Sleeping in the Tower

by Herochick007

Hermione wakes up unable to speak. Ron tells her she's been in a coma since the war. But things don't seem quite right. Warning: Rape, control of another person, manipulation, gaslighting, kidnapping, Ron bashing. HEA I promise!

A/N: I don't own Harry Potter or any related characters

Word Count: 9356

Warning: Rape, control of another person, manipulation, gaslighting, kidnapping, Ron bashing.

Hermione felt the pressure on her lips, soft pressure, like a kiss. She felt her eyes flutter.

"That's it, Hermione, open your eyes. It's alright, I'm here," she heard someone saying. The voice was so familiar, but at this second, she couldn't place it. Her eye lids felt heavy, like someone had glued them shut. After a moment, she gave up in exhaustion, her body too tired to continue to try.

"It's okay, maybe next time," the voice stated. Hermione knew she'd heard it before. Where was she? She couldn't move anything. It was as though her body was made of stone. The mere thought of moving was tiring. She tried to think, but soon even that was too much for her and she fell back into unconsciousness.

"It's Tuesday, Hermione. That means potion day. I know you're still in there, somewhere. Here, careful now, and swallow."

Hermione felt something being poured down her throat. She wanted to cough, gag on it, but instead it slid down. She felt it hit her stomach. She felt it start coming back up, hot and burning.

"Now, now, none of that. If you're ever going to wake up, you'll need your strength. It's not the best tasting stuff, but it will help. I promise."

Hermione tried to remember if she'd ever tasted anything so awful.

"It's liver, Hermione, just try a bite?"

"It looks gross!"

"It's very good," her father said, taking a bite.

Hermione picked up the smallest piece she could get on her fork. She touched it to her tongue.

"Ick!"

"You didn't even taste it, Hermione. One bite, you know the rule, one bite of everything."

"I'd rather eat boogers!" Hermione yelled.

The memory faded. Hermione realized the voice wasn't talking. She could feel that she was alone. She wasn't sure how she knew that,but she knew he was gone at the moment. Slowly, she tried to open her eyes. The exhaustion started setting in, but she fought against it. A slit of light filled her vision. She nearly gasped before she lost her strength and was back asleep.

The pressure on her lips was back. She could also feel it on her lower body.

"That's a good girl," the voice was saying. Hermione wanted to fight, kick off whoever was touching her. Had this happened before? Why was she so weak? She forced herself to think, to try and remember the thing she could.

Fire. There had been fire, fiend fyre. It was hot. There was screaming.

"He's dead! Harry Potter is dead!"

Laughing. Sobbing, screaming. And then... blackness?

Exhausted again, Hermione let her mind drift off wondering where she was, who was on top of her, and why?

"Good morning, 'Mione," the voice was talking. Had he been the one on her last night? Had it been last night? Was it day now? He'd said 'morning'. He'd called her 'Mione. Ron! Ron was the one talking to her. She would have smiled if she could make her facial muscles move. Instead, she fluttered her eyelids. She wasn't able to open them yet.

"Oh! I'm right here, you can do it! Come on back to me, 'Mione," he was urging. She wanted to so badly. She wanted to open her eyes. She pushed herself further than she had before. The light filled her vision. She could see him silhouetted against the lights.

"Hermione? Can you hear me?" he asked, but the darkness was already claiming her. Her eyes closed and within seconds she was asleep again.

"It's lunch time, Hermione. I think you can hear me. I don't know what what you remember, but since now I know you can hear me, I'm going to get you caught up. There was a war, do you remember the war?"

Hermione pushed her eyes open. The light wasn't as bright this time. She could see Ron eating next to her. It took too much effort to wrinkle her nose as she realized he was still talking with his mouth full.

"You're awake! Great. So there was a war, do you remember? Can you blink?"

Hermione slowly closed her eyes and opened them again. It was getting easier. That had to be good, right?

"Great, so one blink for yes and two for no?" Ron asked. Hermione blinked once. She didn't know how long she could stay awake, but at least this way, she might get some answers.

"Do you remember the war?"

Yes.

"You were hurt. You've been in a coma. Harry... he's dead, Hermione."

Hermione stared at Ron, unaware tears were falling from her eyes.

"I'm sorry, but you needed to know. Let's see, you and I survived. You-Know-Who is dead."

Hermione closed her eyes, planning to blink, but instead she found she didn't have the strength to open them again.

"Asleep again? I'll be back later. It's going to be okay, 'Mione. I'm here for you."

Hermione felt him take her hand in his, squeezing it. She tried to squeeze back, but found she was still unable to move. Sleep claimed her again as her mind was wondering how Harry had died, but somehow they had won the war... didn't Harry have to kill Lord Voldemort? Wasn't that what the prophesy had said?

Hermione blinked her eyes open. It was dark. Nighttime? She moved her eyes side to side, she didn't see any movement to tell her Ron was nearby. She could see a wall to her left. There was something to her right, a pile of blankets maybe?

Slowly, she focused all her attention on her hands, her fingers trying to move them. She felt her pinky spasm. Her mouth managed to form a smile. Ron had said she'd been in a coma. Was that why she was so weak or was it a side effect of whatever injury she'd incurred? Did it really matter?

The cover mound let out a loud snore. Ron was apparently sleeping next to her. She felt her nose wrinkle. Why would he be sleeping next to her? Was she in his bed? Why wasn't she in a hospital? The questions swam around her mind as she allowed her eyes to close again. She could ask him in the morning maybe?

"Morning, 'Mione!"

