Ron would never know how they'd made it so far. He trudged along through the desert, lost. His only hope for survival was the chance that someone -even a muggle would do- would come flying over him, and see him struggling. There was only one thought in his mind other than finding a way out. GET TO HARRY! His best friend was gone, and something told him that this was where Harry was being kept, after Death Eaters abducted him from the Burrow two weeks after he'd graduated from Hogwarts. Setting out on a perilous journey, he struggled for a long time to cross the desert that seperated him from his friend. The thought that Death Eaters had closed off the desert (out somewhere in the Middle East) from Apparation posts was unthinkable. But it had happened.

There was one other reason that kept him going, he remembered, as the reason staggered into him, stumbling as her bushy hair blew in the fearsome wind. Hermione.

She moaned as she clung to him, trying to stay upright. She'd insisted on coming along. And he'd let her. Now, she was going to die if Ron didn't find a way to save her. Both had gone several days without water. And she was getting sick.

"Hermione," Ron whispered, shoving his red hair out of his eyes, and hugging her to him in the sweltering heat. Oh, Merlin, why? Why am I out in the middle of nowhere, in a desert? Why didn't the Death Eaters keep him closer? WHY?

She moaned again in response, and Ron's stomach did a nervous backflip. "Hermione? Hermione, speak to me!"

"Ron," she whispered, clutching his hand as though it were her final lifeline, which Ron reminded himself, it probably was.

"What, Hermione? What is it? What's wrong?" Ron stared intently at the person who meant more to him than anybody else in the world, feeling sick.

She shook her head, and a teardrop made its way out of her eye and down her cheek.

"No!" Ron exclaimed, his heart pounding. "No! You can't cry, you can't. You'll run out of water... you'll dehydrate... you'll..." Ron could barely utter the word. "Die."

Hermione swiped at her eyes angrily and glared at him. Ron blew out his breath. She was angry at him. Not that he could blame her. It was his idea to go after Harry in the first place. Mrs. Weasley hadn't let Ginny, still in school, come along, but she'd been unable to stop Hermione. The faintest clue that Harry was in the desert had sent Ron on his way; he wasn't going to sit around and wait while Harry was being tortured or-

No. He wouldn't think about that.

"Ron," Hermione whispered again quite suddenly, "Ron." And then she got violently sick. Ron sprang out of the way as she doubled over, sobbing.

"Hermione! You can't DO that! You HAVE to hold it down! You're going to get very sick! Sicker than you already are!" Ron's voice was shrill with panic. He couldn't loose her. If she died, he was going to kill himself.

And then, as though she were in agreement with the statement, Hermione suddenly collapsed. Ron stumbled, having been jerked down with her, and knelt beside her. He rolled her onto her back, staring into her eyes, which were miraculously still open.

"Hermione! HERMIONE! Can you hear me?"

She nodded painfully. Ron had NO idea what was wrong with her, but he didn't intend to do anything but keep her conscious just yet. He had heard that you needed to keep a patient conscious so they didn't slip into death.

Hermione groaned, her eyes fluttering shut, and Ron gasped in fear. "No! Stay awake, Hermione Granger! STAY AWAKE!"

"No yelling," she managed, her breathing shallow and uneven.

"YES YELLING!" Ron bellowed, tears prickling in the corner of his eyes. HE swiped at them angrily. "YES! I WILL YELL UNTIL YOU GET BETTER!"

"Not getting better," Hermione gasped. "Going to heaven..." she shuddered suddenly, as if she were chilled, "Ron. Come with me?"

"NO!" Ron hollered, the tears coming loose. "NOBODY IS GOING TO HEAVEN! IS THAT CLEAR?!"

Hermione didn't answer.

Ron whipped out his wand, willing water to shoot out of it. They were going to die, but there had to be a spell. To give them water.

He swore. "WATER! You stupid thing, I NEED WATER!"

Hermione groaned, rolling over onto her side.  Her eyes, before Ron could do anything, closed.

Her body went limp.

Ron lost it.

"NOOOOOOOOO! HERMIONE! HERMIONE! HERMIONE!" He bellowed her name over and over, but she just laid there in the sand, not moving.

Ron felt for a pulse, and went limp with relief. There was one. She was alive. But for how long?

"Hermione," Ron whispered, trying to control himself. "Please wake up. No, don't die. No going to Heaven. Please wake up." He gave a shuddering sob, which reminded him that he was crying. His ears burned and he stood up angrily. He kicked at the sand, got out his wand, and muttered, "Incendio."

A small fire burst out on the ground. Ron contained it with his wand but let it burn. For some reason this was helping. He was relaxing. With a flick of the wand the flames vanished, and Ron lay down next to Hermione, staring at her red face disbelievingly. She couldn't die. What would he do if she DIED?

Ron gave a furious shout, not knowing who to turn to or who to blame. Hermione was giong to die and he couldn't save her. She was drying up. He snorted in spite of himself. Well, it's true.