A/N: LOLs... SO I've changed this chapter. Let's just say my own love life, or end of one, was deeply clouding my judgement last time. Anyways, I'm sorry I let that get in the way of my plot. Looking back it was definitely OOC'ish, but at the time I felt like Ron was becoming Mary Sue-ish. I know it was stupid, so I've changed it... For those of you who've already read it. Scroll towards the end. I hope you enjoy!

It's a beautiful spring day at Hogwarts, almost perfect. Hermione's eyes are transfixed on the pristine lake, trickling ever so softly because of the merfolk below. The sky is a perfect blue, with the occasional cloud, bright and airy, floating by. The sun beats against her almost translucent skin, and the smell of flowers budding and a recent rainfall perfumes the air. But one thing ruins it for her-the birds. Their incessant chirping, which seems to fascinate Ginny and Neville, only functions as a bother to Hermione, a disruption of peace. However, her arguments opposing the creatures seem only to stir the group into controversy, and, unfortunately, everyone becomes her opposition.

"It's nature," they protest. She replies that not all nature is good. After all earthquakes, tsunamis, volcanoes, hurricanes and tornadoes aren't exactly considered enjoyable.

"Well, I find the chirping relaxing," Ron says matter-of-factly.

"You find barbaric games of wizard chest, relaxing," she snaps back.

"Lighten up," somebody says, but she can't discern who. Instead she rolls her eyes, head back down to the ground. Any argument she tries to voice for her position will be futile. She knows the feeling too well. She tries to redirect her focus on the clouds above. It's no surprise that they begin to bother her too.

She can almost hear the sideways glances, the cocked eyes and the what-is-wrong-with-her smirks. She tries not to care; she tries to pretend it doesn't matter to her. It does. Yes, she reasons, she's annoying but they'd been as well. Their never ending nags have been pulling on her last straws. 'Hermione, you can't see Malfoy.' 'Hermione, eat your potatoes.' 'Hermione, have you been exercising?' or 'Hermione, are you alright?' It has simply become too much.

But they can't know that. They'd send her back to St. Mungo's, and that can't happen. So she gives them the answers they long to hear. A simple "I'm all right, promise" is enough for the questioning to subside for hours. And, so, the lies and fake smiles become just as easy as they had before, her heart a closed door.

Sometimes she just wants to scream, cry and tell them that she's not alright and that her lying with a crooked smile doesn't mean she's okay. She's miserable. Every day she's gaining weight. Every day she's being stuffed with food. Every day she's getting better, and, yes, she does want to get better. Yet, still, there's a part of her that doesn't. She wants to be healthy, but also to be skinny. She wants to be happy with life, but also with her weight. She wants the disorder to be controlled, but also control of what she eats. There are two opposing forces battling out in her brain, and lately the one telling her to starve has been winning.

"You alright Hermione?" Ginny asks.

"Yeah," she lies, "If those birds would shut up."

Everybody giggles. It's not funny. Her unhappiness should be painfully clear. Somebody should realize she's relapsing. She can't help but skipping a meal or puking one up once in a while. She thinks somebody should figure it out, and she doesn't know they already have. They've lectured her plenty, sat her down for lectures. But she just wants one person to ask her how she's feeling, to realize she's not alright. She'd lie and say she was fine, but she wants somebody to figure out that she's lying.

"Cut, the crap," Ron says just on cue, and is responded with a quick slap from his younger sister, "What are you actually miffed at? I know this has nothing to do with the birds."

"I'm miffed at the birds," she says, "That's all there is to it."

Nobody says anything more; they're all afraid too. They're afraid of being a little too confrontational and, in response, her ignoring them for weeks. They worry about her being left to her own devices. At least this way they can monitor her, make sure she's staying on track.

"So how's everybody doing with their amigi?" Ginny asks.

