Disclaimer: I don’t own anything about this story, only the plotline. You could say I am a sort of puppeteer, making the characters of J.KR.’s world do my bidding. Let the story begin. Imperio! DANCE, my puppets, DANCE!

Dedication: My good friend Rambo, who told me what the word 'ditto' meant in the first place.

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She was running. From what, or who, she did not know. All she knew is that if she stopped running, very, very bad things would happen. So she ran as though her life depended on it. Her destination was unknown. Her heart was pounding madly in her ears, screaming for her to stop, but she knew she mustn’t. No matter what agony her body was enduring, she knew it would be nothing compared to what would happen if she stopped running down the murky black paths. Looking left and right, she saw no familiar sights, so she merely continued to run, bearing the intense and grueling pain her muscles and brain were putting her through.

She had the urge to stop as she ran past her home, but resisted. A spooky and cryptic sight met her eyes that made her come to an abrupt halt.

The Dark Mark was floating over her house.

She froze, wondering if she dared even go into her home, knowing the horrors that she would meet if she did. Her heart won over her brain, and she moved toward the house. Her heart which had been hammering rapidly in her chest was now in danger of giving out from beating so fast with the combined pressures of fear and exhaustion.

The door of her home creaked open before she even touched it. She walked slowly and gingerly into her living room. It was unusually quiet, an ominous sign. She could barely breathe from the suspense and terror now coursing through her very veins. She looked around cautiously and put her hand into her pocket to draw out her wand.

But it wasn’t there.

Now feeling rather panicky without her wand for protection, she looked around at her father’s favorite chair, where he was usually found. He was there, a look of terror and surprise on his cold, empty face.

He was dead.

Hermione screamed. She ran downstairs to where her mother usually did laundry. She was lying against the Muggle washing machine. Her eyes were silently popping with fear. Hermione began to cry. She gently touched her mother’s freezing face.

She was dead, too.

Hermione couldn’t take it anymore. She flung open the laundry room door, but instead of leading into her basement, it led her to the entrance hall at Hogwarts. She flew down the empty and desolate corridor until she arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady. The picture was hanging off its hinges, creaking sinisterly. Hermione zipped through, and then stopped at the sight that her eyes met next.

Harry was slumped against an armchair, Ginny behind him. It looked like Harry had been trying to defend Ginny. Hermione’s breathing became fast and shallow as she saw that familiar icy cold stare.

They were dead.

Hermione looked around the common room at her fellow Gryffindors, who were all lying around with cold skin and that deadened look in their eyes. She looked frantically for a sign of life from any of them, but knew it was no good.

They were all dead.

On closer examination of the Gryffindors through her tears, Hermione realized Ron was not among them. Her heart gave a little jump. Did that mean he was alive?

She raced up the boys’ staircases. Her heart was again hammering madly. Did she dare believe he was alive?

As she opened the fifth year dormitory door, warm relief seemed to flood her body. Ron was standing, white-faced, against the opposite wall. He smiled at her, and walked over and embraced her in a breathtaking hug. Hermione couldn’t believe it.

“I thought you’d died,� Ron said, looking stunned and relieved.

“Me, too,� Hermione said, smiling up at him.

“I’m sorry to break up this touching reunion,� said a high, cold voice from the dormitory door.

They both broke apart and stared at the figure of Voldemort. He was smiling in an evilly maniacal way.

“Now, which one of you should I kill first?� Voldemort asked them, wearing his evil grin.

“I won’t let you kill her!� Ron yelled at Voldemort, moving in front of Hermione to obscure her from view.

“Ron, no, please don’t,� Hermione said in a petrified whisper.

“Ahhh, do you love her, Weasley?� Voldemort said in an amused tone. “Then you will be the first to die. AVADA KEDAVRA!�

A jet of green flew at Ron; it hit him right below his chest. Hermione dove out from under him at the last second as she watched her friends’ body fly onto the nearest bed.

Tears half-blinding her, she rushed over to Ron’s side, silently thinking he’s not dead. He can’t be dead. I love him, he can’t die without knowing!

“Yes, he’s dead,� Voldemort said, watching Hermione cry over Ron’s limp, empty form.

“As are you.�

Hermione turned around just in time to hear a rush of wings and see a flash of green light before falling into infinite darkness, despair and grief converging on her, clouding her every thought. It was here that she knew she was dead, along with all the other nameless, faceless people that were Voldemort’s victims.

