Ron had a love/hate relationship with blood. There were times when the vermilion liquid was the only thing that could calm him, and make him feel complete. Yet, there were times when blood made him hollow and empty. Sometimes, he didn't know what was better for him. Love or hate.

Love.

"I hate you, Ronald." Those words burned his mind, tortured his ears. Hermione's glare bore into him. He froze, unable to move, for his breaking heart pained him too much to take even the smallest step. The color drained from his cheeks, and the sparkle fled from his eyes. Harry took a step forward, horrified by Ron's reaction. He'd expected him to scream at Hermione. Hell, he'd expected Ron to slap Hermione. "Ron? You alright, mate?"

Ron didn't seem to hear him. He only whispered a tiny apology and ran up to the boy's dormitories. Harry turned, very slowly, toward Hermione and said, "You know, 'Mione, he never wanted to upset you. I was there; he only warned Victor not to hurt you. He only cared." With that, Harry chased up the stairs after Ron.

The razor slid easily across Ron's wrist. He didn't feel any pain. He never did until about an hour after he'd made the precious wounds. For now, all he felt was the blood trickling down his forearm. The hot, sticky nectar soothed Ron's pounding heart and racing mind. He could suddenly breathe again. Letting out a shaky breath of air, he leaned his head back against the wall.

"Ron! Ron are you in there? Come on, mate, just talk to me!" Harry was banging on the bathroom door, throwing Ron out of his peaceful daze. He pushed down his sleeve and open the door, fresh tears streaming down his still pale cheeks. Harry gasped when his best friend trudged out of the lavatory. "Look, I know you're upset, and I honestly don't blame you, but you have to see where 'Mione was coming from! She asked you to stay away from Victor and well, you-- RON! Are you bleeding?" Harry took hold of his arm, still dripping blood.

Ron attempted to yank his limb back from Harry, but he held his grip firmly. Harry rolled up his friend's sleeve to reveal several deep gashes. The bespectacled boy held his breath, terrified by what he saw. "Ron," he exhaled, "how long has this been going on?" Ron just shook his head, tears still slipping down his cheeks. Harry tried again. "How on earth does this help you? Do you enjoy it?" Much to Harry's surprise, Ron looked up at him and nodded. "I don't know how, but it calms me. It's like...well..it's like no matter how much I screw up, or no matter how hard I may fall, blood is the only thing that won't disappoint me. So when I realized how much I really fucked things up with Hermione, I knew what I had to do. I needed to feel adequate again. And this, cutting, does that. It's love, Harry. Ruby red love."

Hate.

"I love you, Ronald." Her words hit him like a ton of bricks. Love? No; she can't love him. Not now, not when she's lying in a pool of blood. Not now when she's about to leave him. His pulse quickened, sweat shone on his forehead, and as hard as he tried not to, he began to cry. "And you're telling me this now, 'Mione?" Despite herself, she laughed.

"Ron, please listen to me. Don't interrupt me now, okay? I'm not quite sure what's going to happen tonight, but I'm positive I won't be alive to see the end of it. I want you to promise me something. I want you to promise me that no matter how afraid you are, you'll keep fighting. Think of Harry, Ron, and think me. Make sure that we are avenged, Ronald. Make sure that the Dark Lord falls. And always remember that I love you, I always have."

He took her hands in his, freely crying, and whispered, "Oh God, oh God! Hermione, I love you so much; you can't leave me! Not now, the world's almost safe for us again! 'Mione, oh, please..for heaven's sake! Her--Hermione..I..prom..promise that your name will live on. It'll live on...in..in me."

Blood gushed between his fingers as they wrapped tighter around hers. Blood was smeared on his cheeks as he bent to kiss her forehead. Blood flowed from his wrist as the wounds from only hours ago were reopened. Blood spurted from her side, and dripped down her robes, soaking her legs and feet. Blood was matting her hair; blood was caked under her nails; blood was everywhere. And Hermione was beautiful.

She lifted his arm, and pushed up his sleeve. "One more promise, love. Promise me that you'll never hurt yourself again. No matter what." She kissed his wrists, more blood trickled onto her cracked lips. Ron smiled weakly at her. "Never. Never again."

With a final kiss, Hermione Granger died. With a shaking hand, Ron stroked her cheek, a pool of blood growing in his palm. Watching the blood flow through the creases in his hand, he cried, "It's hate, Hermione. Ruby red hate."