Hermione blinked her eyes open. It was getting easier. She watched Ron moving, looking at her.

"Sleep alright?" he asked. She blinked once. She'd slept, she was so tired of sleeping. She wiggled her fingers slightly. Ron smiled at her.

"That's my girl! We didn't get to talk much before. Let's see, after the war, you were in a coma. The healers said they couldn't do anything, idiots. They also said you'd never wake up, so I brought you here. This is our, well, my flat," Ron started to explain. Hermione couldn't do much more than listen. The sound of someone knocking on the door caught her attention. Ron looked up, his face showing panic.

"I'll be right back, Hermione," he said, kissing her on the forehead before leaving the room and

closing the door behind him. Hermione blinked wondering why he'd bother closing the bedroom door.

She strained to see if she could hear who was at the door. All she heard was Ron talking too quietly for her to really understand what he was saying. She nestled back down against the pillows, allowing her eyes to slide closed for a moment.

"Fred, can you hear me?" She heard her voice asking. They were in the hospital wing. Fred was lying on the bed. Hermione in the chair next to him.

"Hermione? What are you doing here?"he asked, turning and looking at her. She smiled at him.

"Waiting for you to wake up, silly."

"No, I meant in Heaven. I'm dead, aren't I?"

"No, you're not dead, Fred. You're alive, despite the fact you gave us quite a scare and your mum threatened to murder you if you died," Hermione laughed, reaching out and touching Fred's cheek. Her fingertips brushed against the bandage.

"She really threatened to kill me?"

"If thinks he's going to die and leave us then I'm going to kill him," Hermione quoted causing Fred to laugh. He winced, reaching up and touching his head.

"I need to not do that," he muttered.

"You just need to heal, it'll take time," she promised.

Hermione blinked, trying to force more of the memory to surface, but it was gone. Fred? She'd been talking to Fred in the infirmary? When had that happened? It couldn't have been after the war, could it have been? Maybe? Something about the whole scene seemed wrong with everything she knew now, but she couldn't quite figure out why. She heard Ron slamming the door and wondered who had been there, why they'd been there? Hermione wished she could speak, that she could communicate somehow.

Ron came back to the room. Hermione could see he was upset, mad maybe. That only led to more questions. She looked towards the bedroom door, at the space outside. Ron followed her eyes.

"Oh, who was at the door? Just someone looking for Ginny," Ron answered. "Don't worry about it. Ginny's a big girl, she can take care of herself."

Hermione couldn't argue that. She was glad to hear Ginny had survived the war. Maybe once she was better, they could catch up over a cup of coffee or something?

"Are you hungry? I've been giving you nutrient potions, but real food is better."

Hermione quickly blinked twice. She wasn't hungry or even interested in food.

"Oh, not yet then," Ron commented. Hermione watched him. Slowly she moved her fingers again, wondering if she could get Ron to teach her sign language. That would make communication so much easier. She doubted he knew but maybe there was a book? Who was she kidding, there was always a book! She tried to speak, managed to open her mouth, but no sounds came out.

"Trying to speak? You... you can't, 'Mione. The spell that put you in the coma did some damage to your vocal chords."

Hermione stared at him, blinking rapidly as if that could ask the questions she had, as if that would make things make sense. She didn't feel any pain in her throat, she could swallow without pain. Shouldn't there be pain if her vocal chords had been damaged beyond repair?

"I've been working as a auror, well, part time since I need to be here with you. It's not like I can trust anyone to watch you, you know. I don't even need to work. Apparently receiving the Order of Merlin comes with a lot of reward money. I didn't even think about that until the money was in my account."

Hermione turned out Ron's chattering about money and all the awards he received from the war. She didn't really care about any of that, although, did she get the same? Was she rich now too? Did it matter? Instead, she focused her eyes on the room, moving them around, looking at everything. There was a window to the right. It was just past the edge of the bed. There were red and gold curtains so she couldn't actually see out. She wondered where exactly she and Ron were living.

"You want me to open them?" Ron asked, pausing his story about something related to Quidditch. Hermione blinked once. Some sunlight might be nice. She could tell it was light since it wasfiltering slightly through the curtains. Ron rose and pulled them apart, flooding the room with sunlight. Hermione managed to turn her head slightly towards the window. She couldn't see anything other than sky.

"Ginny's a professional Quidditch player," Ron was saying. Ginny! Hermione felt the corners of her mouth turn up slightly. She wiggled her fingers, trying to figure out how to ask Ron if she could see Ginny, or Luna, or any of their friends.

"What's that?" Ron asked, looking at Hermione's hand. "Um, I have no idea what you're asking. Would you like me to try and sit you up?" he asked. Hermione blinked once, although she was pretty sure she might be able to nod her head. Hermione watched Ron gently slide his hand behind her back, helping her sit upright. Her every muscle ached, but she smiled at him. He propped her against some pillows.

"This is nice, you and me, sitting together now that you're awake. I missed spending time with you," Ron said. Hermione blinked. She wondered how long she'd been in the coma. Ron didn't look much different from her memories, from before the war. His hair was longer. He had a slight scar on his left cheek. She focused on it for a moment. Ron raised a hand and ran his fingers against it.

"This?"

Blink.

"A rogue spell, it was just a grazing but still left a scar. You and I were lucky. I mean, we're alive and whole."

Hermione blinked twice. She wasn't whole. She didn't have her voice, she couldn't move most of her body.

