"HARRY!"

Harry jumped violently at the scream of his own name as it echoed harshly through the trees. He knew it was Hermione calling to him, but he knew by the tone of her voice that something was wrong. He had never heard her scream like that before. Breathing hard, and heart racing, he sped inside the tent without hesitation, wrenching open the tent flap fiercely.

"Hermione, what the bloody hell --?" but he broke off as he saw what was inside. A distraught, practically hysterical-looking Hermione was bent over Ron, her face streaked with tears. Ron was lying on the floor on top of a few blood-soaked sheets, his head braced over a pillow. His face was whiter than a ghost, and he had a slightly bluish tinge to his lips and fingers. Hermione took a shuddering breath and stumbled to stand up. She braced herself against the bed and slowly walked over to where Harry was. "Harry... oh, Harry..."

Harry was frightened now. He did not know what to say or think . . .

"Hermione," he breathed. "What's wrong with Ron?"

"Harry, he's lost so much blood," whispered Hermione. She gulped, more tears streaming down her face. Harry's face was contorted into one of fear and disbelief. He peered around Hermione's torso to get a better look at Ron. He looked thorougly horrifying. He began to walk slowly towards him as Hermione continued to talk. "Harry, he splinched bad this time . . . it wasn't an eyebrow, or a few fingernails this time, Harry. There's a huge chunk taken out of his arm, and . . . oh, Harry even Essence of Dittany can't repair it. It took the bone, and muscle. . . even the strongest of potions and spells I know can't replace muscle. I don't have any Skele-Grow, and I have no idea where to get any at this point."

Fury coursing through his veins, Harry whipped out his wand. Hermione grabbed his forearm, her face shocked and fearful.

"Harry, what are you doing?!" she cried.

"What do you think I'm doing?" snapped Harry. "I'm summoning Skele-Grow out of the Hogwarts hospital wing."

"No!" shrieked Hermione, struggling to wrestle Harry's wand away from him. "Don't you see? Summoning anything in general would give away our position, and who knows what it'd do to our protective spells! But to summon them from Hogwarts herself is suicidal! There could be Death Eaters right in the forest for all we know looking for us! We can't risk it!"

"So we'll move!" shouted Harry, grabbing his wand away from Hermione.

"They'll find us, Harry!" cried Hermione. "We can't risk it!"

"SO WHAT'S THE ALTERNATIVE?!" shouted Harry furiously. "LET HIM BLEED TO DEATH?!"

Hermione, now openly crying, still struggled feebly to grab Harry's wand.

"Harry, it's not worth it, and we don't even know if it'll work! Even if we did get the Skele-Grow, it'd take days to regrow his bones, Harry. Days that we don't have! And if we were to risk summoning something outside of our protective spells, we'd have to move, and Ron's in no state to be Apparating, in case you hadn't noticed!"

Harry glared at her furiously. Hermione, seeming to have realized that Harry had at least stopped struggling, took a deep breath.

"And besides, even if we could move without hurting Ron, even if we did get the Skele-Grow, and we had the time to have it work, who knows if his bones are even the problem anymore? I told you, he's lost a lot of blood! And the only ways of fixing those kinds of problems are in hospitals, with tools and machines that we don't have access to!"

"I'll give him my blood," whispered Harry bluntly.

"Harry you can't just cut yourself and toss your blood on Ron!" snapped Hermione angrily. "You have to have the right blood type, we have to have tubes and wires . . . "

"Are you telling me that you didn't do any research on healing spells before we left?" cried Harry.

"Don't you turn this on me!" shouted Hermione, now angered and shocked at Harry's cruelty. "How come I'm the one who's supposed to know everything about everything!" she screamed, throwing her hands in the air. "How come I'm the one who's supposed to magically wave my hands and have Ron snap-to, while the only good thing you've come up with is, 'I'll give him my blood'!" she hissed, imitating his voice in a cruelly scathing manner. Red sparks flew from the tip of Hermione's wand, and she took a deep breath, calming herself down.

"Harry, I'm sorry," she said. "But there's no magic that I know of that can replace blood. Magic doesn't work like that."

"I'm sorry," muttered Harry.

A single tear slid down Hermione's cheek. "It's not in our hands anymore."

Hermione placed a trembling hand on Harry's shoulder, and he turned back to face her.

"Harry, I don't think he'll last through the night."

"That's mad," snapped Harry, hurrying over to Ron's side as Hermione, greif-stricken with Harry's denial and Ron's state, covered her mouth with one hand and allowed herself one sob.

"Harry," she whispered, her voice lilting upwards as tears choked her. "Harry..."

"Ron," snapped Harry, shaking Ron's shoulder. "Ron, come off it, mate..."

Ron's limp body flopped a little back and forth as Harry's forceful pushes woke him ever so slightly. Ron's eyes flickered, and opened ever so slightly. "Hermione..." he breathed out. "I . . ."

"No," said Harry firmly. "No, Ron, it's Harry."

There was a breif pause as Ron took a deep breath and whispered, "Harry . . .?" It seemed like even talking was a fierce labour for Ron as he lay there.

"Yeah, it's me," snapped Harry. "Now you cut this battle-wound rubbish right now, or I'll have to jinx you."

Ron's lips barely cracked a smile.

"Pfah!" scoffed Harry. "And you think I'm kidding!"

"Sorry, mate . . . "

"Sorry for what?" cried Harry. "For being over-dramatic and scaring the load out of me and Hermione?"

