A/N Hey guys, sorry this took so long to get up, but there was something wrong with my computer and I couldn't save in html, so therefore I couldn't post. I know this story is going REALLY slowly, but I just want to say I'm sorry 'bout that and that this chapter is going to be extra extra long, just for that. So. Enjoy! Cheers! Adrianna

~*~

The church smell was overwhelming. Ron felt as if he was going to faint right then and there, it was so strong. He looked around him to see if anyone else noticed, but it looked as if nobody did, or they were just being polite. God, this was a nightmare. How could they have planned something so totally wrong and so totally un-HermioneandRon? It was disgusting, that's what.

There were flowers everywhere. Everywhere. On the pews, near the altar, hanging from the ceiling and walls. And ugly ones too, that didn't co-ordinate at all. And they must have really clashed, for Ron to notice it. There were red roses, orange lilies, and pink orchids, and together, they were disgusting. And, bloody hell, their scent. It was amazing. A scientific feat that these flowers could smell so disgusting.

Outside, it was raining. Great. Another thing couples wanted on their wedding day; rain. But wait! Weren't they going to get married outside? And wasn't this a Muggle church? When had they changed their plans?? Why were two wizards getting married in a Muggle church? Ron still didn't know? Things were going strangely in this wedding .

And Harry! What the hell was he wearing!? Powder blue tuxes? Powder blue?? Wasn't that popular in, like, the eighties? A decade and more ago? Was this not the new century. Ron thought they didn't even MAKE powder blue tuxes any more. And, oh shit! He was wearing a lavender one! On a guy? Was he drunk when he made this choice.

And speaking of Lavender, up she came, down the aisle in a brisk walk, and stationed herself beside the altar. They had chosen Lavender to sing at their wedding, one of her hidden talents. Ron remembered this. The organ started to play, and a little off-tune, but barely noticeable. But what wasn't noticeable were the sounds coming from her mouth.

Screeching filled the church, and Ron grimaced and stared in disbelief at Lavender. Hermione had said she was good. Professional even. But never in his life had he sounded professional singing sound worse. But the doors opened and distracted him, for Hermione would be coming soon.

He watched as his niece Petrova came bearing the ring, and the flower girl walked beside her. But, as the screeching filled his head again, he felt as if he would faint, for there, walking up the aisle was indefinitely the ring bearer and the flower girl, but they were wearing hideous robes of maroon! With orange lace around their neck. And they were wearing little girl shoes, which would have looked nice, had they not been lime green!!!!!! Oh, this was terrible, absolutely terrible.

Again, Ron was distracted since the audience had now stood, and Hermione was soon to come out, and they would soon be wed, which was what mattered, right? Of course, he told himself, trying to be convinced. He held his breath when she came out, but let it out in a contented sigh. Because she was beautiful. Of course, he couldn't see her face because she was wearing a veil, but he could just tell. And she was wearing a beautiful wedding dress, and carrying a simple bouquet of tulips, which she had said were always her favourite. Ron, besides it all, couldn't help grinning.

She reached the altar and took his hand. They walked up to the priest who amazingly resembled the Pope, and turned to face each other. It was then that Hermione started to take off her veil. Ron was itching to see her face. She pushed the veil elegantly back onto her head, and Ron let out a scream. He couldn't help it. Because the wedding was a nightmare, and the clothes were awful and he wanted to go and strangle Lavender so she would shut up, and because there, in front of him, wasn't Hermione. It was Viktor Krum.

~*~

Ron sat up in bed.

"AAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" he screamed, still not quite awake. He felt Hermione sit up suddenly as well and he turned to her, saw her face full of worry and screamed again.

" Ron! Whatever is the matter! Are you allright? Did you hear something? What's wrong?" she asked, touching his arm gently, almost as if she was afraid of him.

"Wedding- flowers-smell-disgusting-Lavender-organ-screeching-maroon-green shoes!-powder blue!- the Pope!- And bloody Viktor Krum!!!!!!" Ron managed to get out, breathing heavily, looking around the room with unfocused eyes. Hermione shhhhhhed.

"Ron, it's okay. You're making no sense. You probably just had a dream or something…" she said, and Ron looked at her finally seeming to wake up.

"It was terrible," he whispered. "I'll tell it to you, but you can't be FRIGHTENED!!!"

Hermione rolled her eyes at this, and stared at him.

"Anything to do with Viktor Krum is scary to you, but not to me," she said calmly.

"Now tell me your dream.

~*~

Half an hour later, he finally finished the dream, which had taken some time as Hermione kept on laughing or putting things in such as ' I would never do that' or 'I TOLD you we weren't getting married in a church'. Ron would stare at her angrily and she would quiet down, for a while. She simply didn't get the point.

"So, you're sure you haven't chosen any maroon dress robes?" he asked.

"Positive Ron."

