Hermione wandered around dazed and confused. She could not think straight.
She was completely out of her senses. She didn't know where she was going
or what she was doing. All that was on her mind was the events of what just
happened, making her cry everytime they entered her head. Sharp pains
stabbed her brain as flashes of the images rushed in. She couldn't shake
the eery feelings of his touch off herself. She wanted to scrub herself
like crazy till she bleeded. Unknowingly, she scratched herself like crazy,
her nails digging into her skin making her bleed. Still, no matter what she
did to herself, she didn't feel clean.
She walked around for hours and hours, not knowing where to go. It was like she was in a trance of some kind. She looked like a hopeless case. He feet started aching, her body still hasn't stopped trembling both from her fear and the cold of the rain. Finally somewhat getting back to her senses, barely, she realized that she couldn't walk anymore. She approached the first house she saw.
She struggled to climb up the first few stairs fo the porch and knocked desperately at the door. The door opened and a rush of heat overwhelmed her. What she saw made her faint and collapse in relief.
Ron Weasley caught her limp body before she hit the floor. He was surprised. He didn't know who it was. She just looked liked some poor girl who stumbled on his front porch. As he lifted her into his arms he saw her face clearly. His eyes widened so wide that his eyes nearly teared. There in his arms was Hermione looking pale and scared. Her eyes were practically sunken in dark circles. He stroked her cold face, not able to comprehend what could have happened to her. He noticed her ripped shirt, exposing her one of her breasts and her unhooked pants. He held her closer to him. She was shaking. He pulled her closer to his body, making sure that she could feel the heat and to cover her exposed body. He headed straight to his den placing her gently on his couch beside the blazing fireplace.
He ran so fast to his bedroom, searching frantically for a clean long- sleeved shirt, warm pants and as many blankets he could find. He tried hard not to panic. He furiously searched his cabinets and drawers, not caring if he made a mess. She needed warmth now, he didn't want to leaver her vulnerable downstairs any longer. Finally he got what he needed and once again ran down the stairs as fast as could, nearly tripping over the last few steps.
He pulled her up from the couch, sitting her up and covered her in blankets. He was careful not to violate her body and made sure she wasn't exposed anymore than she already was. He carefully pulled off her top and he stopped. He noticed her purple and black bruises on her back and the long scratches that embedded her body. The light of the fire made them look even darker and bigger. He put the shirt that he found and carefully dressed her and went to the kitchen. He took some aid for her bruises and cuts and studied them some more.
Being an auror helped him figure out what they meant. He knew these were bruises of rape. She was forced against a hard surface making these bruises huge and black. He stroked them gently. He couldn't believe the size of these. Some of the bruises were from a firm grip, the patches looking like sizes of fingers. They were all up her back. The concluded that the scratches were made by her because he could see pieces of her skin in her fingernails. He understood that she must have felt disgusted.
He carefully layed her back down. She was still asleep. He changed her pants too and he put pillows all around her to keep the warmth with her.
He sat on the floor staring into her pale face. The shadows of the fire made her look even more lifeless. He clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles turned white. He was angry and furious. Who could have done such a thing to her? The bruises, the marks .... they were harsh. The vision of Draco entered his mind. He clenched his fists even tighter. He could his nails dig into the palms of his hands.
He's going to pay for this ....
Ron couldn't help but feel guilty. If only he could just have told her how he felt about her. There could have been a chance she could have felt the same. Then maybe she wouldn't have gone out with Draco .... she would have never gotten hurt. Why didn't he just admit it at the Leaky Cauldron today? He regreted all the things he ever said to her. He shouldn't have been so mean, so overbearing. His pride got the worst of him. He shouldn't try to act so tough. He wondered why he even tries to hold an image like that.
His mind then concentrated on Malfoy. Just the thought of him made his blood boil inside. He stared at the fireplace. How much did he hate Malfoy right now? How much did he want him to burn ... die ..... He pictured himself pounding his face until he had no facial features left and he drived on the blood that covered his face. He wanted to hang him somewhere for everyone to see what he deserved. He deserves the beating. He hurt and raped the girl that he loved. It just wasn't right.
He sat by Hermione's side till the late hours of the night, not leaving a minute of her side. He tried to keep himself wide away making sure she was alright. He watched sleep. He watched her breathe. Her breathing was calmer now, her face started to show color, her body stopped trembling.
She started to stir. Her facial expression turned into fright. She started kicking.
"RON!" she called out. Ron approached her quickly. She got up with a start and she still wouldnt stop kicking. She still had her eyes closed, she kept calling his name. He held her and tried to calm her trembling body. He couldn't believe how strong she was. The trembling was frightning. He held her tighter. Her body calmed down a little. She wrapped her arms around him. He could feel his shirt soak in tears.
"I'm here, I'm here," he said softly, trying to calm her down.
"Ron," she said.
"It's alright. I'm here. I'm here with you now. Calm down Hermione," he said soothingly. She did. Her sobs turned to soft sniffles and she still held him tight. He layed her back down and recovered her with a blanket.
