Harry Potter Kindling of Hope

**I tripped and fell back into the Harry Potter fandom this year, and I forgot how much I adored Hermione and Ron's tumultuous relationship. I know that this scene has been explored many times in fanfiction, but I couldn't help putting into words how I imagined the aftermath of Malfoy Manor! **

**Just so you are aware, I haven't read the books in a long while and I'm a bit worried that I have made errors regarding the characters and whether their reactions and dialogue are within canon. If you have any suggestions to improve this, please let me know! **

**Review/favourite and enjoy :) **

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His breathing was laboured, though it wasn't caused by his own body working fast to move towards the small cottage that poked up from just beyond the shore of the beach. As his feet hit the damp sand, his mind was hyper aware of the fragile body he held close to his chest, within his trembling arms.

_But she's not fragile!_ He thought angrily to himself, forcibly pushing away any thought that involved the possibility that Hermione was-

_No._ Ron willed his feet to move faster, but was forced to restrain himself in case he bumped Hermione's still body too much. _She was so still.._

"'Mione! Don't you bloody give up on me, alright? We are almost there, Hermione, okay, we are so close.." Ron's words faltered as he looked down at Hermione's face to see her not responding to his words.

His chest felt as though it was going to collapse upon itself; he was in utter agony. Tearing his gaze unwillingly from her unconscious face, he saw that he was less than a hundred metres from reaching the back door of Shell Cottage.

"BILL! FLEUR!" Ron bellowed, his voice so loud he expected Hermione to wake, but she didn't stir in the slightest.

Ron was almost upon the small wooden fence of his brother and sister-in-laws garden when he heard the backdoor swing open, and the unmistakable flaming hair of Bill running towards him.

"Ron? What are you- is that Hermio- what happened!?" Bill burst out, his whole expression filled with confusion and terror.

"You have to help her, Bill, _please_," Ron begged, his blue eyes glistening with the beginnings of unshed tears.

"Quickly," Bill replied, gesturing Ron in towards the backdoor of the cottage. As soon as the younger Weasley entered their home, he was met by a sharp gasp from who he knew was Fleur.

"Ronald, what haz happened to 'Errmione?" Fleur's eyes were wide, but as soon as her eyes laid upon Hermione's closed ones, she pulled Ron by the arm and towards the stairs, leaving him to explain to her back between jagged breaths.

"Ambushed- we were- Snatchers- Bellatrix- tortured Hermione- Cruiciatus curse-" Fleur swung around at the top of the steps, realising the full implication of Ron's words.

"Bring 'er into thiz room, _hurry_." Heeding her words, Ron moved only as fast as he dared towards the bed in the middle of the bedroom that he had stayed in what felt like a lifetime ago. Gently, more gently than he had ever moved in his life, he laid Hermione's unconscious body upon the soft bed, praying to Merlin that she would wake.

As he unwound his arms from her tiny frame, his stomach dropped in the failure of his prayers to be answered. She lay still and he stood frozen, paralysed, as Fleur rushed back and forth from the room, shouting orders at Bill and finally, at Ron.

"Ronald! Do not just stand zere- fetch me ze spare blankets and towels from ze cupboard!" As if in a trance, he moved to a cupboard in the hall and grabbed several bundles of thick blankets and cream-coloured towels.

Bringing them back to Fleur, who was moving at near one-hundred miles an hour, he felt as though he were in slow motion, watching as Bill and Fleur removed parts of Hermione's clothing to tend to the countless gashes, cuts and scratches left from Bellatrix's knife and the falling chandelier.

But it wasn't the physical marks that Ron knew would affect Hermione the most; it was the emotional pain from the curse that that disgusting piece of filth had laid on her that would not leave Hermione easily.

Anger brewed within Ron once more, causing him to clench his fingers into his palms and grit his teeth. He would kill her, he swore on it; Bellatrix would die, if it were the last thing he was to do.

He watched on as the two healed her physical wounds, mostly by magic but also through muggle means; Fleur cleaned the gashes to Hermione's face, neck, chest and arms with a damp cloth, while Bill used his wand to close the wounds until all that were left were thin, pink lines that barely revealed what had happened.