"No? Oh, right your voice. That's the only thing you won't get back, 'Mione. The rest will just take time healing, and we'll have to work to get your muscles moving again. There's no other permanent damage."

Hermione turned her attention back to the room. Now that she was sitting up, she could see a lot more. Across the wall from the bed was a large Gryffindor banner, next to that was a poster of Ron's favorite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons.

"Maybe once you're better we can catch a game," Ron said, following Hermione's eyes. She blinked twice, yeah, no. Sure, she'd watched Harry play and she'd gone to the World Cup, but still, she didn't really get the appeal of Quidditch.

She wondered if she could figure out a way to tell Ron she wanted books? She might not be able to move her arms to hold one yet, but maybe he'd be willing to read to her? She scanned the room, looking for a bookshelf, or a book, or something that might help him get the idea. There was no bookshelf. She frowned, what kind of bedroom didn't have at least one bookshelf? Maybe she just couldn't see it from where she was sitting?

"What are you looking for, Hermione? The loo? I don't think you can walk yet, but I could help you? Right now, you're kind of not in control of your bladder. It's okay, I've been taking care you," Ron said, giving her a smile. She returned it slowly. A yawn escaped her lips, involuntary but true. She'd already done more today than she had since she had woken.

"Right, no need to push it, is there? That might set things back. Here, let me carry you to the loo, I'll clean you up and then you can take a nap," Ron suggested. Hermione blinked once. Ron scooped her up like she weighed nothing. Maybe she did? She hadn't eaten in who knew how long. She knew nutrient potions would keep her healthy, but wouldn't keep her weight up. Ron sat her down on the toilet, making sure she wouldn't fall over. He stripped her of the night dress she'd been wearing.

"I'll get you a clean one, and I'm going to change the sheets while I've got you up, alright?"
Hermione scanned the room, her eyes falling on the tub. The idea of a soak sounded amazing, even if she couldn't really move.

"A bath? Sure, I have some things I bought that should keep you from slipping under. I'll grab

them and get you set up?"

Hermione blinked happily as Ron scurried from the room to return with what looked like a low chair with a strap. He put in the tub, lifted her onto it and strapped her in. She was being held upright by the chair and even if Ron filled the tub, the water would only come a bit above her waist. She smiled as Ron turned on the water.

"While that fills, I'm going to get you some fresh sheets. I'll be back to turn it off and help you wash up," he promised, leaving Hermione to the wonderfully hot water. As the tub filled, she could feel her muscles relax with the heat.

She watched as she managed to wiggle her toes, a soundless giggle escaping her lips. She knew Ron said she'd never be able to talk, but she wondered if she could make sounds? Maybe just little noises that could help her communicate? She tried making a sound, but found despite her lips moving, nothing happened. Her heart sank slightly.

"That should be full enough. I know I shouldn't keep you up too long, since you've got a lot of recovery to make. Would you like me to wash you?" he asked. Hermione nodded, marveling in the fact she could move now. She wiggled her toes at him, and managed to raise one leg slightly under the water. She did the same with the other one.

"Keep that up and you'll be back to yourself soon," Ron commented, covering a bath poof with some kind of body wash. It didn't smell like anything Hermione would have bought it herself. The scent was much too floral for her tastes. She wrinkled her nose slightly.

"Don't like this one? I can get something different next time I go shopping. I forgot which scents you liked. The witch at the shop said this was the most popular," he explained. Hermione nodded, allowing him to wash her, not that she could really do much else. She did manage to hold her thighs together when he got to that part of her. Ron paused, looking at her.

"Are you sure you don't want me to...?" he asked. Slowly, using most of her strength, Hermione took the poof and managed to clean her own nether regions. Ron nodded, before taking it back and cleaning the rest of her, paying more attention to her breasts than she liked. Hermione didn't have the energy to resist.

"There we go, all clean, now back to bed for you," he said, scooping her up and carrying her to the bedroom. He dressed her in a clean night dress. Hermione fought for a moment to stay awake, but exhaustion won and she fell asleep while Ron was tucking her into bed.

"This should work," Hermione said, holding a glowing bottle. The liquid inside sparkled a brilliant shade of purple. She could see Fred studying it.

"How does it work? I mean, I know how it works, but do I drink it, pour it on the blasted thing?"

"You apply it topically," Hermione answered, giving Fred a smirk. He laughed at how she could make her voice sound both insulted and as if exasperated with him at the same time.

"Is it ready to try?" he asked.

"Only one way to find out. It won't melt your flesh like the last one, apparently using flesh-eating slugs was a horrible idea. I should have smacked you for coming up with it," she added. Fre's face flushed slightly. Hermione pretended she didn't notice.

"Ready to try it out?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Here goes nothing," Fred stated, rolling up his sleeve. Hermione could see the scarring running up his arm, and towards his chest. They'd still been unable to heal most of it. Whatever spell he'd been hit with had left its mark. The skin was puckered and looked as though something had scalded it. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"It's probably be better if you just took the whole shirt off," she said. "I mean, we don't know what will happen."

Fred nodded, pulling his shirt off to reveal his bare chest and arms. Hermione gave him a quick look over.

"Like what you see, Hermione?"

"I'd like it a whole lot better if you weren't so worried about how it looked. I mean, the scarring is nasty, but it doesn't really define you," she'd responded, raising the bottle and pouring some of the liquid onto a soft lavender cloth.

Hermione's eyes flew open at the sound of something. Glancing around the room, she didn't see anything obvious. She could see that the sunlight coming from the window was much dimmer now. It had been morning last time she'd woken, now it appeared to be late afternoon.

