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Above her, the light slowly began to buzz back into her eyes. She blinked several times, to ready her eyes for the candles that hung overhead. As soon as she had done so, she wished she was asleep again. The pain was unbearable, from her head to her toes, that was all she felt. She attempted to move, but it was difficult. It was as if the messeges in her brain weren't being sent to her body. And in a moment of pure terror, she thought she was paralyzed.

But her head snapped to the right, as she had wanted to do. It seemed that the messeges in her mind weren't being sent as quickly as they should be. The only problem was she didn't know where she was or what had happened. To her right, she saw beds, with white linen, lined up one after the next. The hospital wing, she recognized.

She tried to turn to her other side. It was quicker this time, and it wasn't as sudden. She was expecting it. She smiled at what she saw. That she could do quickly, smile. Be happy, happy to be alive. Ron, or rather, half of Ron, sat, dozed off in a chair. Inevitably, the invisibilty cloak he had been wearing so that Madam Pomfrey would not see his late night visits. It lay, hiding his shoulder and his legs, so that only one arm and his head were visible.

"Ron, Ron, wake up," she whispered. Her voice was soft and feeble. She continued to say his name, each time consistantly stronger and louder than the last, until finally, she had shaken him awake.

"Hermione, you're awake," he said, each breath he took soaked with relief. He stood up and kissed her forehead.

"What happened to me," she mumbled, barely able to say the words.

"I was hoping you could tell me. Madame Pomfrey doesn't really know. But she found enough doxy poison in you to kill you. It was strange, when I found you lying on the floor in your room, there weren't even any doxies in the room. She said that if you had gotten here a moment later, you would have been.."

He couldn't finish the words. He couldn't wrap his mind around the concept. "But you're alive, you're okay!" He shouted with gaiety. He bent down and hugged her. But he didn't feel her arms around him, something he'd been longing for so long. "Why aren't you hugging me back."

"Because my arms won't move."

"Oh yeah, minor paralysis is a side effect of doxy poisoning. But that should wear off. But you'll have to take a potion for a while after you leave the hospital wing, to ensure that none of the paralysis is permanent."

"How did you know all that?" Hermione whispered in awe.

"I spent an entire week in the library, looking for any information that could help you. Madame Pomfrey was just annoyed though, she knew what to do without my help," Ron said, turning rather red.

"An entire week?!? How long have I been unconscious for?" Hermione moaned, somewhat surprised.

"Nearly a month."

* * *
It had been one month, since he had set his plan in motion. He hated that it took time, his cool grey eyes exhausted from the lack of sleep. He had been far too excited to sleep. Far too fervent to rest his head.

He got out of bed, ignoring the clock that sputtered to him that it was finally 3:00 and meandered to the corner of his empty room. In it, there was an old, rusty trunk sealed by several different locks. With a wave of his wand, he had summed the jangle of keys to him. He chose an old fasioned silver key from the bundle, and found its match on the trunk. He turned the key and opened the trunk wide. Inside was a sort of room, cool and unwelcoming. But a thick gold couldron sat in the middle, steaming just a little.

He'd never been one for potions class, but the polyjuice potion he had definately mastered. After his continuous use of it to morph into someone that a young lady would trust, brewing it was more simple than breathing. He lowered himself down into the dingy room.

The floor was scattered with remnants of the past month. Fluxweed, lacewing flies, leeches, horn of bicorn, skin of boomslang, and knotgrass, of course. He knew the ingredients so well. The excess ingredients lay strewn about the floor. The fire underneath the gold couldron was beginning to die down. He poked at it with his wand and soon the flames grew.

He grinned in the firelight, as it reflected red and orange, giving color to his pale skin. His cool grey eyes became rather red, fueled with passion. Hermione would be waking up within the hour, if she hadn't already been torn from her slumber. He knew the effects of his specially breeded doxies. He knew they couldn't kill. But he knew she would be weak, in both mind and body. Any type of resistance would be futile.

Especially if she saw no reason to resist.

On the floor, he saw the vile of red hairs. He clutched it in his hand and popped open the cork that sealed it. In a fever of excitement, he poured the contents of the vile into the brewing potion. A puff of smoke emitted.

He stirred the potion and then stepped back. He'd let it sit for the remainder of the night. It would be more potent that way.

A/N: Review please. Sorry its so short...

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