Author's Notes: Now might be the time to explain a few things.

1. I decided to not "give" Hermione the "Mudblood" scar because a) I don't count the movies as canon, which, however, only means that in my opinion, she does not have to have the scar. Just because it wasn't in the books doesn't prove that she couldn't have such a scar, it only shows that Harry never got to see it. The main reason for my decision actually was that b) when Bellatrix tortured Hermione, she was completely beside herself. Her motive was not the torture itself but rather pressing information out of her, quickly. I can't imagine that in her state, Bellatrix would've taken the time to sit down and carve, and I also doubt that in that situation, she would've had the dexterity to carve a word that would actually be readable. Then again, Bellatrix is a total nutcase, so who knows...

2. The layout of Shell Cottage gave be quite the headache because rereading DH, I realized that my perception of Shell Cottage did not quite match the book description, so I needed to think that over. I did some research and came across the floor plan suggestion by Scott Keane which seems to mostly comply to the book (I don't seem to be able to post links here, but you can Google it). I used his plan as a reference for my story, but with a few minor changes, the greatest of which being that I merged the sitting/dining/living room into one single room (I think "sitting room" and "living room" are used as synonyms in the book). Another thing, by the way, was Fleur's accent. I found it really easy to write, I enjoyed it a lot and I'm completely sure that I got it all right. Haha. Not. :-)

Anyway, here's the chapter now. I hope you enjoy it.

Ron's heart instantly skipped a beat at this sensation, but he did not dare to look up. It was probably just some kind of a reflex, a reaction to whatever Hermione was seeing in her unconsciousness, wherever she was, or maybe just his wishful thinking, and if he looked up, he would surely still see her lying there, as lifeless as before. Not wanting to build up any false hope, he inched closer to her, screwing up his eyes even tighter as he nuzzled his face into the sleeve of her gown.

"Ron...?" he suddenly heard Hermione's voice, faint and somewhat croaky.

"Definitely wishful thinking," Ron thought to himself and he felt as if he had gone back in time, back to his first stay at Shell Cottage. During those weeks, he had been consumed with guilt and concern for his friends whom he had thought he would never see again. Their faces had been haunting him, even in his sleep, especially Hermione's, as he had remembered how she had had been calling after him, practically begging him to come back, and he had been certain that it would slowly drive him insane. Then, one day, he had heard her say his name, as clearly as if she had been standing right next to him and he had thought that now he had lost his marbles completely. But it had turned out that her voice had come out of the Deluminator which had then allowed him return to his friends... to her.

Almost despite himself, Ron warily lifted his head and turned towards her. And then he let out a loud gasp.

Hermione was awake. She was still very pale and bore dark shadows under her eyes, but she was looking at him and smiling weakly.

"Hey," she whispered.

"Hermione..." Ron breathed. His legs feeling wobbly and his heart hammering wildly with joy and relief, he hurriedly crawled over to her, bent over her and hugged her tightly.

"Ow," he heard Hermione whimper and he instantly let go of her.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he quickly said, appalled. "A-are you okay?"

Hermione did not respond right away. Her eyes closed, she slowly let her head sink back to her pillow and kept lying like that for a few moments of contemplation.

"My head hurts," she whispered eventually, opening her eyes. "And my whole body feels kind of sore."

Ron watched her with concern and, feeling protective, gently placed his hand onto her shoulder. "Don't worry, Hermione," he said softly and gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "You'll have a bit of rest and before you know it's all gone."

Looking up at him, Hermione nodded, and then her eyes slowly wandered across the room.

"Ron, where are we?" she asked. "How did we get here? Where's Harry?"

Ron felt a little hopeful spark light up in his chest, warming him from the inside, so intensely that he even felt a little grin creep onto his face. The mere fact that Hermione was so inquisitive, just like she had always been, gave him hope that perhaps, Bellatrix' actions had not damaged her as gravely as he had feared.

"Hermione, calm down," he replied with a chuckle. "We're at Shell Cottage. That's Bill's and Fleur's house."

"But how did we get here? Last thing I remember was... was..."

Her voice broke and Ron instantly jumped in and started to explain what had happened to Harry and him after they had been separated, sparing her the need to carry on talking. He told her how they had been forced into the cellar, how they had encountered Ollivander there-

"Ollivander?" Hermione whispered squeakily.

