When Harry and Snape burst out of the front door some thirty seconds later, Snape clutching a small crystal vial in one hand- the antidote he had been working feverishly to prepare ever since Lucius had called him to the manor a week ago to ask for his input on a new poison he'd been brewing, hinting with malicious glee that he had a very special victim in mind for it- Draco was still screaming.

Snape, instantly realizing that they had arrived too late, shoved the vial back into a pocket of his robes and threw himself to the ground beside Draco, who was on his knees, rocking back and forth and continuing to cry out his soul-deep anguish. He had dropped Hermione's hand and both his own hands were fisted in his silvery hair. Snape pulled him into a crushing, immobilizing bear-hug, then managed to drag him a few feet away where he held him tightly, murmuring to him, trying to comfort him. But Draco remained oblivious to his mentor's attempts to calm him; he was gone far beyond reason- nearly beyond sanity.

As for Harry, he hurled himself down beside Hermione and began checking for breathing and pulse, muttering fiercely all the while, "no, not you too, I'm not gonna lose you too, Hermione, NO! I won't let you go, do you hear me, I will NOT let you GO!"

Finding neither breath nor pulse, he fought back the urge to follow Draco's example and begin screaming, then struggled to remember what he knew about CPR, which did not exist in the wizarding world, but in which he had taken a course for free over the summer, at the Little Whinging Community Center, as an excuse to get out of the house and away from the Dursleys.

Fifteen chest compression to two breaths, he thought, willing himself to calm down and think clearly. Stop and recheck pulse once per minute. Okay, I can do this; I have to. Won't lose her too, won't lose her too, won't lose her too…

With this one thought running through his mind, he straightened her body, tilted her head back and, sealing his mouth over hers, began the process of breathing for her. After two breaths- as deep as he could make them, considering that breath was, for him, in short supply at the moment- he pulled back, pushed Draco's shirt up, exposing her chest, fought to clear his mind from the dizzying wave of fury that threatened to engulf him at the sight of the bruises and welts that covered her, and, placing one hand atop the other between her breasts, began the compressions.

One…two…three…four…he had lost Ron; he would not, COULD NOT lose her too…five…six…seven…eight…the pain in his ribs was tremendous- almost overwhelming- but he wouldn't stop- he would do this forever if he had to…nine…ten…eleven…twelve…his vision was darkening around the edges- but he wouldn't give up…thirteen…fourteen…fifteen…BREATHE!

"Potter, what in the bloody hell are you doing!" Harry had never heard the potions master swear before. Glancing in his direction, he saw that Snape was staring at him, aghast. Of course, he thought distractedly; he's wizard born and bred. He doesn't understand- but he couldn't waste time, or breath, talking. He began the compressions again.

"C…P…R…" he managed to grunt out between chest compressions; "It's a…Muggle…tech…nique. I'm…forcing…her heart…to keep…beating…and blowing…air…into…her…lungs." As if to punctuate what he had just said, he bent down and gave her two more deep breaths.

"And this will revive her somehow?" Snape asked in disbelief; "Muggles know how to revive the dead?"

"Only…if they've…just died…and only…if it's…done right…and not…always…even then…but sometimes…sometimes…" Though he was unaware of it, tears began coursing down Harry's face as he spoke these words. Sometimes- sometimes- this had to be one of those times, it HAD to.

Not allowing himself to succumb to the white-hot agony in his ribs that seemed to burn brighter with each compression, not stopping to think about just how high the odds were stacked against him, he fought. The Boy Who Lived fought against death with every fiber of his being. He fought for his best friend's life, which meant more to him than his own.

And it wasn't enough. He surely would have failed even so…if he had not unknowingly received help from a most unexpected source.

Ron.

00000

"Hermione? Hermione. Wake up. Hermione." That voice- she should know that voice. She tried to place it, but couldn't.