Ron wasn't in the room, and since Hermione couldn't make a sound, she wondered how to let him know she was awake. She wiggled her fingers, her toes, just to make sure she could still move. It wasn't much, but she realized she could curl her fingers into a sort of fist. She couldn't find a hard surface to knock on though.

With a sigh, she gave up on that idea and turned her attention to the dream she could barely remember. She knew she'd been working with Fred on something, but she couldn't remember what. All she could remember was how hot he'd been without a shirt on. Why did she even know what he looked like shirtless? She couldn't remember ever having a reason to see that. She pushed those thoughts from her head. She must have made it up for the dream. There was no way she would have been helping Fred with scars, was there? The scars had obviously come from the war, but how could Hermione have been helping him heal if she'd been in a coma this entire time?

Hermione listened, trying to even hear if Ron was home. She figured he must be. Where else would he be? Would he really leave her alone? She remembered him saying something about working as an auror. Did that mean he left her alone for long periods of time? She really wished she had a book or something to occupy her time. She figured Ron hadn't thought about that yet. She'd only just woken up, what was it, yesterday? It was starting to get darker outside. It must have been later than she realized. Hermione blinked her eyes, letting them open and close a few times before allowing herself to fall back asleep. The more she slept, the faster she'd heal, right?

There was pressure on her again. She couldn't move, couldn't even open her eyes. She was sure she smelled something alcoholic, maybe whiskey? The pressure increased and her body reacted without her even being able to understand what was going on. Suddenly it stopped and all she felt was shame, confusion. Then she was once again surrendering to the blackness that consumed most of her time.

"Here you go, potion time," Ron's voice announced. Hermione barely had time to open her eyes before something was being poured down her throat. She coughed. The stuff still tasted like liquid fire and was beyond vile. She wrinkled her nose and opened her eyes glaring at Ron. He laughed.

"Sorry, I know it must taste gross, but it's important, although we might be able to stop with the nutrient potions if you can start eating again."

Hermione nodded, wanting nothing more than to stop feeling the burning sensation. She moved her arms slightly, trying to push herself in to a sitting position. Ron helped her, putting a pillow behind her to help hold her upright. A quick glance at the window showed it was morning, probably about ten or so.

"What do you want to do today, 'Mione? I could tell you about the game last night. The Cannons lost, but it was still amazing."

Hermione tilted her head. Ron had gone to a Quidditch game last night? Was that why he hadn't been home? He'd left her alone, unable to do anything so he could go to a game? She tried to remember everything about last night, but all she could remember was some strange dream about Fred. It wasn't important.

"I had really good tickets, thanks to Ginny," Ron continued.

Hermione nodded, perking up at Ginny's name. She moved her fingers rapidly, pantomiming two people meeting each other. Ron watched her. His face fell.

"You and Ginny had a falling out, right before the final battle. Remember?"

Hermione shook her head. No, she didn't remember anything like that happening. She gave Ron a quizzical look.

"She wanted to fight and you and Mum, told her to stay put since she was under aged, and she went anyway. It doesn't matter, you and Ginny aren't on speaking terms."

Hermione stared at him. She wasn't speaking to Ginny? That didn't sound like her at all. How could things have gone so wrong? Harry was dead, her and Ginny weren't friends.

"I'm sorry. I've tried to get her to come visit you while you were in the coma, but she just wouldn't. Would you like me to make you some soup? I know you might not be hungry, but it would still taste good? Or something to drink?"

Hermione nodded. She wasn't hungry, thanks to the potions Ron had poured down her throat, but something to drink, maybe something cold would be nice.

"I'll be right back," Ron promised, kissing her on the forehead before leaving the room.

Hermione shifted slightly, glad she could move. She knew not being able to move had something to do with not using her muscles and the only way she'd get better was to move them. She raised her hands, curled her fingers, made loose fists. Putting her arms back down, she wiggled her toes. She looked down at her feet and realized she was wearing a different night dress. The one Ron had put her in yesterday had been yellow, hadn't it?

"Here we go, some hot tea and a bit of chicken broth," Ron said, pushing the door open. He was carrying a wooden tray with two mugs on it. Hermione frowned. She had wanted something cold.

"What's wrong?"

Hermione pantomimed shivering, trying to get Ron to understand she wanted a cold drink.

"You're cold? I've got more blankets, here," he said, setting the tray down. He walked over to the closet and grabbed a red and gold quilt, laying it over Hermione. Hermione managed to push the blanket off and pointed to the drinks.

"Oh! You wanted the drink cold. Sorry, don't worry 'Mione, we'll figure out some way to communicate now that you're awake," Ron said, picking up the tray and leaving the room. Hermione watched him. A small part of her wondered why she was living with him. He'd explained why she wasn't at St. Mungo's, since the healers had said she wouldn't awaken. That didn't explain why she was living here with him, did it? She tried to remember what they'd been to each other. They'd been friends, she remembered a kiss, his lips on hers. Had they been dating? She looked down at her left hand. There wasn't a ring. She wasn't married to him. Dating then?

"Here we go, cold drinks," Ron announced, once again carrying the tray into the room. Hermione watched him set the tray down on the foot of the bed. She waited until he was sitting next to her again before she started trying to ask her questions.

"Slow down, 'Mione. Here I got you a sheet of parchment. I don't know if you can write yet, but maybe we could use this to talk?"

Hermione nodded, grabbing the sheet of parchment and quill that Ron offered her.

Are we dating? She wrote.

