Tangled

by Rsuth

DISCLAIMER: As the author of this fan fiction story I do not, in any way, profit from the story or claim any rights to the 'Harry Potter' universe. All creative rights to the 'Harry Potter' universe belong to J.K. Rowling. Thank you for letting me play in this amazing world.

CHAPTER THREE

Ron was sure the house was moving farther away as he tenderly walked towards the small cottage on the grey beach. He was moving slowly, Bill walking awkwardly beside him keeping one hand pressed against Hermione's slick bleeding neck, the other on Ron's back. Ron was torn between rushing across the expanse of beach, and walking carefully as he had been, mindful of jostling Hermione in his arms. The sticky blood seeping through his worn sweater was making it hard to be slow, but Bill's firm hand kept him walking as steadily as he could.

He could hear Bill's deep rumbling voice, but couldn't seem to be able to make his brain listen to the words. One foot in front of the other, watching as the cottage moved closer, was all he could manage right now. He could feel his body trembling, the adrenaline from their ordeal starting to wear off, a tiredness seeping into his muscles and thoughts. He felt oddly detached and light-headed, his head too light, his feet like lead.

Hermione's limp body began to slip in his arms and he stopped to gently lift her higher against his chest. She was so light; he could feel the bones of her legs and her back pressing into his forearms. She'd always been small, but travelling for nearly a year without proper meals…Suddenly her forehead lolled against his bare neck, the coldness of her skin startling him out of his thoughts. He realized he had stopped, his feet sinking in the wet sand. Bill was standing in front of him searching his face, with his bloody hands braced on Ron's shoulders.

"…Ron, are you hearing anything I've been saying? Can you hear me? Are you alright? I can take Hermione, we need to get her inside…you don't look too well, either…"

Ron couldn't seem to open his mouth to talk, so instead just willed his feet to continue moving, Bill stepping out of the way but bracing a hand under Hermione's back and one around his shoulders to help him. They were close, he could see a figure standing in front of the cottage, long pale hair snapping in the wind. Fleur. She watched them for a moment and then hurried into the house.

Suddenly a crack echoed across the beach, and Ron stopped to look for the source of the noise as he awkwardly yanked his wand out of his back pocket, ready to run if necessary. Bill did the same. Three figures lay on the beach a ways away, two small bodies and one larger. The larger body staggered to its feet, and Ron sighed in relief at the sight of his best friend. Bill, however, did not seem to recognize the boy-who-lived.

"It's Harry…" Ron rasped out, finally able to make his brain connect to his mouth. Harry's black messy hair now touched his shoulders, matching the shadow of black stubble on his pale face, all of them too weary to care about their appearances anymore. He watched as Harry knelt down beside one of the small bodies, lifting it halfway into his arms and appearing to speak to it. "Bill…help him…please, I know it's him…"

Bill looked into his eyes and gave a quick nod. "Get Hermione inside, wrap her in some blankets, and put pressure on the bleeding. Tell Fleur I'll need the full medical kit, but don't let her heal anything yet. I'll be back as soon as I can, I'll help Harry, you keep her safe…"

Ron nodded numbly and set his site on the house once more, dragging his heavy feet as quickly as he dared. He finally reached the cobblestone pathway to the door, feeling protection wards allow him to pass through. He eased Hermione through the front door, stepping sideways, and stood staring into the familiar stone cottage. Noone had noticed him enter. Luna was lying on the worn sofa in the small sitting room, allowing Dean to help her sip something from a cup. He could hear footsteps on the upstairs creaky floor, a door opening and closing.

Ron forced himself out of his staring daze.

"FLEUR!" he called loudly, not caring if the others needed quiet. His feet were moving them towards the staircase, his arms and legs trembling slightly as he carried his precious cargo up the ancient stairs.

Fleur suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs, out of breath and white-faced. He stopped moving and they stared at each other, her pale eyes taking in the blood and sand that covered them both. She rushed down the few stairs to them and brought a shaking hand to Hermione's wrist. After a moment she shut her eyes and took a visible deep breath. When she opened her eyes she spoke to him with resolve on her face, but all he could hear was "upstairs…blue bedroom…" over the pounding of his heart, and the weak flutter of Hermione's heart against his ribs. Fleur was reaching towards Hermione, perhaps to help him, but he pushed by her and finished his climb up the stairs.

Time seemed to slow down for Ron, but finally he reached the bedroom door and kicked it open, footsteps behind him vaguely registering as Fleur following him. He reached the side of the too-white fluffy bed but couldn't seem to be able to put Hermione down, his arms reluctant to let her go again.

He felt something warm touch his shaking arm, and looked down to see Fleur trying to encourage him to let Hermione go. He heard her speak this time.

"Please Ron…you need to let her go if we're going to help her…you don't need to leave her…"

He knew she was right, but he couldn't make his body cooperate, the fear was still too close. Fleur tightened her hold on his arm and started easing his bruised elbow from underneath Hermione's knees, replacing it with her strong arms. "Please, Ron…everything is okay now, she's safe…" she pleaded with him.

