A/N: writing this chapter was very hard, and I feel that there are many other brilliant authors that have written this better than me. And, as per, I've probably written a lot of parts of the plot inaccurately. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 25 - Broken

Ron was sitting beside her limp body. Tears threatened as he watched her sleeping in the spare bed he once occupied. He tried his best to block out the sound of her agonising screams. It was a painful reminder that he hadn't been able to save her. He would never forgive himself.

It should've been him, not her. He should've been the one tortured, not her. He should've been the one to have been put under the Cruciatus countless times, not her. He should've been the one that nearly had a chandelier fall on them, not her. He should be the one lying in the spare bed of Shell Cottage, on the verge of death. Not. Her.

The persisting tears did roll down Ron's face now. Hermione's cold hand in his was the only thing preventing him from sobbing his heart out. He didn't want to wake her, she needed sleep. But before she had slept, she had asked for one thing.

A few hours prior:

Ron wasn't aware of a lot; Hermione was in his arms; a frail, unconscious Hermione. He wouldn't even begin to think that she could possibly be.. No, he had to remain focused. The weather was ferocious, but Ron ploughed through the rain as if he hadn't noticed it, trying desperately not to sink too much into the sand with each step he took. He didn't even stop for Griphook or Dobby or Harry, he needed to take Hermione to help.

He began running up the beach with her in his arms, tears staining his face. Bill and Fleur ran out immediately, Ron noted the look of horror on both of their faces as they took in Hermione's current form. It made it all seem real, he wasn't just having the worst nightmare from hell, this was real.

"What happened, Ron?" Dean appeared from the cottage, his voice full of horror.

"Where can I take her?" he cried at Fleur. Ron didn't mean to ignore, or be rude to Dean, but he had barely processed his question, let alone be able to answer it.

"The spare room. Go, quickly," Fleur advised and Ron did exactly as she said. He ran into the house, clinging onto Hermione tightly as he rushed up the stairs, tripping over the odd one.

Kicking open the door, Ron hurried Hermione to the bed he had once laid in himself. She was still unconscious, and he had no idea what to do, or what state she was in. He scanned her body in terror; tortured wasn't even the word. Once he snapped back into reality, Ron started pacing the room in a frenzied search for anything. A glass. He found a glass. He got out Pettigrew's wand and shouted 'Aguamenti' impatiently.

The glass filled with water and Ron put it down hastily on the bedside table, a little bit of water splashing out. He took the time again to kneel at her bedside, thanking each of his lucky stars that her chest was moving, signalling each breath she took. Tentatively, he reached with his shaky hand and took her small, frail one. Every inch of her skin had a cut or bruise, some horrendously worse than others. More tears stung his eyes as he began to imagine what type of immeasurable pain she would be feeling internally.

It was quiet for a moment as Ron watched Hermione, realising once again just how much he loved her. Even after noting the full effect of her torturing, he would still take it, a million times, just so she wouldn't have to. The door flung open again and a flustered looking Fleur rushed in with a magical-medical kit.

Fleur advised that he go and change clothes and check for his wounds but his own state was the last thing on Ron's mind. He insisted that he would stay by Hermione's side, Fleur grudgingly relented.

Ron watched with a broken heart as Fleur smoothed the wet hair away from Hermione's face. Fleur asked Ron to leave as she changed her, which he obliged to. When Ron came back in, his stomach dropped again as he saw her. Fleur dressed her in a white gown which helped showcase all the wounds, cuts, and bruises she had obtained. There was a particularly large bandage on one of her forearms, only adding to Ron's fear. Ron fell to his knees at her bedside, tears splashing onto the mattress.

"She will be okay, Ron, you must go and let her sleep," Fleur instructed from the other side of the room as she sorted out phials of sleeping and healing potions.

Ron was reluctant to leave her, he only wanted to stay by her side. For ever. But not wanting Hermione to be awoken by the sound of him arguing with Fleur, he just nodded sadly. Fleur was right; she did need sleep. Ron stood up slowly, his eyes never leaving Hermione.

He had just made it to the door when he heard her stirring. Snapping his head back around, both him and Fleur watched on tender hooks as they waited.

