Sand was coarse under his hands as he pushed himself up off the ground. "'Hermione!" he called, unsure if the rushing in his ears was the ocean or his blood pumping so hard from adrenaline. She was sitting on the sand next to Ron, who had an arm securely around her shoulders, helping her sit up. "Hermione. You're okay. You're safe. We're all safe." He collapsed to his knees and pulled her to his chest. "Thank you, Ron."

A small voice piped up from a little further down towards the water. "Harry Potter…"

He pulled away from Hermione to see Dobby stumbling towards him, and quickly stood to run and catch him before he fell. Sticking out of his chest was Bellatrix's dagger. Memories of Hermione bleeding just the same flashed before his eyes, and he removed the dagger to put pressure on the wound. "Dobby," he whispered. "Hold on. Hold on, okay? We'll fix you… I'm sure… I'm sure Hermione's got something… in her bag." Harry looked up to meet Hermione's eyes, which were filled with tears as she shook her head softly. "Hermione, help me!" She looked down at the sand. "Hermione…"

"Such a beautiful place to be with friends." Harry knew it was already too late. Light was quickly fading from Dobby's eyes as his clothes became more stained with blood. But he still sounded hopeful. Even with his last words, Dobby still sounded hopeful. Loving. Trusting of Harry. And it was infuriating. This was his fault, too. He'd called for help. He should have just handled things on his own. But he couldn't think about himself right now when Dobby needed his attention. Deserved his attention. "Dobby is happy to be with his friend, Harry Potter."

He hadn't wanted Dobby's last memories of him to be sobs wracking through his body as he held him in his arms, but his resolve had run out. He hadn't wanted anyone to die, and here was Dobby, the most innocent creature in the war, taken from him because he hadn't been prepared for this mission. There were loads of other people he could blame, he knew, but right now, he hated himself. This war needed to be over before anyone else died trying to protect him, which was precisely what he didn't want to happen to begin with.

Someone knelt down beside him, and for a moment, he thought it was Hermione, but it was Luna.

"We should close his eyes," she said sweetly. Harry could only nod. He couldn't even look at Dobby's body; instead, he focused on a tuft of grass growing out from one of the sand dunes. It kept his mind from wandering too much. "There. Now he could be sleeping."

It was only then that Harry looked back at Dobby, and if it weren't for the blood, she was right. He looked peaceful. Happy. And he wasn't in danger.

"I want to bury him. Properly. Without magic."

"I think that's very noble of you, Harry. He would appreciate it very much." Luna rested a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "Why don't you let me take him? I'll find something nice for him to wear." Harry choked back some more tears, but reluctantly handed Dobby's small form over into Luna's arms. "Now I think the three of you need to go inside and get changed. There should be some extra clothes for everyone."

"I don't want to change."

"Well, you're not in a very good state for a funeral, are you? If it's a proper burial you want, you need to be ready too." And Harry knew she didn't just mean his clothes. He let her help him stand, and a moment later, Hermione's hand had found his.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she whispered. "There was nothing I could do. It was too late. Even if we had really powerful-"

"I know. But you're safe. That's all that matters right now." It lacked the luster Harry's voice usually had, and even his eyes looked dim. "Luna said there are extra clothes for us inside. I'll help you change."

"Harry, I-"

"Don't. Please."

"What the hell's going on, Harry?" Bill asked as he jogged out of the cottage towards them. "Luna's got a dead house elf, Ron brought in an injured goblin, and he said you'd been tortured, Hermione?"

Hermione curled further into Harry's side silently. "I'll explain later," he huffed. "Right now, there are a few things we need to get done. Hermione's my priority at the moment. The goblin can wait."

Bill just nodded at the tone of Harry's voice and showed them inside, where Fleur was ready with a medical kit to tend to Hermione's needs. "Come, sit at the kitchen table. It'll be easier."

Hermione reluctantly obeyed, trying to hide her arm from sight, but if she wanted any healing, she'd have to show them. Eyes averted, she didn't want to see their reactions to the word carved into her arm. But Fleur gasped. "Oh, Hermione…" she whispered, but didn't say anything further. She swore Harry was about to break the table in rage.

"Malfoy said… she'd need healing potions and nerve regeneration potions," he informed her flatly. "And rest."

"Well, we certainly have all of those things here," Fleur assured her, quickly slathering a topical healing balm over the wound before wrapping it. Hermione relaxed a little at the cooling sensation, and knew she'd have to ask Harry about what Malfoy said. But for now, she was just grateful for the bit of relief. It felt like the muscles in her entire left arm were trying to fold in on themselves. "I'll run a diagnostic spell once I'm done to see the severity of any nerve damage and what we have to do."

