating his own meal.

They ate in silence, and Ron managed to finish two bowls and a stack of bread before he was full. He pushed the bowl away, and got them both a fresh cup of coffee to sip on.

He could feel Bill watching him as he finished his coffee, and eventually looked up at his brother. Bill was waiting for him to look up.

"I know you can't tell me why you three are putting yourselves through this, risking so much, but I know it's something that Dumbledore assigned to Harry, and I respect that. You're not a child anymore, I think we all keep forgetting that…" Bill smiled at him, "I'm proud of you, you've had to face more obstacles in the past year, well the past seven years, than anyone in this family. And you've met them head-on.

"No I haven't" he whispered, "Bill, I'm a coward…I left them, you know that…" he still feeling guilty about leaving Harry and Hermione, the last time he had been at the cottage.

"No one can be strong and perfect all of the time, Ron."

"Hermione can…"

Bill chuckled. "Yes, if I've ever met anyone who could come close to that, it would be your Hermione." Ron felt his neck flushing again. His Hermione. "But Ron…" he looked back up at his brother, "what she went through…what you all went through…is probably going to leave its mark on her, as strong as she is. It will be up to you to help her, above anyone else. She's going to need you," Ron started to protest, terrified that he wouldn't be enough, but Bill interrupted, "She does need you…you're who she asked for first, who she fought to wake up for. Anyone who has a pair of eyes, and who isn't either of you, can see she loves you as much as you love her."

Ron let his head drop as he thought about how they had arrived here, how she was lying unconscious upstairs, how there was no way that he could ever be enough for her.

"But Bill…I'm not enough…I've never been good at anything…especially with Hermione, I always seem to stick my foot in my mouth, hurt her feelings...Hell, I left her the last time we had a fight, walked away even though she was screaming at me to come back." Ron felt his composure slip as he remembered back to that terrible night in the tent, and covered his face as tears started filling his eyes. That had been one of the worst moments of his life.

Bill stood up suddenly and walked to stand in front of him, placing his hands on Ron's slumped shoulders as he tried to wipe his eyes.

"Ron, I can't promise you anything, and I can't promise that you won't hurt her again. But I know that you love her, and that you'd do anything for her. You are enough. You're who she wants, Ron…nobody else."

Both men whipped around as another voice startled them.

"I'm done upstairs, Hermione's still sleeping. I think that pain potion worked, Bill, she seems to be resting more comfortably, and her fever's down a bit." Fleur stood hesitantly in the doorway, probably having realizing she accidentally walked in on a private conversation. Ron felt awkward, wondering how much of the conversation she had heard.

"That's good, that's really good." Bill answered his wife, smiling genuinely at her. "It means her body is starting to respond to potions again, the dark residue from the Cruciatus is losing the battle with her body and magic. She'll heal much faster once the residue is completely gone, but this is a start…It's a really good sign, Ron."

He could feel his body get figuratively lighter for a moment as he considered what Bill had just told him. It's a good sign, it's a good sign. He had never lost hope, but these small triumphs were making it easier to believe everything would turn out fine.

"Why don't you go upstairs, Ron, and get some sleep. I think Hermione would appreciate you being close to her, it might help her heal faster, encourage her to keep fighting the after-effects of the curse." He must have sensed Ron's hesitation and longing at the thought of being so close, because he added, "I'm not mum, Ron, you won't be in trouble…go ahead, you need the sleep. If you need anything, just call for us."

Nodding at his brother and Fleur, Ron left the kitchen quickly and gulped at the thought of being so close to Hermione. What if she woke up and was mad that he was in bed with her? What if she didn't actually have feelings for him? What if she woke up and forgot that he had told her he loved her?

He suddenly realized he was standing at the door to her bedroom. He took a deep breath and quietly opened the door, slipping in and closing it behind him. The sun was just going down, bathing the room in a soft orange glow. He moved to stand beside the bed and stared down at Hermione. Her face looked relaxed and untroubled in sleep, this time, albeit a bit flushed. The sun was illuminating her hair, laying in a curly mass on her pillow, highlighted red and golden. He reached out carefully, and for the first time truly touched her hair. It was surprisingly soft, the curls wrapping firmly around his fingers as he moved them softly through it. She made a soft noise at his touch, and without a second thought he pulled off his shoes and socks, lifted up the covers, and slid in beside her.

