Author's Notes: Thank you so much for your reviews! Here comes the next chapter. I hope you like it.

(Eloquent, aren't I? :-))

He could not take it any longer. Grabbing onto the couch with one hand and onto the coffee table with the other, he ducked his head and whatever little contents had still been held in his stomach now spilled onto the floor while he was retching and coughing violently.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath when he recovered, eyes streaming. He wept his mouth with his sleeve and vanished the puddle of sick with Pettigrew's wand. "I'm such a bleeding loser. There you've got it."

The sound of the footsteps of people darting into the hall made him look up again and he turned and craned his neck to properly look through the door. First Dean came rushing by and Ron's stomach sank even further if that was possible as he saw that he was carrying Griphook who, like Hermione, was bearing numerous bleeding cuts all over his body. Right at his heels followed Fleur. She also passed by the living room and, judging by the sound of their footsteps, both went up the stairs, apparently to take care of the goblin.

"Hermione needs help, too!" Ron thought with despair. "I need you guys here! Bill, where are you?"

More footsteps, but this time, as Ron realized, somebody came down the stairs. A moment later, Fleur rushed into the living room, carrying what looked like a thick white dressing gown of hers. Ron sighed with relief.

"Are you okay?" Fleur asked, squatting down beside him.

"As okay as I can be, I suppose," Ron said with a shrug, trying to think of the next steps. "We need to do something about her bones. She hasn't woken up yet, so I couldn't have given her any Skele-Gro. I started to heal her wounds but only on her face and hands. I... I don't think I can remove any of her clothes by hand with all her fractures... And I don't dare using magic, my hands are shaking too much," he added, his face heating up with shame.

"Eet's all right, Ron," Fleur said, placing a cool hand onto his back, a gesture that Ron did not find quite as soothing as Fleur probably thought it was. "Calm down. You did great. I will take over now."

Fleur drew her wand and stood up. Feeling rather uneasy, Ron furrowed his brow. He had just realized that he did not know how acquainted Fleur was with healing spells.

"You're doing the healing spells?"

"Eez eet okay if I do eet?"

"Err... Where's Bill?"

He could not be certain, but he thought that Fleur's expression darkened for a split second before she replied.

"'E's still outside, discussing with 'Arry," she said in a measured tone that gave Ron a dire sense of foreboding. "But I know 'ow to 'eal as well. You see, at Beauxbatons, we 'ave 'ealing classes-" A hint of her old condescending air came through as she said that and Ron could not help flashing a feeble smirk. "So there's no need to worry, Ron. She's een good hands with me, too."

"Then go ahead, please."

"You stay?"

"Yes."

Fleur smiled warmly down at him and patted his shoulder.

"You are a good man, you know zat."

Ron gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I'm not so sure about that."

"Well, yes, you are," Fleur insisted. "But zis eez probably not ze right time to discuss zis. All right. 'Ere goes. Diffindo!"

And with that, Hermione's sweater tore apart.

Ron had not been able to look away in time and what he saw made his stomach lurch. Hermione's body, alarmingly haggard from the constant lack of food, was just as badly bruised and cut as her hands had been, with many of the chandelier shards cutting right through her clothes. His eyes fell onto the right side of her ribcage which was covered in numerous large black and violet bruises that looked as if she had been kicked there multiple times.

He wished he had not seen that. He was certain that the image would haunt him for the rest of his life. Just thinking about what Hermione must have gone through sickened him to the core. Before he could take in any more, he screwed up his eyes and averted his face, both respecting her too much to want to see her exposed like that and terrified to see what other injuries she may be bearing, but at the same time refusing to leave her side.

He felt Fleur move closer to him, probably working to remove Hermione's jeans, and he squeezed his eyes shut even more firmly, suddenly glad that it was Fleur, not Bill, who was doing this. A moment later, the scent of Dittany filled the air and a couple of minutes thereafter, Fleur started to mumble obscure-sounding words that Ron could not understand but assumed to be healing spells.

Now Ron heard the sound of yet more footsteps approaching and the musky scent that reached his nostrils told him that Bill had rejoined them. Bill and Fleur exchanged a few hushed words and then, Fleur continued to murmur, now, however, every now and then interrupted by Bill who seemed to perform some healing spells as well, occasionally cursing under his breath.

Ron grew paler and paler the longer this procedure took and when Bill let out a particularly nasty swear, he inadvertently let out a small whimper.

"It's okay, Ron," Bill said in a tone that was apparently meant to be comforting but still came out strained. "Just a few more minutes."