Fleur moved closer to listen to what she was mumbling in her sleep. Ron's heart had stopped as he realised she was making any sound at all. However, it started pounding again as they both realised what she was murmuring. His name.

Fleur walked over to Ron and gave a small smile to say that he could stay, Ron smiled gratefully in return. The french blonde left with a quiet close of the door. Ron sat in the chair that Fleur had occupied, gently holding Hermione's hand again. This time, he registered that it was as cold as ice and Ron immediately clamped it in both of his hands in an attempt to warm her small one.

Hermione didn't move or stir after that, Ron was actually surprised she could sleep so peacefully. But he was glad, the last thing she needed was dreams of terror; the same ones that Harry experienced quite often. Fleur had left a dreamless sleep potion and a calming draught, but by the looks of things Hermione didn't even need them.

Ron sat studying the rise and fall of her chest, letting it hypnotise him. His mind travelled back to how they were caught, it was all such a frenzy. The taste of blood found his mouth again as he recalled how he was punched in the face by Greyback. How on earth they had been caught, Ron didn't know. But one moment they were preparing dinner and the next a bunch of Snatchers, led by the most brutal werewolf of Britain, had raided their tent.

Ron immediately dashed to Hermione's side but he was punched in the face and tied up, he heard Hermione's screams so they would leave him alone but that only drew the bloody gits to her. They dragged the three outside the tent, Ron couldn't even recognise Harry with his new swollen up face that he nearly hadn't noticed Hermione do it to him. Outside, Greyback walked over to Hermione with an evil grin that was enough to cause Ron to struggle and fight out of his rope restraints, but it wasn't enough.

Greyback leaned down to look at Hermione's face, he put his large hand on her waist and Ron shouted at him to leave her alone. That earned him another punch. But he would take a million of them to rid Hermione of the fearful face she was wearing as Greyback basically threatened to rape her. The other Snatchers giggled and wolf-whistled. Ron had never possessed such rage.

Then, the fucking animal and his pack of Death-Eater-rejects took him, Hermione, and Harry by the arm. Ron felt the uncomfortable sensation of apparition and then he was being walked up a creepy lane, leading to an even creepier mansion. It only took Ron a few guesses to realise they had been dragged to Malfoy Manor.

He kept his attention to Hermione, who was looking back at him with wet eyes. Ron's heart broke for her, the fear for her. He had a bad feeling about what Greyback would do to her if the Malfoys didn't do enough.

And sickeningly, that bad feeling was confirmed when the psychotic Bellatrix Lestrange directed to have Harry (who no one seemed to recognise, luckily) and Ron 'sent down with the others' whilst she kept Hermione for a 'chat'. The nothing-less-than murderous glint in Bellatrix's eyes was just only one of the reasons that Ron roared at her to take him instead. A choking lump in his throat made it hard for him to speak, but that didn't stop him. Hermione kept shaking her head at him in order to stop him but there was a terrified look in her eyes. Ron was forcefully dragged down some dark steps, but he struggled and protested nonetheless until all he could hear was the faint sound of Bellatrix's cackle.

Ron was sure that if he ever saw either Bellatrix or Greyback again he would kill them. No exaggeration.

Ron and Harry were thrown into an underground cellar that was plunged in darkness save for the odd candle that flickered dimly. Ron didn't take two minutes to adjust to his surroundings, or the familiar people that were there already, before he launched himself at the gate-barrier that imprisoned them.

Pettigrew, another person Ron would happily watch suffer, was on the other side of the gate, laughing at Ron. That didn't stop Ron, though.

The next sound that cracked through Ron's heart was something he could only hope never to hear again. Her piercing screams of terror blinded Ron, he gripped onto the bars, shaking them with force. Pettigrew tried to reprimand him, but nothing was loud enough to compare to the deafening, continuous roar of 'Hermione' that Ron was hurling up to the ceiling.

Ron had no idea, or regard frankly, of what was going on behind him. He was set on trying to break free; although it wasn't a very logical attempt, Pettigrew was threatening all types of curses and spells against Ron. Ron almost laughed in his face, Pettigrew could threaten Ron with death and Ron would happily oblige, so long as Hermione was let go.