"Yeah. They'd kept him in there the entire last year."

"That's horrible. But it's good that we have him back now. What could You-Know-Who have wanted from him?"

"Beats me. But whatever it is, doesn't seem like he's got it."

"Is he going to be okay?"

"I guess. He looked pretty bad, but Bill and Fleur are taking care of him. I think he's upstairs. At least that's where they've taken Griphook. Luna was in the cellar, too. She and Dean have just been here with us a couple of minutes ago. I don't know where they've gone."

"And Harry? Where is he?"

"Outside..."

"Outside?" Hermione exclaimed, terror written all over her face. "What business does he have there? He must come in, it's not safe out there..."

"Hermione, relax. He is safe. The entire lot's protected by the Order. Nothing can happen to any of us as long as we're here."

"Oh, okay," Hermione said slowly. She fell silent and took a deep breath, then turned to Ron again, her look imploring. "But why?"

Ron closed his eyes. He did not want to have to tell Hermione, knowing full well that learning about Dobby's death would anguish her even more, but he knew that when they were reunited with Harry at the latest, the topic would come up anyway, and maybe it would be less painful for her to hear it when only he, Ron, was around, instead of a room full of people.

So he started to explain how with Luna's help, they had managed to rid themselves of their ties and how, suddenly, Dobby had Apparated into their midst and taken Luna, Dean and Ollivander along with him.

"Dobby..." Hermione whispered in awe.

Ron gulped and carried on talking. About their escape from the cellar (Hermione shuddered when he told her about Wormtail's demise). About their battle against the Death Eaters (Ron cringed as Hermione's hand flew to her throat and her eyes widened with terror when she felt Bellatrix' cut). About Dobby rejoining them, defying his former masters and distracting the Death Eaters with the falling chandelier, giving him and Harry the chance to Disapparate to safety. About how - Ron closed his eyes again and his fingers cramped on Hermione's shoulder - Dobby had been stabbed to death by Bellatrix when Harry was about to Disapparate with him.

"...and now Harry's outside digging a grave for him." Ron concluded in a thick voice.

"No..." Hermione whispered. Silent tears were running down her cheeks and her eyes were full of pain. "No... No..."

Ron carefully lent closer to her, holding her, and she broke into broke into unrestrained sobs as she firmly clung to him, pressing him to her. He winced slightly as her fingernails dug painfully into his neck and scalp, but he did not retreat, knowing that Hermione was needing him now.

"It's all Bellatrix' fault," he grimly thought to himself as he fought back his own tears and white-hot hatred shot through him. Bellatrix had tortured Hermione, she had killed Dobby, she was the reason why Hermione, who normally was so strong, was now reduced to tears, possibly traumatized for life, helpless, desperate...

And he was back in the cellar, Hermione's screams ringing in his ears...

"I'm gonna kill the bitch," Ron whispered to himself, his hatred flaring up.

"Ron-" Hermione gasped, and that was when he realized that he had risen to his feet. Hermione had stopped crying. She was still lying on the couch, her arms raised into the air, reaching out for him, and she looked at him, aghast.

"I'm gonna kill that Lestrange bitch," Ron said, more forcefully, and he feverishly ran his hands through his hair as he started to pace, quicker and quicker. "I swear, I'm gonna follow her wherever she goes for the rest of her sorry existence and snuff her out, and if that's the last thing I'll do!"

"Ron, no," Hermione pleaded, her voice sounding distressed, and Ron could tell that she was on the verge of tears again. "Please don't. Please. I-I understand that you want revenge for w-w-what she did but Dum-Dumbledore wouldn't have wanted us t-to go astray. W-we have a mission to accomplish, Ron, we have to destroy the Horcruxes. Ron, you belong with Harry and me. W-we need you... I need you..."

Guilt washed over Ron as he heard Hermione speak. It was such a miracle that she was back, how could he only do as much as thinking of leaving her now? Leaving her again? In an instant, he was kneeling beside her and took her hand again.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, his head lowered with shame. "It's just... The thought that she gets away with that..."

Hermione gently squeezed his hand and at that, he looked up at her and he saw a warmth in her eyes, so intense that it sent pleasant shivers down his spine. It gave him comfort and reassurance and yet there was so much tenderness in her gaze that he was instantly overwhelmed by a strong feeling of affection.

