Outside of all of this, Hermione sits in a stable position, almost like Zen. A hag has her under a spell. She's enclosed in a vision, where she can torture and get mad at her husband as much and for as long as she must. She's sitting comfortably, and doesn't appear to be suffering.

In these parts, the hag is known as the Couples' Counsellor. It's hard to tell right now, but she's the likely savior of Hermione's and Ron's marriage.

All over her hut, there are baking pans. There's a skeleton of a human child in almost each one. As the Couples' Counsellor watches her own work in progress, she munches on a child's leg. She could sure use a housekeeper...or a few housekeeping spells. Ron wonders if she and Nymphadora Tonks were separated at birth... But then, that would've made Tonks 224 years old when she died, wouldn't it have?

She sure wouldn't've caught Lupin's eye if that were the case, Ron's sure. And yet...HOW long did Lupin and Tonks know each other before they started seeing each other?

Ron sits next to her, tapping his foot. He's glad his wife's getting what she wants. And he's glad she's not doing any of this to him for real. But she sure stays in those visions for a while, and he's starting to miss the days of their love when sex was on the dinner menu more than five nights a week...

"How much longer," he asks, "will she have to have these induced hallucinations?"

The Couples' Counsellor only smiles. "As long as it takes for the urge to die, Master Weasley. A woman's heart is like a terrapin. You can race it, but you sure can't rush it."

"Okay. How long will it take for the urge to die, then?!"

The Couples' Counsellor only sighs, smiles, and rips meat off the child's baked thigh. The seasonings on that dark meat sure smell good...

In Hermione's lap, Crookshanks meows. He gives himself a bath while waiting for his maid to wake.

Alas, he's in no hurry. All around the hut, Kneazles, cats, and cat/Kneazle hybrids rest and wander the place. Some of them lick up the leftovers in the baking pans. But of course; hags are cat ladies by nature-or, Kneazle ladies, rather...

Ron stares at Crookshanks loathsomely. He still remembers when he held a grudge against him for allegedly having eaten Scabbers. Now "Scabbers" is dead; and yet, Ron perceives he's madder at Crookshanks than he is at a certain rat-becoming animagus...who owed his best friend a life debt, and paid it by killing himself so they could save Hermione and escape from Bellatrix... But for now, that cat's lucky Ron's in love with his...maid.

Ron sighs, and shakes his head. Sometimes he feels like he's married a Chinese Fireball...or the ex-Yule Ball date of an ex-fighter of one...