Ron lay on his side, moving right beside her without touching her. He had never been this close to her before, not in this way. Hermione and Harry had always had a type of sibling closeness; she was comfortable with sitting close to him, laying her head against his shoulder when she wasn't feeling well, falling asleep with a book in her hands and her legs in his lap. He had always been a bit jealous of their closeness, because he could never find the courage to initiate that with her. He didn't condemn the physical nature of their relationship, though, both had grown up lonely and without any siblings, and he was happy they had each other to fill that void. But he always wished it was him that she lay against, sat close to.

He had almost lost the chance to experience being this close to her. He might have never been able to tell her he loved her, and that he wanted to be with her as her boyfriend, and hopefully husband someday. Almost lost the chance to protect her and see her through this war, with the promise of a bright and carefree future with their success. To begin their careers together, start their own family.

The tears that he had been trying to supress for days began falling earnestly, now that he was alone, now that he was thinking about all that might or might not have been if they hadn't been saved from the Manor. He tried to keep quiet, but his shoulders shook with the effort and he covered his face with his hand.

Suddenly, Hermione shifted in the bed and turned to press herself against him tightly, letting out a soft sigh as she nuzzled her hot face into his neck, pressed her hands against his chest, tangled her legs between his. He could feel his heart speed up at the wonderful feeling of her body molded against his, her soft lips brushing against his neck with her breaths, the warmth of her body seeping into his. He carefully reached an arm around her, not letting his full weight fall on her battered body. Her hair brushed up against his face and he inhaled deeply, surprised that although Hermione had been sick and bed-bound for days, she still smelled sweet.

He had almost lost this, forever.

Ron let the tears continue to drip down his face as he cradled Hermione, letting the faint beat of her heart relax and calm him, as his breathing slowed and he joined her in sleep.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooo

Something woke him. He blinked quickly as he opened his eyes, but the room was bathed in darkness, and he couldn't see anything.

His arms and chest were cold, and he reached down to pull down blanket back around himself and Hermione. The space beside him was empty. Panicking, he reached to the table beside him to turn on the lamp, which shocked the room with a blaze of bright light. Once he had blinked the spots from his eyes, he looked around frantically. Hermione wasn't there.

Ron quickly pushed the blanket off and pulled his shoes and socks back on, his heart suddenly pounding hard. He crept out of the bedroom and down the hallway, checking an empty bathroom, before taking the creaky steps downstairs by the light of his wand. Maybe she got hungry, or wanted a glass of water, he reasoned with himself. He didn't want to wake anyone else up until he was sure there was a need.

Downstairs, soft snores came from the darkened sitting room, where Dean and Harry were deep asleep on the couches. Ron shone the light around the room a few times, before giving up and moving around the rest of the downstairs, checking the hallway and cupboards, and finally the kitchen.

She wasn't anywhere to be found.

Ron's began to feel breathless as this sunk in. He didn't know what to do. He should probably wake Harry and his brother, they would know what to do. Ron gripped the kitchen counter hard, trying to compose himself before he ran to wake everyone up. He looked out the small window at the ocean, illuminated by a nearly full moon, and saw something dark lumped on the shore. He squinted at the object for a moment then took off running, the back door slapping shut loudly behind him.

His panic made him feel out of breath as he dropped to the wet sand beside Hermione. She was sitting with her knees drawn to her chest, one arm around them, her sore arm tucked against her chest. She was staring blankly out at the ocean, her eyes nearly black in the darkness, her white nightdress oddly bright in the moonlight. Her body was shaking, and he was surprised she had made it all the way out here without collapsing.

"Hermione, I need to get you back inside." He spoke quietly to her, worried when she didn't even acknowledge him. "Hermione?"

He moved close to her, wrapping his arms around her and rubbing her body, trying to transfer some of his warmth to her chilled body. "Hermione?" he tried again.

This time, she slowly turned to face him, her face seemingly confused as she took in his presence beside her. "Ron?" she rasped out quietly, almost unbelievingly. "What are you doing here?"

What was he doing there? Where did she think she was? "Hermione…" he said gently, "we're at Bill and Fleur's cottage, remember? We ran into some trouble with Snatchers…you've been hurt, unwell, for days. What are you doing outside?"

"So…I'm not dreaming, then?" She whispered skeptically, looking closely at his face.

He almost smiled. Even when she was unwell, Hermione was trying to find answers. "No, you're very much awake right now."

"Oh…When I woke up, I couldn't remember where I was. I wasn't in my own bed, or in the tent, and you were laying me…" Ron blushed in the dark. "I honestly thought I was dreaming. So I got up, and next thing I knew I was sitting here, and there you were."

