Tangled

by Rsuth

DISCLAIMER: As the author of this fanfiction 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 SEVEN

"And Ron…Hermione will wake up. She will. She has to…"

Harry's voice wavered slightly as he spoke, removing any hope of assurance. Ron continued to watch Hermione's face, looking for any change, any sign of movement. She was still and vacant, lost in a pile of bandages and blankets, the only sign of life the slight slow rise of her chest. He could feel doubt start to grow in the back of his mind.

Eventually Harry left to clean up at his insistence, and Ron continued waiting by Hermione's bedside, his hand placed lightly on her stomache to feel any change in movement. He must have drifted off after a while because suddenly something was jostling his arm, and the room around him was becoming light again. It took him a few moments to realize why he had woken up until he lifted his head and saw Hermione's eyes open.

"Hermione?" Ron asked softly, remembering what had happened the last time she woke up. She remained still, staring up at the ceiling, eyes glazed and unfocused. It didn't seem as though she had heard him at all.

Ron remotely heard a heavy chair scrape on the floor, and looked up to see Harry uncurl himself stiffly from a too-perfect armchair, and walk towards the door.

"I'll go get Bill…try to keep her awake," Harry whispered groggily as he walked quickly out of the room. He must have been sleeping as well.

Ron tried to get her attention again, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice, and sound calm. It was hard since his heard was pounding so hard he was sure it was making his body pulsate with each beat. "Hermione…can you hear me?" He squeezed the small hand closest to him. Nothing.

He hesitantly reached a hand over to her face, cupping her cheek. The skin was hot against his clammy hand. He looked closer, feeling his mind clearing from his nap, and noticed her skin was still too white, but flushed. The hair around her temples was damp, small curls laying stuck to her skin. Her glazed eyes were bloodshot, still staring at the ceiling despite his movement around her. It scared him.

Ron looked around him and saw a spare towel sitting on the bedside table. He gently patted it over her face, trying to bring her some comfort.

Hermione's eyes shifted, suddenly staring at his face. He froze as he noticed, not sure what to say or do. Her face remained vacant for a while, until she spoke with a rasping voice.

"Ron?"

He nodded his head slowly, holding his breath as he waited for her to speak again. He was sure he was going to pass out as the silent room rushed loudly in his ears, his chest refused to take a breath.

"Are you okay? Is Harry okay?" She forced out, the effort making her breathless.

He nodded again, squeezed her hand, wanting her to continue. He needed to know if she was okay, if her mind was intact, he was desperate to know.

"Where are we?"

He hesitated to tell her, not wanting to bring back bed memories yet. "Bill and Fleur's, Shell Cottage, it's beside the ocean…" which was just part of the truth, but would do for now. Hermione stared at him for a moment with confusion written on her face, nodded her head, and closed her eyes. "Hermione, please stay awake, just for a few minutes," he pleaded with her, but she didn't or couldn't hear him.

He heard quiet footsteps enter the room quickly behind him, and Bill and Fleur suddenly appeared on the opposite side of the bed. Bill knelt down on the bed carefully, moving as close to Hermione as he could. Ron felt a hand on his back and knew Harry was standing behind him.

"Hermione?" Bill tried tentatively, echoing Ron from minutes before. She didn't respond to him either, as the four of them stood around the bed.

"Bill, she spoke to me…asked me if me 'n Harry were okay, and where we are. I tried to keep her awake…" A thought dawned on him, "Bill, she's hot, maybe feverish…" Ron whispered, watching as his brother pulled back the blankets, and placed his hands on Hermione's face, arms. Without talking Bill started to unwind the bandages on her neck, revealing the barely closed raw wound. He continued onto her arm, quickly unwrapping the stained gauze, but stopped suddenly as Fleur squeezed his shoulder and gave him a look. He seemed to not know why she had stopped him for a moment, then looked over at Ron.

Bill cleared his throat. "Ron…did you see Hermione's arm before? Do you remember anything?"

Ron could feel them all looking at him expectantly, but was confused. Why would he remember her arm specifically, she was covered in cuts. He just shook his head.

