On the one hand, brace yourselves. But on the other hand, I promise it's not going to be as bad as you might think. Mainly because, I'll admit, it was hard to write this part so I had to cut it short. I love them too much to focus on the really bad stuff and it was hurting my heart! Honestly...I don't know how writers like RomioneB and Cheesy do it...I love to read it cause it hurts so good! But I can't do it myself...

That being said...this chapter ends on a lightly smuffy (smutty + fluufy) note. Nothing crazy.

Thanks to who my daughter calls "the beta lady" aka "Blue". The rest of us know her as BGP or BlueGreenandPurple. Have y'all read Move On yet? Talk about idiots in love! Go read it! After this chapter... (haha!)

Okay...ready dolls? *sighs*

Agony. Pure, unadulterated agony.

Each and every scream that echoed through the estate tore into him like daggers ripping into his chest. His heart was shattering, and the bitch's wand may as well have been pointing at him rather than at the love of his life.

She was so close, just a floor above, yet unreachable. Crucio after Crucio left him trembling and screaming.

"HERMIONE!"

He had failed her. Again.

He'd promised to protect her, told her he would never leave her again. And yet there he was - helpless, useless. Wandless. Trapped and unable to do a thing to get to her.

Another scream, and Ron swore he could feel his heart exploding inside his chest, leaving him breathless and tortured himself. She knew what she was doing when she took Hermione instead of him, sodding Bellatrix Lestrange.

"I would keep you up here to enjoy the show, but you might do something to make me hurt you blood-traitor. I'll let her screams do you in."

Tears streamed down his face. The stone walls tore the skin on his fingers and knuckles as he clawed and punched frantically, looking for a way out...any way out.

"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!"

He sobbed and fought the urge to crumple to the floor into a ball. To die right there on the cold ground, listening to her own life be taken from her bit by bit. He would join her. Yeah, he would meet her wherever you go when you die. There would be no more pain, no more war. It would all end, and they could spend an eternity together. If she gave in upstairs, he would allow his heartbreak to overtake him. Surely it would be enough to-

No!

"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!"

He had to fight! For her, for himself, for Harry and his family. They had to fight. But there was no way out!

Another scream, and Ron knew he was going as mad as she was.

"HERMIONE!"

He couldn't think. His mind was filled with nothing but the sounds of her tortuous cries and the image of her writhing body. He looked at Harry, praying that he had a plan while trying desperately to steady his mind enough to-

CRACK!

"Dobby?!"

A plan...a way out.

But first, he had to get to her in time.


Ron landed hard on the sand, almost sure that the witch in his arms was either dead or nearly there. Hermione was cold and limp, her skin pale and bruised. There was blood, but he couldn't tell where it was coming from.

"Hermione?" he called to her, his voice pained but soft. "Hermione, please! Please!"

Ron sighed as he heard the faintest moan and felt a subtle twitch. That was all he needed to stumble up onto his feet and trudge through the sand to the house. He tried desperately to control his own shaking as he clutched her against his chest. She felt so small in his arms - even more so than usual.

"We're okay, sweetheart," he whispered as he held her close and stumbled up the path to the house. "We're safe now. We're okay."

Bill and Fleur ran out of the door just as Ron made it onto the porch, their wands raised, with Dean and Luna just behind them. Just then, Ron heard a crack behind him and Bill startled.

"Harry," Ron panted to his brother. "Get Harry."

Bill nodded and ran down the porch stairs.

"Oh, mon cherie," Fleur exclaimed as she passed a hand over Hermione's pale and battered face. "Take her to the bedroom you used, Ronald. I've put Mr. Ollivander in the other. Take her and I will be there as soon as I can."

Ron nodded and carried Hermione into the house and up the stairs.

As he laid her down on the first bed - his bed - he called her name again.

Nothing.

"Don't die, love," he begged as he started to peel off layers of clothes to look for injuries. "You can't die. You can't." He got her down to her undershirt and knickers, and noticed cuts all over her arms and legs. There was a large gash on her upper arm, likely the source of much of the blood, and a thin bloody line on her neck from the demented witch's dagger.

Gingerly, he lifted her undershirt and gasped when he found a large bruise on her side as well as other smaller ones peppering her abdomen.

"Mon dieu!" came a gasp at the door. Fleur entered and shut it quickly behind her. "Ron, let me. You shouldn't-"

"I'm not leaving her," he choked out.

"But Ron, it is indecent-"

"Listen, I have seen and touched every part of her body," he growled. "It's far too late for decency. Now, are you going to help me or not?"

Fleur regarded him for a second, then nodded and sprang into action. She had come into the room levitating a basket of potions and a basin with water in front of her. After settling them both on the table, she studied Hermione again.