"Yes, we were dating," Ron answered. "I suggested we make sure the house elves got out before they got hurt and you kissed me," he added. Hermione thought about that statement. It made sense.

"I wish I could have kept you from getting hurt. We don't even know who hit you or with what exactly. The battle was brutal," Ron continued. Hermione tried to remember any of it. All she could remember were some flashes of different colored light. Nothing that really mattered. She didn't remember being hit with anything.

What happened to Harry? Hermione scribbled. She knew he was dead. Ron had said so, she vaguely remembered hearing those same words in her sleep.

"You Know Who. Harry went after him, met him to do I don't know what. We both told him not to. To say, but Harry... he was being, well he was being Harry. He went. Hagrid carried his body into the Great Hall. He was dead. Neville killed the snake, and then it was a fury of movement, flashes of light everywhere. You Know Who was dead at end of it all," Ron explained. Hermione blinked, trying to force the memories to surface. She remembered Neville having the sword, remembered it shining in the light. After that, nothing.

"Don't worry if you don't remember. You're alive, that's all that matters," Ron stated, hugging Hermione. She could smell his cologne. It was a spicy scent, it made her smile for a moment. Something nagged her in the back of her mind, something she couldn't quite remember. She sighed wishing she could stop having these almost memories, that things would start making sense again.

Hermione took another drink, marveling at the coldness touching her lips, her mouth. She swallowed and realized she could feel it going down her throat. Ron was talking again, this time about a Quidditch game he'd gone to. Had it been last night? Slowly, Hermione felt her eyelids slip down, closing as she slid back onto her back, giving in once again to the exhaustion that seemed to be her life now.

Pain, that was the first thing Hermione realized she was feeling. Pain and someone doing something to her, something she didn't want. She tried to fight, tried to raise her legs, her arms, anything. She found she couldn't even open her eyes. It was like her whole body was just not responding.

She felt lips against hers, the smell of alcohol and something else, something familiar. She tried to whimper, make any sound, but found she was silent. Finally he stopped, kissed her again and left. Hermione could hear him walking, his footsteps walking from the bed. Fighting to even open her eyes became too much and slumber claimed her, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"'Mione, are you awake yet?" Ron's voice asked. Hermione blinked her eyes open, having no problem opening them. She glanced around. Ron was standing next to the bed smiling. She nodded, giving him a smile. The nightmare still on her mind, waking up to someone violating her, being unable to move. It had to have been a nightmare, she decided. She could move now, open her eyes, wiggle her fingers, move her legs. She lifted her left leg to prove just that. Her eyes widened seeing a bruise forming on her calf. She looked frantically at Ron.

"You fell out of the bed in your sleep. I didn't realize that you would move and you hit your leg on the nightstand," he stated. Hermione looked over to where he was pointing. There was a wooden night stand there now. She stared at it, certain it hadn't been there the day before. She turned her head back to Ron.

"I put it there yesterday since you're awake and starting to move. I thought you'd like to have someplace to put things," he stated. Hermione nodded, wondering how Ron had managed to put a piece of heavy looking wooden furniture next to her head without waking her.

"Want to try to eat something today?" Ron asked. Hermione nodded slowly, still confused by the nightstand. Ron smiled, bending over and kissing her forehead before leaving the room. Hermione blinked, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest. That scent, Ron's cologne, she had smelled it last night, in her nightmare, along with the alcohol... no, it couldn't be! Ron would never do something like that to her! It had to have just been a nightmare. Her mind was playing tricks on her.

"I brought you some soup, since I'm not sure if you're up for solid foods yet," Ron announced, carrying a tray in. He placed it on the nightstand. Hermione felt him slide her upright, the pillows holding her in a sitting position. She could smell the soup, chicken of some sort.

"I don't know if you can hold a spoon yet, so I'll feed you this time," Ron stated, bringing a spoonful of soup to Hermione's lips. She took a sip, her mouth filling with flavor. She remembered Mrs. Weasley's soup tasting much like this. Had Ron gotten the recipe from her? She didn't remember Ron being much of a cook. Although, when would he have had time to cook before the war? She didn't have time to dwell on it as another spoonful of soup was brought to her lips. She drank, glad she could still taste things.

"I've got to go to the office for a little bit today, 'Mione."

Hermione nodded slowly. She'd be alone in the flat again, she was sure Ron had left her alone many times, times she wasn't aware of. She looked around for the sheet of parchment they'd been using. Not seeing it, she tried to pantomime reading a book in hopes Ron would understand.

"You want a book?" he finally asked. Hermione brought her lips into a smile. If she was going to be alone, possibly awake this time, she needed something to do.

"I don't have many books, most of your things... well, I don't know what happened to them. I'll see what I can do though. I'll get you some parchment and you can make me a list of what you'd like to read," Ron replied, feeding her another spoonful of soup. Hermione could feel her eyes start to droop again, could feel her body wanting to sleep.

"Tired, here, let me help you."

Hermione felt Ron's hand behind her, helping her slide back into a laying down position. She gave him a soft smile before allowing sleep to claim her again. A small part of her wondered when she'd be able to stay awake for more than a little bit. There was also something nagging in the back of her mind, something that wasn't quite right but she couldn't pinpoint it.

"This is it, Hermione, look!"

Hermione watched as the skin started smoothing slightly, becoming less deformed. It was still scarred, but at the same time, it didn't look angry or red any more. Hermione tried not to cover her surprise. She'd known the serum had a good chance of working, but she hadn't expected these results.

