Sorry it's been so long! I'll kep this short and sweet.
Thank you to ReadingRobyn for being an amazing beta.
Everythng recognizable belongs to JK Rowling.

PleaseReview.
.:x:.

Ronald Weasley awoke to a start as someone flopped sloppily onto his bed and began to shake him. He rubbed his sleepy eyes and squinted into the bright light. He smiled lazily when he saw that it was Hermione who had woke him up. He reached for her, attempting to pull her down onto the bed with him. She shook her head, putting a hand on his bare chest and pushing him down.

"You're mean," he grumbled, crossing his arms like a pouting child.

Then Hermione turned to him and he sat right up. Her eyes were shining with tears and worry and she was shaking like a leaf in the autumn wind.

"What's wrong?" he asked more firmly as he pushed the blankets back and scooted over to her side.

She swallowed, breathing deeply and trying to calm herself down. "I think there's something wrong."

He furrowed his brow. "With what?"

She met his gaze, biting her lip before staring at her knees. "I think, no, I know there's something very, very wrong with your sister."

Ron ran a hand through his messy, red hair and frowned. "What's going on?"

"Ron," Hermione began in her unsteady voice. "What color are Ginny's eyes?"

"They're brown," he said irritably. "Why?"

"Ron, they turned grey. Her eyes turned grey while we were talking and she started sweating and getting all nervous. She's been losing weight, I thought maybe she just had a case of the flu or possibly a cold, but those wouldn't turn her eyes grey," she said in one whispered breath.

Ron placed a hand on her forehead. Hermione pulled away, slapping his hand in the process and jumped to her feet, her eyes flashing.

"I'm not sick," she snapped, her voice staying steady. "I'm not crazy either, you have to believe me. We have got to tell somebody."

Ron sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Hermione, she's sad. She misses Harry, she doesn't feel normal, and I think you just want to help her. But her eyes didn't change colors, that just doesn't happen."

"Yes it did!"

Ron ran a hand through his hair, trying to stay calm for his girlfriend. "All right, I guess it's possible. But even if it did happen, and I'm not saying it didn't, who would you tell? And what would you tell them?"

"I don't know, McGonagall for one! Or your mother, or hell, does it really matter? Ronald," She spurted out furiously. "We can't just sit here, we have to do something."

Ron shook his head and swung his legs over the bed and gave a sad smile. "I know you're worried but…"

Hermione glared at him and stomped towards the door, throwing her hands up in despair. "Fine. Don't believe me, I'm going to the library to figure this out and when I do…"

But Ron didn't hear her last words as she slammed the door behind her. He sighed, unsure of what to do. He really was worried about Ginny, but he didn't believe that something other than typical teenage angst could possibly be going on with her. He stood up, stretching his arms and hearing his shoulders pop. He walked over to the end of his bed and pulled a white T-shirt over his head and slipped into a pair of jeans that were lying on the floor. He looked outside at the Hogwarts grounds. The sun hadn't shown in weeks and off in the distance was the ever present dark mark, lingering up in the sky. He knew that war was approaching quickly and that there was nothing any of them could do to stop it.

But what if Hermione was right? His thoughts quickly swam back to his sister and her increasingly sad demeanor. He couldn't help but wonder. She wasn't wrong that often, and Hermione didn't really overreact in many situations and she wasn't known for blowing things out of proportion. If she thought there was something deeper going on with Ginny, could there be?
.:x:.
Hermione paged violently through the large, leather book that sat in front of her. She'd been in the library for almost two hours and had found nothing. According to most Magical Medicine references, physical transformations can only happen from spells and or potions. Unless a person was born with metamorphosis powers, there was no reasonable, documented, magical way a person could change their appearance at will. If the books she was reading were correct, there was no reason Ginny's appearance would be changing.

Hermione was stumped as to how Ginny's eyes had changed colors in a split second. If Ginny had metamorphosis powers, they would have been discovered at birth, not now. Transformation spells don't work unless the person casting the spell is looking directly in the persons eyes, and the spell must be said vocally. Hermione didn't cast one, and she definitely would have heard one. And transforming potions take minutes to work, not mere seconds. So Hermione was paging through newspaper articles, looking for anything that would give away Ginny's secret.

This was the first time in her memory that Hermione had felt helpless, especially in the library of all places. She didn't know what was wrong so she most certainly didn't know how to fix it. It was not only completely irritating it was a feeling Hermione didn't know if she could handle. She had only felt it once before, and that was in the battle at the Ministry of Magic, and she had hoped and prayed she would never feel it again. Yet here it was, as plain as day. There really was nothing she could do.

But Hermione refused to give up. She refused to step back and admit her inability to help. She kept paging through the newspapers, ignoring the tears of frustration gathering themselves in her eyes and trickling down her face. She wiped them away and turned page after page, reading the headlines, pleading for something remotely relevant.

And then her prayers were answered. A headline caught her eye. She brushed a tear away and glanced at the date, which was just a few weeks earlier. She read every word in the article and didn't feel as though she'd taken one breath. A young witch named Angela Christianson had shown similar symptoms, yet no other cases like hers were documented.

"Miss Christianson was institutionalized after an attempt to kill a young wizard that she had reportedly dated. Her hallucinations and transformations were induced and recorded for a period of three months until she committed suicide without warning one day," Hermione read out loud before slamming a fist on the book.

She had been hoping that there would be a way of contacting this Angela, now she was back at another dead end. Still, Hermione was not going to give up. She was not going to give in until she tried everything and until there was actually nothing more she could do.

Hermione stood, hoping her eyes weren't too puffy or too red. She made her way over to the door and hurried through it, bumping a pair of giggling second years but not pausing to apologize. Normally, she'd ask permission from Professor McGonagall before leaving the grounds, especially now that certain people could apparate from and to the grounds, no one could be trusted and she didn't want to be one of those that wasn't. She turned a corner into an empty hallway and closed her eyes.

Angela Christianson may have been American, but there was only one place for unknown medical cases in the magical world. And Hermione had a very strong feeling that Saint Mungo's would have at least a few more answers for her.

With a small pop Hermione appeared inside the lobby of the most famous magical hospital. The Welcome Witch glared at her, obviously irritated with the person she didn't know she'd have to greet. Hermione walked to the witch, breathing deeply and nervously tucking strands of hair behind her ears.

"Umm, hi," she began, smiling uneasily at the witch whose gaze suddenly softened.

"Can I help you?" The Welcome Witch said softly.

"Yeah," Hermione said with relief. "Where would I be able to look up information about a patient?"

The Welcome Witch's brow furrowed and her already pencil thin lips pursed together.

"I'm afraid that's not really possible," she began but Hermione cut her off.

"It's Angela Christianson, I need to know everything. I think the same thing is happening to my friend," Hermione said quickly.

The Witch's green eyes widened. "I'm sorry, I can't help you. Patients and their case studies are private. No one on staff would be allowed to discuss anything about this girl. If that is all…"

The Welcome Witch hurried over to another family and Hermione wanted to scream out of frustration. She trudged over the fountain, staring into the water and willing herself to hold the tears back. She felt a light touch on her shoulder and whirled around to see a brunette nurse with a timid gaze.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help but overhear," the nurse said in a soft voice. "I'm sorry, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Celia, Celia Cornwall. I think I might be able to help you."

Hermione sighed. "You're on staff, you can't help me. If you did know something about this Angela and you told me, you'd be fired."

Nurse Cornwall gave a small smile. "I'm not worried. If this is happening again, like you said it may be, it's my job to tell you what I know."