She was the only thing he had to really live for, it was a dark thought but at that moment it was very prominent. Looking back from his seat beside Hermione in the bed, Ron knew that it wasn't just because of the moment. He would die for Hermione without a second thought. The next passage of events happened in a blur; Ron's mind was still heavily focused on Hermione.

The last thing he could remember was watching Pettigrew's lifeless body hit the floor, Ron didn't feel remorse but found it unsettling how quickly he had gone from life to death. Ron snatched his wand and bolted up the steps, Harry following close behind.

Ron's life slowed in the worst way possible as Bellatrix's sharp blade pushed against Hermione's neck. Ron would be sick if he wasn't so immobile. The whole affair was paused as everyone looked up to a strange noise. And there was Dobby, trying his hardest to cut down the grand chandelier that stood above Bellatrix and Hermione.

As it began to fall, Ron launched towards Hermione and thanked every God above that he caught her. To have her in his arms again restored the slightest bit of warmth to his soul. Although, her shaky cries only pained him again. Unfortunately, Bellatrix had jumped out of the way of the falling antique.

Ron carried himself and Hermione to where Harry, Dobby and Griphook were; they needed to go. Harry seemed to have the same idea as he grabbed both Ron and Dobby. The last thing Ron got a glance of before they disapparated was the image of a knife being thrown in Dobby's direction, at the time, Ron thought that they had just missed the knife, but Fleur had come and told him that that was indeed, not the case.

Back to reality, Ron watched Hermione with damp eyes as he analysed the full events of the evening. He had no true idea of just how horrible the war had become. Sitting here, praying for Hermione's literal existence was a huge slap in the face. Ron released her hand slightly, realising that he had held it too tightly as he was thinking about how much...how much he loved her.

A quiet knock on the door didn't even startle Ron. "Come in," he breathed, his voice was strained and husky, he hadn't spoken in a while.

Fleur entered, but Ron's eyes were still glued to Hermione. "Ron," Fleur began tentatively. Ron didn't want to look up at her, he knew she would ask him to leave.

"Ron, you need sleep." He nearly chuckled at Fleur's suggestion, as if he was concerned about his own lack of sleep. As if he would be able to sleep after what happened to her.

"I dunno if I can leave her, Fleur," he said honestly.

Fleur sighed and sat on the edge of Hermione's bed, looking down at the still-unconscious, younger witch. "I think you are both stronger than you may believe. Hermione will be okay, Ron." As much as Fleur's assurance warmed Ron, he still wanted to be by Hermione's side. Although, he didn't want to fight Fleur about it, especially as Hermione was sleeping so peacefully.

With a sad nod, Ron stood up, letting go of Hermione's hand only when it was physically impossible for him to hold on to it.

"Harry and Dean are downstairs; there's a sofa for you. I hope that is comfy enough," Fleur informed.

"Thanks, Fleur," Ron said with his hand on the doorknob, reluctant to turn away and close it.

"Goodnight, Ron." Fleur smiled softly at him and Ron knew it was his cue to eventually leave. A pit in his stomach formed as he thought about Hermione waking up to a dark, empty, unfamiliar room.

"Goodnight, Fleur," he said quietly before carefully closing the door behind him. He let out a deep sigh as he stood in the hallway, feeling at a loss without being in Hermione's presence.

Ron sprung off the sofa like a shot as a heart shattering sound came through the ceiling. It was as if he was reliving it all over again. However, this time, he wouldn't let her suffer alone. Without even adjusting to his surroundings, Ron darted for the living room door. He knew exactly what the piercing noise was, and all he wanted was for it to stop.

Fortunately, Fleur had obviously been awoken to, and by the time Ron had sprinted to the spare room, his sister in law was already on Hermione's bed, trying to calm her down. Although Ron wanted to be the one to comfort Hermione, he was happy that her screams had subsided. He walked into the room, tentatively, to kneel by her bed.