It could have been days or seconds, Ron did not know, before he was broken out of his terror-filled, anger-fuelled paralysis by a loud cry from outside. Bill and Fleur's heads snapped upwards, and before Ron could say otherwise, the two had drawn their wands and rushed out the bedroom door.

"Stay with Hermione, Ron. We will check outside." Ron nodded once, determination filling his body and replacing the anger albeit temporarily.

He wouldn't let anything happen to her, not again. He would be damned if anyone touched her; no, they would have to kill him before he would allow it. Moving quickly, he abandoned his position at the end of the bed and took post on the bed beside her, closest to the door so that Hermione was lying almost out of view.

Taking his wand out, he focused his eyes on the staircase visible from the open door, and strained his ears on any noise audible, despite however minute it was.

With his right hand clenched around his wand, he slid his left hand across the blankets and found Hermione's hand, holding it tightly within his. After what seemed like an eternity, Ron heard sounds from downstairs, followed by Fleur's voice.

"It eez okay Ronald, it eez 'Arry and your friends." Ronald's whole body relaxed as Fleur's voice floated up the stairs, and he fumbled to put his wand away, the determination melting into exhaustion and fear.

Kicking off his damp shoes, he turned around on the bed so that he was facing Hermione. With eyes not leaving her, he could see her chest rising and falling, and the slight flutter of her eyes behind closed lids.

_Please, please for the love of Merlin, let her be alright_, Ron thought brokenly. His large hands moved almost on their own accord to encompass her small ones, letting his warmth flow through into her. He couldn't help but wonder if this was what Hermione went through when he was poisoned last year, or even more recently when he had been splinched while disapparating.

The emotions he felt at that moment were worse than the pain he felt while being splinched, much worse; knowing that she had endured the Cruciatus curse, to hear her screams still ringing in his ears and not being able to do anything about it struck him like a physical blow that would not relent.

"I'm sorry 'Mione," he whispered, dropping his head low. Guilt consumed him. Not only the guilt of not being able to stop Bellatrix, but that of leaving Hermione and Harry. He was absolutely barmy, a complete fool to have done what he had.

He knew that Harry had forgiven him, but had he been too late for Hermione's forgiveness? Ron's eyes began to sting as he questioned whether she would be alright. She was alive, he could feel it through the faint pulse within her hands, but what would happen when she woke?

His mind wandered to Neville's parents before he could stop himself, and for a brief second he pictured Hermione in a hospital bed in St Mungos, her emotional trauma from Bellatrix too great.

It wasn't the first time that night that Ron had wished a painful death upon that pathetic, evil excuse for a witch.

"Ronald Weasley.. Actually apologising.. Never thought I'd see.. The day.." Ron's head shot up the moment he heard his name on her lips, much of the fear he held instantly receding as he looked into Hermione's half opened eyes.

"Oh, thank Merlin's beard, 'Mione, you're awake!" Ron leaned in closer to her, taking one hand to wipe away several strands of hair that fell into her face. The contact caused Hermione to jump suddenly, her eyes fluttering open in fear.

Ron recoiled his hand quickly, both stunned by her immediate reaction and scared that he had hurt her.

"I-I'm sorry, Hermione," he whispered brokenly, searching her face to try and understand what had just happened. "Did I hurt you? I.. I didn't mean to.."

After a few moments, Hermione's expression softened, but the fear in her eyes did not diminish; it was something that he had never seen there before in her brown orbs.

"It's alright, I just.. I just thought.." Hermione trailed off, her eyes dropping from Ron's face as though she were ashamed of what she were about to say.

Finally, as though he had been hit in the back of the head by a bludger, he realised exactly what happened.

_You're a bloody idiot,_ Ron thought angrily. She thought that she was still in Malfoy Manor with Bellatrix.

"You're safe now- we are at Bill and Fleur's," Ron made out in a rush, desperate to make her understand that she was alright, that he wouldn't let anything else happen to her.