Hermione was silent as Fleur wrapped a bandage around her wound, glad that it would at least be hidden. Now that the adrenaline was gone, however, she realized that when she tried to move her fingers, they didn't want to listen. A sense of panic started to grow in her stomach, but she didn't say anything, just looked at Harry, who was watching Fleur's reaction as she read the diagnostic spell.

"What's going on?" he asked, trying to keep his voice level.

"I'd rather tell Hermione in private, I think…"

"Anything you need to tell her, you can tell me."

"Hermione?" Fleur asked, and Hermione was startled a little as she looked up at her. "Are you okay with Harry knowing all this?"

She nodded, and Fleur took a breath. Hermione wasn't even sure she wanted to know herself, but she had to. She had to know what she was up against. She had to know how long she'd be seemingly out of commission, how long they'd have to wait.

"Well… I suppose I'll start with the bad news. You currently have very little feeling in that hand, as I'm sure you've noticed. The nerves… they look dead. And you'll… have a scar, of course. It may fade over time, but it's not going to go away."

"And the good news?" Harry asked.

"It's recent enough that we will most likely be able to help get most of the feeling and function back of that arm, if not all, given enough time."

Enough time. How much of that did they have? If Voldemort was getting the Elder Wand that night, it meant he'd be that much more powerful. With only one arm, she couldn't do anything. She couldn't duel, couldn't fight. Even though it wasn't her wand arm, she knew not being able to use it would throw off her stance, her balance.

"Hermione." When had her breathing become so shallow and fast? When had she closed her eyes. She opened them to Harry's, his hand on her cheek and wiping away the tears that were falling. She almost pulled away from him. "We'll figure it out. We'll… You'll get better, I know it. And you'll be back to yourself in no time, okay?" But she didn't make a move to agree.

"I'll get the potions," Fleur said softly before leaving them alone at the table. Hermione looked down at her lap again, afraid of seeing Harry cry over her. She'd heard the commotion he was making in the cellar. She'd so desperately wanted to call for him, but she couldn't without revealing who he was. Though, he'd done that himself out of love. To protect her.

Two vials of nerve regeneration, a general healing potion, and a Calming Draught later, she finally felt decent enough to stand from the table while Harry took the change of clothes Fleur had brought them in his arms.

"Would you like some help changing, Hermione?" Fleur asked softly. Hermione shook her head.

"I'll help if she needs it," Harry answered. Fleur looked between the two of them and nodded in understanding. "Thank you, Fleur."

"Of course. I'll show you to your room."

Hermione was leaning on Harry heavily as they walked up the stairs out of pure exhaustion. She didn't want to change - she just wanted to sleep. But she also wanted to help Harry with Dobby's funeral. He needed her there for that. The room Fleur led them into would have been beautiful if the light coming in from the window wasn't gray and bleak - how fitting it was, though. The beach decor continued throughout the entire house, and this room in particular was very cozy. A full bed sat in the middle of one of the walls, wrapped in a fluffy comforter with more pillows than they'd ever need. There was a dresser and an armchair, a couple lamps, and Hermione was very much looking forward to sleeping here after being in the tent for so long.

"The bathroom's down the hall. Your bandage has a waterproofing spell on it, so you don't have to worry about showering with it on. Let me know if you need anything. Anything at all." Fleur looked at them for a moment before closing the door behind them, leaving them alone again.

Harry hesitantly wrapped his arms around Hermione's shoulders, very aware at how she'd almost pulled away at his sudden movements in the kitchen, and brought her to his chest. She immediately started sobbing into his shirt, gripping him as hard as she could with her good hand. His sandy fingers threaded through her hair, cupping the back of her head comfortingly. She cried for Harry, for herself, for her arm, for Dobby, for Luna. For Ginny, who was back at the castle probably getting tortured like she was. She cried for the pain Harry must have gone through at Malfoy Manor. She cried over the fact that Draco had helped them, even if she didn't understand why. She cried like they'd already lost the war, because at that point, for the first time, she truly felt like they might.

Harry was crying as well, a mixture of sorrow he could feel from Hermione mixing with his own and relief that she was alive and there was hopefully a good chance of healing her. He really couldn't have done this without her. What if she'd left with Ron? Then where would he be? Dead, either from starvation or his own stupidity.

