"But with all my education,

I can't seem to command it,

And the words are all escaping,

And coming back all damaged,

And I would put them back in poetry,

If I only knew how,

I can't seem to understand it"

"All This and Heaven Too" by Florence + the Machine


Oh Jesus, two updates within the same month?! Bear with me guys, I think this thing is finally back on the rails.

Read, review, & I hope you enjoy!


Hermione practically jogged down the beach, walking closer to the outcroppings of rocks that lined the left side to avoid Luna and Dean. The wind was picking up and the sky was overcast. Though she supposed the surroundings of Shell Cottage were rather beautiful on a sunny day. The sand was cool under her bare feet.

She felt, altogether, rather uncomfortable and ill at ease. There was a buzzing numbness pervading her body, her palms felt sweaty, and she wiped them anxiously against the thin material of the pajama pants she'd borrowed from Fleur. Had it not been for the alcohol she'd consumed she would have actually been rather cold.

XXX

Ron followed along behind Hermione at a markedly slower pace, observing that the speed she used was usually reserved for making it to class on time. She had yet to realize he was following, which made him feel rather creepy, but it's not liked she'd given him a chance to catch up. He didn't know what he would say once he did catch up to her, though, and because of this allowed her to increase the distance from the cottage and himself.

She probably didn't even want to see him right now, judging by her harsh reaction to seeing him in the kitchen. He didn't really feel safe, though, letting her out of his sight.

XXX

The renewed aloneness brought back the unbearable loudness inside her head, the memories of what had transpired at the manor. Bellatrix's threats and Greyback's… promises. Her own screams echoed along with Ron's long off bellows.

Suddenly, there was an excruciating tightness, beginning first in her chest, then spreading to her arms and legs. It felt like being electrocuted, it felt horrific.

She slowly sank to the ground, the jolt of the cold, damp sand made it easier to concentrate. She laughed ironically, recognizing it as a residual effect of the Cruciatus. Painful as it was, it couldn't compare to the real thing. She shuddered and took a deep breath, looking back towards the house.

And of course, there was Ron, who'd seen the whole thing and had begun to sprint towards her.

XXX

Watching Hermione fall to the ground Ron felt his throat tighten, running to close the distance of twenty or so feet between them.

She regarded him warily.

"What the hell was that?" he cried, the alarm undisguised in his voice as he sat down next to her.

"Do you mean what happened in the kitchen or just now?" she asked benignly. She wasn't surprised when his face flushed.

"Both!" Hermione shrugged and shook her head. "Are you okay?" his tone was softer, sounding genuinely worried.

"That, Ronald, is a loaded question." She laughed bitterly, and for that Ron had no response, so the two sat in silence basking in the sounds of the sea and wind. A few minutes passed in silence and then Hermione shivered, casting a nervous glance back towards the house. Ron could have kicked himself as he remembered the jacket he'd brought for her, which sat discarded at his side.

"I brought this for you," he stuttered, marveling at his thoughtlessness. She smiled and from her look of bemusement he drew some hope. He draped it around her shoulders and she relished in the momentary warmth of his encircling arms, then they were gone. Ron cautiously balled his hands into fists to mask the shaking, though when looked at Hermione he could swear she blushing. He began to stare at her, the more the silence enveloped them the more troubled she looked, absently and anxiously biting her lip.

Hermione knew she should have felt more at ease with Ron sitting next to her. His presence had become so comforting, but her whole body seemed to vibrate with words she dared not speak. There was so much to talk about. He really had asked her a question that she couldn't answer, at least not easily. There was the Manor, there was what had happened with Bellatrix, there was the war itself, of course, and then there was him.

Ron Weasley should have been the absolute least of her problems. Fleur and Bill seemed to act like they were in on some sort of joke, like it was obvious. Then there were all the offhand comments made by Harry over the course of their journey and the way he had acted when Ron disappeared, like she was made of glass or had lost someone who was more than just a friend. She didn't know if she was being delusional or being sensible.

And of course after the twisted mish-mash of feelings and thoughts towards her ginger companion was the renewed feeling of constantly bubbling anger. At the beginning of the hunt it had been there, then replaced by a constant feeling of anxiety. After months of no contact with her friends at Hogwarts, her friends on the frontlines, and plenty of time spent relishing in the moral atrocities of everything Voldemort stood for.

Even though she was doing everything she could to assist Harry in the Herculean task laid before him by Dumbledore she couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't doing enough. After all, they'd only managed to destroy one Horcrux, and even though they now knew the location of another one it was hard to feel like that was enough.

"I'm serious Hermione, are you alright?"

Tearing her eyes away from the ocean she found herself looking into Ron's. Her resolve crumbled immediately. She barely managed to suppress a sob.