"Ronald, I need you to tell me what happened," she started. But then, she likely recalled the many arguments Ron had with Bill about the secrecy of the trio's mission, so she added, "To Hermione."

"Cruciatus," Ron said, his voice barely above a whisper. He fought back tears as he stroked Hermione's sweaty forehead. "B-Bellatrix Lestrange."

"More than once?" Ron nodded. "H-how many times?"

Ron shrugged. "Ten? Maybe more? I'm not...I'm not sure."

"Mon dieu..." Fleur said again. She handed Ron a damp cloth and then turned to the basket of potions, pulling out bottle after bottle as he set to work tending to her wounds. The chandelier had fallen directly on top of her and many of her cuts had glass still in them.

Ron had just cleaned out and applied dittany to the wounds on Hermione's legs when there was a knock on the door. He covered her with the sheet before Bill entered the room.

"How is she?" he asked, eyeing her warily.

"I have given her several potions that should quell the pain from the curses," Fleur explained, "and her minor wounds are healing. I do believe she has a broken rib or two...it looks as if she's been kicked on her side. I'm giving the pain potion a moment, then will give her Skele-Gro."

Bill nodded. "She's strong. She's a fighter." He sent a weak smile Ron's way.

"Harry?" Ron asked, feeling a wave of guilt that he had not thought of him until now.

"Harry's fine. He's down on the beach, uh…" Bill sighed and Ron held his breath - he could tell that something bad had happened.

"Dobby didn't make it, Ron."

Ron released the breath he was holding and ran his hands over his face. "Dobby?" he whispered. "What happened?"

"Harry says that Bellatrix Lestrange threw a dagger as they Disapparated. It hit Dobby right in the chest."

Ron groaned. Dobby had saved them. Then lost his life. Dobby. Why Dobby? Ron knew Harry must be devastated.

"Ron," Bill said in a hushed tone, "is that who...was it Bellatrix?"

Ron nodded morosely. "Bellatrix...Greyback...the Malfoys."

Bill and Fleur both sucked in a breath at the mention of Greyback as Ron held Hermione's hand. He rubbed it against his cheek, silently willing for her to wake up.

Hermione released a weak groan and Ron moved in closer to her face. "Hermione?" He stroked her cheek with one finger lightly and watched her eyes. "Hermione, can you wake up for me, Love? Just for a bit?"

Her eyes fluttered open and stared up at the ceiling without focusing. "Hermione! Are you okay? Can you tell me where there's pain?"

Hermione didn't speak. Instead, she moved her head just enough so that her eyes fell on him, but they lacked their usual spark. "Oh, Mione," he breathed.

After much coaxing from Bill and Fleur, Ron eventually left the room to see how Harry was doing. Fleur had assured him that she wouldn't leave Hermione's side until he returned, and would send for him if anything happened. Since Hermione was awake, Ron was able to tell her that he would be back - right back. She didn't verbally respond, but he thought - or hoped - he saw a glimmer of understanding in her eyes when he told her that he needed to check on Harry.

He didn't really want to leave her, but he was worried about his best mate too, and he knew she would want him to make sure that Harry was alright.

Hermione was alive, and Ron had to tell himself that she would be fine. But there was a thought lingering in the back of his mind that he couldn't let go. When she came down to Dobby's grave a bit later, with the support of Fleur and Luna, Ron instantly felt a wave of relief. However, when he noticed the same vacant look in her eyes, relief was replaced with worry. He put his arm around her to hold her to him as they all said goodbye to Dobby, then he led her back inside.


"How's Hermione?" Harry asked as he slipped into the little room. Ron was sitting beside her bed watching her sleep. That's where they'd been since they returned from burying Dobby a few hours before. She'd woken up a few times and watched Ron or stared at the window, but mostly she'd slept. And her face was always expressionless and empty. It was as if his Hermione wasn't in there at all.

Harry grabbed the other chair that was in the room and pulled it closer to sit beside Ron.

"She's...I don't know, Harry. She's not…" He took a deep breath. "I'm worried."

"But, she was awake. She came down to see Dobby." Harry reached out and took Hermione's hand.

"She wakes up sometimes and looks at me, but she hasn't said a word aside from a few grunts and groans. And did you see her eyes? They're...they're so...vacant." Ron winced and then ran his hands over his face, feeling the stubble that was steadily growing on his cheeks. He knew he needed to shower and get cleaned up, but there were too many other things on his mind. "You've seen what that...that witch did to Neville's parents, Harry," he whispered.

Harry took a deep breath. "You don't think...Do you think she'll be like…" Ron noticed that he couldn't even complete the thought out loud. The thought that Ron knew was now consuming them both: that Hermione could never be the same again. Never be Hermione again. That the effects of the Cruciatus curse could have harmed her mind irreparably, just as it had the Longbottoms.

