I'm feeling a little dizzy, a bit shaky too. I haven't had anything to eat since Tuesday night and it's now Sunday. It's a pretty decent fast, if you ask me. I am so exhausted! It's only afternoon, though, and I don't want to go to sleep in case I sleep for a very long time and can't sleep tonight and end up even more tired tomorrow. I'll do my homework after. I didn't get a very good sleep last night, what with Malfoy not coming back until the early hours of the morning. It took me forever to get to sleep, then the doors banged and I woke up and have only had a few hours of sleep. I could kill him for that. I wish he would stop going to all those stupid parties, otherwise I'll never be able to get a full night of sleep.

A loud crash startled Hermione and she looked up to see a familiar red head amongst a pile of books at the other side of the table she was seated at. She snapped her journal shut and slid it into her bag before going over to her friend.

"Are you alright there, Ron?" she asked him, holding a hand out to pull him up.

He grunted and ignored her hand, pushing himself up off the floor. He kept his eyes trained on the floor, not even looking up when Madame Pince came over.

"Quiet! This is a library!" she stage-whispered. "I'll throw you out next time. And clean up that mess you've made."

Hermione started to pick up the books that had fallen from where they had been precariously stacked to the ground when Ron had bumped into her desk. Once they'd all been returned, she looked at Ron. He still refused to meet her eyes, but she could tell from the grey under his own that he hadn't had a good sleep for a while.

"Ron, what's the matter?" She paused, waiting for an answer, but he didn't say anything. "You know that you can talk to me about anything, don't you, Ron? I'm here for you. Always will be."

Ron peaked out from underneath his hair up at Hermione. She could see his bloodshot eyes and red face, as though he's been crying for a very long time.

"Let me just pack up, then we'll go somewhere and have a talk," Hermione said, already sweeping her belongings into her bag.

Ron stood around awkwardly as he waited for her to return most of her books, not offering to help.

The two walked through the castle and out onto the grounds, Hermione laden with the books she had decided were necessary for her school work. She constantly glanced up at Ron, trying to read his expression but all she got from it was that he was tired and sad, and he made no move to initiate the conversation.

They'd reached the edge of the grounds and were turning to head towards the quidditch pitch before a word was spoken between the two.

"I don't know what to do anymore," Ron mumbled.

Hermione stopped walking to gather her best friend into a hug.

"I'm sorry, Ron," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I'm sorry that he's gone and I'm sorry that I don't know how to make you feel better." A tear slid down her cheek and onto Ron's shoulder. "What can I do to help you? Because that's what I want to do. I will do anything, absolutely anything to make you feel better, Ron, because I can't stand seeing you like this."

She felt Ron loosen his hold on her and she pulled away but gripped his shoulders, keeping him close.

"I don't know, Hermione," he said after a long pause.

"I can tell you this. No one would ever wish for someone to still be mourning their death for so long. Anyone with a good heart would hope that their friends and family would be able to move on after a little while, just not forget them completely. They would want them to be happy, Ron! Please, just remember the happy moments."

Hermione tried to look into his eyes, but he turned away from her.

"Is there someone that you could talk to that would be able to make it better? In the muggle world there are people that we go to if we're having problems, and they're trained to help us feel better."

"Really?"

Hermione nodded eagerly. "Yes, really. Would you go to one of them? Or a wizard equivalent?"

Ron bit his lip and she could see him deliberating between talking over his problems with a stranger and staying in the dark place he had found himself ever since Fred's death.

"Where are these people?" he asked her.

"Well, I'm not sure, but there's probably some in St. Mung-" She stopped talking at Ron's wide eyes.

"Healers? I've never heard of healers that just talk to people to make them better. I don't want to talk to a healer. I don't want to go to St. Mungo either. I hate that place."

Ron shrugged off her grip on his shoulders and turned to leave.

"But, Ron-" she tried to say.

Ron turned his head to look at her for a moment. "It's ok, Hermione. It doesn't matter."

"Ron, they're not really doctors, or healers! They're just-" She cut herself off with a growl of frustration when he had moved out of earshot.

She swung her bag onto her other shoulder and slowly made her way up to her room, hoping that Malfoy had some other business, because she definitely could not deal with depressed Ron and nosey Malfoy all in one afternoon.