" And Krum isn't coming to the wedding?"

"No," she sighed, obviously exasperated at him.

" Good," he said, and suddenly lay back down and turned over, pulling the blankets around him as if Viktor Krum was going to jump out at him at any minute. Hermione stared at him, rolled her eyes again, and lay back down as well. She soon fell asleep. After all, it was late, and she had to work a morning shift tomorrow.

~*~

" Hello? Ron?" Hermione's voice came over the telephone. Ron stared at the telephone and then remembered which side to put his mouth.

"Yeah?"

" I'm going to be a bit late. I'm going to get a ride from Mr. Hart, and he might take me to that house I like so much on that hill. He often takes me there for free, he likes almost as much as I do. I want to see it because I feel like I won't be able to for a while, I don't know why. But anyways, I also want to invite him to our wedding. Is that okay?" Hermione asked, her voice sounding much too far away for Ron's liking. He wanted her to come home, because it was boring all by himself and all his brothers or friends at work. He had thought they might go out for lunch or something. But still, he knew Hermione really liked Mr. Hart, and he remembered that she had once said that he reminded her of her grandfather, who had died in 6th year. Hermione loved Mr. Hart, he was sure, and Mr. Hart obviously really liked Hermione. He knew it was important.

" Oh, yeah. That's fine. He can come to our wedding as well. Tell him he can dance with you after my dad," Ron said, smiling a little. Mr. Weasley had flattered Hermione, he could tell when he had asked her if he could have a turn after Ron.

" Alright. I'll be back about an hour after lunch. Could you make something and just leave it aside for me when I come home?"

"Nah, I'll just wait."

" Oh, thankyou Ron. I'd like to talk more, but I need to go, someone else needs the phone."

"'K. Bye 'Mione," he said, and hung up.

~*~

The hospital.

Hermione smiled as she hung up the phone. Heavens, she loved that guy. Still smiling, she walked downstairs and picked up the phone again. This time she dialed Mr. Hart's own taxi number. It was Tuesday, and he usually worked that day, so she would be sure to get a ride. The phone rang twice, before someone picked it up.

" Hello?" the voice said, a little bit hoarsely. He must have a cold, thought Hermione.

" Hi, Mr. Hart. It's Hermione. I was wondering if-"

" This 'aint Mr. Hart. I'm just taking over. He's real sick. You kin?"

" No but- Wait! You said he's sick!"

" Yeah, in the hospital. Went somewhere- Someplace like Hogsmeet or something. Never heard of it before. Anyways, went there and next thing we knew he was in the hospital. Mind you, don't know which one…" Hermione couldn't speak. She simply stared at the wall near the phone until the driver's voice startled her.

"'Maam?"

"Oh. Yes, alright. Thankyou." Hermione hung up the phone, still in a daze. Mr. Hart was a wizard? He must have been, if he was in Hogsmeade. And, when was he there? There had been an attack on Hogsmeade by some old Death Eaters, but people had only been injured. Certainly he- Why had she never guessed? Her, who thought she knew him so well. But of course she wouldn't know, you don't exactly go around saying that, do you? Not to Muggles, and he obviously thought she was one. Hermione's feet were walking, but she didn't know where they were carrying her. Finally, she realised she was at the Intensive Care section, and that the nurse at the desk was staring at her oddly.

" May I help you?" she asked, peering at Hermione as if she, herself, weren't quite right. Before she knew it, Hermione was telling her about Mr. Hart and demanded to know everything. The nurse looked sadly at her.

" It was Crucius," she whispered, as if she were almost afraid to say it. She continued," He got hit very badly. And since he's an old man- He's in a coma. But- I think he has two days."

"Two days?" Hermione asked stupidly.

"Until he dies," she explained, putting her hand on Hermione's arm. Hermione wrenched it away.

" Which room?" she said, urgence clear in her voice.

"216." Hermione quickly walked to that room, and opened that door slowly. Nothing, absolutely nothing could have prepared her for what she saw. His eyes were open, but staring at the ceiling. Various tubes were flowing, and Wizarding Medical equpiment around his bed. His eyes looked so blank, it was a s if he were already dead. Dead, she repeated. Dead. He would be dead. Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead. DEAD! He's going to DIE!!!! She thought, and then, suddenly, wheeled around and ran away, away from this wing, away from this hospital, away from all the sadness and death and illness. Away from the stupid place, until she collapsed on a bench in a park somewhere. But she didn't cry, just sat there, staring at the old lady feeding the pigeons, until she stood up and slowly walked home.

~*~

A/N Okay, I know. I expect flames for this. But believe me. I didn't want to write this. I honestly didn't. But something needed to happen, and this- well- I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE I KILLED MR HART!!!!!!! I am a murderer. I expect flames. Of course, he's not quite dead, but please, be a little nice? I'm sorry. Dear Mr. Hart.