"You're a genius!" Fred exclaimed, wrapping his arms around Hermione and twirling her. He set her down slowly, bringing his lips to hers for a long kiss.

"You helped just as much," she replied, trying to ignore the pounding of her heart. Sure she and Ron hadn't worked out, but this was Fred!

"Without you, I would have been lost," he whispered, taking her hand in his. "How about I show you how thankful I am? Let me buy you dinner?"

Hermione's eyes flew open. Fred had wanted to buy her dinner? No, it had just been a dream. She was dating Ron, that's what he'd said, wasn't it? Speaking of Ron, where was he? It was dark outside now and he didn't seem to be in the house. Maybe he was working. She vaguely remembered him saying something about working. Her head was starting to pound slightly making it hard to form thoughts. Deciding to stop thinking about things, or at least over thinking about things, she turned her attention back to her body. She slowly curled her toes, moved her feet, and managed to bend her knees. She repeated this a few times. She wanted to walk again, regain her mobility. After doing about five reps of each exercise, and doing the same with her hands and arms, Hermione's eyes started drooping and soon she fell back asleep.

"Still asleep, good."

Hermione heard a voice whispering. She tried to open her eyes, but found she couldn't move again. Had being able to move her legs just been part of a strange dream? No, she was sure it had been real. The other part, the part about Fred had been a dream.

"You're such a good girl, so soft and always ready for me," the voice continued whispering in her ear as she felt hands on her body. The hands rubbed her thighs, up her legs. Hermione tried to scream, tried to fight, but her body didn't respond to her commands. She felt him enter her, felt him finish as she tried to keep her body from reacting to him. She didn't want him, whoever he was, she didn't want this! She felt the tip of toes tingle as he rose, as if a spell was wearing off. She could see his body a silhouette against the darkness. Her mind screamed at her, vague memories about school, something about Neville, their first year... her breathing stopped as she remembered using the total body bind on him. No! No!

"Good night 'Mione," he whispered before leaving the room. She heard the door close as she managed to start crying. All those other times, she remembered them, remembered thinking they wer just nightmares. Had they been real too? He'd called her ''Mione', how could Ron be the one doing this to her? She started shaking, still unable to move fully. A total body bind, her mind reminded her. She fell asleep with her body raw and tears streaming down her face.

"Good morning, potion time!" Ron's voice announced. Hermione blinked her eyes open to the bright morning light. Ron was standing there smiling at her. She glared at him, at the potion he was holding. She didn't want any potions! Something had happened last night, she knew something had happened last night. Why couldn't she remember? It had been important, hadn't it?

"I know you don't like the potions, but I'm worried about you healing, here, drink," Ron was pouring it down her throat. Hermione tried to resist. She didn't need the nutrient potion, she was eating food now. What was this? She tried to taste it, but she couldn't figure out what it tasted like. The room spun for a moment and she heard Ron saying something, but she couldn't quite make out the words.

"See, that's the trick, making the canary cream taste exactly like custard until the person burst out in feathers."

"It is a nice piece of magic," Hermione admitted.

"Nice? We spent nearly three months working on getting that just right. Now the toffee, that one was easier, the whole line of Skivving Snackboxes..."

"I remember you spent a lot of time on those. I also remember your mum yelling at you and yo testing them on all the first years you could."

"We had to make sure they worked," Fred argued. "Of course, you and Ron had to put an end to that, well, mostly just you..."

"Yeah, Ron didn't want to help with that. Although, you have to admit, me confiscating that lot did a lot of good after all. I mean, I wanted to make sure they were safe, and I came to appreciate the work you and George did in a whole new light," Hermione admitted.

"True, if you'd never done that, you never would have fallen in love with me," Fred stated, kissing Hermione lightly on the lips.

Hermione blinked back tears. Ron was still talking. Hermione stared at him. These flashes of dreams, they couldn't be memories, could they? No, Fred looked how he did during the war. She, Ron and Harry had been on the run that whole year. It couldn't be after the war, she wouldn't have been able to speak! She wondered if the potion Ron kept feeding her caused hallucinations? Or some other kind of memory problems?

"What would you like to eat today? I've picked up some more soup, or did you want something more solid? I can make a sandwich if you'd like?"

Hermione nodded slightly. What she really wanted was a real home cooked meal, maybe Mrs. Weasley's pot roast? Roast sounded divine. She tried to tell Ron, but realized she couldn't find the sheet of parchment they'd been using to communicate. It always seemed to disappear when she was looking for it. Ron saw her searching.

"Here," he said, handing her a fresh sheet. Hermione took it and quickly scribbled 'roast'. She handed it back to Ron. He read it, his face falling.

"I'll see what I can do, Mum's making one on Sunday, I should be able to get some to bring home to you."

Hermione tilted her head. Why couldn't she come to dinner?

"Ginny's going to be there, you and she are fighting, remember?"

Hermione nodded, but it still didn't make sense. She and Ginny were friends. She wanted to see Ginny, and her heart soared thinking about it, she wanted to see Fred!

She gave Ron a begging look.

"No, it's not possible. I'm sorry. Look, I'll bring you back some, I promise."

Hermione sank back. Ron smiled at her.

"I'll go get you some soup," he said, leaving the room, taking the sheet of parchment with him. Hermione wondered why he didn't just leave it on the nightstand. He was back a moment later, a bowl of hot soup in his hands. He sat it down and started feeding Hermione soup. She wished she knew why Ginny hated her so much. Could it really be that she's spoken against the younger girl fighting? Ginny wasn't the kind of hold a grudge though.