Her face flattens. Perhaps, it's ironic that she despised that class, abhorred the professor, but she still misses it terribly. She keeps picturing herself transfiguring into a dolphin, swimming in the deep blue, playing in the water as it caresses her skin. She had always loved the water, the freedom one could get from floating atop its marbled top. She wants to be an amigus too. She wonders at the adventures she will miss out on, Harry and Ron running off, leaving her with no amigus to turn into.

"Absolutely splendid," Ron says sarcastically, "I feel adequately prepared to turn into my amigus during N.E.W.T.S. When the only transfiguration that takes place is a coat of red fur, a pointy nose and some freaky looking teeth."

Everybody laughs then, and she can hear Harry slap Ron's back. "At least you've figured out your Halloween costume for next year, mate."

"Yeah," Neville smiles, "And it's a lot better than anybody else has gotten."

She lets a loud sigh out of faux frustration with the conversation.

"You're smart to have dropped that class, Hermione," Hannah says, "It's become absolutely dreadful!"

"I didn't have a choice," she says, and an awkward pause overtakes the group. Her attention turns to the awful bird chirping.

That's when Neville speaks up, "I'm kind of hungry. We should go get lunch."

And then, as if it were perfectly coordinated, all eyes snap towards Hermione. It frustrates her sometimes that nobody ever bugs Hannah about eating. She goes along merrily, without any resistance. Perfect little Hannah goes to therapy, eats her meals, and smiles all day long. It's not fair that she gets to have a relationship to Neville, but relationships for Hermione are "prohibited".

"Hermione?" Harry prods, "Are you coming?"

She takes a deep breath, and shuts her eyes. "I'll go later. 10 minutes, I swear. I'm just enjoying this."

She knows it must sound ridiculous, her complaining and then suddenly deciding to stay.

"But-," She hears the sound muffled out. They must have gotten tired of her overwhelming antics.

"I'll wait with you," Ron says, as everybody else stands up to leave. A sigh of relief is overheard because they don't have to make a huge protest. Ron is handling the crazy friend, and that is all they need to know.

"Fine," her lips mutter.

When the whole group leaves it gets quiet, eerily so. And the chirps seem to increase with every passing second. She knows she shouldn't be so focused on their so called 'music', but her tolerance has seemed to dissipate in the passing weeks. The constant jabs at who she can and cannot see, namely Draco Malfoy, has tested her last straw. It has become evident, that all independence and control of her life which she had once possessed has been lost over the course of her treatment. Her consumption of food, her activities, her classes, her daily life, her friendships, her relationships, and even, at times, her wardrobe had all been taken out of her hands.

"I'm a big girl," she says to Ron, "You can go. I don't need you to sit here and babysit me."

"I know, but it's kind of nice out."

"Even with them?" she motions to the birds above, causing Ron to laugh.

She takes a deep breath, the clean air filling her lungs and the smell of spring fresh in her nose. "Hermione, if you could do anything at all, what would you do?"

"I don't know," she says, "Go back in time, perhaps. Warn everybody about the war, get Harry to destroy the Horcruxes before Voldemort's return to power."

"Couldn't you do that?" Ron quirks his head, "Couldn't you use your time turner? Why hasn't anyone done that?"

"You can't just change history, Ron. That's dangerous. Things happen for a reason. People who were supposed to die would be alive, and, more importantly, people who were supposed to be alive… might not be. Not to mention the consequences, there are reasons people don't mess with time, Ron. It's the unknown."

"But isn't the risk worth it? To save a life, to fix a mistake."

"Not at the expense, the unknown. Ronald, does this have anything to do with your plan to save Sirius?"

"No… Yes… I'm just having a difficult time deciding if it's even the right thing to do."

"It's dangerous, Ron. Messing with death… Sirius wouldn't be happy. He wouldn't have liked it."

"You don't have to remind me of that 'Mione," he says. She sees his gaze wondering off into the distance. Mouth entranced into a bewitched frown. "But Harry's set on it."

"Anyways," he pulls back into his old self, "How are things?"

"Great."

"No, really 'Mione, how are you?"