Slowly, Ron gained control of his body again, and started lowering Hermione down to the duvet-covered bed with Fleur's help. He grabbed the edges of the white comforter and pulled them around Hermione, only leaving her impossibly grey face exposed.

Suddenly Ron felt the bed moving and he broke his focus from Hermione. He looked up and saw Fleur kneeling on the other side of the bed, a look of horror on her face as she looked Hermione and himself over.

"Ron…wh-…"

Ron started to feel clarity through his horror, knowing he couldn't fall apart right now, he had to help Hermione. His voice sounded foreign to ears, strained and weak. "Bill…said we need to keep her warm and…and try to stop the bleeding. Needs his medical kit…don't do anything without him…"

Fleur didn't respond, but simply walked out of the room, tight-lipped and white faced. After what seemed like an hour, but was most likely just a moment she was back, her arms full with another blanket, towels, and a leather bag. She placed them on the floor, then lowered herself back onto the bed with Ron, running her analyzing eyes over Hermione's still form. Ron grabbed one of the towels and pressed it against Hermione's neck.

"Ron…we need to get her clothing off, we need to see her wounds…I'll need you to stay and help me, can you do that?" Ron wondered why she was speaking to him like he was a child, but didn't say anything, instead nodding his head. Of course he would be staying, he'd almost lost her once, and wouldn't be leaving her side again. Ever.

He pulled back the white blanket, and felt bile rise in his throat at the amount of red blood staining the white comforter already. Hermione's blood. He swallowed hard, trying to force down his sick and guilt.

Fleur pulled her wand out of her pocket and muttering a spell ran it down the front of Hermione's jumper. The cloth ripped in a straight line.

"Ron, I need you to lift her up slightly so I can slip her jumper off," he heard Fleur speak softly to him. He carefully edged his hands underneath Hermione's back and lifted her back off the bed, her head and arms hanging limply. Fleur peeled the sleeves off Hermione's arms, wet with sticky blood, and pulled the ripped sweater from underneath her. Suddenly Ron's hands were touching the bare skin on Hermione's back, slipping slightly in smeared blood. He lowered her back down onto the bed and heard Fleur gasp and walk to his side. She gently picked up Hermione's limp bloody arm and turned it slightly. Ron saw a number of oozing slices on the inside of her arm, looking raw and puffy underneath the red. Fleur suddenly grabbed a towel, gave him a quick glance, and quickly wrapped it around Hermione's arm, tucking a second firmly around her frail frame to catch the bleeding from the numerous glass cuts.

Fleur moved to pull off Hermione's shoes and socks, and Ron saw the blue beaded bag fall to the floor. He reached down and grabbed it quickly before Fleur could get it, stuffing it into his back pocket. He looked up at the French woman and saw she had paused in taking off the other shoe to watch him, a questioning look on her face. Ron ignored her by looking back down to Hermione, knowing he would have to relive some of what happened to his brother and his wife, but not ready to do so yet.

Suddenly he heard a ripping noise and looked up to Fleur cutting down the front of Hermione's ruined pants. She looked up at him expectantly, with a sympathetic grimace on her face, and Ron swallowed hard when he realized she wanted him to help her remove Hermione's pants. He was aware of his heart beating hard, and felt ridiculous that he was nervous of doing this in these circumstances, but couldn't help it.

He moved his trembling hands underneath Hermione's thighs and lifted her gently, averting his eyes while Fleur pulled the fabric away, and covered her legs with the blanket again. He couldn't help but notice that her skin was smooth, that he could feel the muscles under her skin against his hand. He placed her legs back down gently and forced himself again to remove his hands.

He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and looked behind him to see Bill whispering a quick conversation to Fleur, who nodded her head at her husband, glanced at Ron and Hermione, and left the room. Bill squeezed his shoulder and quickly moved to kneel on the far side of the bed, grimacing as he took in the amount of blood on the bed and soaking through the towels covering Hermione's upper body and arm. Bill placed his hands on the edge of the blanket and looked at Ron. He realized his brother was asking for his consent, so nodded to the older brother he had entrusted with their lives.

"Maybe you should sit down, Ron, you look ready to fall down…" He listened to his brother without protest and sat down on the edge of the bed, grasping Hermione's cold hand in his own.

Bill moved the blanket away, and Ron felt his stomache roll as he took in the blood, bruises, and too-pale skin that covered her body. His brother's face turned hard as he looked Hermione over as well, his sharp wolf senses likely sensing more than could be seen with the eye.

Remaining silent, Bill drew out his wand, unnecessarily signalled Ron to stay quiet, and closed his eyes as he hovered his wand horizontally over her body. Suddenly his hand jerked and he dropped his wand onto the floor as if it had burned him. The wand was vibrating and shooting black sparks from where it was twitching on the floor.

Bill lifted his eyes to Ron with a stunned look on his face.

"Ron…don't tell me she's been tortured…" Bill looked to him for confirmation, and Ron placed his head into his hands as he felt held-back tears start to prickle his eyes.

"Ron, you need to tell me what happened RIGHT NOW" Bill uttered frantically, "I know you're all sworn to secrecy, but I can't help her unless I know what spells were used."

