She was numb now. An hour of watching the small red rubber fall back into her hands. Getting bigger and then smaller. She doesn't even have to think about it anymore, she really doesn't have to think about anything anymore. All at once the red ball is a glob and she has to think to catch it. That's when she doesn't put her hand up in time and it rolls under the old rusty bed. Only when the ball is gone does she realize the hot salty wetness of her face. She can taste blood in her mouth, coming from her lip; she doesn't even realize she is still biting down.

A soft knock and all at once Ron is next to her, a hand lain on her cheek.

He asks if she's ok, she doesn't answer.

She looks at him, or rather into him. Through his eyes. The most gorgeous eyes she's ever seen. They looked like the ocean, only, bluer. How she wishes she could swim in them, so full of hope, of love.

He asks her to say something

She tells him that she doesn't know what to say anymore

He wants to cry. He wants to hold her and comfort her and tell her it is going to be okay. He wants to make it okay. But he can't.

She gets up and walks to the window sill and perches herself on it.

She tells him that she's not going to make it.

He's confused, and yet he knows what she's going to say next. He's right.

"I'm dying" she tells him.

He tells her that she isn't and she needs to stop saying that.

She knows everything she needs to and it strong in ever way she can make herself be, but she's still dying. She hasn't seen a single soul but her two friends in what she thinks is a year. The only way she judges is by the season's change that occurs outside the window, and only because she can't ignore it. She can't for the life of her remember if Christmas has past yet or not.

She tells him this with a voice that is talking fast and is full of desperation.

He pleads with her that it will be over and afterward it will be okay.

The only thing Hermione can hope for is that she can do it, when the time comes they can help Harry kill him so no one ever has to live like they have again.

He tells her for what seems like the thousandth time that afterward everyone will be happy.

She doesn't think there is going to be an afterward for her.

This isn't his Hermione. At that moment he hates Harry for befriending her.

As he looks at her the tears fall. And he kisses her.

It is short and sweet and as much as they both want it to be so much more it can't be. They need it more than anything, but they just can't.

They sit there for what fells like an eternity and cry.

In all honesty he agrees with each and every single word she has said, but he can't let her know that, or maybe his tears already sent that message.

That was the night their hearts broke in two.

That was the night he gave her half of his and she gave him the other half of hers. Maybe that will be enough to get them though the war, enough so that they can be happy, after the war, together.

It's probably not though.