She nodded her head wordlessly, looking back up at Ron's face as he struggled to find the words to speak next.

"I-um.. How are you- how are you feeling?" Stealing a glance at Hermione, his heart pounded within his chest as she clamped her eyes shut and returned a tight grip on the large hand of his that hadn't left her hands.

Before she could speak, Fleur spoke from the doorway, startling them enough for both of them to let go of the others' hand.

"Ronald, 'Errmione.. I am sorry to interrupt, but I think you both must come downstairs." When Ron turned around to challenge the blonde woman, she quickly continued in seeing the look in his eyes.

"Ze house-elf zat arrived with your friends.. He.. He is dead." Hermione let out a pained gasp that sounded almost like a sob. Ron's stomach dropped, the relief that he had felt just minutes ago at Hermione waking up submerged under a tidal wave of guilt.

Dobby had faced his old masters and risked his own life to save all of theirs. And now, he was gone. The two of them had been stunned into silence, until Fleur spoke once more.

"'Arry is burying your friend, if you would like to say goodbye." With that, she floated back down the staircase and out of sight. Ron turned slowly back to Hermione, knowing how much this would affect her. Suddenly all those years of teasing her about S.P.E.W made Ron feel terrible; he would never admit it to her, but it was the second time that day he regretted his past actions.

Silent tears fell down Hermione's cheeks as she sat up slowly and pushed the blankets from herself. Ron quickly put his shoes back on and moved to the other side of the bed to help Hermione, who was trying to stand by herself.

"Hermione, take it easy.."

"I'm fine Ron."

"I don't think you should walk down there without any h-"

"I said I was fine Ronald!" Hermione snapped, her legs shaking as she tried to steady herself on her feet. A frustrated response was on tip of Ron's tongue, before he bit it back. He didn't want to fight with her, not now.

"Just please let me help you.." Ron said quietly, looking at Hermione with a dejected expression engrained in his features. After several long moments in which Ron wondered whether she would respond at all, she nodded her head stubbornly.

Ron quickly pulled his wand out and said '_accio robe,_' catching a cream coloured gown that flew from a nearby dresser. Uncertainly, he took it and moved towards Hermione, helping her into it without any objection.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, he could feel her trembling body, and adjusted his position so that he was taking as much of her weight as she would allow.

Together, they walked out through the bedroom door and down the stairs, slowly but together. Ron's grip around Hermione didn't falter, his mind not wandering from each movement she took as he tried his hardest to make sure that she could continue.

Stepping out the backdoor, they moved their way through the garden and towards a point along the grassy field that met the edge of the beach, where many figures stood.

Time seemed to speed up as they walked towards their friends, the knowledge of what they were about to face leaving them no chance to freeze time and put on hold what was coming.

Ron finally saw the faces of the figures; Luna, Dean, Ollivander, Griphook and Bill all stood with their faces cast downwards. Following their gazes, he saw who it was they were looking at.

Harry was kneeling in a large hole in the ground with a sock in his hand. There were tears running down his best friend's face, his green eyes bright as he looked down at Dobby, lying almost peacefully in the grave. Ron noticed that the House Elf had been dressed in a loosely fitted shirt, shoes and a beanie; despite his utter sadness, Ron smiled knowing that their friend had been laid with respect.

Harry laid the sock on Dobby's chest, between his small, thin fingers, before standing upright and out of the grave.

The words spoken by Harry, Luna and even himself in memory of Dobby seemed to rush forth in a blur, as though this were some dream that he was stuck in.

_But it's not a dream_, he thought almost bitterly. _It's a bloody nightmare._

Harry, Dean and Bill then picked up several shovels, and soon Dobby's resting face had disappeared from view.

And then it started to rain. Ron begun to usher a reluctant Hermione through the rain and back to Shell Cottage, a silence settling between them as though they knew their words were unnecessary to convey to each other the hurt that they were both feeling.

Hermione's step began to falter as they came to the garden fence, and Ron's concern finally became audible.

"'Mione, let me carry you up to the bedroom." He stopped in order to pick her off the ground, but she shrugged off his help.

