A/N: Hi so it's March 31st so I'm still within the right timing! And you know, since it's March and that Malfoy Manor/Shell Cottage happened in March, I cannot, for the life of me, not write it. I am fully aware I have a Malfoy Manor/Shell Cottage problem so no needs for an intervention or anything. I hope you'll still like it! I'm not fully satisfied with it but my eyes are getting sore from looking at it too much...


60. March

They all quietly return to the cottage after Dobby's burial.

Hermione can't think properly, can't process everything that happened and brought them to this moment.

They came so close to losing it all.

Dobby's death, as heroic as it was, makes the war all too real. She can still hear Ron's screams of anguish, her body still trembles and burns.

Before entering the small house, she turns to look at the sea. She watches the waves crash on the sand, the seagulls fly free above them and yet, it's Ron's hand low on her back warm and soothing, that grounds her the most.

She's in pain, emotionally and physically. And so so tired of running. There's been this sword of Damocles above their heads for years. She's all too aware of it. It almost slit her throat earlier today, but killed Dobby instead.

She wants everything to stop, just for a minute, so she can catch her breath.

But, nothing will stop and no matter how torn apart she feels, the world will keep on spinning.

In this instant, it quickly all becomes too much to bear. She locks herself in the bathroom, claiming the shower and ignoring the pained looks of her friends. She puts a silencing charm on the door as soon as she closes it and lets her sorrow out.

Hermione turns the shower on, burning her skin with water, trying to relieve her body of the aftereffects of the Cruciatus curse. Fleur's potions helped, but she can still feel the fire clawing from inside, trying to get out of her skin. She cries as steam fills the bathroom and her skin turns red. She thinks of her parents that she misses, and though she knows they are far and safe, she wishes she could see them and find comfort in their embrace. Her mother would know how to make the world disappear and kiss her pain away, even if it's only for a moment. She closes her eyes and immediately she pictures Ron and Harry running away in the woods before they got caught, curses flying around them. She almost lost them, again, and the thought of it is so painful she hears herself growl, angry tears mixing with the water pouring down her head. Like a wave rising, memories of Bellatrix straddling her and cutting her skin flood her and she desperately tries to shake the visions away. They only come in harder, and Hermione can taste the blood that rose in her throat as Bellatrix screamed, her wand shaking with anger and excruciating fire growing stronger.

Hermione punches the wall, trying to feel something, anything, other than the lingering burning inside her. She manages is to twist her wrist but she welcomes the new pain. Deep thundering anger, fear, sadness and agony pour in, making her dizzy.

She thinks of Neville's parents, cursed to insanity and she's scared it'll happen to her.

She grabs the soap, trying to refocus on the simpleness of a warm shower in this safe haven. It won't last, she's fully aware of it, but for now, she'll relish in it. Baby steps and small victories, she presumes.

The soap stings the cut on her neck and the marred skin of her arm. She pulls herself back together as she numbly watches the grim water being washed away.

When she finally comes out of the bathroom, lighter and more tired than she's ever felt, Ron is sitting on the floor across the door.

He waited up for her.

He doesn't say a thing, just gets up and shrugs timidly.

The love she feels for him, right this instant, is so strong that she can't stop the tears from rushing back.

He takes the two steps between them and engulfs her in a hug so quickly, she barely has time to notice own his red rimmed eyes.

They get lost in their embrace for longer than what friends would, and it's only when Bill coughs awkwardly next to them that they part, their hands linking together absentmindedly.

"Erhm, right," Ron says softly, "You should go lie down." His thumb draws small soothing circles on her wrist.

She doesn't want to let him go but she knows he's right.

"Fleur left you some Sleeping Draught on the bedside table," Bill informs her. Hermione almost tells him that she won't need it, she is so exhausted she feels like she could sleep for days. But then she realises she'll probably have nightmares or resurging fits of pain and she simply nods thankfully.

She squeezes Ron's hand before releasing it and she turns toward the guest bedroom where Fleur took her earlier. She doesn't close the door, afraid that in the silence, her dark thoughts could drown her.

Whispered voices and hushed tones lull her to sleep.