Chapter 29

"RON!" Hermione shouted as she raced up the stairs, trying to catch him before he could make it to his room. Unfortunately he had longer legs, which made the task all but impossible. She'd barely made it to the second floor landing when his door slammed shut. "Ron, open this door!" she demanded, banging on it loudly, but getting no response.

"DAMN IT!" Hermione cried, as she continued to pound on the barrier standing between them. "IF YOU DON'T OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW," she shrieked. "I SWEAR TO GOD, I'LL BREAK IT DOWN!"

"I'D LIKE TO SEE YOU BLOODY TRY!" Ron bellowed back from the other side, "YOU AREN'T ALLOWED TO DO MAGIC AWAY FROM HOGWARTS, REMEMBER?"

"Son of a ..." she muttered, incensed by how readily he'd dismissed her. "I'll show you magic," she mumbled, turning away from the door and stomping her way over to the staircase. "Just you wait."

"So," Ginny said, slipping up beside Harry the moment she saw Professor Lupin depart. "Feeling any better?"

"I guess," Harry replied.

"You guess?" Ginny asked, clearly not satisfied with that answer. "Either you are or you aren't. So which is it?"

"If I tell you that I do, will you leave me alone?"

"That depends," she replied.

"On what?"

"On whether or not I believe you."

He tried to fight it, he really did, but in the end Harry just couldn't hold the smile back. At least that was honest, he thought. Brutally honest. He couldn't help but find it refreshing. Everyone else was treating him with kid gloves and he was getting rather sick of it. Has she been taking lessons from Hermione? he wondered. Or maybe she's always been this way and I just didn't notice.

The truth was that Harry hadn't really noticed Ginny all that much. He'd always just thought of her as Ron's little sister. Last year was the first time he'd even had a real conversation with her. Four years. I've known her for four years. But what do I really know about her? he asked himself. She's a decent flier and remarkably good at Quidditch, considering her brothers never let her play. She's definitely not someone I'd want to face in a duel. Her Bat Bogey Hexes are infamous. Even Fred and George fear them and that's saying something. She has the same sense of humor as Ron. And his temper too, although she's better at keeping it under wraps. Of course if Hermione wasn't constantly pushing his buttons or taking the bait when he pushed hers, Ron's temper wouldn't be as evident either. But those were all superficial things. Most of them could be applied to any member of her family. What do I really know about Ginny, the person? he thought, looking at her as if it was the first time he'd ever really seen her. Not a hell of a lot.

"Ready to try some of your birthday cake?"

"Huh?" Harry asked, dragged back to reality by the sound of Ginny's voice.

"I asked if you wanted to actually EAT a piece of Mum's cake," she replied, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards what was left of it. "You know, as opposed to mashing it to bits with your fork and then throwing it on the floor."

"I didn't throw it," Harry retorted, sounding more defensive then he meant to. "It fell."

"Well, don't drop this piece," Ginny replied, shoving a plate under his nose. "Or you're liable to--"

But she never finished her sentence. The flame that sprang to life and hovered in the center of the room had drawn her attention. And it wasn't just Ginny. Nearly everyone had noticed the bright flash of light. The room went deathly silent as the blaze was extinguished and a single golden feather wafted to the floor, followed by a note.

"Fawkes," Harry muttered, glancing at Ginny's startled face and then over at Mr. Weasley who had stooped down and retrieved the sheet of parchment off the floor.

"What is it Arthur?" Mad-Eye asked, when all the color drained from Mr. Weasley's face.

"They were defenseless Muggles," Arthur said, unclenching the fist he'd made and thrusting the crumpled piece of parchment into Moody's hand.

Harry stared, wide-eyed, at Mr. Weasely. He'd never seen him look so angry. His wife was the one that usually lost her temper. If Mr. Weasley was this angry, something had to be seriously wrong.

Ginny had come to the same conclusion. The last time she'd seen her dad this livid had been the night he'd had that huge row with Percy. Whatever that message from Dumbledore said, it wasn't good news.

