Disclaimer: I own the plot.

A/N: I wrote this, but I got the extremely basic idea of the chapter from TribalKitty. The idea being of a girl running through a castle, thinking that she is going to be killed.

To bestytheripper, I'm so sorry I didn't answer your questions. I just thought that you would find out as the story went along...I guess I'm just lazy. McGonagall is going to talk to Ron, hopefully. I just haven't written it yet... Yes, someone did find Hermione on the floor: the great and almighty Draco Malfoy. swoons I love Draco. He and his large hands are god. Muah.

No, RootbeerFloat (Amy), Harry wouldn't understand. For some odd reason, I've never been too fond of the chap. I think he's too egotistical...

To ajzcourage: what if Ron "accidentally kills Hermione? smirks faintly

To dracoslovemistress: Yeah, I don't know if Hermione is insane. If I were in her exact situation, I know I would definitely have a lack of sanity...Ron is a tough guy to understand, especially in this story. I've always thought he was an extremely deep guy. Harry. Well, well. Harry is a dope. hangs head I'm sorry to all Harry lovers. I just don't...really like him. I don't know. He's okay, I guess.

Okay...I think that was all the questions. If I missed some, just yell at me or something. Future comments, suggestions, flames, etc, etc. Feel free to tell me. Thanks for reading you wonderful, fantastic readers. HA! I said fantastic. Wahoo. Go me. Oh, and you might find this chapter rather alarming...hope you're not disappointed or angry. Let me just say. The story's not over yet.

Running... ...again... ...why...?

Through the halls, up a side, stone stairway, left, right, left again, through a carpet door, then turn around, a dead end, dead end, halted...

Hermione slammed into the stone brick wall, unwillingly coming to a painful halt. Her high-pitched scream reverberated through the halls of the castle. She fell to the ground, holding her bleeding nose and trying not to think of what senses her uncontrolled scream might have awoken.

Hermione hoped with all her might that her teachers wouldn't notice that she was gone. Maybe they just thought she was sick. She didn't want to go to class. She probably would never go again.

Hermione knew she would be killed. Ron would find out that she had talked to Malfoy: had a civilized conversation with him. He would find out, and he would kill her.

--for there are monsters here, immature child, beasts and demons and dragons that can hear you beg and scream, little girl--

Hermione moaned, panicked, fell to the ground. She felt blood. She saw blood. That wall was too hard for her delicate skin to take.

She was scared, terrified. Hermione threw up on the stone next to her. She moaned and doubled over in pain: both physically and mentally. Ron was looking for her. He knew. He was coming to find her. He was coming now. Her time was limited.

Her face hurt, her heart hurt. Lying on the ground in a heap and more of her black bile and blood than she ever could bear to see, she realized that her whole body was one, beastly mass of pain.

She used all her energy to try and get up, but she instantly fell back. Hermione felt like she had been running forever. The dark hallways all looked the same, and unchanged thoughts blasted through her head.

He's going to kill me.

Hermione reluctantly realized that she couldn't move herself foreword. It would all stop here. Her physical strength had finally reached its limit.

Her left arm didn't move when she tried to lift it. Her hand and her fingers seemed as heavy as led.

Her right arm was trapped underneath her throbbing body, and it didn't hurt as much. She couldn't lift it, but she knew that it was covered in blood. She didn't quite know why. The collision with the wall couldn't have been that it?

She silently glanced at all the blood around her. There was definitely a lot of it. Where had it all come from? Was it all hers?

Hermione felt a drop of it sliding down her nose. She noiselessly watched it fall off the end of her nose and hit the floor. For some odd reason, the castle was rather dark, even though it was daylight. Dark shadows danced across the blank walls. Hermione could make out the new color that her blood made on the stones. It was a scarlet hue, and made Hermione vomit again.

She gagged, expecting the result of the nauseating sight to manifest itself, but then she realized that she didn't have anything else left in her stomach. She had only eaten a small breakfast, and she couldn't remember if she had had dinner the night before.

