In this chapter, I borrowed a few sentences from Sarah Dessen's extraordinary book This Lullaby (seriously, you should read it if you haven't already; I swear, you won't be disappointed). I did reword them, though.

"Hermione?" His voice was frantic, unsettling.

"Ron? What is it? What's wrong?"

"It's your parents." His face was pale.

"What happened?" I whispered, afraid of what I would hear. My hands were trembling, and my vision was beginning to blur.

"There was an accident. They were killed."

The last thing I saw was Ron crossing the room, running towards me. I wasn't sure if he caught me before I collapsed to the ground.

They were gone.

Exactly two years ago, on this day, my parents were killed. Exactly two years ago, on this day, my whole entire life seemed to fall apart, until it was accidentally put back together by someone, that I was soon to learn, would always be there for me.

I heard a soft knock on the door, and I didn't have to turn around to see who it is. I stood up, tears in my eyes now. We didn't have to exchange any words at all, we just knew. I was still hurting from that day, two years ago, and I may never heal.

He wrapped his arms around me, gently stroking my hair, as I pressed my face into his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. I was always crying at this point as he pulled me close, whispering soft words to me, over and over, because I never got tired of hearing them. I remembered it just as if it were yesterday, a memory, opening up so I could see it clearly. It was like a snapshot, a picture: a girl and a boy standing over a grave; the grave of the girl's parents. The girl had her hands over her eyes. The boy stood in front of her, watching. He was speaking softly, and then all of a sudden, the girl stepped forward, pressing her face into his chest as he lifted his hands to stroke her hair. He whispered that it would be okay; that he was there, always.

The memory came, and as fast as it came, it goes, leaving me. On that day, I wasn't sure of anything; what had happened, or what was to come. All I knew was that he was there. Whenever I needed him, Ronald Bilius Weasley was there.

I didn't deserve him, but I can never seem to let go, to bring myself to speak the truth that he deserves to hear.

So I held on to him, clinging to him as if it's the only way to keep me from slipping away into the darkness that I know is waiting for me just beyond his fingertips that were laced with mine, just waiting to pull me under, suffocating me.

He let go of me, kissing my forehead gently. "Do you need anything?"

I shook my head. "No, thank you."

He stroked my face. "You should rest, Hermione."

"Later; I'm not tired right now," I whispered as he pulled me into another embrace, my body melting against his, and I felt fresh tears forming in my eyes. "I miss them so much."

He pulled me closer. "I know, Hermione."

"It's so hard sometimes." I couldn't breath.

"I know," his words were soft, gentle and comforting.

I saw my their faces, in my mind, the last time I saw them, and lost all control of my emotions, breaking down, there, in his arms.

"Hermione…." He tightened his grip on me, and I held onto him. He whispered that it was going to be alright, that he was here, just as he had that day two years ago, and it was a promise that he's always kept.

We stood there, in an embrace, his soft words chasing away my sadness and fears; bringing me closer to him. He slowly kissed away the tears, softly caressing my face with his lips, and I slid my hands into his, our fingers slowly entwining.

I heard the London rain beginning to fall, softly, before becoming steady, as he leaned in to kiss me, his lips soft on mine. And as I pressed my body against his, I let the kiss capture me, let it take me to a place, far, far away where I could finally breath.

—

"Hermione, dear, can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you, Mrs. Weasley," I said warily, managing a small smile.

She looked at me, frowning. "You look as if you haven't slept in days; or eaten, for that matter."

"I'm fine." I looked away, avoiding her scrutinizing eyes, although it really has been days since I've eaten or slept.

"But you must be hungry."

I shook my head just as Ron entered the room. He smiled when he saw me.

"Ron, would you mind setting up the twin in Ginny's room for Hermione?"

"Mrs. Weasley, I'm fine, honestly, I'm not—"

"Nonsense, dear, a bit of sleep won't do you any harm."

I gave her a small smile, too weak to argue, and followed Ron upstairs.

When the bed was made, I sat on the edge, my body exhausted. He sat down beside me, and for many moments, we didn't talk at all.

"If you need anything, I'm here, Hermione," he said softly, breaking the silence.

"Thank you, Ron," I replied, sliding my hands into his. "For everything."

He gave me a soft smile and gently kissed my forehead. He looked at me, his soft blue eyes smiling, and said, "You've been so strong, Hermione."

I sighed, wishing that he wouldn't say that, because I really haven't been strong. He didn't know that when he wasn't with me, I was a completely different person; a mess. But I would never let anyone see.

"But it's been so hard, Ron," I whispered, closing my eyes. "Everyday, I feel like I have nothing to live for. I feel like there's nothing left for me, and then I think of you."

"Hermione…"

"You're the reason I'm here, Ron. You're the reason I haven't given up on life, on everything. You give me the strength to hold on, everyday."