Hermione sprang up, looking around into the darkness of her dormitory, confused and frightened. Her face was wet with tears. She breathed a sigh of the deepest relief. It had all been a dream.

She leapt out her bed, wiped her face dry of the tears, and decided to go walk around the school, too afraid to go back to sleep, where her fears and nightmares had free reign over her thoughts.

She walked gingerly out of her dormitory, careful not to wake up Parvati and Lavender. She gently pushed the door open to reveal a quiet and empty common room. Hermione wasn’t surprised; Ron was probably sleeping, and Harry was doing detention with that foul cow, Umbridge.

Hermione ambled quickly and quietly through the Fat Lady’s portrait. The Fat Lady seemed deeply disturbed by the intrusion and said loudly, “Why, all of a sudden, are all these Gryffindors going for night strolls? You’re the second one tonight! Can’t a portrait get some sleep around here?�

Hermione rushed down the corridor and away from the Fat Lady’s rants about being disturbed late at night. She stopped in the middle of the next hallway, wondering where she could go at two in the morning and not be disturbed by ghost, portraits, or Filch.

The Astronomy Tower, of course! Since it’s out-of-bounds except for lessons, she was sure to be undisturbed as she contemplated her dreams. She crept quickly and quietly up the floors of the castle, careful to dodge out of sight of Mrs. Norris. Finally, she reached the Astronomy Tower. To her incredulity, she found another Gryffindor who decided to stay out late.

“What brings you here?� Ron asked, looking surprised.

“I…� she began, then broke off, shrugging. “Just thinking.�

Ron laughed. “Do you ever not think?� Then his laughing, care-free face turned into one Hermione didn’t see often. It looked older, more mature, and somehow, handsomer than it did when he laughed. “Yeah, I guess that’s why I’m out here, too.�

“I had a nightmare,� Hermione said suddenly. She drank in what she had said, and immediately revised it. “I mean, not like Harry’s, but it was really scary.�

Ron looked mildly concerned. “What happened?� he asked.

For a moment, Hermione considered now telling anyone, but when she looked into Ron’s eyes and saw his concern and caring reflected in them, she knew she could tell him.

“Well,� Hermione began, taking a deep breath, “I—well, at the beginning, I’m just running down this road. I don’t know where I am, or where the road leads. I want to stop, but I know I must endure this pain, because if I stop, something much, much worse will happen.�

She paused as she watched something glide quickly and silently overhead, but Ron touched her hand to wake her from her trance. She jumped and pulled her hand back, instantly wishing she hadn’t. Ron smiled slightly and nodded for her to continue.

“Then, I run by my house, and I really want to stop, but I keep running. But then I see the Dark Mark floating over my house. I’m really scared, and I stop running. I decide to go in, so I go to draw out my wand, but it isn’t there.�

Ron wasn’t smiling anymore; on the contrary, he was looking at Hermione intensively, as though he was studying her.

“Um, so, anyway,� Hermione said uncomfortably, waking Ron from his trance. He shook his head, and blushed that blush Hermione loved so much.

“I look around at my dad’s favorite chair, and he’s there, but…� Hermione swallows back tears. “He—he’s dead. I run downstairs to see if Mum’s okay, but she’s dead, too.�

Ron strokes her hand and cheek, clearing them of tears. Hermione gives him a small smile before continuing.

“I threw open the door, but instead of leading to my basement, it led me to Hogwarts. I run through the castle until I see the Fat Lady. Her portrait is hanging off its hinges. I run through, and I see pretty much all the Gryffindors there, and they’re all dead.�

Hermione hiccupped and turned away from Ron, not wanting him to see her tears. Ron came over and gave her a comforting hug, and she found the courage to continue.

“I realized that you weren’t there. I was hopeful, but I didn’t want to be disappointed. I went to the fifth year dormitory door and you were there. You hugged me like you did just now, and you told me you thought I was dead. Then—then Voldemort showed up. He asked us which one of us he should kill first.�

Ron was looking out at the grounds, his hands clenching the edge of the tower, white with rage. “What happened?� he asked quietly.

Hermione was a little concerned with Ron’s behavior, but pushed the matter from her mind.

“Well, uh, y-you stepped in front of me, and told Voldemort that you wouldn’t let him kill me. Then he asked you if you loved me, and before you could answer, he killed you.�

Hermione began to cry. She knew it had only been a dream, but seeing Ron’s lifeless form was too much to bear. Ron relinquished his grip on the wall and pulled Hermione into a hug, stroking her hair. She sobbed into his shoulder while he tried to comfort her.