Ron didn't know what to say to her. He was almost afraid to speak, he hadn't heard her talk in full sentences in days, other than in fever dreams.

She spoke again, but her voice was so quiet he had to lean closer to hear her. "I've always loved the ocean, have I ever told you that? It reminds me of my parents. Dad, in particular…"

He pulled her a bit closer, wondering if he should take her inside, when he heard soft footsteps behind him. He craned his head to see Harry walking toward them, carrying something bulky in his arms.

Once Harry reached them, he wordlessly stood in front of them, unfolding a large blanket and wrapping it around them, taking a second and wrapping it around himself before he sat down and put an arm around Hermione as well.

"Harry." Hermione breathed, as he said beside her. Harry just smiled and kissed her on the temple, helping Ron rub her warm.

Harry looked questioningly at him above Hermione's head, but he could only shrug his shoulders. He didn't know what to tell Harry. So they sat in silence, and Hermione gradually stopped shivering and slumped heavily against him, still staring off into the ocean.

After a while she stirred, and slowly turned her marred arm over so the moonlight highlighted the letters cut into her flesh. She stared at it, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks and splashing onto her inflamed skin. Ron tried grasping her wrist to turn it away from her, but she ignored him.

"It wasn't a dream…" she whispered hoarsely, looking up from her arm to stare horrified at Harry, then himself. "We were captured, weren't we," she whispered, "We couldn't outrun them, and they took us to the Malfoy's, and they were arguing about whether they should call you-know-who…You were both taken away, and Bellatrx..she…she…" Hermione finally lost it, bending over and letting hoarse sobs shake her. Ron couldn't do anything more than to pull her against him, and let his own tears fall as hers wet his shirt. "I heard you, Ron, I heard you call out for me, so many times, and I held onto that, it pulled me out of the darkness, Ron…" Her sobs started to calm, and she gingerly pulled herself up far enough to look him in the eyes. "I've been so confused, Ron, so lost, I haven't been able to tell what's real, what's a dream. I don't even know where I've been, or what's happened..." Ron felt his heart ache at the lost look on her face.

"It was Dobby, Hermione…They threw us in that dungeon, and we couldn't find a way out. I called for help, and Dobby came to us. He got us out of the dungeon and back to you, and helped us escape. Luna, Mr. Ollivander, and a goblin escaped with us too. We've been at Bill's cottage ever since." Ron was relieved that Harry had responded, he didn't even know where to begin, how much to tell her.

Hermione simply nodded her head, leaning back tiredly against Ron. This had been too much for her, too soon. He watched her eyes drift shut and breathing slow, before he looked over to Harry.

"You should get her back to bed." His friend whispered to him, and he nodded back. Gently moving the sleeping Hermione so she leaned against Harry, Ron stood up, tucked the blanket around her, and carefully scooped her up into his arms.

He walked slowly, the sand shifting and sinking under his feet, and let Harry open the back door for them. The house was still quiet and dark, no one else had woken up. They walked through the house silently, and Ron nodded his head for Harry to follow them.

After wincing at every creak of the stairs, they quietly walked into the bedroom, and Ron lay Hermione down in the middle of the bed. She didn't stir. He pulled his wand out of his back pocket and spelled the three of them dry before kicking off his shoes, for the second time that night, and laying back down beside her. Harry did the same on the other side of Hermione, and they tucked the blanket around the three of them, trying to warm Hermione. In a way, Ron felt that this was the way it should be, that it had always been, with the both of them flanking Hermione, defending her, protecting her. This was what they understood, this was home.

To Be Continued…

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooo

A/N: I have received so many wonderful, encouraging reviews for this story since I posted the first chapter, so I'd like to thank each and every one of you for continuously supporting my work and offering encouraging words. This really helps inspire me to keep writing.

Also, Have you read my new short story, 'Home', yet? It's another Hermione-centric story, focusing on the first days after the battle, and how the strain of the past year catches up to Hermione. It's written in a very similar style to this story, so if you like 'Tangled' you might like 'Home'. Find it through my profile!

Lastly! For all of you that read fanfiction on this site, please remember to leave reviews and comments for the works you read, often that is what readers look at before they will even start a story. I have read so many well-written, fantastic stories that have really low review counts, which baffles me. And I think those low reviews in turn discourage others from reading some great stories. I'm not saying this for my benefit, but more so for all the HP fanfiction writers on this site. My personal rule is that if I'm clicking the button to Follow or Favourite a story, then that author in particular deserves a review, as well as any story I've enjoyed reading.