"Fine, I've been eating my meals. Getting better, if that's what you want to know."

He looks dubious, like he recognizes her lie, and he probably does. However, instead of giving her a 45 minute lecture on how important she is and the necessities of eating, he just shakes his head. "I'm not asking about that, Hermione. I just want to know what's been happening in your life."

She smiles at that, because it's nice to have him care about her sans the anorexia. "Nothing much, Ron. It's been boring, I suppose."

"What about Malfoy? You haven't been seeing that bloke?"

"Are you kidding?" She says, almost with a smile, "After what you've done to him, he practically runs away every time I as much as look at him. He's afraid of what you'll do next."

"Good," Ron smiles.

"Yeah, well don't think you can go out with anyone without my approval, now," Hermione smiles, "You've dug yourself into a deep hole Ron Weasley."

For a moment they are fine, and then they are not.

"Hermione, we should really go to lunch, now."

"I'm not hungry, Ron. You can go without me."

But he didn't move, instead he looked at her ever so intently with a sad look plastered across his face.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron runs his hands through his hair, obviously uncomfortable, "I haven't been saying anything because I know you need your space, but you can't keep doing this. You can't skip meals."

"I haven't been skipping meals," Hermione's heart races.

"Oh yes you have," he says, "And it bothers me."

"Whatever," She rolls her eyes, "I don't care."

He gazes at her, a storm of emotions cluttering up his vision. "I thought you wanted to get better. We all did."

Her heart sinks a little. Her jaw tightens, and for a moment she feels nothing but shame. She has disappointed everyone, and it breaks her heart. She had promised to get better, wanted to even. But the anorexia had gotten a hold of her again, and she was faced with the truth. The thing she had once feared more than anything was in her face, again. She had failed. "I'm so sorry," she manages to squeeze out; " I want to get better. I do. I've really been trying."

"I know," he says, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I know. I shouldn't have said that."

"I just don't know what to do," she begins to cry. She's breaking down in front of him, and it should embarass her. However, she's used to being a mess, used to this vulnerability. "It's like I have a thousand feelings, a thousand voices in my head constantly battling for my attention. I want to get better, honestly I do, but I still don't want to get fat."

"I thought you've gotten over that?" he says, "Being afraid of getting fat."

She shakes her head 'no'. "It's not that I'm not better. I am, just not all the way. I'm not great. To be honest, I still want to be thin. I still have emotionsthat I can't completely control."

"Don't try to control them," Ron says, "Trying to control them is what got us here in the first place. You just have to deal with them."

"But how do I deal with loving you Ron?" she says, "Because it's killing me, Ron. You're all I want."

"Hermione," he whispers, "I-"

"Shh…" she says, pressing her finger on his lips, "I just want to know how."

And the birds are chirping more than ever before, but Hermione doesn't notice them at all. All she hears is Ron's breath approaching her as they lean in ever so close. She feels her lips tingle, her body shiver with excitement, as he begins to kiss her. They pull apart, and then she leans forward, only to be met with nothing.

She opens her eyes to see that Ron has pulled away. "Hermione, I'm sorry," his face is flushed as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders, "I shouldn't have done that."

"No," she says, her voice delicate and soft, "It was perfect, Ron. It's like you said we can't control our feelings."

His body stiffens, "Hermione, we can't see each other."

"Because of what the healers said? Ron, it hurts me more being away from you. I need you."

He tightens up, "'Mione. You know I care about you, but we can't."

"Why not?"

"Hermione, don't do this. You know the reasons."

"No, I don't! For all I know while you were yelling at me about developing a relationship with Draco, you were starting your own relationship with some stupid tramp?"

"Hermione..." he says, a stern worry ever present, "Calm down. You know that's not true."

"Yeah…" Hermione nods her head, bitterness in her eyes, "And the whole time you were telling me that the only reason we weren't together was because of what the healers had said. Why don't you just admit it was simply a convenient excuse so you didn't have to tell me that I just wasn't good enough for you anymore."

