Tears spilled out of her eyes hot and fast – she felt as if all the stress of the past few months had been compacted into this one moment, and she felt as if she was cracking under the pressure. It had been three days since the last time Harry woke up. She had felt certain that she had pulled him back from the brink that time – her heart broke as she recalled Harry, confused and lost, not even knowing who he was. But since then…
Since then he hadn't stirred once. At first she gratefully took this as a sign of improvement; now he was sleeping peacefully. But when the first and second came and went, she was afraid that he would never wake up. Now, it was the end of the third day, and she felt as if she had lost all hope. Not only was Harry's fever still raging, his skin was deathly pale and cold to the touch. Her only comfort was that she could still feel his heart beating feebly when she pressed her hand against the scar on his chest.
She layed her head gently on Harry's side and whispered into his T-shirt, "Oh Ron…I wish you were still here…" Her eyes slid shut, and she fell asleep.