"Right," Mad Eye said, to the members of the Order that had gathered around him to read the note. "McGonagall and Hagrid are already in Bristol. Dedalus, you and Hestia take Abberley. Arthur, you and your boys go to Lewisham. Remus, you and Emmeline go check out Mossley. Doge, you're with me. We'll take Lincoln. Molly..."

"I know what to do," she said, walking away from the group and heading straight for Harry and Ginny.

"Well what are ya all waiting for?" Moody barked. "Get going."

"What's going on?" Harry asked as he watched the assembled wizards and witches disapparating behind Mrs. Weasley's back.

"Why did Dad take Fred and George to Lewisham?" Ginny asked, unable to keep the fear out of her voice. "What's happened?"

"Get your cloak, dear," Molly said, ignoring her daughter's question and ushering her towards the door. "We're leaving. Come on Harry," she added, grabbing his arm and dragging him along with them. "You too."

Hermione was still grumbling to herself when she threw open the kitchen door and blew into the room like a small tornado, taking Bill and Tonks completely by surprise. The pair jumped and Tonks sprang away from Bill so fast, she whacked her elbow on a bowl of apples sitting on the edge of the table and sent it crashing to the floor. Not that Hermione noticed. She didn't even acknowledge the startled couple as she stormed past them and started rummaging through the drawers where the cutlery was kept.

"Stupid prat," they heard her mumble, as she wrenched a drawer completely out of the dresser and dumped it upside down on the counter. "Insufferable git," she cried, pulling the next drawer so hard it fell on the floor, scattering its contents everywhere. "I'll show him magic," she spat out as she spied what she'd been looking for, stooped down, and retrieved the large wooden mallet used to tenderize meat up off the floor. Without so much as another word, Hermione stood upright, grabbed a butter knife off the counter, and then proceeded to stomp back out of the room.

"Mother of Merlin!" Tonks cried, staring at the now closed door with wide eyes. "Shouldn't we do something?" she asked Bill, as they listened to Hermione's thundering footsteps fade away. "Before she pummels him to death with that mallet?"

"It's best to just stay out of their way when they get like this," Bill said, taking his wand out of his pocket and using it to repair the bowl Tonks had broken.

"They've... done this before?" Tonks asked in complete amazement.

"So I've heard," Bill replied nonchalantly, waving his wand over the cutlery scattered across the floor and causing it to fly into the discarded drawer. "I've never actually seen an entire row myself," he added, pointing his wand at the mess on the counter. "But from what I've been told, they're always having a go at each other. It's no big deal. Ron knows how to handle her."

"But...she's going after him with a knife," Tonks protested.

"Yeah, that's new," he chuckled. "But it's only a butter knife."

"He's your brother," she cried in disbelief. "Aren't you worried?"

"Better a knife than a wand," he laughed. "At least this way he stands a decent chance of disarming her."

"BILL!"

"They'll work it out," he replied, obviously not sharing her concern. "They always do."

That can't be true, Tonks thought, looking at her friend as if she thought he might be a few brick shy of a full load. "Didn't you see the look in her eyes? If someone came after me with a look like that--" If that boy knows what's good for him, he'll bloody well run for his life.

Hermione trudged her way over to Ron's locked door, making no effort whatsoever to veil her approach. Not only did she want Ron to know she was there, she wanted him to know that she wasn't going to be put off. Without saying a word, she wedged the butter knife she'd pilfered under the pin in the hinge at the top of the door and then used the mallet to hammer it loose. Three hard swings and the pin popped out.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING?" Ron shouted when the top of his door lurched to the side.

"MAGIC!" Hermione screamed back, as she knelt down and proceeded to hammer the pin out of the bottom hinge as well. Standing upright, she worked her fingers between the door and the wall, creating a gap. Then she grasped a hold of the door and pulled it towards herself until she felt the lock pop out of place. Her task completed, Hermione released the door and watched, with satisfaction, as it toppled into the middle of the bedroom with a loud crash.

"You... you... you broke the bloody door down," Ron stammered as he gaped at the obscured floor in utter amazement.

"I told you I would, you great prat!" Hermione shouted as she swept into the room, the mallet still clenched in her left hand.