When Hermione was out of tears, she pulled away and looked up at him before leaning up to kiss him tenderly. It was different than any kiss they'd shared before, and Harry could feel a plethora of emotions and meaning running through it, which he eagerly absorbed as he kissed her back. She was almost smiling as she moved back.

"C-Can you… help me get into the shower?"

"Of course."

Shell Cottage was not the most well-insulated house, and Harry felt a little strange slowly undressing Hermione in the bathroom when he could hear muffled voices taking downstairs, especially when he'd been so used to the quiet for so long. But he didn't want to hurt her and he could tell she was starting to get frustrated with herself when her shoulder twitched like she'd meant to help him take her shirt off.

"Hermione, just let me do it."

"I'm sorry, Harry. It's… instinct."

"I know, but I can tell you're getting irritated." She glared at him for a second before her face relaxed when she realized he was right. "Let me take care of you."

Once her shirt and bra were gone, he ran a hand down her injured arm and pressed a kiss to her fingertips. She almost cried because she couldn't feel it, but there was a tingle of something there, and she relaxed a little. Maybe the nerve regeneration potion was stronger than she anticipated. She held onto his shoulder as he knelt down to help her out of her shoes, socks, jeans, and underwear, putting them all in a neat pile before guiding her to sit down on the toilet. Then, he started undressing as well.

"What are you doing?" she asked with a shiver. This nakedness wasn't the good kind. She felt incredibly vulnerable. Cold. Broken.

"How do you expect to shower with only one arm?"

"Harry, I don't think we'll both fit." After all, it was a tub/shower combo like she was used to in her parents' home.

"We'll make do."

Harry looked almost as vulnerable once his clothes were off as she felt, but he pushed past it, setting his glasses on the counter and starting the shower. It was strange how showering with Harry felt more intimate than having sex, but she figured without the filter of arousal, their bodies were just bodies. Exhausted bodies. Hurt bodies. The warmth of the water over her head as Harry helped her into it was like a ray of sunshine washing everything away. It relaxed her muscles, and she closed her eyes, enjoying the water that was so much warmer than what they had in the tent. This was the best shower she'd had in five months. God, had it only been five months? She couldn't believe she'd gotten this close to Harry in that amount of time, but she wouldn't trade it for anything. She would have preferred a more natural progression instead of a life-or-death-on-the-run situation, but if it hadn't been for that, they may not have been together in the first place and she'd have no one helping her shower. Or it would be Fleur. Or Luna, neither of which she'd necessarily enjoy.

Reluctantly, she swapped places with Harry so he could wash out all the sand that was still in his hair, and she watched him. He, too, seemed rejuvenated, and she wouldn't put it past this place to have something in the water, not that she was complaining. Once they were both rinsed, Harry grabbed a bottle of shampoo and indicated with his finger for her to turn around. She did with a blush. That was a side of her Harry hadn't seen yet, literally.

"God, you're just as gorgeous from the back," he grinned. The feeling of his fingers in her hair was so distracting that for a brief second, she could forget the weight of her arm she couldn't support, hanging down useless by her side. She closed her eyes and imagined instead years in the future, in their own home, in a bigger shower, where she could wash her hair, but he'd offered, where no one was downstairs and it was just the two of them. And if Harry's hands wanted to roam, she'd let them. He guided her back under the water to rinse out her hair, only breaking eye contact when she tilted her head back. Once he was done, he squirted some body wash on a washcloth before looking up at her. "Are you okay if I wash you?"

She wanted to tell him he didn't have to keep asking, but she knew he was just making sure she was comfortable, and she couldn't fault him for that. This was new, and she felt fragile. "Always," she smiled, leaning forward to kiss him.

Harry did what he could and let Hermione wash her more intimate areas herself. And once she was clean, she really did feel much better, and was content to watch Harry wash himself. It was interesting, seeing someone in a moment they're usually alone for. There were a couple body parts she averted her eyes for because this was not the time to be thinking about that, not with everyone waiting for them downstairs.

Harry kissed her once more before he turned off the water, a kiss that left her breathless. He helped her out and dried them off, making sure her bandage wasn't wet before getting dressed and trying not to pay attention to how adorable she looked with her wet hair, standing there in a towel. She let him dress her, holding onto him for balance again. "Do you want to get a sling for your arm? It would probably be more comfortable until it heals."

"That's… actually a brilliant idea. Thank you."

"I'm known to have those from time to time," he teased, taking her hand as they walked down the stairs to find everyone sitting in the living room except Griphook and Olivander.

"They're resting," Luna supplied, as if she could read their minds, and looked down at their joined hands. "Ron, your brother owes you money."