"Ron…I…" Bill seemed to not be able to form a sentence, so just shook his head and continued unwrapping. The gauze stuck to the inside of her arm, and Bill winced as he gently eased it away. Hermione didn't even flinch.

Ron felt his blood boiling, and bile rising in up his throat as he saw her arm. Red, puffy, oozing blood and infection. But it was the cuts, roughly hewn into her forearm to read 'MUDBLOOD', that sickened him. He needed to hit something, needed to wake himself up from this terrible nightmare. He couldn't look away from it, from this terrible word that seemed to haunt Hermione from her first steps into the magical world. That meant she was being hunted for reasons more than being Harry's friend. One of the top Undesirables.

He felt like he was going to be sick again, and rushed back down to the bathroom to dry heave into the toilet. Tears ran down his pinched face as his body tried to relieve him of his memories, his guilt, but nothing would come out. He eventually sank to the floor, holding his arms around his aching stomache, trying to compose himself to go back in that room.

He sat for a few more minutes, until he felt as though he could stand again, and shakily walked out of the bathroom and down the hall. Harry was sitting outside the closed door of the bedroom Hermione was in, but rose once he saw him coming. Ron looked at the closed door, then back to his friend.

"They're taking the rest of the bandages off, looking her over. Fleur thought we shouldn't be in there for it..." Harry answered Ron's silent question. He looked at Ron for a moment, then reached his arms around his friend and pulled Ron to him.

Ron hugged Harry back, trying not to let hot tears drip out of his eyes. "Ron…we can't lose her…I'll never forgive myself…should never have let her come, this is all my fault. If only I hadn't said his name…" Harry choked on his words, and Ron could feel a damp spot growing on his shoulder. For a moment he felt anger, knowing that this had happened because of that small slip-up, that Hermione's future was uncertain because of one word. That all of their futures had almost ended because of one word. But he also knew Hermione wouldn't want that, knew that she would want Ron to tell Harry it was okay. Would tell him that their task was more important than their anger with each other. That Harry was too important.

He almost smiled, imagining her getting mad and telling him off. Merlin, he loved it when she was mad. He didn't know when that had changed, when he had stopped being annoyed by her bossiness and instead began to love it, antagonizing her on purpose to see her cheeks flush, her eyes brighten, her hair get curlier as it bounced around. Her voice would take on "the tone", as he and Harry called it. He missed that side of her, of their lives. They had all become too tired to put fun into arguing and lovingly baiting each other, more worried about finding enough food to have energy to travel every day. To think clearly, and stay alive.

Ron clapped Harry on the back and pulled away, trying to communicate to him that it was alright, that he was forgiven. They both wiped their faces and eyes and moved to sit, leaning against the wall. Ron listened for Hermione with his head tucked on his knees, ready to run in at any sign of life. He jiggled his legs impatiently, needing to be back in the room with her, but respecting her privacy. He was beginning to feel hungry, his stomache rumbling impatiently, but he ignored it. He was used to ignoring it.

Harry got up silently and walked down the hall and stairs, returning a few minutes later balancing two mugs and a plate. He put everything down onto the ground, sat down, and pressed a hot mug into Ron's hands.

"Eat. You haven't had anything in probably two days. You'll be no good to Hermione if you collapse from hunger, you know." Harry said this last part with dry humour, both of them knowing this to be a favourite line of hers lately. Ron let a chuckle escape at the memory and reached over to clink his mug with Harry's.

"Cheers." Ron tipped the mug to his mouth and was met by the taste of delicious chicken noodle soup, something they hadn't had in a really long time. It could be terrible chicken noodle soup and would still taste amazing to him. He drank the rest of the soup quickly, his stomache growling loudly as it was finally acknowledged. "No offence to Hermione's mushroom soup, but there's something so much more satisfying about chicken soup."

Harry hummed his agreement as he finished his own. "Probably something to do with the fact that it doesn't contain ingredients from the fungus family…" Both of them laughed lightly at this, feeling slightly relieved with the humour. They attacked the plate of cheese and fruit with the same vigour as the soup, trying to fill the void of time waiting for Bill and Fleur to finish, ignoring their fear for a short time.

