A/N: I haven't written for a while, so... here you go?
Words: 611.
Paring: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger.
Date Written On: December 3, 2011.
[shell cottage]
She was out cold, and she was scarred. You could see that much. Fleur refused to go into detail about what was covering her, and the marks and cuts and burns remained a mystery. The thin cut on her neck makes a wave a nausea overcome you, and Bill has to grip your shoulder, or you were sure you'd collapse.
Bill carries her up the stairs, and Fleur follows closely behind him, muttering things in French, holding various potions near her. It only takes a few moments, and then Bill's back down the stairs, minus Fleur and Hermione. The latter being still gone makes you frown unhappily, and you have to rub your eyes to make the fresh batch of tears that were threatening to escape go back.
"It's going to be alright, Ron," Bill says quietly.
"It won't," you mutter, resting your arms on your legs and putting your head on them. You know you look ridicules, but with everything that's happened, does it really matter? Your hair's still matted together, and you still have cuts, but all you can think about is Hermione, and how she can still die, and how you couldn't get to her.
"How do you know that?"
"I wasn't there to protect her."
Your answer's blunt, and you look up to meet Bill's gaze. It's obvious he doesn't know what to say because the person he loves—the person that loves him back—is safe, and she'll always be safe, and she'd never get tortured like your Hermione did. Never, ever, ever.
He clears his throat, and offers weakly, "Would you like some tea?"
"I guess," you say, standing up and following him into the kitchen area. You're thirsty and you're starving, but again, all you can think of is Hermione.
It's silent for a few moments, both of you sipping your tea and picking at the bread Bill set down. You can hear Fleur shuffling around upstairs in the room they put Hermione, and you can hear a groan every few moments. It's breaks your heart, but it also brings a little joy because you can tell she's alive.
It's only when Fleur comes down, her hair a mess, a distressed but happy smile on her face that your heart flutters again. She nods at you, and you bolt up the stairs, a soft, "Be gentle," coming from the kitchen. Stopping at the door, you turn the knob a little before peeking in. Hermione's lying on the bed in an old nightgown, and she looks cleaner than before. You see her turn her head and smile a little at you.
"Hey, Ron."
"Hey? You almost died and all you say is hey?" you ask, baffled. You walk slowly into the room, closing and locking the door behind you. You sit down near her feet on the bed.
She laughs a little, but a pained look comes across her face, and she stops quickly. She nods weakly, smiling only a bit.
Just like it was in the kitchen, it's silent for a few moments. You yawn tiredly, and Hermione looks at you as good as she can without lifting her head.
"Come lie down," she whispers.
Your heart jumps for a moment, and you slowly crawl next to her, pulling back the covers and getting yourself settled under them. You touch her face.
"You're amazing, you are."
"I know."
She turns her head and looks at you before closing her eyes. You do the same, and you fall asleep quickly. You have a feeling it has to do with being next to her, and knowing she's going to be safe from now on until forever.