Hermione was shaking violently, she was cold yet hot, and her vision was cloudy and useless. Her own screams had stopped once she realised that the horrific flashes through her mind was a nightmare. As she attempted to gauge what was going on, Hermione made out that Fleur was sitting in front of her. She turned her head slightly and before she could do anything else she had spilled herself into Ron; crashing into his chest. Luckily, he caught her and held her, stroking her hair soothingly.

Carefully, trying to resist the pain that was now evident, Hermione lifted her head to find Ron looking down at her. Those brilliant, blue eyes took her back to what had happened possibly hours, possibly days ago.

Hermione's recount :

She was sitting at the table, chopping some mushrooms that she and Ron had found earlier that day, Ron was doing the same to some onions. Hermione and him were only talking about little things; it was hard to get excited or that animated into a conversation when you held such little energy, but Hermione loved and cherished these little conversations, nonetheless.

The weeks after them making up, Hermione and Ron fell asleep in each other's embrace every single night, without fail. When one would return from a watch, they would slip in beside the other and whoever was still in bed would ensure that they were cuddling them. The worst nights were when they both had a watch shift, meaning that they would completely miss each other in the bunk. However, as weeks went by, Ron had often stayed with Hermione for most of her watch, although insisted that she shouldn't do the same for him. It was one of the sweetest things that Hermione had witnessed, but she found it rather amusing that Ron thought he would be able to stop her when she wanted to join him on his watches. Both knew it wasn't smart; they should be getting in as much as sleep as they possibly could, but neither wanted to leave the other one for too long.

"Ugh, I feel like I've been chopping onions for my whole life!" Ron groaned as Hermione became aware of what she was doing again.

"We've only been doing it for ten minutes," Hermione chuckled incredulously as she continually focused on her mushrooms.

"It's not even that boring, I just hate onions," Ron said with a sniff. Hermione looked up and noted that his eyes were red and tears were leaking out of them, a common side effect of chopping onions.

"I did ask you if you wanted to swap," she reminded him.

"Dunno why you would, this feels bloody rubbish!" Ron sniffed again before rubbing his eyes with his hoodie sleeve. Hermione put down her current mushroom and knife and walked over to his side of the table.

Ron was rubbing his eyes vigorously as he tried to get rid of the sting, so he hadn't even noticed that Hermione was now standing tentatively beside him, calculating her next move. She sat innocently on Ron's lap, after much deliberation about whether or not that was a clever thing to do. She was thankfully rewarded by Ron squinting through his own tears, smiling at her and holding her in place with his arms around her waist.

Hermione put her own arms around his neck and moved up his lap. Summoning a damp cloth, she began to dab Ron's burning eyes. She had leaned in so close that his hot breath was on her face, causing her excited nerves to flare up. As his eyes began to open properly, Hermione wondered if there would ever come a time that she wasn't completely and utterly lost to those blue orbs. Probably not.

"Is that better?" she asked in a soft whisper.

Ron cleared his throat before nodding. "Much better," he responded. Hermione smiled and rested her head on his shoulder, moving her hand to rest on his chest as she listened to the rhythm of his breathing. Do you really possess not an ounce of self restraint? A voice kept nagging inside Hermione's head, which caused her to stand up quickly, flattening down her jumper as if she was trying to hide that they had done something they shouldn't have.

Ron looked at her with a confused expression. "You need to finish those onions!" Hermione exclaimed, passing him the cloth. "Dab your eyes with this once the pain returns, okay?"

Ron nodded mutely before returning to his chopping. Hermione sat back down and resumed her own dinner preparations, desperate to calm herself down. How he did this to her, she could never understand. It made her feel guilty; they were meant to be helping Harry save the world, not ravishing the slight opportunity to sit on someone's lap and stare into their eyes!

Normal talk resumed as they finished with the vegetables, Hermione stood to go put them into a pot in order to boil them. She could've used magic, but doing little things such as transferring vegetables from a bowl to a pot in the practical way reminded her of life with her parents, something she could only hope that she would experience again.

There was a noise of chaos outside the tent, and before Hermione could reach for her wand a bunch of thug-looking men crashed through the tent. Once she noted that Fenrir Greyback was leading the group, she realised that a pack of Snatchers had managed to break the enchantments. The first thing she did was mutter a spell directed at Harry in order to hide his identity.