Ron took a deep breath and sat up straight. "I've thought about it, it's all I've thought about, really. And, if she is..." he paused and gulped back tears. "If she is, I'll take care of her, Harry. I've already worked it all out in my mind. She'll stay here at Shell Cottage for now. It will kill me to leave her, but I'll talk to Bill and Fleur and she'll stay here while we finish this."

"Ron,-" Harry started but Ron cut him off.

"I'm not leaving you to do this alone, Harry. I abandoned you both once. I'm not abandoning you again and...and this won't be abandoning her," he said to himself, more than to Harry. "We have to keep fighting…for her." He paused, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest.

"I trust my brother and sister-in-law to take care of her while we're gone. We'll go and end this. Then, I'll come back for her. From then on, I'll take care of her myself - all my life if I have to. Reckon I won't be able to work much...but we can live in a bloody tent if we must. Or The Burrow. Maybe I'll build a small shack on my parent's land or something...I'll sort it out, talk to them about it. I'm sure they won't mind, maybe Mum will even want me close so she can help out. Point is though, Hermione won't spend her days shut up in some ward at St. Mungo's, I'm going to take care of her. I'll read to her every day, take her outside for walks, bring her here to the beach... Who knows...maybe it will all help her in the long run."

Harry listened to Ron in silence before he said, "You know I'll help you, right mate? After all it is my fault-"

"Harry, it's not your fault." Ron snapped.

"I said his name," Harry hissed angrily, though Ron could tell the anger was towards himself. "I said his name and they got us and took us there. You warned me and I still said his name."

"You didn't tell that bitch to do what she did to Hermione," Ron snarled. "You didn't tell them to torture her. It's not your fault, it's theirs: Bellatrix and the sodding Malfoys. And if I ever see them again… they'll wish they had killed me."

Harry placed a hand on Ron's shoulder and soon he felt calm again. "Still, I mean it. I'll help, I'll take care of you both just like you've always taken care of me. Whatever you two need - anything." Ron nodded in appreciation to his best mate. "You know it won't come to that though, right?" Harry continued. "She'll be fine. She has to be."

They were quiet for a long while. Through the open window, they could hear the waves crashing into the shore. The sun was rising, already casting a dim, golden glow in the room - the signal of a new day.

"I asked her to marry me," Ron mumbled.

"What?"

"Yeah...I know." A smile spread across Ron's face at the memory.

"When?" Harry asked.

Ron shrugged. "Week or so ago? We were in the forest and you know how the days have run into each other. Anyway, I told her that I want to marry her as soon as this is all over."

"Wow..."

"Yeah," Ron said again. Then, he took a deep breath. "Will you...will you be my best man?" Ron was still afraid for Hermione, but making these sorts of plans felt normal and even reassuring - as if they would really happen. This madness would all end, and Hermione would be alright and they would be free to do something as normal as plan a wedding. He chuckled at the thought of Hermione asking Ginny to be her maid of honor.

Harry turned to Ron, his mouth agape. "Me?" Ron nodded. "But...you have five brothers...and you choose me?"

"You're my brother too, Harry. More than...you're my best mate, the one brother that I chose. So, yeah. I choose you to be my best man."

"Ron," he choked, "I don't know what to say." Ron looked at Harry to find that his eyes looked a bit wet.

"Oh, don't get all soppy on me now, Potter," he teased with a chuckle, though he was trying to cover up the lump that had formed in his own throat. "Just...say yes."

"Of course, mate," he finally answered. They gave each other a one-armed and somewhat awkward hug, but it sent the message they each hoped it did.

"Honestly," a weak voice croaked, "if you two want to be alone, you need only ask."

"Hermione!" Both boys jumped up and exclaimed. Ron sank to his knees beside her bed and looked at her eyes as they fluttered open and focused on him with a weak smile. They were tired but held a hint of playfulness and love - nothing like the vacant brown eyes he'd seen before.

"You're okay!" Ron cried, grabbing her hands and placing kisses along her knuckles. "You're okay."


Ron entered the small room and shut the door behind him, locking and silencing it with his wand.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked quietly. She was sitting on her bed, her knees pulled up to her chest. Her hair was recently washed and hung around her in damp ringlets, though the edges were beginning to dry and frizz. Her wide brown eyes bore love and fear all at the same time.

She looked so beautiful that Ron had to remind himself to take his next breath.

"Luna will need to -"

"Luna is sleeping down in the sitting room with Dean and Harry," Ron interrupted her. "Harry gave her the couch and he took my spot on the floor." He moved to sit beside her on the bed.

"Ron," she shook her head, "you can't kick her out of her own bed."