Long after they had finished their meal the door to the bedroom finally opened. Ron almost jumped up, ready to run back inside, but Bill stepped out and held out a hand. He sank down to the floor with them and rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Fleur is just finishing putting something a little more comfortable on Hermione. She's still asleep, unconscious, what have you. Her body is trying to heal itself from the nerve damage of the Crucio, and fight the dark magic. That's why she has a fever. Her lack of sense…could be because of the fever, because of the pain. I don't think we can tell yet how…extensively… the Crucio has affected her…But Ron, I think the fact that she was asking about you and Harry is a good sign…" Bill went silent for a while, hanging his head down and closing his eyes, looking as tired as Ron felt. "I've taken the bandages off for now, most of the smaller cuts have closed over enough, and I think the wound on her arm needs to breathe…thank Merlin they made us learn basic Muggle healing as part of our training for curses, you never know what you're going to be up against with curses. We managed to get some muggle painkillers into her, as well as some water and broth. I'm not sure if anything will help the pain, but it's worth a shot…She…She's not in the best shape, I can tell you've all had a hard year, and I know it's not your fault... I think as long as we can keep getting some water and food into her she will heal fine, but she needs to wake up. If she doesn't get any better, I'm not sure what to do…she's a wanted muggleborn, and it's known she's travelling with Harry. That doesn't leave us many options."

Ron could hear desperation start to creep into Bill's voice, adding to his own worry. They were all out of their waters here, sitting ducks waiting for something to happen. Trapped at Shell Cottage in hiding, only slightly better than being on the run with their tent. Hermione still walking an uncertain fine line.

Ron felt something shake his arm and looked up, realizing that Bill was talking to him.

"Ron…did you hear me?...I asked how you were feeling, you look a little better than before."

He just shrugged his shoulders at his brother, " 'm alright."

Bill reached across the hall to him, cupping the side of his face with his hand and staring at him for a moment. He gave him a small smile, then pushed himself tiredly off the floor, squeezing Harry's shoulder. Fleur suddenly opened the door to Hermione's bedroom and walked out quickly, carrying with her a wad of bloody bandages, not stopping to even look at them. Ron was sure he saw tears on her pale face. He felt the nausea start to rise in his throat again, and took a few deep breaths and swallowed to try to force it back down

"Why don't you two go in and have a lie-down, we expanded the bed a bit. You can keep an eye on her that way, and maybe it will help her to have you both close. You both need to rest and recover a bit yourselves, and I'm sure Hermione would agree. Just be careful of her arm, and let me know if the fever gets worse. I need to check on everyone else." Bill gave them a small smile, clapped them each on the shoulder, and quickly followed his wife. Ron realized that he had almost forgotten about everyone else staying at the Cottage, he had been so wrapped up in Hermione. Mr. Ollivander, Dean, Luna. Griphook. He looked at Harry questioningly, but before he could even ask Harry answered his question.

"They'll recover, they just need proper food and some time to heal. Well…except for Dobby. I checked on everyone earlier" Ron sighed, grateful that Harry had remembered all he had forgotten, relieved that everyone else was alright. He nodded his head at Harry, and slowly walked into the bedroom.

Hermione was lying in the middle of the bed under a soft blanket, that state of her body less horrific without the blood and bandages. Fleur had dressed her in a soft nightgown, her infected arm propped on a pillow, shining with what Ron assumed was healing ointment. It brought the carved word into sharp relief, and Ron had to look away from it. She was still and lightly breathing, her face still flushed. A wet cloth had been left on her forehead.

Ron kicked off his trainers as he walked, drawing the drapes closed, and shrugging off his sweater. He paused by the side of the bed, and with an encouraging "go on, mate" from Harry, lifted the blanket and carefully crawled in beside Hermione, making sure he left space between them. He nodded at Harry, who seemed to be waiting for his approval, and watched as his friend did the same.