"I'm not going anywhere. I promise," he said fiercely, now looking directly at her and moving a little closer. And, feeling rather sheepish, he added, "I know I'll sound like a corny tosser now, but if there's one good thing that came out of being apart from you, it was making me see that I can't be anywhere but with you."

Hermione smiled brightly at him, her eyes brimming with newly formed tears, and he felt his heart melt. She gently covered his hand with her free one and, enclosing it with both her hands, brought it up to her chest.

Next moment, they flinched and broke apart at the sound of footsteps approaching. Ron whirled his head towards the doorway. Fleur was coming in. The familiar bottle of Skele-Gro was sticking out of the pocket of her apron.

"We 'eard voices and zought zat you've woken up, 'Ermione, ma chère," Fleur said. "'Ow do you feel?"

"Everything sort of hurts. But it's gotten better since I woke up," Hermione responded.

"Good," said Fleur. "But you should still 'ave some Skele-Gro. Zat will help against ze pain. You 'ad a lot of broken bones. We'll try to sit you up so you can drink. Ron?"

Ron gave a nod and together with Fleur, he managed to get Hermione into a sitting position. He sat next to her and she instantly slumped against him. Moving thus far seemed to have greatly exhausted her. Her face had lost all color and her forehead glistened with sweat.

Fleur summoned a glass, filled it with Skele-Gro and sat by Hermione's other side. "'Ere, drink zis," she said, holding the glass to Hermione's lips.

Hermione started to down the potion but then spluttered and coughed violently. She instantly doubled over, clutching at her ribs. Sympathetically, Ron rubbed circles on her back. Skele-Gro was one disgusting swill.

"I know. Zis potion tastes terrible," Fleur said soothingly, gently stroking hair out of Hermione's face. "Do you want some chocolate to wash eet down?"

"Thanks, but I don't want to cause you trouble," Hermione responded between heavy breaths and carefully sank back into the couch. Ron placed an arm around her shoulders, holding her steady.

"Bêtises!" Fleur replied fiercely and jumped up. "You're not causing any trouble at all, ma chère! I'll be right back."

As Fleur headed for the kitchen, Hermione let out a mirthless chuckle. "God, I'm such a nuisance!"

Ron stared at her incredulously. "You're barking! You're anything but a nuisance, Hermione! We're all just glad to have you back. You getting healthy is all that matters now."

Hermione snorted. "Some of the others need more attention than I do, Ron. Ollivander... D-Dobby..."

"But that doesn't make you any less important," Ron insisted, his thump rubbing her shoulder. "You're allowed to have a break, too, for a change, you know."

"Hermione!"

Ron lifted his head. There was Dean, followed by Fleur who was holding a steaming mug in her hands. Ron noted that he was wearing his jacket again which struck him as strange.

"Fleur told me that you woke up," Dean said happily and briefly rubbed her arm. "How are you?"

"I'm getting better, thanks for asking. How about you?"

"I'm good," Dean said and shrugged dismissively. "But I was fine all along. Anyway, it's great that you made it. I sort of expected the worst. You were really brave back at - you know..."

Ron felt that now a change of topic was in order. "Were you going out?" he asked, indicating at Dean's jacket.

"Yeah, I'm helping Harry bury the elf," Dean said and after a moment of consideration, he added, "Wanna join?"

Ron looked at Hermione questioningly and was alarmed to see her try and struggle to turn in her seat to face him directly, her eyes blazing with a fervor that he had seen in them only once before - after his return on Boxing Day.

"Ron," she said breathlessly and gripped his wrist. "You've got to do that. We owe Dobby... He deserves a proper b-burial... I wish I could help as well, but..." She helplessly gesticulated before herself. "Please do it on my behalf."

"But..." Ron started, placing a hand on her arm.

"I'll be fine. Fleur's with me," Hermione reassured him.

Ron looked up at Fleur who nodded affirmatively.

"Are you sure?" he asked Hermione.

"Yes. Now go!"

Ron nodded and got to his feet. As he crossed the room with Dean, he heard Hermione speak to Fleur. "I want to be there when he's - you know - laid to rest."

He turned his head before he walked around the corner and smiled at Hermione, who returned his smile and lightly raised her hand for a wave while Fleur sat down and handed her the mug of chocolate.

bêtises (fr.) - nonsense