'This is it,' she thought, 'Please die, here, now, in this madhouse of nightmares that I call my mind.'

--we all die young. some of us die slowly. some of us die quickly. but we all die young, little one--

The bleeding slowly stopped, and even after Hermione screamed, cried, begged, and fell asleep from exhaustion, she was still alive. Tears welled up in her deep, brown eyes. She felt finished. Hermione knew she had to stand, sometime or another, or she would be found.

She forced her legs to move underneath her body, and with the greatest effort that Hermione could muster, she stood up. Hard, dry bangs of frizzy, brown hair fell across her face and into her eyes as she stood. As she lifted her trembling hand to push them aside, she sickeningly realized they were covered with dried blood. Hermione could barely even see what color her skin was. Everything was stiff and scarlet-colored. Hermione gagged again.

Hermione couldn't defend herself even if she tried. What would she use? Her blood? That's all she really seemed to have ungodly amounts of.

She had to find out exactly where she was...before she went completely insane. She needed to get away from Ron forever. Hermione couldn't live like this for much longer, and she knew it. She needed a miracle.

--for the castle is vast, beyond your wildest dreams, young one, and guarded, by creatures of darkness, child. creatures that have been created by you. they live on. you do not, little child--

Hermione was standing in a sinister-looking corridor. It was extremely vague and dim, and there were no portraits on the walls, which was odd. Hermione could see that there were two candles at the end of the corridor. They were on either side of a very large wooden door. The door seemed rather far away. Hermione wondered what was behind it. Anything was better than staying here, where hell was practically breathing its condemnations in her ear.

She noticed that many shadows crept across the walls by the door as the small flames moved in the nonexistent wind. The shadows were creating frightening shapes on the walls, in the corners, against the ceiling. It scared Hermione terribly. She wanted out of this blasted castle that caused her so much heartache.

Hermione heard a noise, like a foot fault, on the other side of the door. Reflexively, she took a step backward. Pain shot through her body as her legs threatened to give out again. Hermione heard the footsteps again. They were louder and closer this time. They knew where she was, and they were making no effort to quiet themselves.

'Oh, no,' she thought, the panic rising inside her.

Hermione was horrified, but the footsteps sounded as calm as ever. She knew the person wasn't afraid. She knew Ron wasn't afraid...

Hermione panted, as she stood, frozen in place. The door suddenly burst open, and let out a screech of panic. It was over.

Just as Hermione expected, Ron strode in, eyes like hellfire, claws sharper than those of any monster, any dragon. The aura of purest magick and rage surrounding him was enough to have blinded any mortal, made any human pass out with fear.

Yet Hermione simply stood there. She knew what he was there for, and she was ready. She had never been more petrified in her life. It was all over. Nowhere to run, no more running, not now, not ever...

Ron had a sword with him. Hermione noticed that even in the dark, it glinted with murderous beauty. Ron was positively furious. Hermione had never seen him this mad. He approached her quickly, like he had planned this.

Hermione could feel his sharpened hands grabbing her clothes, his arms of superhuman strength lifting her by her garments, and she unwillingly gasped for air, not even bothering to move.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she was violently pinned against a wall. 'The same wall,' she thought, 'that I had ran into mere hours ago.'

Hermione looked into the flaming hell pits that were the eyes of Ronald Weasley, inches away from her face, and saw them closing...

A hand reached out, and ancient words were whispered. Hermione thought it sounded like a familiar spell. Ron looked deadly, almost as fatal as the hoary sword he held.

The silver sword brought itself to life by mystic force. It turned in the air, once, twice, guided by Ron, finally stopping as he stepped aside. Hermione was still, inescapably pinned against the wall.

As Ron made a final gesture, the sword thrust itself through clothes and flesh and wall, causing Hermione and her body to cry out one last time, before her body finally went limp.

Crimson blood, dripping from the blade, forever stained the once normally colored clothes that marked bravery of unknown kind.

"And now, Hermione Granger...you sleep." said Ron, and calmly left the room.