She was lying on her side, curled tightly into a fetal position, on a hard, cold surface- the ground? Eyes still closed, Hermione rolled onto her back with a soft groan and turned her head toward the voice, which was coming from just above her and slightly to her left. She felt a hand stroke her hair gently back out of her face, and instantly a feeling of safety and contentment washed over her. Draco, she thought foggily; he was leaning over me just a moment ago. What happened? Did I fall asleep? And why did he seem so…what had he seemed, exactly? The details were hazy. Worried? Her brow furrowed as she struggled to remember. No, more than worried- frantic. He had been…he had been…CRYING…

Suddenly, her memories returned in a flood; her captivity, the poison, Draco's rescue, the portkey, lying at the top of Hogwarts' front steps and Draco…desperate…pleading…the ring…and then pain, such pain-

"DRACO!" she cried out, sitting bolt upright. Instantly strong arms wrapped around her. "Steady there…guess again," came a voice in her ear, and now she recognized it; it was a voice she knew and loved, but not Draco's voice, no. Funny, she didn't remember him being there when she was lying on the steps, but this was definitely-

"Ron?" she whispered, finally opening her eyes to be met by her best friend's deep blue gaze. "Where's Draco?" And then, glancing quickly around, eyes widening, "Where- where are we?"

"Between," Ron said simply, as Hermione took in the fact that they appeared to be nowhere; nowhere at all.

It looked as if they were in a black void. If she hadn't felt the solid ground beneath them, she wouldn't have known it was there. She could see no walls, no ceiling. All was featureless darkness that seemed to stretch on forever. She shouldn't have been able to see Ron, because there was no light source whatsoever as far as she could tell. Yet she could see him; clearly, brightly against the blackness, because- and this was really disconcerting- he was glowing softly. And so, she realized, looking down, was she.

"Between…what?" she asked, in a very small voice, with the distinct feeling that she didn't really want to know the answer.

"Between life and death," Ron replied, "although if I know you, you'd probably guessed that already." He gave her a small smile, but there was a deep underlying sadness in his cobalt eyes.

"The poison," she whispered, one hand automatically rising to press against her throat; "oh my God." And then, as full comprehension dawned, "Oh, Ron- oh no- what happened to YOU?"

"Lucius," Ron said flatly- then added, almost as an afterthought, "the bastard."

With a choked cry, Hermione flung her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. For a long moment she stayed that way, just drinking him in, his warmth, his solidity, his scent, his hand gently, soothingly, stroking her hair. Ron. One of her two best friends, since practically forever. Since he and Harry had braved a troll to save her during first year. They had only been eleven- just children- but they had risked their lives for her, a bossy little know-it-all girl they hadn't even liked. And now after all the years of friendship, years of loyalty and camaraderie, of intrigue and adventures, of spectacular fights, and overall, of deep and fierce and abiding love, now here was her cherished friend. Dead. Because he had once again risked his life to save her- and this time, had lost it. To Lucius Bloody Malfoy.

A scream of anger and despair escaped her before she could quell it, and, balling her hands into fists, she pounded them against Ron's broad chest, raging against the injustice of it all. And still Ron simply held her, silently stroking her hair.

It was a long time before she recovered enough composure to speak again. "So what happens now?" she asked at last in a shaking voice, raising her head to again meet his eyes. "You said we're between life and death. Where do we go from here?"

"Different places," Ron answered quietly. "I'm going on- but you're going back."

"How can that be?" she whispered, her brow knitting in confusion. "I can't come back from the dead."

"But you're not dead," Ron said, now adopting his patented long-suffering tone. "At least- not irreversibly. I've just got through telling you- you're between. You can, and will, go back from here."

Now Ron could almost see the wheels in her head turning as she took in what he had just said. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Wait a minute. I can and will go back? What about you? I'm not going back without you."

Ron shook his head. "It's not an option for me, Hermione. You and I arrived here under very different circumstances. I was Avada Kedavra'd; there's no cure for that. But you were poisoned, and there IS an antidote- as soon as you're back in your body you can take it and be healed. Harry's even keeping your body ready for you. I think he senses somehow that you'll be back. I don't know how he's doing it- some sort of Muggle technique, I heard him say. Pretty amazing, really. He's making your heart beat for you, and breathing air into your lungs. I can even overlook the fact that he's pushed your shirt up to your chin and every time he does that breathing thing it looks like he's snogging you-"

"Oh my GOD!" Hermione cried out, horrified. "But Draco- he's right there- and he won't understand, he's never heard of CPR- what must he think!"