Ron took Hermione's silence as a cue to talk about yet another Quidditch game he'd gone to. Hermione tuned him out completely wondering why he'd still not brought her anything to read. Once she was finished eating, Ron took the dishes. She could hear him in the kitchen. She looked around for something to do, but found nothing. Laying back, she started moving her legs again, working on gaining her strength back. She found it was getting easier to move her body. That made her smile. Soon, maybe with the help of a walker or a cane, she might be able to walk again!

"I've got to go take care of somethings at the office," Ron said, poking his head back into the room. Hermione nodded slowly, trying to pantomime holding a book. Ron blinked, but left coming back with a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages. He handed it to her.

"I'll get you some more, just make me a list," he stated, kissing her forehead before leaving. Hermione sighed, she hadn't even been able to tell him he had never given her the parchment back!

Hermione started reading the book, more out of complete boredom than interest in the subject. About half way through, she tossed it aside and yawned, closing her eyes and falling back asleep.

She wasn't sure what woke her. There had been a sound maybe? Hermione glanced around the bedroom. The book was sitting on the nightstand where she'd left it. How long ago had Ron left? She remembered eating soup, had that been lunch? Had she slept though dinner?

Hermione pulled herself into a sitting position. The blinds were drawn so she couldn't be sure what time it was. She had a feeling it was morning. She rapped her knuckles on the nightstand, trying to summon Ron, to let him know she was hungry. She waited a few minutes, but he didn't come. She tried making more noise, but still nothing.

A sinking feeling filled her chest. He wasn't here. Was he at work? He was always here in the mornings to make sure she'd had her potions. Potions. What did she need those for exactly? She remembered him pouring one down her throat yesterday, and the day before, and the one before that.

How come she could remember that but everything else seemed fuzzy? She wasn't taking the nutrient one anymore. She was able to eat food! Then what was he giving her? Hermione tried to remember what they tasted like, potions usually had unique tastes.

"This tastes like earwax."

"Your point?"

"I'm not drinking something that tastes like earwax."

"Then don't drink it, Fred.. I mean, you can stand the pain of your skin melting off if you want, I'd really prefer you not be in total pain if this doesn't work," she'd replied, laughter escaping her lips.

"You're evil."

"Takes one to know one," Hermione'd laughed as Fred downed the vial, the yellowish potion shimmering.

Hermione blinked. That was not a dream, no it felt like a memory, like part of a conversation she'd had at some point. But why would she be talking to Fred about potions? Why would she be teasing him, helping him? The whole thing made no sense. There was no way that this memory could be from before the war. Hermione blinked back tears as she tried to force her mind to make sense of things. It didn't help that she was hungry and had to pee. Where was Ron?

Deciding Ron wasn't here, that she couldn't wait for him to return, Hermione managed to slide from the bed. She leaned against the nightstand, then the wall, slowly making her way to the loo. She nearly collapsed twice before she'd made it, but she made it.

Just sitting down on the toilet was a blessing to her weak body. She didn't think she'd be able to make it to the kitchen, where ever that was. All she knew is Ron left their room and returned with food. She had no idea if the kitchen was the next room over, if there was a hallway.

Letting out a silent scream of despair, Hermione's eyes fell on the faucet. Water! It wouldn't be as good as actual food, but it would make her stomach stop grumbling for a bit, maybe long enough for Ron to return? She rose to her trembling feet, managed to cup her hands together and fill them as she brought the sweet cold water to her lips.

She drank until she felt fuller. Tears streaming down her face in both despair and pride that she'd managed to do this. Slowly, she made her way back towards the bedroom. Part of wanted to see what was beyond the door. Hermione felt better now that she'd had some water and the thought that there might be books, or something to do, made making the journey even more tempting. She stayed close to the wall, leaning against things as she walked.

The bedroom door swung open as she turned the knob. The first thing she saw was a hallway. It was short with a door opposite the bedroom and one to the right. Hermione crossed the hallway first, opening the door. It was nothing more than a linen closet. She had a feeling she wouldn't find anything of interest in there, so she turned to the other door. She tried turning the bronze handle, but it didn't move.

Locked. The door was locked, but why would Ron have a locked door in their home? Hermione wished she had her wand, alohamora was one of the spells she had mastered doing nonverbally. Ron must have put it somewhere in the house. Hermione turned, looking down the hallway. She could see it open into a larger room. There was a doorway on the right without a door.

Staying close to the wall, Hermione made her way down the hallway, pausing every few seconds to try and keep her footing. She noticed the walls were completely bare. There were no pictures of her or Ron, nothing that showed they lived here.

Hermione found herself in a dining room of sorts. A smile spread across her face when she spotted a wooden chair. Moving as quickly as she could, she sat down in it and looked around. There were some shelves on the wall, with Quidditch stuff on them. No books at all. The dining room table where she was sitting only had two chairs.

There was a grey sofa a bit further away. Hermione wondered if she could make it over there, at least lay down on it? She turned her head to the right and spotted a doorway that led to a small kitchen. She could see a fridge and a stove. She realized this was a muggle flat, with muggle electronics. That only confused her further. Why would they be living in the muggle world?

