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Hermione was resigned to think there was anything wrong with her at first. It was just a few chest pains every so often, nothing to be too worried about all considering. For someone who spent so much time in the Department of Mysteries as she did or who worked so long at her office desk, it really made sense. Her lungs would get uncomfortable every once in a while, like tiny little stabbing pains that were more annoying than painful. It went on for a month and half before the cough started.

When she got the cough and a couple days passed before it did not go away like Hermione hoped it would, she went to a muggle doctor. A trip to the chemist's later and she should have been just fine.

Well, her prescription ran out and the cough was still there, so Hermione resigned herself to the fact that it would one day go away. It wasn't that bad anyways, just a dry, annoying cough occasionally which didn't really impede on her life.

Her existence continued, and as she went to work that warm, summer day, London seemed to be going on just as usual too. The clouds were grey, the people were busy, and the ministry was full of the same people she was used to seeing.

It was a boring sight out her little office window, however. She didn't have a corner office like Harry did, and she was remiss to even think about Ron. Well, she could think about him, certainly, but that didn't mean she liked to do it.

A few months ago they had split up, Ron mumbling something about how he didn't think he loved her anymore. It was preposterous, really, the idea that he could love her one month, then simply not even feel the same way the next. How did he even go from one extreme to the other so quickly?

Luckily enough she had the damnable pains to help her distract from the end of a several-year relationship. It was just so odd to her because her and Harry had been talking only weeks before Ron ended things, wondering when he would ask her to marry him. It was about time he should be mustering up the courage, and yet Ronald surprised her in a much different way than she was expecting.

Harry hated to see them at odds, but they played off nice for him and everyone else. The Weasley's still invited both her and Harry over for family holidays despite the fact that Harry hadn't been with Ginny since her seventh year, not to mention Hermione's parents hadn't exactly recovered from the memory charms she placed on them. So, Ron and her either avoided each other or spoke in short-worded sentences with hopes they could escape whatever conversation they were in together. He had claimed no hard feelings, but it wasn't like that, was it?

Hermione needed tea.

She coughed into her robes on the way to the tea service, and found Harry there luckily, wishing him a good morning.

Not everything was all bad, though, Hermione thought as she sat at her desk and placed her cup and saucer down, looking over the interdepartmental notes that had arrived in her short absence. Someone always wanted something from her, being the right-hand woman to the minister did have it's nuances. Hermione had done a lot of work to get where she was, and every part of her yearned to keep going further.

With a slight tickle in her throat, she knew another coughing fit was coming on, them being slightly more common that morning than they had ever been. It was probably all the thinking she'd done on Ron.

This time, however, it lasted a little longer. Hermione clutched onto the edge of her desk with one hand and covered her mouth with the other, feeling slightly as though she might lose the minuscule breakfast she'd had that morning. It was odd, the feeling, as she felt something come up her throat, but the stomach-wrenching feeling one would get before tossing its contents never came. No, what Hermione felt was something dislodge from her wind-pipe and come into contact with her tongue.

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