All eyes went to Ron, who covered his face in embarrassment and muttered something his mother would have never wanted to hear.

"What does she mean your brother owes you money? Ronald…"

"I have no idea," Ron lied.

"They had a bet on when you two would get together," Luna answered. "Ron and Fred said it would be before he came back, but George thought you'd wait until after the war."

Ron looked at Luna incredulously. "How… how in the bloody hell do you know that?"

"Pigwidgeon told me in a dream."

The look on Ron's face was confused enough to make Hermione laugh, not even angry about the fact that the Weasleys had put money on their relationship.

"I think Mum might be disappointed, though," Bill chimed in as they sat down on the couch and Harry settled his hand on Hermione's knee comfortingly. "I think she wanted both of you to marry into the family."

Harry stiffened up next to Hermione. Marrying? Maybe it was because Bill and Fleur had barely been married six months yet. That had to be still in the honeymoon stage and had marriage on the brain. Hermione fidgeted a little bit next to him, clearly thinking the same thing, which was a relief. Marriage was definitely not on their priority list.

"Are you hungry?" Fleur asked, sensing their awkwardness and not wanting to make it any worse.

"A little," Harry answered.

"Not really," came from Hermione. "Just more tired than anything."

"We were wondering if we could make a sling for her arm, too," Harry offered, and Fleur smiled.

"Of course." She reached out for Hermione's hand as she stood and she reluctantly took it. "I'm sure we can find something."

"I want Harry to come with me."

Without hesitation, Harry stood and wrapped an arm around Hermione's waist, following her to the kitchen. As soon as they left the room, Harry heard Bill let out an "Ow!" followed by Ron's aggressive whisper: "Really? You had to bring up getting married? What's wrong with you?!" And Harry grinned, glad that Ron had his back.

It didn't take long for Fleur to fashion a sling for Hermione's injured arm, and she already felt a lot better with the weight off her shoulders. "Bill and I will start on dinner and… Luna has Dobby ready, whenever you are." Her eyes lifted to Luna, who was standing in the doorway.

She reached for Harry's hand, leading the both of them into an area that might be used for an office, but seemed to be now a reading nook. "I want to make sure you're okay with what I made him." Dobby's body was lying on a coffee table, his head resting carefully on a small pillow. Harry nearly started crying again. Gone was the blood and clothes he'd been wearing, replaced with a hastily stitched shirt and pants that looked to be made out of tea towels, but Luna had picked the ones with the most patterns and the brightest colors. Hermione's hand tightened around his, and when he looked over, there were tears slowly streaming down her cheeks.

"It's perfect, Luna. He would have loved it. Do you… have a shovel?"

"I'll fetch it for you."

Harry couldn't take his eyes off Dobby as Luna left. If he thought about it enough, he could see his chest rising and falling with each breath.

"Do you want help, Harry?" Hermione asked when Luna came back in with a sad smile on her face. "I know I can't do a lot, but…"

"I think I want to do this on my own, Hermione. I'll come get you and Ron when I'm done."

Hermione found Ron sitting at the kitchen table, taking small bites of a couple fried eggs Bill had made him. It was the slowest she'd ever seen Ron eat in her life, which was a nice change of scenery. She sat down next to him, and when he slid his plate over to offer her some, she politely shook her head.

"Is he all right?" Ron asked softly.

"I don't think so. I know part of him feels like it's his fault, but I think he'll come around eventually once everything calms down."

"I'm sorry about Bill, by the way. He's just… I don't know, my whole family likes to play matchmaker. He didn't mean anything by it."

"I know," Hermione nodded. "Harry and I just haven't exactly… established anything yet, you know? We're not even sure what we are. It hasn't really mattered."

"And it doesn't. Not to me, anyway. I'm just glad you're happy with each other, that's all."

A small smile came over Hermione's face. "I'm sorry for being so wishy-washy over you, for what it's worth."

Ron set down his fork and turned to look at her fully. He wasn't sure if she'd ever have this conversation with him or if she'd just let it go, but if there was a time to air out their dirty laundry, he figured now would be it. "I'm sorry, too. Not just about the locket stuff, but at Hogwarts, too. I know after the Yule Ball, things started getting… confusing between us."

"That's when I first realized I liked you, yes. And I thought your jealousy was-"

"Me being into you."

"Yes." She avoided his gaze, though she wasn't sure why. It wasn't like those feelings were still there. They were just a little awkward for her to talk about after he'd found out the more intimate aspects of her and Harry's relationship. "Were you ever?"