His eyes still squeezed shut, Ron nodded mechanically. After what felt like an eternity to him, the exchange between Bill and Fleur finally turned back into a whispered conversation. He felt Bill step back, then there was a rustle of fabric, and when there was silence, Ron dared to look.

Hermione almost looked like her normal self again. She was dressed in the dressing gown that Fleur had brought with her, and if it had not been for the ashen color of her face and the still uneven rise and fall of her chest, he could have thought that she was just sleeping.

"We healed her as best as we could," Bill explained. "Except for one thing..."

He stepped forward and indicated at an angry red mark on Hermione's throat. It appeared to be the wound that Bellatrix had inflicted on her with her dagger.

"I don't know what that is but nothing that we tried got rid of it," Bill said, looking apologetic. "It seems to be dark magic. Under normal circumstances I'd say see a Healer, but of course, there's no way we can do that these days. She'll probably keep a scar there."

Ron clenched his jaw, giving up the fight against the tears. The thought that Hermione might have to bear a lifelong reminder of her torture was nothing short of unbearable.

"Zis was in 'er sock," Fleur said quietly.

Ron ran his sleeve over his wet eyes and looked up at her. She was holding a shrunken version of Hermione's beaded bag. He widened his eyes, awed by Hermione's presence of mind to keep the bag safe even in the dire situation she had been in.

"Thanks," he whispered, took the bag and pocketed it.

Fleur responded with a faint smile and then turned to her husband.

"Bill, I'm looking after Grip'ook now. I'll take ze medicine..."

"Of course, love," Bill replied. Fleur stuffed the two bottles into her apron and left the room.

When she was gone, Bill turned towards Ron. "You should get cleaned up, too," he said.

Closing his eyes again, Ron shook his head.

"I'm fine," he muttered, feeling that compared to Hermione, he had nothing to complain about.

"You're bleeding."

"It's nothing-"

"Yes, it is," Bill said resolutely and seized Ron by the shoulder. "Come here."

Ron turned on his knees and allowed Bill to grab his hand and pull him into a standing position. It was only then that he realized how filthy he was. His whole front was covered in dirt and smeared with vomit as well as his own and Hermione's blood. He exhibited his cut arms before his brother. With a few flicks of his wand, Bill first siphoned the grime off of Ron and then healed his arms and hands along with - as Ron could tell by the warmth on the respective areas - his black eye and burst lip which were a result of Scabior's and Bellatrix' blows to his face. The sour taste in his mouth disappeared as well.

Ron was looking down in wonder at his now clean sweater when he heard Bill speak again.

"Let's have a seat," Bill suggested, nodding towards the dining table on the other side of the room.

Ron threw a side glance at Hermione. "No way, I'm staying!"

"Well, fine then," Bill said exasperatedly and lowered himself to the floor. "Then let's sit here. We need to talk."

Despite his better judgment, Ron sat down. He had quite the idea where this conversation would lead to and he did not have the least interest in going through this once again. All the adults seemed to want to butt into their mission. His parents... Lupin... Bill and Fleur... And now Bill again. Why couldn't they just accept that they were not allowed to pass on any information?

"Listen Bill," he said briskly. "I think I know what you're on about. But I've already told you, Dumbledore didn't allow us to tell anyone about our task and that hasn't changed."

But Bill completely ignored his account. "You fought against Death Eaters, haven't you?" he asked sharply.

Ron's eyes flickered back to Hermione. Part of him wanted to tell him. It was surely possible without mentioning the Horcruxes. These days, capture and torture of fugitive victims and opponents of Voldemort's regime was almost a daily occurrence, and they could have gotten into the clutches of the Death Eaters by a mere coincidence, just like so many others. But answering Bill's question would mean reliving the events in Malfoy Manor, and he did not think that he could bring himself to do it, even if he had wanted to.

"Give 'im a rest," Fleur's voice came from the doorway, gratefully sparing Ron from having to give an answer.

"But..." Bill began, but Fleur cut him off.

"We 'ave time. You can talk zis over later. Now we 'ave more urgent matters to deal with. Grip'ook woke up."

"How is he?" Bill queried.

"On ze mend," Fleur said. "But 'e insisted in speaking with ze 'master of ze 'ouse'," she added testily, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, all right," Bill grumbled and climbed to his feet. "But we're not finished yet," he warned Ron before he left the room with Fleur, leaving behind Luna standing in the doorway who had come down along with Fleur and had watched their exchange with a look of mild interest.

"Hello, Ron," she greeted him. "You're feeling better now, are you? I can tell because you regained some color. But seeing that you're still sitting there, I assume that Hermione has not woken up yet."

"No, she hasn't," Ron responded sadly and turned his gaze back to Hermione who still looked as lifeless as ever. But then he remembered something...