Just as she was about to murmur the password to the painting of the chipmunk, she heard a slight noise behind. Someone was talking and it most definitely was not a boy. Pansy Parkinson, with her unmistakable high-pitched voice, yelled out, "Why are you doing this?" Then, leaving no time to answer, she went on. "What good will come out of this, Draco?"

Hermione heard Malfoy sigh then say calmly, "I'm not doing anything to you. I just want you to know that I have no desire to be with you. We weren't ever really going out so I don't see what the big deal is. And before you even ask, I'm not going after someone else. Have you seen the people at this school?"

There was a slight pause and Hermione pressed her ear up to the wall next to the painting so as not to bother the chipmunk.

"You'll pay for this, Malfoy." She sniffled, then laughed darkly. "Oh, you'll pay."

Footsteps came closer to where Hermione was standing and Hermione ran down the hall a bit and then turned so it'd look as though she'd just gotten there. The painting slammed opened and into the wall. Parkinson made sure to knock Hermione roughly in the shoulder as she passed her. Hermione regained her balance and glared at her but decided to leave it. Parkinson was double the size of Hermione and would surely pummel her to the ground.

Hermione walked into the common room to find Malfoy sitting on the lounge with his head in his hands. Her kind, forgiving side felt the need to comfort him but her intelligent side knew that it was a bad idea, as she'd have to admit to eavesdropping, and that was something that a Head Girl should most definitely not be doing, so she left him in peace.

Up in her room, Hermione opened her books but couldn't concentrate on her work with her and Ron's conversation playing through her head like a broken record, so she turned up her radio and lay on her bed. Before the first song had even finished she was asleep.

Hermione shivered then woke. She was still in her jeans and jacket from Sunday. The clock beside her bed told her that it was twenty past twelve. She undressed then decided to take a shower to warm up. After staying in there for an hour, she climbed out and hurriedly dressed in her warmest track pants, shirt and jumper. She pulled on a pair of fluffy blue socks and crawled back into bed, covering herself in several blankets.

Every time she was nearly asleep a noise jolted her into awareness. Not being able to stand the constant awakening she grabbed the book on her bedside table and went to sit in front of the fire. After going through a chapter of Life as a Muggle and not remembering any of it, she went into the kitchen to warm up some soup. A minute and a half later she sat back near the fire, clutching her soup with shaking hands. She pulled her track pants over her feet and curled into a ball. The fire, flickering in front of her, warmed Hermione's face. She lifted the mug to her lips, entertaining the thought of its contents scalding her tongue and throat. She stayed in that position, mug to lips, eyes staring into the pits of the fire until a sliver of light peeped in through the window overlooking the Forest. Hermione knew it would look suspicious if she was caught downstairs at this time of morning so went to pour out her cold soup and get dressed, grabbing her abandoned book on the way.

The morning's classes went by in a blur and before she knew it, it was lunch time and she was sitting next to harry in the Great Hall.

Stomach rumbling and eyes drooping, Hermione folded her arms and rested her head in them. The sounds of Ginny, Harry and Seamus chatting faded as sleep took over.

"Hermione, wake up!" a voice called through the haziness of her dream. "Hermione!" the voice called again.

Hermione groaned and lifted her head off her arms to see the alarmed faces of her friends starring at her. She rubbed her eyes before grasping what had happened.

"I can't believe I fell asleep at the table," she said, stifling a yawn.

Ginny laughed, trying to ease the tension. Maybe you should lay off the late night studying."

Harry shot Hermione a look of concern.

"Oh, calm down, Harry. Ginny's right, I just have to get more sleep. There's nothing wrong with me, honestly." She gave Harry's arm a little whack for good measure.

"Well, if you say so," he responded after a moment, "here, have some chicken.' He pushed the platter over to Hermione but she just stared at it.

"I-I just remembered, I have to finish off an essay. I've got to go to the library.' She jumped up and grabbed her book bag. "Bye!"

As she walked away from the table she heard Ginny call out to her. "You haven't eaten any lunch, though!"

Hermione ignored her and made her way to the safety of the library. It was deserted except for Madame Pince who was waving her wand a stacks of books so they'd put themselves away.

"Don't you bring your sticky fingers in here, Miss Granger."