Ron gave her a long, measured look. Then, "Hermione," he said, very slowly and clearly, as though attempting to put an important concept across to a very small child, "you just DIED in his arms. Trust me when I say that he neither knows nor cares what Harry is doing at the moment. It's lost on him. He's-" Ron's voice trailed off and his eyes went distant and unfocused for a minute. He stared past Hermione, plainly seeing something that she couldn't. Then, abruptly, his attention returned to her. "Screaming," he said; "he's screaming."

"You can see him?" Hermione demanded. She turned to look in the direction Ron had been staring, but saw nothing except unending blackness. "How? I can't see anything."

Ron smiled at her, but his eyes remained solemn. "The same way I can see what Harry is doing to you," he said. "There are a lot of things I can do here that you can't, because my soul- my essence- is all here, and yours isn't. Harry is keeping you tied to the physical world, thank God." He shrugged. "I could take off and fly right now if I wanted to- there's only one thing that you can do at this point that I can't; go back."

"Oh," Hermione said, in a very small voice, as though the wind had been knocked out of her. Then, as tears began to stream freely down her face, "I don't want to go back without you, Ron!"

Ron began caressing her face, wiping her tears away with his thumb as she had done for him on the night, over a year ago, that she had fallen from his broomstick as they returned from killing Voldemort. "Listen to me," he said softly. "Malfoy is screaming. Screaming, Hermione. Does that strike you odd? It should. Because Malfoy doesn't scream. He didn't scream when he was under Cruciatus, or when Harry stabbed him nearly to death- but he's screaming now. Because he thinks he's lost you. I used to have doubts as to whether he truly loved you- was even capable of loving you the way I do. And when he said those cruel things to you, I was ready to tear him apart. But now I understand what he was trying to do and Hermione- I don't doubt it anymore. He loves you so much he's gone half-mad with grief, and if you don't get back there post-haste, I think he's gonna end up in St. Mungo's- permanently, if you know what I mean. He needs you, Hermione. If he's going to keep his sanity, he needs you back."

Hermione dropped her face forward into her hands and began to sob in earnest. "Oh Draco," she gasped; "oh, RON! How…can I…choose? I don't…want to…leave…either of you…alone!"

Ron pulled her back up against him, so her head rested on his shoulder. "There's something you should know about Harry as well," he said, once her sobs had subsided a bit. "He's hurt, Hermione. Pretty bad." She stiffened in his arms as he continued, "this thing he's doing to keep your heart going- he's doing it with three broken ribs. Every time he presses down on your chest, he's hurting himself more. Every time he breathes into your lungs…can you imagine how hard it is to breathe for oneself with three broken ribs? Let alone for another person too? By all rights, he should have passed out by now- or worse- but he's fighting to stay conscious, to keep doing this…incredible thing that's going to allow you to go back. That's how much it means to him; that's how much YOU mean to him. Hermione-" he slid his hand under her chin and tilted her face up, forcing her to meet his gaze again- "he needs you too, more than ever now that I'm…going on. They both need you far more than I do. I'm not afraid. I caught a glimpse of where I'm going, right after I died- I could have gone straight there, but I wanted to check on you and Harry first. When I saw you, I realized that you'd be coming through here and would need me, so I waited- and making the decision to wait was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I don't know that I COULD have done it for someone I loved any less than Harry or you. Because what I saw was amazing…indescribable. It's right for me to go there- to be there- and it's right for you to go back. I'm sure of this. Trust me?"

Hermione swallowed hard, tears still streaming from here eyes, then, very slowly, she nodded.

"I caught a glimpse of where Lucius was going, too," Ron said then, a look of grim satisfaction coming over his face. "He came through here not long after I arrived, and he wasn't happy about it. Was being dragged kicking and screaming, in fact." The expression on his face made Hermione think better of asking him just exactly WHAT had been doing the dragging. He couldn't suppress a small shudder as he added, "I wouldn't be happy about it either, if that were my destination. He's earned it, though; it's nothing if not just."

They sat in silence for a moment more, Hermione letting her forehead drop once again to Ron's shoulder, suddenly exhausted and overwhelmingly sad- more sad than she had thought it possible for a human being to be.