"Hermione. You're perfect. I love you, but this is crazy. I don't want to be the reason for your misery!"

"Right…" her cynical smile almost frightens him, and she can see it in his eyes, "the whole 'it's not you, it's me' line. Spare me the lies, Ron. You at least owe me that much. Who is she?"

"Hermione…" he says, "you're being ridiculous

"No," her aggressive tone throws him back, "Tell me. Because I want to get to yell at you for some skanky bitch, just the way you did to me about Draco."

"Hermione…"

"I bet she's stupid, right? Some dumb whore that has nothing but her make-up'd face and $100 hair hair cut. Was she easy for you Ron. She must be really great in the sack for you to be exclusive after a couple of weeks. You know-"

"You're acting insane," he cuts her off. Insane... Insane... Insane... She is insane. And the word stings like the ointment her parents used to put on her scraped knees. It's enough to make her dizzy, very dizzy. The kind of dizzy that would make her pass out. But she knows she won't. She's stronger than that, right? But the confrontation is making everything blurry, or maybe it's the lack of food. No, it's the confrontation- Ron's indiscretions.

"I'm not insane, tell me who it is!" she's choking on tears.

"You're right. I'm so sorry, Hermione. It's just that Luna and I, we have something special."

"Luna?" her body freezes, and her eyes look she's about to cry, "Lovegood?"

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he says, "It's just we have a connection, and she's the first girl- the first girl I've felt anything for since you. But neither of us wants to hurt you Hermione. We care about you so much. So if you don't want us to go out, you just say the word. We'll end it right away, Hermione. I promise."

Her head isringing. All she can think is'Luna?', 'Luna and Ron?' and it hurts. She adores Luna, but she loves Ron. And how tempting it is to say she can't condone the relationship. Her selfish desires beg for her to protest. After all, her and Ron are meant to be. Besides, Ron is the one who'd always been so critical of Luna. But she can't do it, can't be so pathetic. Besides how can she protest Luna, criticize her as Ron has done to Malfoy? So Hermione knows she'll fake a smile and pretend she's fine. She must save face.

"Hermione," he grabs back her attention, "What do you think?"

She blinks for a second, still startled with fake enthusiasm, "I think its great Ron. Luna's a nice girl."

And Luna was a nice girl, but now Hermione wants nothing more than to spit in her face and curse her and all of those stupid mythical magical creatures she loves so dearly.

Ron smiles at her, it's a genuine smile. "Thanks, Hermione."

"No problem," she smiles back at him, but it's as fake as ever. "But Ron, could you just do me one favor?"

"Anything, 'Mione?"

"Will you give me some space?"

"Sure, I'll see you after lunch. Just make sure to eat something, okay?"

Hermione shuts her eyes, tears being held back as tightly as she can, "You don't understand, Ron. I just don't think I can be around you much. It's not healthy, for me. I'm letting go, and you need to do the same for me."

"Hermione?" He gives her a look.

"Please go," she breaks out into a tear, "I just want you to go."

And he does, just as the pretty, calm world around her collapses. The clouds begin to cover the sun, and a branch falls into the lake, making a huge splash. But she doesn't pay attention to those things, instead the birds are chirping, ever so slightly. Her face turns red, and there are tears in her eyes, and she just wants to be alone.

But they just keep going. And the voices in her head keep whispering about how Ron wouldn't date Luna, if Hermione hadn't gotten so fat. They keep telling her she's a failure. They keep telling her that nobody likes her. Her logic and emotions are ripping each other apart. And there are so many thoughts, swooning around in her head, and she doesn't know what to do. And the birds keep chirping. Chirp. Chirp. Chirp.

It's too much for her to bear, so when she believes nobody is in ear-range she yells "SHUT UP!"

"Hermione! Hermione! Hermione!" she feels Ron shaking her shoulders, "Get up!"

Her eyes groggily open, unsure of what has happened, and yet fully aware. Still anger wells up inside of her.

"When was the last time you've eaten?"