Hermione slowly stood up, there was fridge which meant food. She was hungry! She walked over to it, using the chair as support. She pulled the handle and opened the door. Her hope turned to dismay as she looked inside. There was nothing in here save a few bottles of beer. Tears pricked her eyes. Ron didn't have any food in the house? How was that possible? Where had the soup come from then. Hermione leaned against the counter and started looking around the small kitchen. There were a few cans of soup in the cabinet. She grabbed one, but lacked the hand strength to pull the pop tab up. She set the can down ignoring the tears forming in her eyes. What had Ron done to her? Things didn't add up. The potions every morning, the dreams, no memories of her and Fred, the fact this place looked completely unlived in. There wasn't even food here. Ron couldn't be living here? He'd never be without food! Hermione felt the room starting to swirl around her. She reached for the chair, but her hand missed and she crashed to the floor.

Wincing, she tried to move. Everything felt heavy at the moment, but not like at night, not when she was being attacked. Slowly, she reached for the chair, starting to pull herself upright again.

"Ron? You home?" someone yelled, knocking loudly on the door. Hermione turned her attention to the sound. She could see the front door. It was closed with the chain on. Who was at the door? For a moment, Hermione felt nothing but fear, what if the person was going to hurt her? Ron was already hurting her, wasn't he? A small voice in the back of her mind thought. The attacker called her ''Mione'. Only Ron called her that. Hermione bit her lip. Whoever at the door wasn't Ron, whoever it was might be able to help her. How could she get their attention though? She couldn't speak. She looked at the chair. With every bit of her strength she banged it against the floor, making as much noise as possible. She hoped that whoever was outside would hear it.

"Ron!?" she heard the voice yell. She slammed the chair again, and again. Finally she heard the person outside unlock the door. She knew they'd used magic as she heard the chain fall and smack against the wall.

"Ron?" she heard the voice ask. She managed to force herself into a standing position, her legs trembling beneath her. She stared at the man standing in the living room.

"Hermione?" he asked, staring back. She nodded, tears streaming down her face.

Bill, she mouthed, knowing she couldn't make a sound. Bill crossed the room to her, stepping around the now broken chair she'd been slamming against the floor. He caught her neatly in his arms as he legs gave out beneath her completely.

Hermione blinked her eyes open. The first thing she saw was a white ceiling. There were bright lights. She wasn't in the flat. The next thing she noticed was someone was holding her hand. She turned her head and found herself staring into Fred's eyes. He smiled at her.

"Hey, Hermione. I told you I'd find you," he whispered. She blinked a few times.

"Is she awake yet?"

"Barely," Fred answered, looking to the doorway. Hermione followed his gaze. George was standing there, along with Harry. Hermione let out a soft scream at seeing Harry. Her eyes widened as she realized she'd made a noise.

"I can speak?" she said, her voice hoarse from lack of use.

"Yes? There's nothing wrong with your voice," Fred stated. Harry had crossed over to Hermione's bed.

"And you're alive," she sobbed, wrapping Harry in a tight hug. "Ron told me you were dead, that you died in the battle."

"Hermione, Ron...Ron was lying to you, about a lot of things it seems. He kidnapped you, hid you away from everyone. He cut ties with all of us. We thought we'd never see you again," Harry exclaimed, sitting down on the edge of Hermione's bed.

"Where am I?"

"St. Mungos' being treated for everything our brother did to you," Fred answered, gently squeezing Hermione's hand.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did he do this?" she asked, tears filling her eyes. She had a inkling of why, of the reason behind everything, but she needed to know the truth.

"Because I asked you to marry me," Fred answered. "Ron hated that you and I had become close, he claimed I stole you from him. He attacked me on Christmas after you said yes. You disappeared the next day, along with Ron."

"How long?"

"Almost a year," Fred said. "We've been searching for you for almost a year. If Bill hadn't come by again."

"Again?"

"He's been trying to talk to Ron for the past few weeks."

Hermione nodded slowly, that must have been who was at the door the first time. She remembered Ron being mad, if Bill had known where Ron was...

"If Bill knew-"

"He knew where Ron was, yes, but we had no idea if Ron had you stashed in the same place. Ron claimed he had no idea where you'd gone. He'd made you untracable, put a silencing charm on you. The aurors found several control potions at the flat."

"He body bound me," Hermione whispered. "At night...I thought... I'd hoped... it wasn't a nightmare, was it?" she asked. Fred and George both looked down at the floor.

"I'm sorry," Fred replied. Hermione looked over at him. Hermione leaned back against the bed. She was so tired of sitting in beds at this point.

"How long do I have to stay here?"

"A few days for observation, to make sure everything he's done to you is out of your system."

"And after that?" she asked.

"I was hoping you'd come back to the flat with me," Fred said after a moment. "I mean, from what you've said, you don't remember living there or even being with me."

"I'm sorry. Ron...I don't even know everything he's done to me. It's going to take a long time for me to sort through everything. I do remember some bits and pieces, you and me working on a salve for your scars. I remember you asking me to dinner. Then," Hermione paused, letting her memories float to the surface. Ron hadn't managed to erase them, just bury them. " I remember you kissing me," she said with a smile. Fred smiled back.

"What's going to happen to Ron?"

"He's going to be Kissed," Fred answered, his face grim. "After everything he's done to you, the kidnapping a war hero, the spells and potions he used to keep you under his control, what he did to you while you under that control...they can't just lock him up."

"Good," Hermione whispered, looking down at the blankets. Her entire body felt exhausted, but she was fighting to stay awake, she knew on one level she was safe, but the memories of what he'd done to her kept her from accepting that fact.

"You should rest. I know you don't to hear it, but I'll be right here. I won't let anything happen, I promise," Fred whispered. Hermione nodded, allowing her eyes to close. Safe. She was finally safe.