Hermione looked at her hands. "It's okay, they're clean." She spread her hands.

Madame Pince huffed and went back to putting away books.

Hermione found herself a seat where the warmth of the sun streamed through then windows. The plush blue chair was hidden behind a bookshelf in the very back of the library. She curled up in the chair and closed her eyes, relishing the warmth on what would usually be a cold, windy day. The urge to get up and find something to eat or drink was nearly unbearable, but she didn't have the energy. A nearly sleepless night and next to no calories in her system where taking their toll. A wave of dizziness and nausea flooded her body. She tilted her head back and stretched out, wishing away the horrible feelings.

The trilling of the school bell forced Hermione to open her eyes. Glancing up at the clock, she realised that she'd missed her free period. Doing her best to ignore the protests of her body, she stood up and made her way to Herbology. Despite the fact that she'd been walking slowly, she managed to be the first person there. Closing her eyes, she rested against a wall for a few minutes. When she opened her eyes the rest of the class had gathered and Professor Sprout let them into the greenhouse.

By the end of the day Hermione had been given 3 chapters to read, 2 lots of questions to be answered and two essays, all to be completed before the week was finished. She'd been hoping to go and visit her friends in the Gryffindor tower before dinner but she knew she'd have to get started on her homework sooner rather than later, so she walked past the familiar staircase and made her way to her own common room. She set herself up in front of the fire, which, she realised, was becoming traditional.

"Granger," said a voice from behind her.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Mm?" She kept working through Sprout's essay.

"Since you're better and everything, I think you should take up your part as head Girl."

Hermione placed her quill in the ink pot and turned around, trying to keep calm.

"Are you saying, Malfoy, that I'm not doing my job?"

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. He leaned against the kitchen doorway. "No, I'm just saying that you haven't patrolled the halls. I've organised people to take your previous duties but I think you can manage tonight."

"Whatever." She turned back to her essay. She hadn't completely forgiven Malfoy for letting Death Eaters into the school the previous year, even if he had been threatened. They'd hurt and killed people that she cared about.

Hermione focused on her parchment. Her head swam and she had to force her upper body to stop swaying. There was no way she could make it two or three hours of patrolling halls and ushering the first years, who, even a month in, were still extremely excited to be at Hogwarts, to their common rooms.

Slowly, Hermione walked over to the kitchen. She inspected the cupboards and fridge. Her best options were apples, grapes or carrots. She was about to take a carrot when she remembered that she had to go down to dinner and also had to eat something there. She shut the fridge door and instead got herself a glass of tap water. After sculling a second glass she placed it in the sink and headed down to dinner, ignoring the homework she'd left out.

As she'd left about a half hour before dinner started, she found a secluded staircase and sat, head in hands. Horrible hunger pains shot through her stomach. She needed food, and soon.

The noise of students going to the Hall got Hermione up off the stairs and walking towards the main object in her mind. Food. Clusters of people walked through the castle chatting loudly, hurting Hermione's head. As she got closer to the hall, the noise got louder and her headache became more painful. She rested against a wall around the corner from her dinner. A few people shot her glances but most walked by without noticing her. She kept her head down, hoping no one would approach her. Her luck held out.

When she was sure that everyone had left the halls, she sank lower down the wall onto a little ledge. Frustrated with herself self for not being able to go to dinner, annoyed that she'd drawn attention to herself for it and hurting, tears sprung to her eyes. She slipped off the ledge and onto the floor, one hand clutching her head, the other her stomach. Hermione didn't look up as footsteps approached. They paused.

"I'll get someone else to take your shift."

Malfoy left before Hermione could thank him.

Hermione lay in her bed wrapped up in her warmest blankets, yet she couldn't stop shaking. She knew that all she needed to do was to go down to the kitchen and grab something to eat or drink that contained calories, but she couldn't. It wasn't because she'd used her last bit of energy to get into warm clothes but because it frightened her, even though she didn't know why.

Meal times on Tuesday were a disaster. She couldn't make herself go down to the Hall. She didn't leave for Potions until the last minute saying that she'd slept in and spent lunch in the library in her knew favourite spot supposedly researching information for a made up Ancient Runes report. At dinner she stayed in her room curled up under the covers promising herself that she'd actually try to go to all of her meals on Wednesday.