After a few minutes she finally got back to sleep. He was going to go get some more pillows from his bedroom when he noticed that she was holding his hand tightly. She didn't let go. He kept holding her hand, and decided to not get the pillows.
He fell asleep by her side for the rest of the night, not letting go of her hand.
She walked around for hours and hours, not knowing where to go. It was like she was in a trance of some kind. She looked like a hopeless case. He feet started aching, her body still hasn't stopped trembling both from her fear and the cold of the rain. Finally somewhat getting back to her senses, barely, she realized that she couldn't walk anymore. She approached the first house she saw.
She struggled to climb up the first few stairs fo the porch and knocked desperately at the door. The door opened and a rush of heat overwhelmed her. What she saw made her faint and collapse in relief.
Ron Weasley caught her limp body before she hit the floor. He was surprised. He didn't know who it was. She just looked liked some poor girl who stumbled on his front porch. As he lifted her into his arms he saw her face clearly. His eyes widened so wide that his eyes nearly teared. There in his arms was Hermione looking pale and scared. Her eyes were practically sunken in dark circles. He stroked her cold face, not able to comprehend what could have happened to her. He noticed her ripped shirt, exposing her one of her breasts and her unhooked pants. He held her closer to him. She was shaking. He pulled her closer to his body, making sure that she could feel the heat and to cover her exposed body. He headed straight to his den placing her gently on his couch beside the blazing fireplace.
He ran so fast to his bedroom, searching frantically for a clean long- sleeved shirt, warm pants and as many blankets he could find. He tried hard not to panic. He furiously searched his cabinets and drawers, not caring if he made a mess. She needed warmth now, he didn't want to leaver her vulnerable downstairs any longer. Finally he got what he needed and once again ran down the stairs as fast as could, nearly tripping over the last few steps.
He pulled her up from the couch, sitting her up and covered her in blankets. He was careful not to violate her body and made sure she wasn't exposed anymore than she already was. He carefully pulled off her top and he stopped. He noticed her purple and black bruises on her back and the long scratches that embedded her body. The light of the fire made them look even darker and bigger. He put the shirt that he found and carefully dressed her and went to the kitchen. He took some aid for her bruises and cuts and studied them some more.
Being an auror helped him figure out what they meant. He knew these were bruises of rape. She was forced against a hard surface making these bruises huge and black. He stroked them gently. He couldn't believe the size of these. Some of the bruises were from a firm grip, the patches looking like sizes of fingers. They were all up her back. The concluded that the scratches were made by her because he could see pieces of her skin in her fingernails. He understood that she must have felt disgusted.
He carefully layed her back down. She was still asleep. He changed her pants too and he put pillows all around her to keep the warmth with her.
He sat on the floor staring into her pale face. The shadows of the fire made her look even more lifeless. He clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles turned white. He was angry and furious. Who could have done such a thing to her? The bruises, the marks .... they were harsh. The vision of Draco entered his mind. He clenched his fists even tighter. He could his nails dig into the palms of his hands.
He's going to pay for this ....
Ron couldn't help but feel guilty. If only he could just have told her how he felt about her. There could have been a chance she could have felt the same. Then maybe she wouldn't have gone out with Draco .... she would have never gotten hurt. Why didn't he just admit it at the Leaky Cauldron today? He regreted all the things he ever said to her. He shouldn't have been so mean, so overbearing. His pride got the worst of him. He shouldn't try to act so tough. He wondered why he even tries to hold an image like that.
His mind then concentrated on Malfoy. Just the thought of him made his blood boil inside. He stared at the fireplace. How much did he hate Malfoy right now? How much did he want him to burn ... die ..... He pictured himself pounding his face until he had no facial features left and he drived on the blood that covered his face. He wanted to hang him somewhere for everyone to see what he deserved. He deserves the beating. He hurt and raped the girl that he loved. It just wasn't right.
He sat by Hermione's side till the late hours of the night, not leaving a minute of her side. He tried to keep himself wide away making sure she was alright. He watched sleep. He watched her breathe. Her breathing was calmer now, her face started to show color, her body stopped trembling.
She started to stir. Her facial expression turned into fright. She started kicking.
"RON!" she called out. Ron approached her quickly. She got up with a start and she still wouldnt stop kicking. She still had her eyes closed, she kept calling his name. He held her and tried to calm her trembling body. He couldn't believe how strong she was. The trembling was frightning. He held her tighter. Her body calmed down a little. She wrapped her arms around him. He could feel his shirt soak in tears.
"I'm here, I'm here," he said softly, trying to calm her down.
"Ron," she said.
"It's alright. I'm here. I'm here with you now. Calm down Hermione," he said soothingly. She did. Her sobs turned to soft sniffles and she still held him tight. He layed her back down and recovered her with a blanket.
After a few minutes she finally got back to sleep. He was going to go get some more pillows from his bedroom when he noticed that she was holding his hand tightly. She didn't let go. He kept holding her hand, and decided to not get the pillows.
He fell asleep by her side for the rest of the night, not letting go of her hand.