Held Me Close
Deep blue, but you painted me golden
Oh, and you held me close
Her name, his voice screaming for her and breaking through the blinding pain.
She hardly remembered what she’d said when the curse was on her, desperate to save herself, to save all three of them.
Then it was dark.
When she woke, she was in a small room she didn’t recognize, a strange bed, and Ron knelt on the floor beside her, one of her hands clasped in both of his.
There was relief on his face when he saw her awake, and he bent to kiss her fingertips, featherlight and tender.
“Are you okay?” she asked in a thready whisper.
“That’s my line, thanks.” He kissed her fingers again. “Hermione…”
There was so much to be said that the words fell away. She tried to pull him toward her, but she was so weak that the tug must be barely perceptible to him. He felt it anyway, and very gingerly got in the bed beside her, and when she turned to him he gathered her close, holding her cradled against him very gently. Her bones ached from the torture, her muscles still sore as if from an electric shock.
“Where are we?” she whispered. Her throat was raw from screaming, but he didn’t need more than a whisper to hear her.
“Bill and Fleur’s.” He kissed the top of her head. “Fleur will be here soon to help. She knows healing spells and I’m…”
“You’re here.”
“Yeah. That’s all.”
It was enough. He held her a little closer then, and the tears slid silently down her cheeks. She buried her face in his shirt, absorbing the comfort of his embrace, mending her battered soul. He was murmuring something against her hair, too soft for her to make out, but she didn’t need to hear the words to understand them.
Comfort. Strength. Solace.
He gave them freely, holding her with gentle hands and the steadiness she needed, warmth and light and love surrounding her because he was there. The tension relaxed, the pain lessening just enough that she could bear it again.
“Hermione.” His voice was a little hoarse, and she remembered hearing him scream her name over and over, desperation in his voice. His hand moved from her back to her head, his fingers just touching along her scalp, buried in her hair. “God.”
She burrowed into him at the same time he curled around her, their bodies curving into each other, and she felt more than heard his jagged inhale.
“Ron, come away, let me look her over,” came Fleur’s soft voice from behind him.
He released her very slowly, and her eyes stayed on him as he got to his feet and stood at the door.
“Go, go to Harry,” Fleur told him, her wand in her hand as she looked over Hermione.
His eyes met hers, and Hermione nodded slowly.
“Ron,” she whispered.
He bent to pick up her hand again, giving her fingers a swift kiss. He glanced at his sister-in-law. “Fleur, make sure you-”
“I know what to do,” she told him, and when he left the room, Fleur smiled down at Hermione with compassionate understanding. “He found you.”
He always did.