Some dialogue here from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I don't own it, just borrowing it, because it's fun to see into the mind of an anguished Ron!

Ron was going slowly insane. The screams were coming in waves, each one beginning at the end of the one before. The sound filled his skull, drumming out his awareness of anything else. He was certain he'd been sent to his own version of hell, in which Hermione screamed for her life and he could do nothing to stop it.

"It isn't real! It's a copy!"

The last shout was followed by a shrill scream of pain. Hermione's voice, rife with fear and hurt, was like a living, throbbing thing. Ron could actually feel it, the sounds entering through his chest until each scream beat with his heart, creating a violent pulse that Ron could hear in his ears.

It took a while for Ron to realize it wasn't only Hermione's screams he was hearing; it was his own as well. He wailed at nothing as he pounded his fists against hard brick, desperate to find any weakness in the stone. He took to scraping at the walls with his fingernails, as if he might scratch the bricks into nonexistence.

"Crucio!"

Ron heard the curse shouted and it made his veins turn to ice. A violent scream erupted, the unmistakable sound of Hermione's voice becoming twisted in pain once more.

"Hermione!" Ron pounded the brick anew, his fists smacking the walls with such force the sound reverberated off the stones. Feeling for his wand he realized he had lost it somehow and took to trying to disapparate anyway. Destination, determination…how did that ruddy saying go? Hermione would know. Oh God, Hermione.

"HERMIONE!"

His only answer was Hermione's continued screams of pain as her torture continued. What if I don't find her? What if I can't get to her in time?

"HERMIONE!"

This must be what death feels like, this ultimate despair. It was like a world filled with dementors and Ron could see no hope, no light at the end of the tunnel.

A tunnel…why did that sound so familiar to him? What had he been doing before this, how had they gotten here?

Suddenly, Ron could hear a faint voice, as if coming from far, far away.

"Ron, it isn't real! Remember the boggart!"

Boggarts. The word made him start. He knew if he was to face a boggart again, it would feel something like this.

"You're imagining it Ron! It isn't real!"

That voice sounded familiar. Could it be…Harry? Ron struggled to put the pieces together as Hermione's howl of pain filled his eardrums again. Ron couldn't concentrate on anything else. He screamed in frustration, his anguished cry so loud it drowned out the screams of Hermione and the phantom voice still calling out to him from far away.

"Fight it Ron! It's a boggart!"

Harry was saying something to him and the tone of his friend's voice told Ron it was important. Maybe Harry had found a way to get to Hermione. He turned his head hopefully toward the voice, wiping tears from his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

"It's a boggart Ron!"

Boggarts. Harry was saying something about boggarts. Ron was in hell and Harry was talking about boggarts. Could it be…maybe…he was facing a boggart right now?

"It isn't real, Ron!"

"Please! We didn't take it! It's a fake!"

The screams were overlapping and Ron shoved his hands over his ears, trying to think straight. If he was facing a boggart, wouldn't he know it? He made to move toward Harry's voice, tripping as he walked but still stumbling forward. As he moved he felt something shift and suddenly Hermione's screaming stopped. Ron collapsed to the floor in relief, his breaths coming in shallow bursts.

"Oh, thank Merlin," Ron groaned on the floor.

"Get up, you pathetic waste."

Ron looked up from the floor to see Hermione standing over him. She looked beautiful and vibrant, but there was a scowl on her face as she sneered at him.

"Hermione, thank goodness," Ron said, scrambling to his feet. He fell forward in his haste and Hermione let out a laugh at the sight.

"What are you doing here?"

"I-I came for you," Ron stuttered. He couldn't remember exactly why he was here, he just knew it was important he get to her. "I've come to help you."

"And how exactly are you going to help me?" Hermione jeered. "You can't even cast a spell without it blowing up in your face. You're the last person on Earth I would want to help me."

"Wh-what?'

"Wh-what?" Hermione mocked. "I said, I don't want you here. Why couldn't you send someone better? Someone braver or stronger. Or at least someone with some brains!"

"I'm sorry Hermione," Ron replied meekly, shocked at what he was hearing. "I c-can get someone better."

Ron scrambled to come up with something that would please her, something to get that horrible sneer off her face. He couldn't stand her looking at him like that.

"Maybe Harry?" Ron offered up finally. Harry could fix this, he could fix anything. Harry was…shouting at him. Harry was shouting, somewhere in the distance. About something important, why couldn't Ron make it out?

"Keep moving! It isn't real, it's a boggart!"

A boggart. That was it. He had just left the horror of Hermione's screams, relived Malfoy Manor, and it still had him in its grips. Looking at Hermione, her eyes cold and unfeeling, Ron realized he was talking to a boggart.

Steeling himself, he walked forward a few steps, the phantom Hermione following beside him.

"Running away again? Of course you are. That's all you're good at, leaving when things get difficult."

Ron closed his eyes for a brief second. It was no use, hearing her was just as bad as seeing her. He moved a few more feet.

