The stone walls of the abnormally darkened corridor were spinning ferociously as Harry stumbled to the ground, unaware of how he got there. It was a slow, sickening spin that made all his surroundings look the same yet different, and each step knew not whether it was forwards or backwards. Harry could not comprehend where he was going or why, all he knew was he had to keep moving. No matter how sick he felt or how confused he became, he was vaguely aware that he was being pulled by a bigger and greater source; one of great importance calling him forward.
Ron lay on his bed and studied the ceiling, Harry's words still floating around in his head. "Have you ever wondered why she does it anyway...Love." It was true, he knew Hermione loved them, but somehow it just turned into something he didn't have to think about. Hermione was always there, she always had everything done. She made it look so easy; he never realized it might be hard for her to keep up. As Ron thought about these things, getting sleepier by the minute, he suddenly sat upright with concern. As he went over his daily memories of Hermione he swallowed hard and realized the only times he remembered her is when he needed something. He carefully went through each memory file from the last week, then month, straining to find even a snapshot of her when they weren't asking her for something. Well that's not really unusual, that's what friends do; they help each other. We've helped Hermione with loads of stuff too. He slowly went through each file again, as sadness and shame spread through his eyes, and knew that for a long time Hermione didn't exist when she wasn't needed.
Harry could barely tell where he was but he knew he had gotten to the right place. He laboriously climbed the stairs on all fours, fighting through the dizziness and disorientation, to what he understood was the most important role he'll ever play in the life of everyone around him. The darkness was overwhelming as he finally reached the top of the tower. It was an internal darkness that surrounded him as he looked out the window and could see the sunlight of day barely able to shine through the mass of the tower. Harry struggled to grab hold of the window as beads of sweat rolled down his face and into his eyes that seemed blank to the world but understanding of a world to come. He stared at the sunlight, watching as it was consumed by the bright red fog and blanket of new and dying stars alike.
Ron ran down the stairs towards the Gryffindor commons rooms in search for Ginny. He found her pacing in front of the fire, muttering to herself. The minute she saw him, she crossed her arms and scowled. When she saw the look on his face she softened a little. Ginny knew that Ron needed help, and being a big brother, and guy in general... didn't know how to ask for it. He walked over to her and hung his head in embarrassment and sadness at his loss for the basic understanding of his best friend's needs. As they sat down to talk, Ginny listened empathetically about all the things he could have done and helped him understand the things he can do.
Screams echoed through the tower as the overwhelming image seemed to surround his entire body. He only had a minute to realize that those screams were coming from him, though he could barely believe it. All he could feel was the burning hot pain on every inch of his skin and horrifying images that flipping through his mind, momentarily shredding his sanity into pieces. And through all this the worst was yet to come... and it was complete and defenseless knowledge that this was entirely his fault, and could have been prevented.
Ron lay in a slumped heap of wide eyes and still-standing tears on the Gryffindor common room couch, across from Ginny who was sitting cross-legged on the big chair by the fireplace. Concern for her brother wracked her face as she watched him stare at nothing and mutter to himself incoherently. He drifted off to sleep this way and Ginny levitated a blanket over her brother and went to bed herself.
As the clock shifted its hands to midnight Hermione tossed in her sleep, dreamless and vacuous. But even in her sleep, the dark knowledge that confined her to an unspoken existence tightened its grip plummeting her into a darkness that has no end. Harry, who had fallen asleep with his head on Hermione's chest, awoke with a start. He suddenly realized what stirred him; he had fallen asleep listening to Hermione's heartbeat, and woke up when it stopped.