Hey guys. Why aren't you reviewing!!!!!!!!!???????????????? I have only gotten four reviews or something! It can't be THAT bad. And if it is, do tell me since I can change that. This chapter is going to be semi-short, and I won't be able to post for a while, as in two weeks, since I'm going HOOOOOMMMMEEEEEEE!!!!!! For March Break. Can you tell I'm excited about going to Holland? I am. Anyway, I won't be able to use a computer there since my aunt doesn't have one (and I'm staying with her) so I'm afraid I won't be able to post. But that doesn't mean you can't review!!!!!!!!! I expect a whole lot of reviews when I get back….. OR ELSE. Actually, I can't pressure you into reviewing, but it really is quite depressing when you're on your third chapter and you only have four reviews. So pleeeeeeeaaaaaaase review. And, by the way, enjoy!

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Hermione had no sense of time any more. She wore a watch, but wasn't bothering to check it, and had no idea how long she had sat on that bench. It could be hours, for all she knew and cared. And she didn't care. Other things were on her mind. Last time she had felt this sense of shock, of emptiness was when she had thought that Ron was dead, and last time that had led to… well, not good things. It was true. Hermione Granger could not handle death. It was something she was not able to do.

She walked slowly, unaware of the sights and sounds around her, barely feeling the wind or the people she bumped shoulders with. She was numb, numb all over. She knew that after the numbness thawed out, which would probably be when she talked to Ron, she would let all the emotions loose, and then she would be able to fell them. And she would REALLY feel them.

She finally reached their flat, and for the first time, checked her watch. Two hours late. Never had she been late. And Ron was probably worrying. She opened the door and walked in, without even a greeting, which was a sure clue something was up since she always greeted the flat, even if no one was there but Crookshanks. She closed the door slowly, but Ron must have heard it click because he soon entered the hallway.

"Hermione, where the bloody-" he began, but cut himself off at the look of grief on her face.

"What happened?" he asked, stepping closer. She looked up at him, and him down at her and their eyes met.

" He's dying," was all she whispered, and then, not able to take it anymore, she threw herself at him and started to cry.

" He's dying, he's dying," she muttered over and over again. Ron soothed her and led her to the couch. He knew exactly what to do. He pulled her onto his lap and rocked her back and forth, as if she was three years old and had fallen and scraped her knee. Slowly, her tears decreased and finally she was quiet.

"Do you want to say anything else?" he asked her. She shook her head no.

"Oh, I got your shirt all wet. I'm so-"

"Yeah, and it was my Chudley shirt, too," Ron said, trying to cheer her up. She said nothing, however.

"Don't worry about it. It'll dry," he said. She gave the tiniest smile, and climbed out of his lap.

"I'm taking a bath," she said softly. He merely nodded. Hermione quickly ran a bath and filled it with bubbles, proceeding to enter it and stare at the bathroom tiles.

~*~

That night, over supper, Hermione seemed a little better. At least, she did say one or two things, odd as they may be.

"Ron, did you know there are exactly 247 tiles on our bathroom wall?"

"Erm- I didn't really notice."

"Yes, but I observed that today. Because I realised, I had seen the wall many times, but never observed it. For instance, you have seen the wall many times, yes? Hundreds of times. But yet, you do not know how many tiles there are. Sherlock Holmes once had a conversation with Dr. Watson about seeing and observing, and if you look at the logic of it, they are two different things."

"Who's Sherlock Holmes?" Ron asked, completely taken off guard by this babble. Even odder was that after she said that, Hermione looked sad again, and stared at her plate, spearing each pea slowly with her fork. They ate in silence, and then:

" It was Crucius."

" What?"

"Crucius, Ron. He was hit by Crucius."

"But, how? Who would do that to him? He's just an ordinary Muggle."

" No, actually, he isn't. It turns out he was a wizard, driving in his retirement. He was hit in the past Hogsmeade attack. They say he has two days."

" Two days? You mean, no one can stop it? No one can heal him?"

" Nooooooo. It weakened him too much. There's no counter-curse for Crucius after-effect." Then she went into silence again. Ron was suddenly struck by an ingenious idea. Who ever said his girlfriend was the smart one?

" Yes, ' Mione, there's no counter-curse…yet."

~*~

Finite Chapter. And by the way, last chapter, I did say, He's not dead yet.