"Sorry for not being there," said Ron.

"You were always there, Ron!" cried Harry.

"I won't be anymore," he croaked. He leaned over ever so slightly and let out a heaving cough, his sheet becoming spottier with drops of blood.

Harry's eyes widened in horrow. "Ron!" he whispered. Ron was a mess. His lips were cracked and white, and dried blood was all over his face and chest.

"Harry," breathed Ron. "Tell her that--"

"No!" cried Harry, anger making him bite down on his tongue till he tasted blood. "Listen, Ron. You're going to be fine, alright?"

When Ron didn't answer, Harry smacked Ron on the shoulder (the one that wasn't wounded). "Hermione, tell--" he began to shout after her. But as he looked away, he saw that Hermione had gone, but he could hear her sobs from not too far away. He turned back to Ron and smacked his cheek, his eyes blazing.

"Now, you listen to me, damn it," snapped Harry in a furious whisper. "If you don't stay for me, stay for her."

Ron's eyes opened the widest Harry had seen them go. "What?" he breathed.

"Hermione," said Harry. "Imagine what'll happen if you go. She'll be . . . Ron, she won't ever be the same."

"She always fancied you."

Harry drew back, Ron's four words ringing darkly in his ears. Everything seemed to crash down around him.

"What are you talking about?" hissed Harry.

"I know she always liked you . . . you two were always hanging out alone together--"

"Yeah, when the both of you were being pricks and fighting all the time! You honestly think --"

"Tell her I'm sorry," said Ron. "Tell her I'm sorry I couldn't make her happy."

"Hermione!" shouted Harry, his voice cracking. He knew very well that Hermione did not care for him as she cared for Ron, at least not in the same way, and Harry wasn't about to let his friend die thinking that Hermione didn't love him. Hermione burst through the tent flap, her face still sopping. "Ron?" she whispered.

"Tell your boyfriend what a git he's being," cried Harry, tears falling from his own eyes now. "Tell him what a stupid idiot he's being!"

Hermione was full-on crying now, her sobs ringing in the small tent.

"Ron, for God's sake!" shouted Harry. "She loves you!"

Hermione looked at Harry through her curled fingers and tears, and gave a small, "What?"

"Your dumb-ass prick of a boyfriend seems to think you love me instead of him!" cried Harry, no longer caring about Ron's dignity or privacy.

"No, I don't," whispered Ron. Suddenly, his eyes opened fully and stared up at the ceiling, and he began to gasp and gag like a fish out of water. He began to spasm and squirm.

"Ron!" Hermione cried, throwing herself over him. "Ron, I'm sorry I couldn't save you . . ."

Harry, overcome with greif, had to turn away and place the back of his hand over his eyes and press his face into the blankets of the bed. He, like Hermione, allowed himself one sob, before turning back to face Ron.

"Ron," he cried. "Ron, please..."

Ron was suffocating, or something along those lines. Harry saw one tear escape Ron's face before the red-headed boy turned to Hermione. She clutched his hands in hers.

"Ronald," she whispered. "Please try. Do try, Ron . . ."

"It's too much, H'mione . . .I'm so tired . . ."

Hermione's mouth was agape in greif, and her eyes were practically swollen shut from crying.

"Ron, please . . . don't leave me here, not now when I need you so much. I was such an idiot before now . . . Oh, Ron, I lo--"

"I love you," said Ron, before Hermione could say it.

She smiled, but this only made her cry harder. "I love you!" she sobbed. "I love you, I love you, I love you . . . I love you . . ."

Harry, his hand on Ron's shoulder as Hermione had thrown herself into Ron's arms, felt Ron breath his last breath. It was all Harry could do to not break down into hysterical sobs like Hermione had done.

"Hermione," he whispered. "I . . ."

But she was in a state, and had completely lost control. Her body wracked with sobs, and her moans filled the entire tent till Harry's every sense was diluted with the aura of death and despair. All thoughts of Voldemort, of the Horcruxes, of Dumbledore, Hogwarts, and of the Ministry . . . all thoughts were forgotten. Ron was gone, and Harry had never felt so alone. Harry stumbled out of the tent, his head throbbing horribly. Even his scar was starting to burn. He fell into a tree, and vomited into the dirt. Tears dripped from his face like a steady rain. The anger of Ron's death, and at the fact that Voldemort was somehow trying to get into his head, now, of all times, had suddenly become to much for him, and in a sudden surge of adrenaline he pulled out his wand and pointed it fiercely at a nearby tree as he let out a scream of fury. The emotion set off by the emotion alone was enough to send a stream of red light faster than a speeding bullet into the trunk of the tree, which left a huge gash in its bark. He knelt in the dirt and slammed his fists into the ground, yelling again.

He heard Hermione stumble out of the tent, still blubbering with tears, and she walked over to him. She placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. Before he knew it, the two friends were hugging each other, leaned up against the bark of another tree -- and Harry's tears became Hermione's tears, and Hermione's tears became Harry's, and the two sat there for a long while. Until the sun set behind the dark purple mountains, until the crescent moon had shed its silver light over everything in its path, until the golden sunlight began to rise on the opposite side.

Finally, as the twilight began to break, Harry -- his arm still around Hermione's shoulders -- helped her up and steered her into the tent, where he laid her in bed, and laid blankets over her. Eyes blurry, and reflexes dulled, he leaned over and rolled into his own bed, too tired to even take off his shoes, as he lazily dragged a blanket over his shoulders . . . and how long he slept, he never knew.