"Well... well... you can just get the hell out!" Ron shouted back, prying his wide eyes off the door and locking them on his furious girlfriend.

"I'm not going anywhere," she cried. "Not until you listen to what I've been trying to tell you."

"I've heard enough. I don't want to hear anymore."

"IT. WON'T. WORK. WITH. HARRY!" Hermione bellowed.

"Yes, you've told me," Ron replied as he wrinkled his face up in disgust. "It won't work unless you..." But he couldn't bring himself to say the words. The mental pictures running through his head were bad enough. He didn't want to name it. " ...unless you're... with him. I get it, Hermione."

"No, Ron, you don't," she proclaimed loudly. "You're the one that brought up Harry in the first place, not me. You just figured he was the one that needed protecting and assumed I'd link myself to him, despite what I said. So I'll say it again, and maybe this time you'll actually listen to me." Hermione paused a moment just to make sure she had his full attention and then continued, "The only person I have any intentions of doing that with is you, you thick prat. I couldn't link myself to Harry, even if I wanted to. It has to be an act of love. I don't love him. He doesn't love me. Not that way. The idea of sleeping with his is... well, it's repulsive. He's like my brother for god sakes. And even if that wasn't a factor, it still wouldn't work. If we were together, the entire process would be tainted by our betrayal of you. Do you understand what I'm telling you?" she asked. "I can't protect Harry. I can only protect you."

"I'm really lost here, Hermione," Ron said, running his hands through his hair in exasperation. "I thought this whole counter curse thing was to protect Harry," he added, slumping down onto the edge of his bed.

"We can use the counter curse to protect anyone," she attempted to clarify. "But only after we've taken the potion. Otherwise it's suicide. We need the potion to protect our souls. We can't just drink it or the connection will only be temporary. It will wear off within a fortnight unless we maintain the link."

"And how exactly are we supposed to do that? We don't have to drink the ruddy stuff every couple weeks do we?" Ron asked, repulsed by the very idea. I sure hope it tastes better then that foul Polyjuice Potion, he thought, completely missing the fact that Hermione's cheeks had flushed bright red at his question.

"Well," she answered, averting her eyes, "as I said, it's called a Coupling Potion for a reason. The most effective way to maintain the link is to have intercourse on a regular basis."

HEL-LO, Ron's mind cried, elated by that bit of information. "How regular are we talking?" he asked, his whole face lighting up with excitement. Any plan that involved shagging on a regular basis couldn't be all-bad. In fact, it was downright appealing. The more he thought about it, the better it sounded. We ought to get started on it right now. Ok, so the potion isn't brewed yet, he reminded himself, but we can always get in a little practice. Isn't she the one that's always lecturing me about how important it is to practice new spells? There will never be a better time to start practicing than right now, while the house is empty.

Insensitive git, Hermione thought, not liking the turn the conversation had taken or the thoughts she knew were running through his head. Deep down she knew that he hadn't meant it to come out the way it sounded. She knew that he cared about her and he wasn't in it just for sex, but his comment still annoyed her. The fact he didn't even realize he'd just made her feel like a piece of meat, irked her even more. "I suppose that depends," she replied tetchily.

"What?" Ron asked. He'd been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn't really heard her reply.

"I said it depends."

"On what?" Ron pressed. It was only after he asked the question that he realized she was irritated with him. What did I do now? he wondered.

"On whether or not you continue to act like a randy bugger who only cares about how often he's going to get lucky."

"Hermione!" he cried, floored by the fact she'd just cursed at him. Uh oh! Guess that means there isn't going to be any practicing.

"Maybe you ought to read my notes before you dig yourself in any deeper," she suggested.

"Um, ok," he readily agreed, hoping it would pacify her.

"I'll go get them," Hermione snapped, pursing her lips and narrowing her eyes before turning her back on him and walking toward the empty doorway.

"Wait!" Ron cried, when it dawned on him that she might not come back. "I'm sorry," he added as he jumped off his bed and closed the distance between them. "Don't be angry."