"I… a part of me was jealous, yes. And I didn't like that you went to the ball with Krum. I felt like you'd said yes just to piss me off."

"But he asked me."

"I know, I know. But you didn't have to say yes. And I just thought… maybe I had gotten it into my head that you'd go with me since we were friends, you know? And then you looked so beautiful that..." Hermione was blushing, but Ron continued, "I was jealous of him. And then we were fighting all the time fifth year and… I never figured it was because you had feelings for me."

"That's… not why we were fighting. I didn't enjoy it. And obviously, that's not how I show affection."

"You were pissed that I got Prefect instead of Harry!"

"I wasn't!" Hermione promised. "I was just… I did have feelings for you and the thought of getting somewhat of our own separate space was… just shocking, is all."

"You're telling me you thought that having our own bathroom was going to bring out my feelings for you?" he laughed.

"Well, when you put it like that…" But Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the fantasies of her fifteen-year-old self.

"You had dreams about what we could do together in that tub, didn't you?" Ron smirked.

"What? No, I-" Hermione was scarlet, and she didn't want to look at Ron anymore, because she had. Many times. And she thought about lying to him, denying it, but what was the point? It wouldn't do her any good. She had nothing to hide. "Okay, fine. Yes, I did."

"I did, too, by the way. Not about you, but… that tub was amazing."

"It really was," she sighed, briefly replacing the fantasies she had about Ron with Harry and wondering if they'd have access to that bathroom when they returned to Hogwarts. If they returned to Hogwarts.

"I'm sorry it took so long for me to realize anything."

"It's all right. If anything, me not telling you would have just made our time in the tent more confusing, you know?"

Ron paused, rubbing his chin for a second before speaking again. "Did you really think the horcrux was making me have feelings for you?"

"Was it?"

"I certainly thought so at the time."

"And now?"

"I think… it just hooked onto the fact that you're attractive and we were stuck in such a small space together…"

Hermione bit her lip. "That's what Harry and I were worried about, too. Are worried about, really."

"Are?"

"That once the war's over, we won't have feelings for each other anymore. That… once we're back in the real world and we have other options, we'll just… drift apart." Ron shifted a little bit in his chair. He didn't want to think about having to deal with that heartbreak for either of them, knowing he'd be right in the middle of it. "That's why we're not putting a label on things, either. Just because it'll make it easier if…" But she couldn't even bring herself to say the words.

"That's a load of bull if I ever heard one."

"What?"

"You really think what you have with Harry is only because you're in a tent? I saw how you two looked at each other last year when you were pretending. And either you're both great at acting or it was genuine. At least partially. You've always been close." Hermione sighed. "He said you'd talked about it."

"Briefly. When we didn't want to keep waiting. And we agreed that we were both okay with everything just being situational and making the most of the time we had together, but…"

"You're not okay with that."

She shook her head quickly. "I'm not. But I don't want to tell him that yet. I don't want him to feel attached or anything. If… if that's what ends up happening, I'm in no place to stop it."

Ron wrapped an arm around her, and her head fell to his shoulder. "Look, I'm no expert in any of this, but I think, given the circumstances, if you don't want things to change after this war ends, you better tell him before it does."

"I don't want to put that pressure on him, Ron. He's got enough to deal with right now."

"Just saying. If he breaks your heart, I'm not against socking him."

"Thanks," Hermione laughed, pulling away to take a deep breath. "So who were you dreaming about taking into the Prefects' bathroom?"

"Oh, uh… no one, really." But Hermione's eyebrow raise told him he wasn't getting out of the question. "Fine, fine. No one until we started school, obviously, but… once I got on the Quidditch team, I… I kind of had a thing for Katie. She's incredible, gorgeous. A little intimidating, but I kind of liked it."

"Katie Bell?" Ron nodded. "Well, what's wrong with that?! Why didn't you say anything?"

"She thought I was rubbish, didn't she?" he argued. "I gave her a nosebleed at practice. What was I supposed to do, apologize and then ask her out?"

"And Harry thought you were into me? You didn't tell him about your crush on Katie?"

"I couldn't just… I didn't want Harry to think that was the only reason I wanted to be on the team or something. I don't know. It was stupid. But as far as being into you, I have no idea how he came to that conclusion."

"Well, there were times even I was second guessing my own feelings, then. But honestly, I don't have any feelings for you anymore, so… that's out of the way, at least."

They laughed about it for a few minutes as Ron finished his eggs before Harry came in, skin a little pink from the cold and wind even though he was sweating from exertion. "I'm ready."