They lay there for a while, both watching Hermione between them. Eventually, Ron reached out and grasped her good hand, using his other hand to brush down her hair, stroke her face. Both boys started and froze in place as she suddenly opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling again. Her eyes were unfocused and glazed, and she took a few quick shallow breaths before she spoke.

"Why are you keeping me here?" she croaked out, her eyes started tearing up, "I need to find Ron and Harry, they need to help me!" Ron felt tears coming into his own eyes as he watched Hermione become distressed, her flushed face confused and angry as she tried to argue with him.

"Hermione…" Ron tried, speaking gently to her, running his hand up and down her arm, avoiding the raw wound. " Hermione... We're right here, Ron and Harry, we're right here beside you. Just relax, you need to sleep." Hermione continued to stare at the ceiling, her eyes seemingly blind, her chest rising and falling rapidly from her speech, her skin red and sweaty. Harry was sitting up on her other side, ready to run for Bill by the look of it.

"Ron?" she asked, doubtfully, and his chest squeezed so tight he had to take a moment before he could answer.

"Yes, it's Ron. We're at Bill and Fleur's cottage by the sea, remember? We're taking a small vacation. You need to get some sleep, you don't feel well," he told her, slowly and calmly, though he felt anything but. Her face crumpled, and she let her tears fall.

"Ron, help me, please. It won't let me go…It hurts…everything hurts…" she sobbed to him, letting her eyes close. Ron let his own tears fall, feeling so helpless that there was nothing he could really do… She didn't make sense… Harry was suddenly at his side, holding a fresh wet towel, which he took and with shaking hands dabbed over Hermione's face and neck. Her sobs gradually died down to a whimper as he continued to hold the cool towel to her skin. She eventually fell back into a restless sleep. Harry reached for the towel, taking it out of the room and returning with it wet again, silently taking his turn running it over Hermione's feverish skin. They wouldn't be sleeping.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooo

Morning fell again, and Ron and Harry were still sitting in the darkened bedroom, keeping a silent vigil by Hermione. Ron was beyond exhausted, feeling the strain of worry and fear, waiting for Hermione's next outburst. She had been waking up and ranting throughout the day and night, the fears in her tangled mind dominating these ramblings. Trying to escape, trying to get away from something. Since earlier that night she hadn't seemed to remember they were there, or recognize them. The small hope that Ron had been holding out since her recognition earlier was starting to crumble. He didn't understand what had happened. At the moment she was laying quietly and Ron couldn't help but let his mind race as he took in her impossibly pale skin, the black rings around her eyes, her sunken cheeks. Her too-thin frame. He vaguely wondered how he hadn't noticed these things before…surely with all the time he spent sneaking looks at her he would have noticed. Or Harry would have noticed.

Bill and Fleur had been coming in periodically to check on Hermione, trying to get her to swallow more pain reliever and fever reducer, cleaning her up and putting more medication on her arm. None of this seemed to be helping, and her fever was climbing dangerously high. Bill didn't know what to make of it, didn't understand her ramblings, kept telling them it was from the overused curse. Ron had been hearing arguing coming from down the halls that morning, bits and pieces floating into the room told him that it was Bill and Fleur arguing about what to do. Whether they could risk taking her to a muggle doctor, or if there were any trustworthy magic healers. If they could bring mum here without risking the safety of the family. They were getting desperate.

Ron sighed as he once again picked up the wet cloth and began to run it over Hermione's pale skin. She was definitely worse. Her hair and nightdress were damp from sweat again, despite having been changed not long before, her arm still puffy and inflamed, the small cuts covering her standing out raw. She was laying limply but restlessly, her eyelids twitching madly under their lids, her chest quickly rising with each shallow breath. He was trying to rack his brain, think of anything that could help her. They were all in deep water without their wands and potions. Bill, thank Merlin, knew enough to help her so far but even his knowledge was reaching its limits.

There had to be something else they could do.

