Resentment | Dramione

Chapter 23

Hermione whimpered as she fell hard to the ground, the tugging wind pulling strong on her clothes as she was laying on the wet sand, a beach she had no idea where it was located. Feeling her body being lifted up, she weakly turned her head up as she saw Ron taking her into his arms, taking her off the cold ground.

"Hermione." Harry's voice was carried over the wind, and she watched as he was approaching them in a hurry. "It's okay, we're all safe now." He assured her, but Dobby's weak voice interrupted his reassurances. Looking past Harry, she watched in horror as she saw the knife that had not long before been used on her by Bellatrix, was now sticking out of the elf's chest.

Even though she felt too weak to cry, she couldn't help but feel the sadness that overtook her as Harry ran to the little elf, taking him into his arms as Dobby was swaying on his feet. Numerous of words left Harry's lips that she could not quite hear, the wind cutting each of his words off mid-way. But she could hear his pleading, begging him to help the poor elf. And as much as Hermione wished there was something to save him, she knew she didn't have the right materials to help Dobby's wounds.

"Come on." Ron's voice from behind her shook her out of her stupor, and she tried to help get herself up with the support of Ron's arm. Inside he took her, where Bill and Fleur immediately made the couch for her to lie on.

With every aching muscle she tried to carefully position herself on the couch, ignoring the stinging tears behind her eyes as the pain overtook her. Never before did she have to endure the agony of the Cruciatus curse, and neither the wounding touch of a dagger slicing her skin open. But now as the situation in which she had just found herself in was far away, she began to feel the aftermath of the pain that had been inflicted on her.

Fleur came up to her, speaking soothing words that Hermione ended up not listening to, not able to bear the comfort in her voice. For nothing more did she wish than just a couple hours of sleep to get rid of the exhaustion in her body, and a good painkilling potion to wash away her aches. And above all did she wish for a memory wipe, in the hopes to rid herself of the torture she had just been through.

"Let me get you to bed, 'Ermione." Fleur spoke softly after having dabbed a wet cloth at her face for a while, getting rid of most the grime and bringing her a cool relief to any burning pains. Hermione gave a weak nod, letting herself be carried by the help of Fleur and Bill to one of the beds in their house, and watched as Bill took his leave.

"'Ere, borrow this." Fleur said, handing her a dressing gown from the closet, and with the help from the girl did she manage to take of her clothes and got into the night gown that she had also been handed by Fleur.

In bed she got, a small satisfied sigh escaping her lips as her eyelids grew heavy, opening and closing on their own accord. Shooting Fleur the tiniest of a grateful smile, she watched as she, too, left the room and let Hermione get her much needed rest.

Waking up just a couple of hours later, she already noticed the wonders of a good few hours of rest. Although the pain was ever so present, moving had become slightly more bearable when her body wasn't as weak and tired as it had been before. And so in the dressing gown she got, unsteadily moving her way through the house and into Bill and Fleur's garden as she saw all the people huddled up there.

There they were, burying Dobby and sending him away with a couple of good speeches, each one honourable to the services Dobbby had given them. When the words had been spoken and Harry wished for a few minutes of privacy, they all moved themselves back into the house and Fleur guided Hermione to the kitchen, where she handed her a cup filled with the painkilling potion she had wished for not long ago.

Gratefully gulping the contents down, she waited in patience for the effects to take place, seating herself on one of the couches along with the others, warming themselves in front of the fireplace. Hermione? Draco's voice was hesitant, and she had the slightest idea why it was that way. By no doubt must he be thinking whether or not she hated him right now, and in all honesty, she was wondering that herself as well.