Alright, welcome back to the second chapter! Thanks to all those that followed or faved!
Again, same warnings as last chapter, and. Also, I don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters. In case you were wondering.
It was with a throbbing headache that Hermione woke up. She groaned softly, holding a hand to her head. Ron must have done it again.
This had been going on between her and Ron for at least a month. Before that, Ron had been insecure about their relationship, always thinking that she was cheating on him, when she never was. Eventually, to Hermione's horror, it had progressed into this. He was possessive of her to an extent where he barely let her leave his vicinity, and she almost never had her wand anymore, he had taken it long ago, rarely giving it back.
She had always said to herself that she would stand up and stop it, but despite what he did to her, there was also a part of her that still loved Ron, and was sure that he would stop soon, realizing that he loved her too. The war, and Fred's death, had changed them all. Hermione denied it in her mind, but she knew that his grief had revealed Ron.
She still loved him, and didn't want to have to fight back against him.
Not to mention that Ron always made sure that she never had her wand, and he was so much bigger than she was. She had no hope of winning against him. Plus, it had always been worse when she had tried to fight him, which she had irrationally tried once.
Hermione, looked around and panicked, having no idea where she was. Frantically she looked around for Ron, or anyone else, but there was no one there, to her relief.
As she continued to look around, she found that she did, vaguely, recognize where she was. She thought for a moment before she could place it. George's flat, above the joke shop.
Why was she here? What happened last night?
Her thoughts were interrupted when the door, on the other side of the room, creaked open, revealing a tall, lanky figure. A Weasley, but not the one she was dreading.
"George?" her voice was hoarse, and it sounded weak, even to her own ears, to her distaste.
"Hi, Mione." He paused in his speech, the usual smile on his face was lacking, though there. "How do you feel?" his voice was soft, and Hermione could tell he was uncertain.
Hermione though, or rather felt, for a moment and then frowned "I feel fine."
From her memories, what few she had of last night, she had taken a beating. The last thing she remembered was trying to get to the fireplace in her and Ron's flat. She must have succeeded, and then what? Flooed here? If that was so, George must have been the one to heal her.
Where was Ron?
George must have seen the questions on her face, and answered them before she could voice them.
"You flooed here last night, with Ron on your tail… How long has he been doing this to you Mione, why didn't you ever tell anyone?" His voice was still soft, and he had come into the room, and had hesitantly sat at the foot of the bed. His voice looked worried, though his eyes looked furious, she suspected it wasn't at her.
Hermione opened her mouth, but couldn't find the words to explain the last question, so, after a short pause during which she stared at the floor, unable to look at George.
"It's been going on, I don't know… maybe a month, give or take."
George's eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
"But I've seen you in the last month, and I never noticed any sort of bruising-"
"I wore glammers, I didn't want anyone to know."
"Why not?"
Hermione paused, and pondered what to tell him. "I was just… I just didn't want anyone to know. I still don't." She swallowed thickly, still unable to meet his eyes.
"But, you're the smartest witch of your age, I don't get how he was able to do this to you." George's voice was soft, still looking carefully at her with concerned, though bloodshot eyes.
She stared at the ground, and didn't answer.
"Hermione, please, I just want to help."
She momentarily looked up at him, but then returned her eyes to the ground.
"He always had my wand, and there was never anything I could do, why would that change if anyone knew? I even had to ask him for my wand to put on the glammers. Nothing would have changed."
Hermione quickly looked up from the floor, and looked at George again. He looked sad, angry and concerned at the same time, mostly angry though. Hermione knew it wasn't aimed at here though, for which she was relieved. She wouldn't want to be on the receiving side of his anger.
George opened his mouth like he wanted to respond, but Hermione cut him off, "Where's Ron?"
George blinked at her, and then half looked over his shoulder.
"He's still stunned in the living room, has been all night. I wanted to know more of what was happening before I did anything with him."
Hermione nodded silently, looking hesitantly at the door, wondering, and now fearing, if he would come in. George seemed to pick up on her worries, and followed her gaze to the door. He looked back at her, and scooted closer to her on the bed. She was staring off into space, almost as if she was in a trance. She failed to notice George scoot closer to her and touch her arm gently. She jumped, not expecting that, and flinched.
George immediately moved away as if he was burned, and Hermione felt awful. He quickly hid the hurt look on his face, and sat back a few yards away from her, on the edge of the bed. Hermione moved towards him and took his hand, holding it between them.
There was a content silence between them, Hermione thought that it felt good to hold a friendly hand, as just that, a friend.