Abruptly, however, Ron shook his head as if to clear it, and an expression of determination came over his face. "Right, then," he said, getting to his feet and helping her up after him, "we don't have much time. Harry's strength is fading fast- he's gonna pass out soon, and once he stops doing the- what do you call it again?- right, the CPR- once he stops doing the CPR, you'll no longer be able to return to your body. Just a couple of quick things before you go. Give Harry a message for me- tell him not to worry about me, and not to waste a single moment feeling guilty or blaming himself- you know how he can be. But I made my own decision and I stand by it; in the same situation, I would do it again, as I know he would have done it for me. Tell him he has to be twice the best friend to you now- I'm counting on him for that. And give a message to Malfoy for me as well-" Ron was talking faster now- "tell him to remember what I said to him at the top of the marble staircase on the night he was resorted. Tell him if he ever- EVER- hurts you again, I will know, and so help me, I will find a way make good." He grinned down at her. "Got all that?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"That's it, then- except for one last request from me to you."

"Anything, Ron," she managed to choke through her tears; "anything you want."

"Just a taste of what might have been."

And as she opened her mouth to ask what he meant by that, he bent his head and kissed her- fully and deeply. Her eyes widened and she stiffened momentarily in shock, but in the next instant she relaxed into the kiss, letting her eyes fall shut. If Ron's last wish was to have a kiss from her, then by God she would give him a kiss to remember- wherever it was that he was going.

Her hands came up to wind through his hair as his arms wrapped tightly around her and pulled her closer, deeper into the kiss. She had never before kissed anyone but Draco, and Ron's kiss was entirely different. It was quite possibly the sweetest kiss she'd ever experienced. Draco's kisses were full of fire, passion and urgency- when he kissed her he revealed a depth of feeling that he went to great pains to conceal at all other times. When Draco kissed her, she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he loved her madly- even though he had never said the words but twice, and both in desperate situations; on the night they had gone after Voldemort, and again today, when he had found her so near to death. She had always loved kissing Draco for this reason- it was thrilling to feel some of his iron control slip, allowing, against his will, those carefully buried emotions to show through. It caused her to shed her own inhibitions in return- kissing Draco was intoxicating. It drove her mad with desire.

But this- kissing Ron- it was like the kiss of a noble young knight out of some Arthurian legend; a kiss both loving and pure; both romantic and chaste. Again, it was- there was no other word to accurately describe it- sweet. It was slow and infinitely tender- exploratory and yet, at the same time, almost…shy. There was no pent-up emotion behind it, because, unlike Draco, Ron's tendency was to wear his heart on his sleeve for all the world to see. So his kiss was uncomplicated and inherently boyish- something Draco's kisses had never been.

It was that very boyishness- and the knowledge that now he would never be anything else, would never progress past the age of seventeen- that caused a fresh wave of grief to crash over her, so intense that her knees buckled beneath the weight of it and she would have sunk to the ground had not his arms been wrapped tightly about her.

At this, Ron finally broke the kiss. "Thank you," he said simply, and though she could feel his body still pressed, warm, against hers, his voice sounded as though it was coming from a hundred miles away. She opened her eyes, and gasped- the light with which Ron had been suffused had gone out. He was only visible now as a dim silhouette against the greater darkness.

"Ron-?" Her voice had an unmistakable edge of panic to it.

"It's okay," he said, and she thought she heard a smile in his voice; "look down."

She did, gasped again, and slammed her eyes shut. Her own body was now shining so brightly it was practically blinding. It seemed that she had somehow taken Ron's light and added it to her own. Letting her head fall against his shoulder, eyes still shut, she stammered, "what just- how-?"

She felt Ron rest his chin atop her head. "I just passed you all my energy," he said quietly- his voice seemed to be fading more by the minute; "my life-force. I don't need it anymore, but you will- you'll need it all to get safely back. And now it's time for us both to go." She felt him straighten up, and she did likewise, though she was now shaking so badly it was a miracle she managed to support her own weight. She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to dazzle herself with her own light again. Ron withdrew his arms from where they had been wrapped around her, instead laying his hands gently on her shoulders. He dipped his head and placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

"I love you, Hermione," he murmured in her ear; "never forget that. And don't cry for me. We'll see each other again, I promise, just not for a while. Not for a while. Now, go." And he did something that caught her completely off-guard; he gripped her shoulders tightly for a second, and then thrust her forcefully away from him.

She fell backward, but instead of hitting the ground, she just kept falling. "RON!" she screamed frantically, but there was no reply. Just the endless blackness through which she was falling- falling- falling-

Then, THUD.