"Bellatrix, she…she-" Ron scrubbed at his face and eyes with the palms of his hands, trying to push back the images that were replaying over and over behind his eyes.

"Hermione was tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange at Malfoy Manor, she used Crucio, I don't know for how long, it seemed like an eternity…so many times. We were put in the dungeons below, we don't know what else happened to her. We saw Bellatrix cut her neck with a black metal knife, and a chandelier fell on top of her. That's all we can tell you." Harry's familiar voice was scared but firm as he answered Bill's question. Ron looked behind him with blurry eyes and saw Harry standing rigidly, eyes wide as he stared at the damage on Hermione's body. "Bill, please help her…this is my fault, it's all my fault…"

Suddenly Hermione's hand twitched in Ron's and her eyelids flew open, her bloodshot eyes dripping tears down her cheek, her chest taking fast gasping breaths. Bill reacted first and leaned over her, trying to get her attention.

"Hermione, it's Bill, you're safe now, and you're going to feel better soon. Hermione, can you hear me? Just calm down, I know you're in pain, we're going to help you…" Bill's voice was quiet and calm, and Ron reached a shaking hand over to touch her face until he noticed it was covered a blood, and instead pulled it back so he didn't frighten her.

"STOP, PLEASE, DON'T HURT THEM!" Hermione suddenly screamed out with a hoarse voice, trying to push their reassuring hands off her. Before anyone could stop her she had rolled onto her side towards Ron and cried out sharply at the movement. Ron disregarded his bloody hands and rubbed his hand up and down her arm, trying to comfort her.

"Hermione, calm down, we're at Bill and Fleur's, you're safe now, we got away. Harry's here too." He told her gently, letting the tears run down his cheeks unchecked as he watched her gasp from the pain, her eyes rolling around as if she couldn't focus them.

"Ron?" she rasped out quietly, looking around the room blindly.

Ron grasped her hand in his, "I'm right here, Hermione, right here…"

"Ron, don't tell…don't tell my parents wh- what happened, they won't understand," she choked out, "They'll take me away… I won't be able to protect him anymore. Sirius is so…important to Harry…they wouldn't understand why…" her eyes gradually closed, and she became still again, her breathing shallow, her hand limp in Ron's.

He sat confused for a moment, not understanding what she was talking about. Harry seemed to figure it out faster.

"Fifth year…Department of Mysteries…" he muttered.

Ron continued to sit holding tight to Hermione's hand and watching her face, the implications of what Harry had just said running through his mind at a dizzying pace. Hermione was confused, and had just been tortured by a madwoman, of course she wouldn't know what was going on. Yeah, that was probably it. There was no way she could end up with a scrambled brain, this is Hermione. She'll be fine, they'll heal her, and after she rests she will be fine. They'll all be fine, and walk away from this horror of a year, forget about it and grow old together, all three of them together. She'll be fine, please Merlin let her be fine.

Ron looked up to question his brother, needing reassurance that this would all be okay. Bill was again holding his wand over Hermione, Fleur having appeared by his side. Ron watched as his brother once more dropped his wand, shaking his hand in pain. Ron couldn't help himself,

"Bill…her mind…is…is she…?"

Bill and Fleur looked up at Ron, then Harry behind him. Bill spoke tentatively.

"Ron…Harry…It's hard to say right now, she could just be disoriented from the ordeal, from the pain. What we need to worry about right now is the black magic that is still attached to her, it's preventing me from performing any healing spells. This happens with extensive black curses, they attach itself to the magical core, tries to stay alive. Fights back, in a way. And with the extent of what happened to Hermione…We're going to have to try to heal her non-magically, I've had to do it before with other curses, the black magic should wear off eventually. I can't guarantee anything, but I'll try my best. What she really needs is a hospital…"

Ron felt a fog drift into his head again, and he found it hard to see the room around him. Hermione wasn't fine, she might not recover. This was his fault, he couldn't get to her fast enough, wasn't smart enough to figure it out in time. Her cold blood was soaked through his shirt and pants because of him.

The fog was beginning to annoy him. His eyes felt so heavy, he couldn't help but just submit to closing them for a moment, waiting for them to clear. Something kept shaking his shoulder but he couldn't seem to tell whatever it was to leave him alone, that he just needed a moment. His body felt so achingly tired, so he just let it slip down the edge of the bed to sit on the floor. He wouldn't leave Hermione, he wouldn't leave her side again.

Everything went dark.

A/N: Hi everyone! It's been such a great experience reading all of your reviews and helpful suggestions for this story. I'm sorry it's taken me a while to get this chapter posted, I've been working on it gradually. I need to be in the mood to write, or what I write just doesn't turn out very well! I thought initially I would write this chapter about Hermione's perspective but felt this should come first. At this point I will be drifting away from the book's storyline a bit, I think things would have gone differently at Shell Cottage.

I wrote this chapter from Ron's perspective with the idea that he wouldn't be fine just because they escaped. I mean, the three of them were just captured by the enemy, and he was held in a dungeon listening to Hermione be tortured and not able to do anything. I imagined Ron to be affected by this, trying to function after having experienced something really traumatic. He's unaware that he's in shock, fading in and out of awareness. I hope you all still like where this story is going.