It was a long minute before George or Hermione moved again, both looking lost in thought. It only ended when George cleared his throat and looked at her, "Do you want something to eat, I made breakfast."
Hermione nodded and smiled at him as he stood up and, still holding her hand, lead her out into the hallway.
The two walked in silence. As they walked in the hallway (the flat had two bedrooms, a small sitting room, where the fireplace was, and a kitchen at the end of hall), Hermione looked into the sitting room. Ron was laying on the floor face down, and stunned.
Hermione gasped, stopping in her tracks, staring at him. George stopped as well, looking at her, he saw Ron and the open door, and cursed himself silently for not closing the door.
"'Mione, it's OK, he can't hurt you anymore, and he never will again." When she didn't respond, he gently tightened his grip on her hand and pulled her carefully away.
A few seconds later, they were in the kitchen and Hermione breathed easy again. She looked at George thankfully, although he didn't notice, he was to busy glaring back the way they had come.
The pair of them sat down to eat the breakfast of scrambled eggs that George had made earlier. They were somewhat cold, but Hermione didn't notice, her thoughts were buzzing, and she was looking at George, who was eating his own eggs with a passion, almost an anger.
The meal was almost done, when they both heard a banging, and then footsteps coming from the sitting room. Hermione froze, and George stood up. Just as he did, Ron burst from the room, and began to walk down the hall. He swayed as if he was drunk, and Hermione suspected it was because the stunner had had to wear off instead of being removed, which left the body numb in some places. Hermione shrunk away into George, who was standing behind her protectively, his hands searching his pockets.
She heard George curse, and looked behind her. George had stopped searching through his clothes, though his hands were both empty.
With no other option, it looked as if George was going to tackle Ron as he moved down the hall. Just as George and Ron were feet apart, around the middle of the hallway, Ron raised his hands in surrender.
George stopped, though, unseen to Hermione, the furious look was still on his face.
Ron raised his hands again and spoke with a hoarse voice.
"I just want to talk."
George laughed cruelly, and glanced back at Hermione, asking silently for her opinion. While he was distracted and looking over his shoulder, Ron ran forward, and tackled George, landing on top of him. Hermione was furious, at Ron, but there was nothing that she thought she could do: they were both bigger than her, and she didn't have a wand.
She watched, horrified as Ron punched George in the head, and when he fell to the ground, kick him in his groin.
Hermione shrunk back as Ron stepped around George and came towards her, his nose bleeding and probably broken from his tussle with George. She was sitting on the chair, previously occupied by George, that was closest to the wall, the table in front of her, and she shrunk into the table and wall, trying to be smaller than she was. Her heart was racing.
As he approached, she could see the rage on his face, and whimpered, wondering if she could possibly run. But no, he was to close, only a few feet away now. When he was only 1 or 2 feet away, he swung his fist. Hermione only had seconds to duck, and she could only duck inches, not enough to avoid the impending impact. His clenched hand hit the top of her head, right above her left eye. The bar stool chair she was on toppled to the side away from the table, and she, woozy from the blow to her face, didn't grab the table in time to keep her from falling to the ground with the chair. Now she was on floor, that wasn't good, now he could kick her. Which he did.
Hermione yelled and curled up as he kicked her in the stomach, hard. She thought she heard a rib crack.
He pulled back his foot again, and swung it forward. She closed her eyes, resigning herself to her fate. But the kick never came, instead, she heard a strangled cry, and opened her eyes to see George behind Ron, holding him in a choke hold. George held him in the choke hold until he passed out, which thankfully only took a few minutes, and then let him drop to the ground, unconscious.
Hermione stood up, careful of her bruised ribs, and then immediately collapsed. Her side hurt, and she was certain that at least one rib was cracked. But that didn't explain why she collapsed, or why she was having trouble breathing. This had never happened before. She had no idea how to react.
George, on the other hand, did know what to do. He took one look at her, on the ground, and ran to his room down the hall, presumably to get his wand. He returned after only a few seconds, and ran to her. When he passed Ron, on his way back to her, he stunned him, a bit viciously it seemed to Hermione.
Hermione started to feel lightheaded, and it hurt, a lot, to breathe, by the time he reached her.
He grabbed her hand, and the last thing she heard before she lost consciousness, was the lingering sound of disapperating. There was the awkward, uncomfortable feeling of being quickly squished through an opening to small for you to fit, and it was all dark.
Okay, now I know it seems like i've painted Hermione in a really OOC way, and I think that, as her situations changed, so would her behavior. Don't worry though, she gets closer to how she was in the books soon enough.
Please, drop me a review! Tell me what you though!