He placed a hand on her knee and sighed. "I didn't," he answered. "She offered to stay down there tonight." He shook his head with a chuckle. "Sometimes I really think Luna is a legilimens, you know? The way she always seems to know what people are thinking, even before they think about it."

Hermione relaxed now, lowering her knees to sit straight in front of her and took Ron's hand in hers. He soaked in the simplest touch from her, having felt deprived of her these past weeks since they'd arrived at Shell Cottage - first with her recovery, then with the very Molly Weasley-esque way that Bill and Fleur made sure they rarely had any time alone. (And it really wasn't hard for Bill and Fleur to keep tabs on their whereabouts in the small and packed to the brim cottage.)

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, pulling him back from his thoughts. "What...what were you thinking?"

Ron cleared his throat. "I was thinking that...I was thinking…" He felt his heart constrict and his breathing became labored. The memories of her screams at Malfoy Manor filled his ears again just as they did each and every night, and he pulled her hands to his lips hoping she wouldn't notice the moisture forming in his eyes. He took a deep breath and spoke slowly, his voice choked and soft. "I was thinking that if this ends up being our final night alive," Hermione sobbed, "that I'm not spending it on the floor in the sodding sitting room thinking about you." He raised his eyes to hers. "I'm spending it with you."

"It won't be," Hermione whispered, raising her hand to his cheek. "It can't be."

Although she spoke the words, Ron could tell she was trying to convince herself as much as him. All three of them knew that tomorrow was a suicide mission - although, they reckoned that infiltrating the Ministry of Magic had been as well. They knew that if they made it out of Gringotts alive - with or without the horcrux - that they were the luckiest sods in the entire universe. They knew that tonight could very well be their last.

And they were going to do it anyway.

It was with this very mentality that Ron lay in the bed beside Hermione and pulled her to him. Sure they could get in trouble, sure Bill and Fleur could get mad at them - tell his Mum even...but if this was quite possibly their last night together, they were going to be together no matter what.

Hermione rested her head on Ron's chest, and both tried desperately to slow their frantic breathing. "Ron?" she whispered into the darkness.

"Yes, love?"

"Don't let us die tomorrow, okay?"

Ron pulled her impossibly closer and buried his nose in her hair. He tried desperately to breathe her in, to absorb her very essence into him in any way possible. To burn this moment forever into his memory so he could take it with him - wherever tomorrow led them.

"I promise, Mione."

He knew that it was a promise that he couldn't truly keep, but he did promise to do everything in his power to keep them all safe.

As they held each other, Ron thought back to the last few weeks and thanked Merlin, Godric and anyone else that they were there together - that she was there, alive and whole. A bit broken, yes - they all were - but still whole at the same time. He'd left them and found them again, despite the odds. She'd survived torture that had sent the strongest aurors to insanity, and was back to bossing them around by the following day. How did they get here? Who was looking out for them?

And...would their luck eventually run out?

"Ron?" She broke the silence again a few moments later.

"Hmm?"

"Can you do something else for me?"

"Anything, Mione. I'll do anything for you." He wondered if she really understood the depths of his words. He would literally do any and every single thing she asked of him.

"Make me forget, Ron." He shifted his head back to gaze down at her and met her eyes, which were wet with tears. "Make me forget, at least for a little while." He brought his finger to trace alongside her nose, then her cheek and jaw, and her eyes fluttered closed under his light touch. "Distract me Ron," she whispered huskily. "Please?"

"Anything," he murmured again as his lips sought out hers.

Their kiss was both passionate and slow as they settled into the bed, already removing his pajama trousers and her knickers. They didn't feel as if they had all the time in the world to take things slow, but they both wanted to remember every moment, every feeling.

Ron settled over her and his hands found her hips as they kissed. She brought her knees further up his sides, opening herself further to him. He held her in place as he pushed himself into her. She moaned against his lips and it sent a shiver up and down his body. His fingers bunched up her nightgown until it was gathered around her waist, and she raised up slightly to tug the garment over her head, revealing herself to him. Ron marveled at how much healthier she looked after their weeks at Shell Cottage - her skin was healed of much of the scars and bruises, and her color had returned beautifully. He noticed that she also wasn't as skinny as she was the last time they were together in the forest, and he was glad for that. He vowed to himself that once they were back on their own, he would make sure she ate better. He would take better care of her.

"There's my gorgeous witch," he breathed into her ear. She giggled as he placed kisses in a few of his favorite spots below her ear, and along her neck and jaw. "Mine," he whispered, his large hand grasping her backside possessively as he rocked against her.

"Mine," she moaned, clutching him with her arms, her legs wrapping around his waist to keep him close. Their moans were laced with promises never to let the other go.