"I just.. Just need to… Take a seat.. For a moment.." She said breathlessly, and Ron led her over to a bench in the garden that Fleur had no doubt assembled, under the cover from the misty rain that had continued to fall from the sky.

Hermione sat down with a sigh of relief, and Ron sat close to her, taking her hands within his own as if it were an old habit. He saw the curvature of Hermione's lips into a small smile, before realising how cold her hands were.

"You're bloody freezing! I'll go and grab some blankets." Before Ron even had the chance to let her hands go, she held onto his tighter.

"No, it's fine.. All I need is a minute." Hermione said, her fingers running across Ron's almost unperceivably.

"I'm sorry about Dobby," Ron said after a few minutes, his blue eyes watching Hermione's hands within his own.

"Me too." Hermione whispered back, sniffing slightly as though she was trying to hold back more tears.

Looking up at her face to see the way her brows had crinkled into a frown, and the way her eyes sparkled with the beginnings of fresh tears, made Ron's heart hurt more than anything.

He hated to see her in such physical and emotional pain. Along with Harry, Hermione was his best friend, even despite the many times since they first met that he tried to deny it. His chest seemed to be slowly ripping out from his chest with every moment he continued to think about how she must be suffering, and without any preamble into what he was thinking, he spoke.

"I will never let anything happen to you again, 'Mione. I can't- I can't even begin to imagine what you must have gone through back at Malfoy Manor, but I swear upon Merlin's beard that it will be over my dead body that it happens again. I couldn't stop her, and I won't regret anything more, even if I live to be two-hundred years old."

By the time the words rushed from Ron's mouth, he was nearly shaking in guilt, the possibility that anything further would happen to her fuelling his rage.

As soon as this rage had begun to flame at Ron's nerves, a cool hand upon his cheek quenched all feelings of anger and instead, filled his bloodstream with love.

He looked at Hermione as she looked at him, her hand strong against the skin of his cheek despite her exhaustion. Within her eyes he could still see the pain that she felt, that emotion that lingered within her orbs that told him exactly what she had been through, however it seemed to have hidden itself somewhat.

Ron could see something else there that reflected the emotions that currently danced through his own body; love.

A spark of hope ignited within his chest. Surely, _surely_ he wasn't the only one that felt that. Before he could linger on what he saw within her eyes, she spoke quietly, but with strength that he had grown to know and admire within her.

"I don't blame you for anything, Ron. There was nothing you or Harry could have done better in that situation."

"But-"

"_Nothing._ We managed to get out of that horrid place, didn't we? I'm okay, and Harry is okay, and _you_ are okay. _We_ are alive." Despite the resolution behind Hermione's words, he still felt a twinge of guilt in the possibility that he could have tried to do something to stop the torture sooner.

"Stop that." Ron's eyes snapped back to Hermione's, a confused look filling his features.

"I know exactly what it is you're thinking, Ronald Weasley, and I have told you that you couldn't have done anything more."

"But 'Mione-"

"Stop-"

"-If only I had-"

Ron's verbal turmoil was halted by Hermione's hand covering his mouth, forcing him to stop talking. He narrowed his eyes at her, about to lick the palm of her hand in a bid to release him, but then she did something he wasn't expecting.

Hermione moved her hand away from his mouth, but filled the empty space with her soft lips on his cold cheek. His breathing hitched, and time seemed to stand still as Hermione's lips lingered for what seemed a lifetime, then all at once disappeared, leaving a ghost of her breath on his skin.

He couldn't even speak; any words that tried to tumble from his mouth were caught in his throat as he looked at Hermione in a way that most probably resembled a gaping fish.

"Shall we go inside?" Hermione said, the slight grin on her face even audible within her words. Ron just nodded hurriedly, collecting his wit after more moments than he was proud of, and helped Hermione to her feet.

As they walked through the garden and towards the backdoor with arms wrapped around each other's waists in physical support, Ron could not help but kindle the spark of hope that had grown into a fire within his chest.


End file.

Harry Potter, Hurt-Comfort, Romance