Author's Note: Hiya everyone!
If anybody out there was waiting for the next piece of the story about the baby, then I aplogize for this dirty trick. I've been reading a lot of Shell Cottage pieces, so I decided to do my own. This is more angsty, but its not over the top. Reviews are honestly the greatest things ever(hint hint).
Once again, Niftygirl is awesome and amazing for reading through this. And I wanted to thank everyone who favorited or alerted on the last 3 chapters. You guys are amazing.
If anyone cares, the next chapter will be the baby stuff I promise.

Chapter 4: Shell Cottage

He realized, as he swallowed the glass of water that his brother pushed into his hand, that he hadn't tasted anything other than blood for hours- perhaps years, he wasn't even sure if he could remember the taste of anything else.

"Sit down Ron," Bill told him. It was not a suggestion, but Ron still shook his head, he was not 5 years old and being babysat by Bill. He couldn't sit down, could not rest until he had been assured that she was alright. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?" he demanded. Ron could only shake his head; he didn't trust his voice.

"This is twice, Ron. Twice that you have shown up outside my house covered in blood. Only this time, you brought a half dead old man, a crippled goblin and a dying house-elf with you! Not to mention the shape that you're all in! You and Dean have had the shit kicked out of you, Harry's face looks as if he took a stinging jinx, Luna might well have been locked up for months, and Hermione was clearly bloody tortured-" He could not stand it any longer. His brother's words brought forth the memory of this evening so clearly he could almost hear Hermione's screams. He fully grasped how close he had come to losing all the things he loved tonight. His knees gave out and he crumpled to the floor, covering his face in his hands. If he had not been so exhausted, so mentally depleted, he would have been ashamed of the tears that spilled into his fingers.

Bill spoke again, his voice much softer, "She'll be alright. Fleur'll look after her."

Ron nodded weakly. With a sigh, Bill crouched beside his younger brother. Ron took a quick shaky breath, and wiped his nose on his sleeve, which really only smeared the dirt and grime from his sleeve across his face.

"Ron, she's going to be fine." Bill set a hand comfortingly on his brother's shoulder. Ron opened his mouth to reply, but his voice broke and he merely let out a sort of whimpering half sob. He took a couple more quick breaths to steady himself.

"I-I couldn't save her," he managed to get out at last. His voice was reduced to a croak, no doubt from screaming Hermione's name at the top of his lungs. "I told them to take me instead. I-I wanted them to take me instead. But, I couldn't…"he trailed off, burying his face deeper in his hands. Bill did not say anything, but simply gave his brother space to marshal his feelings. After a moment, Ron stood up, and wiped his face with his hand rather than his sleeve. He cleared his throat, which felt raw and scratchy.

"I can't tell you what happened Bill, someday, when this is all over but not now." he half expected him to argue, but just as he had not called Ron a coward when he had left Harry and Hermione, he did not press him now.

"Let me get you more water. Go in the bathroom and wash your face." He said as he moved back into the kitchen.

"And Ron," he added turning back to face him, "I don't know what happened, but I bet that Hermione is pretty damn glad it wasn't you who was hurt." It wasn't exactly a comforting statement, but Ron got the distinct impression that he was supposed to take it that way. It was as if Bill were attempting to illuminate some inevitable fact that should fill Ron with hope for the future. Before he could demand to know what he had actually meant however, Fleur was standing in front of him, looking worried.

"Hermione?" he asked her urgently, his voice a mere whisper. It was the first time in his life that he could recall seeing Fleur standing before him, and being completely unmoved by her beauty.

"She ees sleeping," she said uncertainly. "Perhaps oo should not wake her…" she was trying to dissuade him from disturbing her, and perhaps she was right, but Ron was already pushing past her. He had to see her; he had to know that she was alright.

She looked astonishingly peaceful, save the thin scratch on her neck. He wanted to move into the room, to kneel down beside her and brush her curls away from her face, but he was paralyzed and frozen on the doorstep. So instead he simply stared as her, watching her chest rise and fall. Bill's words came back to him. He was wary to allow himself to believe that it had meant what he so desperately wanted it to, but he found it hard not to. Either way, she was here, safe and he could relax at last as she slept soundly.

In a moment, Bill was standing beside him again. "I told you she'll be alright." He said quietly, barely breaking Ron's reverie. Ron looked out the window, he could see a little garden, where Harry was squatted beside a large rock. He had nearly forgotten about Harry, in his haste to know whether Hermione was alright. But she was alright, he could see it, he could hear it in her slow breathing. She didn't need him to stand in the doorway staring at her, but Harry, out in the cold wind, burying one of his greatest friends, probably did.

"If she wakes up, tell her I didn't leave. Tell her I went to help Harry, but I'll be right back." He said to Bill as he walked back towards the front door.

"I'm sure she'll ask for you," said Bill simply. Somewhere inside himself, Ron no longer doubted that his brother was right…