Chapter 2

As soon as Fleur left the room, Ron's eyes found their way to Hermione's face. Even though she had multiple cuts from the chandelier, and a couple bruises starting to form on her grime-covered face, Ron still thought she looked beautiful. Beautiful. Ron was surprised by his most recent thought. Did he always consider Hermione beautiful? Of course you did, a voice inside him said, you were just too much of a prat to admit it to yourself. Ron had to agree; over the years, Ron had not let Hermione's beauty escape him. Nor her smile. Nor her melodious laugh. Nor her kindness she showed towards others, her bravery, her loyalty, her instinct to always fight for what's right; all of these were reasons why he loved her.

Again, Ron startled himself with his thoughts. Did he love Hermione? Ron sighed. Yes, somewhere inside of him, he always knew that he loved her, even loved her more than a best friend. Ron took a hold of Hermione's hand again, and his thumb started tracing circles over her palm. He felt her twitch slightly.

Ron suddenly remembered about the potion he was supposed to give her. He let go of her hand, positioned himself near the head of the bed, and gingerly lifted her so she was sitting upright, with her back against his chest. Ron then unplugged the stopper from the vial and tilted Hermione's chin up so he could pour the purple liquid into her mouth. He heard her faintly swallow, and within a few minutes, her eyes flickered open. Immediately, Hermione lurched away from Ron, and started screaming,

"Leave me alone! Please, it's just a copy! Just a copy!" Ron's heart fell through his stomach as the memories he had tried to suppress from earlier that night came flooding back to him.

"Shhhhh! 'Mione. It's ok, it's me. Ron. Please, Hermione, we're safe now. It's ok, shhh." He too was crying now; he couldn't bear to see her in such agony.

Hermione turned around to face Ron. Her face contorted in pain as the movement reminded her that every inch of her body had been bruised and beaten.

"Ron?" Her chocolate eyes found his cobalt ones.

"It's me. I'm right here." He whispered.

"Ron-"Hermione's raw voice seemed to die away as she was consumed with a sudden rush of tears.

She clutched the front of Ron's bloody jumper and buried her face into his chest, her shoulders shaking from her powerful sobs. Ron didn't know what to do; he could only pull her closer to him and rub soothing circles on her back with his hand. Ron didn't know how long they stayed like this, but it felt like an eternity.

Eventually, Hermione lifted her head to look into his eyes. "Ron-" she began. But Ron interrupted her.

"Don't. Save your voice. It's ok, Hermione, we're safe now." He choked on his tears as he said, "I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you. I would have given anything to take your place. I should have been there. I'm so sorry." His last sentence barely came out as a whisper.

"No Ron." Hermione delicately shook her head. "You didn't abandon me. I heard you. Your voice. I could hear it through the walls. I heard you screaming my name. It was what I held onto while she was—while she was—" she couldn't finish her sentence.

Anger flashed through Ron. If he ever saw that pathetic excuse for a witch again, he would kill her. He would kill Bellatrix for hurting the one person he loved more than almost anyone so badly; for causing so much inhumane pain and heartache.

Ron quickly let go of his anger though, as he realized that even though she was trying to hide it, Hermione's position was causing her a great amount of pain. He slowly and carefully took hold of her and held her up while he slid himself off of the bed. Then, he gently lay her down, so she was lying flat on her back as he pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat in it.

The movement caused Hermione to take in a sharp breath of air as dots of light danced before her eyes; she had never been in so much pain in her entire life. After a minute, her eyes began searching for Ron's. His eyes were staring at her left arm.

Curious as to what he was looking at, she summoned up just enough strength to lift her arm in front of her face. As a result, an intense, fire-like pain shot through her nerves. She gritted her teeth and made her eyes focus on the wound on her arm. Then she saw it.

Mudblood.

Ron saw her eyes begin to fill with fresh tears as she stared at the hideous wound and started to understand the complete meaning of it. Then, very calmly, he took hold of her arm. Her watery eyes looked at him questioningly. He didn't even hesitate. He leaned forward and tenderly placed his lips on the wound, Hermione inhaled sharply, not expecting Ron's affectionate gesture.

"I don't care about this, 'Mione", he said huskily after he lifted his lips from her skin, "you will always be the most beautiful and brave and intelligent person I will ever know." His eyes were glued to hers. For the first time in his life, he wasn't embarrassed to share his feelings with Hermione. Tonight taught him that this war could take any one of their lives at any second, and there was no time to waste in telling the people they loved how much they mean to them.

Hermione let the tears streak down her face as she stared at Ron. Ron, the immature, lanky red-head who made her so infuriated and had broken her heart so many times. Ron-the sweet, funny, caring, loyal, and true Gryffindor she had come to know over the years. This war had made him different—made him stronger. Made him grow up.

Hermione's eyes flickered back to her arm. Somehow it suddenly seemed less unbearable, as if Ron's kiss had made it heal. She sighed. Then in a strangled voice, still raw from screaming, she asked, "What else happened tonight?"

Before Ron could answer, the door to the bedroom flew open. It was Fleur. She impatiently moved a strand of her silky, silvery hair out of her face and looked at Ron and Hermione.

"It's ze 'ouse elf. He is dead."