Before having the chance to react, Hermione watched as Ron was punched in the face for trying to grab his wand. She heard her own cries of protest as blood ran from Ron's nose. This might not have been her brightest idea, however, as it only meant the Snatchers, particularly Greyback, was now focused on her. Hermione's heart rang in her ears as one grabbed her and yanked her hands behind her back. Greyback sauntered over and gave her a sly, creepy look that sent chills of fear down her back.

They were all dragged outside. As soon as they had stopped for a moment, Ron began shouting at the Snatchers to let Hermione go. It made her heart melt, nearly as much as it did when he was punished with yet another punch. Hermione had never known anger like this as she watched him take the hit. She tried to struggle out of the slimy grip of the Snatcher's muddy hands but it was no use. Greyback was already returning his attention to her.

He made a snide comment about Hermione's figure, but she didn't even have the strength to care. All of her was focused on Ron, who was being tied up by his Snatcher. The only hope they had was that Harry would go unrecognised, but unfortunately that hadn't been the only worry. Ron and herself were recognised! Hermione was now falling through the familiar void of disapparition.

When they landed, Greyback took the pleasure of forcefully leading Hermione down the dark lane leading to a grand, black mansion. Hermione glanced over to Ron who was already looking at her. Her fear for him escalated and she turned to Harry, unable to look at Ron's face without sobbing for him. The only reason she could even look to Harry was because her spell was still working; Harry was unrecognisable. His eyes were slits in his puffy face, rendering his expression unreadable, but Hermione didn't need an accurate scan of his face to know what fear most probably had consumed him, too. They reached the mansion, and the sickening feeling in Hermione's stomach intensified.

Hermione had never witnessed someone as deranged as Bellatrix Lestrange. Not only was she the right-hand woman to the darkest wizard of all time, she was also as dark and as crazy as her leader. Once again, fear was the only thing Hermione could feel as the Malfoys wandered in, each taking a special look at Harry. Brief relief was her next emotion once Draco Malfoy seemingly hadn't recognised Harry. Maybe, hopefully, possibly they could escape now.

But no.

The next thing she knew was that Bellatrix was holding her, inflicting as much pain as she could in just that single hold. Hermione whimpered in pain, but terror overcame her again as she watched Ron and Harry being dragged down a set of steps. Her heart stopped as she heard Ron's protests, but she couldn't let him do this. Not for her.

She just shook her head at him, trying not to draw him into any more trouble by actually speaking to him. As much as she absolutely admired his bravery, and adored the level of concern he had for her; so high he was willing to be captured instead of her, Hermione couldn't let him do it. If someone was going to endure this, whatever they had in store, Ron was not going to be the person to replace her.

Ron looked hurt at her protests, and she wished she could explain to him that there was nothing he could say or do to make her let him go through this - whatever this could be. Her heart cracked again as she listened to him wail her name as he descended, still imprisoned by the Snatcher's hold.

Her worries for Ron were slightly interjected, as Bellatrix yanked Hermione by the arms, tying them up by rope. "Worried about your little boyfriend, are you? Aw, how touching! Shame he'll be without his little girlfriend, by the time I'm done with her!" Bellatrix cackled in Hermione's face, throwing her into the cold tiles of the dark hall.

"Now," Bellatrix raised her wand and Hermione's breathing became shorter and quicker. "Where is the sword?"

Hermione shook her head in protest.

A hint of annoyance flashed through Bellatrix's eyes momentarily before it was replaced by the evil glint they usually carried. "Oh, now, don't be like that! You know how Bellatrix likes to play with her toys; especially the broken ones."

Hermione just looked at her with a mix of fear and defiance in her eyes, Bellatrix would know nothing from her about the sword.

"It was awfully touching how he was so eager to give himself up for you, wasn't it?" Hermione knew exactly who Bellatrix was referring to, but she was determined not to let her use Ron in an attempt to get Hermione to confess anything.

"What? You've really got nothing to say about that boy? The pure blood who would sooner drop dead than actually be seen with a disgusting mud blood, if either of you make it out of these doors alive!"