He looked up at Harry, who was sitting on the other side of Hermione, slowly rubbing her hand. Throughout the night they had been getting desperate, ready to take Hermione and disappear, find someone who could help her without endangering his brother and Fleur, and the others hiding here. They would be taking a risk no matter what they did. He knew what they needed to do.

He could sense Harry looking at him, and raised his head to meet Harry's serious eyes. He saw fear, worry, and desperation reflected back at him.

"We need to get her out of here…" Ron whispered to him, not wanting his brother to hear them. He moved around to the other side of the bed to kneel beside his friend. Harry nodded back to him, and he knew he had come to the same conclusion. They were in a safe place, for now, but Hermione needed help and they couldn't bring help here.

"Where do we go?" Harry whispered back, placing his fingers behind his glasses to rub his eyes.

"I dunno, we could hide out somewhere like before, try to find someone we can trust." He knew he sounded desperate, that it might not work, but he needed to do something. They couldn't keep waiting to see if Hermione might recover. He would never forgive himself if there was something they should have done, but couldn't.

Harry nodded, and moved to stand. "I'll find our things, get them ready to go. You stay here, take care of her." He slipped out the doorway, closing it softly behind him.

Ron leaned forward onto the bed, laying his head on his arm as he watched Hermione and waited.

"Please, wake up Hermione," he quietly implored her, "we couldn't have got this far without you. We're lost without you. We'll probably lose this war without you to help us…" Ron could hear voices pick up from downstairs, but chose to ignore them. "But that's not why I need you to wake up. I…we've been friends for so long…since the Troll in first year…but it's more than that…I, er, fancy you, Hermione…more than fancy, actually…I love you, Hermione…I've loved you for years, I just didn't realize it. I'm so sorry…for every mean word I've said, for getting mad about stupid things, for trying to make you jealous by dating Lavender…for everything. I love you, Hermione, please come back to me so I can finally tell you…"

The arguing voices got closer, and then the door to the bedroom crashed open and Bill ran in, Harry and Fleur a few steps behind him.

"Ron, you CAN'T take her from here, you don't know that you'll be able to find help, SHE COULD DIE OUT THERE!" Bill bellowed at him, his frustration and desperation obvious in the way he paced at the foot of the bed, he muscles straining as he clenched his fists at his sides.

Ron could see Harry standing behind Bill near the doorway, trying to send him an apologetic look; he had probably been caught by his super-sensory brother. Ron rose from beside the bed, standing taller than his brother at his full height.

"She might die here, Bill. We're not going to just stay here and wait for that to happen, and keep putting everyone here in jeopardy. We are highly wanted to matter what we do, that hasn't changed. We need to try, she means everything to us. To me…" he hissed at his brother, needing him to see reason, to accept their decision. "Please Bill, please understand…" The tension in the room almost crackled as he faced his brother, both staring each other down, trying to win the argument.

"Ron?" a weak hoarse voice called from behind him. "Ron?" He turned quickly and knelt back beside the bed, expecting Hermione to be delirious, woken up from the noise. She was looking right at him.

"Ron… you saved me…I heard you in the dark…I fought back…" She tried again, slowly, her breathing heavy, eyes drooping, damp curls stuck to her cheek. "You saved me… I've been gone for so long…trying to get back." Tears slipped out of her eyes as she regarded him, and Ron picked up her hand to hold it close to his face, tears threatening to fall from his own eyes. "You love me…" she whispered to him, giving him a small smile. He nodded against her hand, reaching out to brush her wet hair from her forehead and place a soft, lingering kiss on her forehead.

"I love you…You came back to me…you came back to me…" he whispered back, knowing somehow that she really had come back to him this time.

oooooooooooooooooooo

A/N: This isn't the end of the story yet, fear not, I mean to take it a bit further. I've gone quite far away from the original story at this point, but it's been a lot of fun writing it with my own ideas. I will tie it back into the canon story by the end.

I really enjoyed writing these past two chapters to somewhat reflect some events at Malfoy Manor, at least for Hermione. Twice she had to battle the darkness, twice Ron was there to save her. I hope you all enjoyed how I wrote this, and am looking forward to reading your reviews!