"Oh, my Hermione," he said, softly, wiping the away the tears that stained my cheeks, and pulling me close to him, gently, as if he was afraid my frail body might break.

"I don't think I can do this anymore," I said, my voice broken and unsteady.

"Do what?" He asked, stroking my eyelids.

"Live this lie."

"What lie?"

"My entire life is a lie, Ronald," I said, opening up my eyes. "I spend half my time crying, just wasting away to nothing. I can't remember the last time I was happy."

"I know it's hard for you, Hermione, but—"

"I pretend to be happy, but for what? My parents are dead, and my best friend's holding on by a string. I can't cope with another death, Ron. It's killing me as it is."

"She's going to be all right, Hermione," he whispered. "The doctor said—"

"The doctor said that her chances of living are very slim, and that I shouldn't get my hopes up. She's barely there, Ron."

"Hermione, you can't give up hope."

"Too late." I turned away from him, fresh tears spilling down my cheeks.

He sighed, giving my hands a squeeze. "I won't let you give up, Hermione."

"Don't waste your time," I said brokenly. "I'm not worth it."

"Don't say that, Hermione," he said softly.

"Why not? After how I abandoned my parents, my best friend. My life. I deserve nothing more than to be miserable."

"You didn't abandon anyone, Hermione," he told me sternly.

I shook my head. "But I did, Ron. Ever since I left for Hogwarts eight years ago, I barely saw my parents aside from holidays and the summers we spent away from Hogwarts. And Abigail…I never made any efforts to see her. And when I did, I always took our visits for granted, as if she wasn't important." I hated how weak my voice sounded. "But she was important. Unlike me, she valued our friendship. She cherished the few moments we had together. She understood what others couldn't — what others wouldn't. And now I'm loosing her."

"You can't blame yourself for something that wasn't your fault, Hermione."

"It's no one's fault but mine," I whispered, tearing my hands away from his and standing up.

"Hermione, it's not—"

"I can't stay here anymore."

"What?" He stood up, too, coming over to me.

"I'm just a burden that shouldn't have to be dealt with."

"That's not true," he said softly, wrapping his arms around my waist.

I broke free of his grip. "Your family shouldn't have to shelter me. They don't deserve the unwanted pain I'm causing them. I'm nineteen, and I can take care of myself." I hated lying to him.

"Please, Hermione, stay," he whispered. "Please."

I shook my head, not daring to turn around to face him. "I can't, Ron. I need live on my own, without any help from anyone. It's what I need right now."

"Is there anything I can say to make you stay? Anything at all?" He sounded as if he was in pain, and I hated myself for it.

I turned around, reaching out to place my trembling hand on his cheek. "I'm doing this because it's what's best for me right now. I can't continue to live this way, hurting you."

"I can help you," he whispered, his eyes pleading with mine. "I'll do anything for you, you know that."

I smiled brokenly. "You've already helped me, Ron. You've helped me get through this mess that is my life. You've kept me in one piece."

"I love you," he said, his voice laced with the sadness I've caused him.

"I—I don't want to say anything that will only cause you more hurt." I looked away from him. "I'm sorry. I can't hurt you again."

"You never hurt me, Hermione," he told me, putting a hand under my chin and forcing me to look at him.

"You never see your friends, Ron. You never see you family, because of me."

"They understand, Hermione."

I shook my head. "Please, just let me do this. Please." I pleaded.

"Where will you go?" His voice was quiet.

"I—I don't know," I answered honestly, beginning to gather my belongings. "I'll find someplace to stay."

"I'll go with you," he said, taking my hands in his.

I smiled a sad smile, the tears in my eyes beginning to fall. "I need to do this on my own, Ron. I'm sorry."

He looked away from me, letting my hands drop. "How long will you be gone for?"

"As long as it takes," I answered, my voice strained.

"I'll visit you."

"I think it would be better if we don't see each other for a while," I whispered.

"Why? That's bloody ridiculous, Hermione."

"It's for the best, Ron."

"So, you're not going to tell me where you're living? I'll have no way of knowing whether you're safe?" He said angrily, spitting the words. "That's a bit stupid, don't you think? What if something happens to you?"

"I can take care of myself, Ronald," I replied icily. "I'm not a child."

"No, but you're weak. Look at yourself, Hermione. You can't possibly think that you're well enough to live on your own," he yelled, startling me. "You're a wreck."

For a moment, I was silent, staring at him through cold eyes. "Maybe you're right," I whispered, my body trembling. "Maybe I'm hopeless."

"Hermione, that's not what I meant. I'm sorry." His eyes pleaded with mine.

"I am, too," I whispered, turning my back on him, on life, on everything. It wasn't the first mistake I would make, and it most certainly wouldn't be the last.

So, there it is. Hopefully it's somewhat decent.

Anyway, I love reviews, and if I get a few, I'll continue writing this story. No pressure!