Hermione just chuckled at Bellatrix's rather lame attempt of trying to upset her. These thoughts had haunted Hermione for years, sadly it was something she had learned to handle.

"Nothing? Very well."

Bellatrix raised her wand and pointed it at Hermione. Hermione went from just lying on the floor to squirming in unspeakable pain, she closed her eyes as she tried her hardest not to scream.

"Where is the real sword, you filthy mudblood!" Bellatrix roared, losing all of her coyness. She raised Hermione into the air using magic, before releasing the cruciatus curse once again.

Hermione couldn't help it this time, her eyes squeezed shut again as her own screams pierced her eardrums. She was dropped to the floor again, but that was hardly noticeable as she tried to fight through the indescribable pain; it was as if she was alight on fire, but it was so much more than that.

Despite how many books Hermione had read, despite all of the encounters with pain she had experienced in her life, nothing could ever have prepared her for this. Her mind was a void of her own screams as every inch of her body was scrutinised by the Cruciatus.

The pain seemed never-ending, and Hermione's retaliation was weakening; her vision was becoming cloudy, her senses reducing as her breaths became more uneven. She couldn't even hear her own screams, that were becoming involuntary and just a natural reflex to the pain. But there was something; a voice, a pained voice, his voice. But what was he saying? What was he screaming? Her heart stopped completely as she realised it was her name. That was enough, she had to hold on. Hermione screamed louder as the pain only intensified, and she thought that the pain, with her, was about to reach breaking point. But then...it stopped, and everything fell hazy again.

Hermione tried to brace herself, using her hands to hold her up on the cold floor. Every part of her ached and stung. But her efforts didn't matter as she was once again in the hold of Bellatrix. But now, Hercomione could see why all of the dark magic had stopped.

Her heart filled with momentary joy as she realised he was there, he had escaped and he was okay. Well, as okay as she could see. But once again, Bellatrix clogged her thoughts. A cool blade was pushing into Hermione's neck, she wanted to cry, wanted to sob, but she was too afraid to even breathe.

Ron stopped his shouting and commotion once the knife was brought out, and Hermione could barely decipher what Bellatrix was saying now. They had all stopped for some reason, Hermione didn't know why. The next thing she was sure of, however, was when she was thrown off of Bellatrix, and landed in someone else's arms.

His arms.

Hermione crushed herself into him, holding on as tightly as she could as the pain tortured her again. She thought they were moving, but she couldn't tell for sure. The last thing she could remember was Ron's big eyes, those blue eyes, those big, beautiful, blue eyes…

Back to reality:

Ron tried to smile weakly at Hermione as he began smoothing hair away from her face.

"Wh-where are we, Ron?" Hermione whispered, her eyes were brown pools of fear.

"Bill and Fleur's; Shell Cottage," Ron whispered back. Hermione rested her head against Ron's chest again, holding on tightly to his shirt.

"Please don't leave me," Hermione begged. Ron held her tighter, and leaned his face down to meet her own.

"I'll never leave you, Hermione. Never again, never ever, ever again," he whispered sternly.

Hermione nodded against his chest, "thank you", she breathed.

Fleur stood up off of the bed as she watched Ron and Hermione. She smiled at the scene, with tears in her eyes. "I will go now, Ron. There are potions on the desk," Fleur informed in a small voice, Ron turned his head to smile at her and watched the door close behind her.

"You should lie back down," he suggested to Hermione in a quiet voice, realising that her current position wouldn't be comfortable in most circumstances.

"I-I, please don't go," Hermione asked shyly. Ron closed his eyes and gently squeezed her before releasing and helping her to lie comfortably back down.

"I'll stay," he assured firmly. He stood up and sat in the wooden chair, drawing it nearer to Hermione's bed.

"Are you going to be comfortable enough on that?" Hermione's voice was all but a whisper, and it hurt Ron's heart.

"I'm fine. Do you need anything? Any potions? Just point though, your voice needs a rest,"

Hermione sighed and pointed at a specific phial on the bedside table. Ron gave it to her, before disposing of the then-empty phial. Ron watched her fall asleep; her worried expression relaxing into a rested, unconscious one.