After a while, he tears subsided, but she remained in Ron’s arms for comfort, and, well, because it was nice.

They finally realized they were holding each other, and they both let go and jumped three feet apart. Ron and Hermione stood, looking embarrassed.

“So, um, h-how does that dream end?� Ron asked awkwardly.

“Huh? Oh, well, Voldemort comes over to where I’m crying over you and everyone being dead, and he tells me that they’re all dead, because I was thinking they can’t be. And then he kills me, and I fall into this dark, dark place. Uh, that’s it,� she finished weakly.

Ron looked over the balcony at Hagrid’s empty cabin, and decided to do something brave. Something to show that slimy git Malfoy why he’s in Gryffindor. Something to prove to himself that he should be in Gryffindor.

He walked up to Hermione, who was gazing out at the grounds. Ron pulled her close, unsuspectingly, so she gasped. There were inches apart, their faces almost touching. Ron could face her quicken breath on his face. He gulped, mustered up his courage, and whispered in her ear, “But you know I really would die for you, right?�

Hermione’s voice shook a little as she replied, “Yes. Ditto.�

“What? What’s a ditto?� Ron asked, perplexed.

“’Ditto’ is a Muggle word that means ‘also’ or ‘as indicated above’. It just is a substitute for the words ‘me, too’.� Hermione explained, “Uh, so I-I’m basically saying… I’d die for you, too, Ron,�

Hermione snaked her hands carefully and slowly around Ron’s neck, her hands shaking slightly as she did. Ron’s breath came quicker and in short gasps now. They both felt a little awkward like this, but they also felt like this was right. Hermione sighed and laid her head on his chest, looking up at him. Ron froze slightly, but he began to stroke her shiny, bushy hair.

So they stood there for God knows how long, just sighing and stroking, never talking, both lost in their own thoughts of the other. Hermione chanced a glance at Ron, who was staring out at the grounds.

He told me he’d die for me, Hermione thought. I should really say something nice back.

You told him you’d die for him, too, she argued with herself. That’s enough for one night.

Her mind and heart waged a war inside her for a while, until Hermione’s heart came out on top, and decided she should really say something back.

“Um, R-Ron?� Hermione said tentatively.

“Yeah?� he answered, looking down at her, smiling.

“Uh, y-you know how you said you’d, uh, d-die for me?� Hermione stuttered.

“And how you said that Muggle ‘ditto’ word thing? Yeah, I remember.�

“Well, um, I-I-I wouldn’t let you!� Hermione practically screamed.

Ron looked confused. “What?�

Hermione took a deep breath and said, “You said you’d die for me. I wouldn’t let you.�

Understanding flooded Ron’s face. “Oh.� He stared out onto the grounds again. Hermione bit her lip in nervousness. Had he been joking? She felt stupider than she ever felt in her life, which wasn’t often. Bad Hermione, stupid Hermione, you should have known he was jok—

Her thoughts of Ron’s cruel hoax were destroyed as Ron kissed her. Hermione’s mind went blank as she kissed him back with as much passion as he gave. Nothing in the world could ruin this moment, nor could anything ever make either of them forget it. They pulled back to breathe, panting heavily.

“Ditto,� Ron gasped.

“W-What?� Hermione said breathlessly.

“Well,� Ron explained through his short breaths, “I said I’d die for you, and you said you wouldn’t let me. Now when you said you’d die for me, I wouldn’t let you. Since you already said it, then I say ‘ditto’, right?�

Hermione grinned at him. “Yes, Ron,� she said, kissing him softly.

Ron smiled back, and put his arm around her. They sat like that until they heard Mrs. Norris coming up the stairs. “What’s that, my sweet?� said Filch’s sickly kissy-kissy goo-goo baby voice.

“We have to get out of here,� Hermione mouthed to Ron.

He nodded, pointing in the direction of some tapestry. They slid through it just before Filch got there.

“Thank you, Ron,� Hermione said.

“No problem, Harry showed me that,� Ron said.

They walked hand-in-hand back to the portrait hole, where the Fat Lady screamed and told them off for leaving and coming back so late at night. She shrieked she hadn’t had this bad a night sleep since Molly and Arthur Weasley. Ron and Hermione laughed as the Fat Lady reluctantly and grudgingly swung open to admit them.

The End

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(A/N: Yay! My 6th story! I know I should be finishing 'Worth Everything I Had', but this came to me in a dream...I actually had Hermione's dream, so I just picked up the idea.)