"Why don't you run home to Mummy, Ron? Just like you left us in the forest, left us for dead. Not like we cared. We were happy with you gone, had a party every night to celebrate it!"

Ron walked, looking straight ahead, as silent tears fell from his eyes.

"You're useless and stupid, a lazy excuse for a man! Every time you're near me I pray you'll leave, pray for someone else, anyone is better than you!"

It's not real, it's not true, Ron repeated to himself as he kept walking. But isn't it, though, a tiny part of himself asked. Didn't he already think Hermione would be better off without him? Ron let a sob out, his heart and his chest constricting painfully.

"You're not real," he said out loud, his voice shaking with uncertainty.

"Are you sure about that, Ronald?" Hermione asked with a cruel laugh.

No, he wasn't sure of anything. But at least this vision of Hermione seemed alive and safe, even if she was bruising him with each of her words. He would keep walking and she could keep talking and at the end of it would be Harry, and he could help Ron make sense of it all.

"Your family is a joke," Hermione continued. "All of you living on top of each other like that, in a hovel! Why doesn't your father get a real job? At least then he could afford to dress his children. Honestly, have you ever looked at yourself in a mirror? What woman would want to be seen with you in public?"

"S'not real, it's not real," Ron mumbled to himself as he walked. His shoulders stooped and his hands covered his face as he moved on. The words hit him like a knife, but at least she wasn't in pain…she wasn't hurt.

Then, the screams began again. The shrieks, so similar to before, filled the space between him and this Hermione, who continued to follow him. It was Hermione screaming, though the sound didn't come from the image beside him. The screams were shrill, painful, echoing in his brain, as the sounds of her torture gained volume.

"Take these traitors down to the cellar. All except…except for the Mudblood."

Ron slammed his hands over his ears to block the voices, but it was no use. It was as if the sounds were coming from inside him.

"Reckon she'll let me have a bit of the girl when she's finished with her?" Ron screamed in protest, the noise a mix between a sob and a growl. "I'd say I'll get a bite or two, wouldn't you, ginger?"

"We found it-we found it-PLEASE!"

Hermione was screaming, begging for her life. In his mind's eye, Ron could almost see her writhing in agony before him.

"What woman would take you?" The figure beside him spoke over the screams, taunting him as he made every effort to keep his feet moving.

"Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!"

Bellatrix was shouting, her evil voice mixing with Hermione's in a horrible symphony. The words and screams and insults overlapped and Ron felt as if he was drowning in a sea of voices, each sound a different stab to his body.

"Rack your brains, Ron, that should only take a couple of seconds…"

"You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it…"

"…make sure we're not visited by anyone else we don't want to see…"

"Drop your wands, drop them or we'll see exactly how filthy her blood is…"

"Who could look at you, who could ever look at you?"

A scream erupted from Ron, the anguish, terror and fury building to a yell so fierce it physically moved him, propelling him forward until his feet were no longer moving, no longer on the ground, and Ron was flying, falling, anything to end this pain.

Strong arms caught him and steadied him. Hands gripped him by the shoulders, holding him upright as Ron's legs gave out. Someone lowered him slowly to the ground so that he was resting on his knees. His head fell on its own as waves of sobs left him, shudders of pain as he tried to catch his breath. Oxygen refused to give way and the crying turned into gasps as he tried to control his body.

"You did it, it's over."

Someone was talking to him. He looked up to see it was Harry propping him up. Upon seeing the friendly face, Ron let his body sag fully, using his mate as a brace to keep from falling flat on the floor.

"Hermione, Hermione," Ron gasped. It was the only word he seemed able to form. Harry clutched more tightly to his shoulders, trying to convey something to his friend. Ron felt the strength of Harry's grasp and it filled him with new energy, as if Harry has physically given him some of his own courage back. Lifting his head again, Ron spoke at last.

"That was effing horrible," he said miserably.

Harry nodded, letting Ron know without words that he understood. The two friends, who could so easily communicate without language, stared evenly at each other for a long moment. Then, Harry stood, pulling Ron up with him as he went. The fight wasn't over.

"You okay Ron?" Neville asked tentatively. It was only then Ron remembered the presence of other people. Neville and Roberto were there, the lot of them standing at the end of that horrific tunnel. Yet another door waited behind them.

"M'okay, thanks," Ron responded, looking back to Harry. "What'd you see?"

Harry paused for a moment, as if not ready to relive it. Then, with a sigh, he spoke.

"It was all of you…Ginny, you and Hermione, my parents and Sirius and even Snape. You all were dying and I couldn't get to you in time."

Ron set his face in stone, thinking not for the first time that they all seriously needed to look into counseling for his friend.

"It's time," Roberto said then, obviously ready to move on. The door was pulled open and Ron, still standing on shaky legs, walked forward. Somehow he could sense that, however awful that experience had just been, the worst was still to come.