"Everything is wrong," she whispered, tears springing to her eyes. "I remember when I was eleven and I was so excited because I was 'special,' but I never really was, was I? I'm a pariah for reasons I can't help, look what I've got to show for being special," she snarled, tugging at the bandage covering her left arm. Ron's eyes widened in alarm and he shot out a hand to stop her. "'Ostracized for your oddities from the world you were born into and despised by the world that was supposed to accept you,' that's what the locket told me," Her tone had risen considerably and her chest heaved in anger. A bright red flush spread across her cheeks and her eyes gleamed with malice. Ron looked ready to interject and Hermione quickly snapped at him. "Don't interrupt me!" His face flushed red immediately, and interrupt her he did.

"Bellatrix doing that to you doesn't make it true! You're too fucking brilliant to believe that." Ron's voice sounded pinched, expecting Hermione to reply with angry words. Instead, her face softened and tears sprang to her eyes.

"It's not just me, obviously, being hated," she muttered, brushing furiously at her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm being selfish though, aren't I?" Ron shook his head.

"Not at all, and anyway it's my opinion that you haven't been selfish enough. You just take of Harry and I and look what it's gotten you," Hermione opened her mouth to reply, her eyes narrowed. "No, you always have. You're always pulling the three of out of whatever mad trouble we've gotten ourselves into." He said earnestly. Hermione's laugh was soft, but she leaned into Ron after the comment, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I was so scared," she commented after another lengthy pause. "Like, really, really terrified. I've never been so frightened in my life."

"Neither have I," Ron muttered and Hermione pulled away to look at him. "I've seen a lot of scary shit, but that was by far the worst."

"Are we talking about the same thing?" Hermione asked flatly, brow knit in confusion, her tone indicating a readiness for anger.

"You being tortured by Bellatrix? Yeah, I think we're on the same page," Well it's now or never, isn't it? Ron berated himself silently. "I knew I was going to lose you."

"Well you didn't." Hermione enunciated, looking at him as if he were a complete moron. Then, a strange, sarcastic smile twisted the corners of her mouth. It was Ron's turn to be angry.

"It got pretty fucking close!" he bellowed, jumping to his feet. "It's not a joke!" he persisted, for she appeared to be close to laughing at his agitation. Hermione stood slowly, observing him carefully.

His face was extremely flushed now, his blue eyes searching hers for some sort of reaction. There was a nervous fluttering in her stomach. Ron's pulse pounded in his ears, was he going to have to spell it out for her? The two regarded each other warily.

"I'm not laughing about it." Hermione said, shrugging her shoulders. Ron literally stomped his foot in annoyance.

Hermione's heart thudded in indignation. He was going to lecture her on her rather non-committal approach to the whole situation. She had admitted her fear, yes, but she'd be damned if she moped about it in front of him. In front of anyone, really.

"I like you, Hermione." She felt her heart plummet, deciding a sarcastic answer to be the only appropriate one. She should have known not to expect too much.

"We're friends Ron, I hope you like me." She snapped. Tears stung her eyes, but she swallowed hard to fight against them. Of fucking course, better luck next time, Granger.

"You're being intentionally thick and you know it!" he moaned, his stomach clenching in anxiety. He thought he'd finally figured it out, that Hermione fancied him, and here she was brushing him off like he was Frankie First Year.

"Don't ever call me stupid, Ronald." She spat, mentally kicking herself as soon as the words left her mouth. What an ingenious response, she thought. The desire to literally take off down the beach at a run was overwhelming.

"I'm not calling you stupid!" he cried, throwing his hands up in agitation. She shouldered past him. She had absolutely no desire to not only be rejected, though he had no idea he had done, and chastised. Ron grabbed his jacket from the sand and stalked after her. Enough was enough; he quickened his pace and planted himself firmly in front of her.

"What I meant is that I'm very fond of you," he intoned, grabbing for her hand.

As we have already ESTABLISHED, she shouted at him inside her head, yanking the desired appendage out of reach and stepping around him. She should have known better than to think she was ever going to win romantic favor with Ron, though she was loathe to admit she was so upset with the defeat. She needed to make it back to the cottage before she burst into tears, there was a tangible pain associated with her learning the true nature of his feelings. It stung and it ached at the same time and she felt like a silly, simpering schoolgirl.

Ron stared after her at a complete loss for words. A mischievous voice that sounded much like the one belonging to his twin brothers interjected a thought: third times the charm, mate. Ron huffed and jogged to Hermione, who was clenching and unclenching her fists as she walked. She looked as pissed at him as he'd ever seen her.

"LOOK!" he shouted, grabbing her by the upper arms. "I am TRYING to tell you that I like you," her eyes flickered dangerously; he hadn't much time to make a recovery. Hermione, on the other hand, was near spontaneous combustion. She was so very upset and so very angry, and now Ron presumed to physically prevent her from walking away?

Like me as what, Ronald? A friend, a sister? The person who consistently and conveniently saves your ass? All thought of romantic feelings from him towards her had completely flown, she would have known by now, anyway.

Ron bit his lip and his resolve melted away. Without hesitation he crushed his lips against hers, heart pounding like mad and definitely expecting to be punched in the face.