"You're sorry for what?" she asked, spinning around to face him again.

"Er... for whatever it was I did," he replied, putting on a sad expression and gazing down at her with his best version of puppy-dog eyes.

Damn it, Hermione thought, as she felt her resolve begin to crumble. He was just too adorable to stay mad at. "You don't even know what you're apologizing for," she said, more to remind herself why she was irritated, then anything else.

"But I know I'm sorry," Ron shot back, fixing her with one of his irresistible lopsided grins. "I know I can be a prat, but I don't mean to be. You'll forgive me though, won't you? Please."

He didn't really need to beg at this point. He could see that he'd gotten through to her. She was trying not to let it show, but her bearing had changed. Her body language was far less rigid then it had been mere moments ago. Even so, he wasn't sure it was a good idea to try and touch her just yet.

"Mione?"

"Oh, I suppose," she sighed, biting her lower lip to hold back a smile. "You wait here," she said, deciding it was definitely better if they stayed in a room without a door for the time being. "I'll go get my notes and be right back."

"Hermione?" Ron said when he reached the end of the page. "What does this mean?" he asked, pointing at the line that read, Coupling potion blood (sacrifice) love = additional protection??? " Sacrifice? What the hell kind of sacrifice?" he demanded. "I mean this is obviously more then just pricking your finger and adding a few drops of blood to the potion. You aren't planning on cutting your hand off or anything like that are you?" he asked, obviously reminded of the sacrifice Wormtail made to restore his master to his body.

"Of course not," Hermione tutted. "Honestly? Just keep reading," she added. "It'll all make sense when you're through."

Ron studied her closely for a moment, then shifted the sheet of parchment he'd been reading to the bottom of the pile, and let his eyes drop back down to next page of her notes.

Blood = life; it has life giving properties

VIRGIN'S BLOOD HAS STRONG MAGICAL PROPERTIES!!

Sacrifice = spilling of blood.

MUST BE AN ACT OF LOVE!!!

Add blood to potion to increase protection

My blood to protect him

His blood to protect me???

Or

Semen = life; it has life giving properties

Also spilled during an act of love

"BLOODY HELL!" Ron cried, his eyes going wide as he stared down at the last line on the page, which just happened to be written in red ink as if to drive the point home.

Coupling potion blood semen love = protection linking of souls

The sacrifice she kept referring to in her notes was her virginity. Virgins' blood had magical properties. Everyone knew that. Even Muggles knew it on some level, they just didn't realize that they knew it. Over time they'd taken the knowledge and warped it with outlandish stories of young girls who were fed to dragons or thrown in volcanoes or something equally stupid. The manner of death didn't seem to matter as long as it was gruesome and resulted in an entire town being saved. Bloody idiots, the lot of them, Ron thought. Not only did Muggles not seem to realize that the gender of the donor made no difference from a magical standpoint, they went and misinterpreted the protective aspects of the blood. Virgins' blood did have protective properties, but they were minor. It was used mainly in healing potions and restorative draughts. But this...What Hermione was suggesting... It went far beyond anything Mediwizards did. She wasn't just going to use her normal blood. She wanted to use the blood that resulted from the actual loss of her virginity, which was bound to be far more powerful. As far as Ron knew, that was unprecedented. It was brilliant. Absolutely, mind-bendingly brilliant. The question was, did he dare drink it?

"How the hell did you come up with something like this?" Ron asked, peering down at the last line of her notes again. "It's bloody brilliant, but... don't you think you ought to run it all by Dumbledore? I mean, you are planning on altering the potion, right? I looked at the list of ingredients and blood and semen weren't on there. I mean, I know you're adding it to strengthen the connection and add a bit of extra protection for us, but what if that's not the only effect it has?"

"Are you mad?" Hermione shot back, arching an eyebrow at him. "You don't honestly think he'd let us do this, do you? I'd have to tell him about my counter curse and I'm not going to do that. And neither are you, " she added for good measure.

"Why the hell not? If he can use it to block the killing curse, why not tell him? Why not tell everyone in the Order?"

"Well, for one thing, their souls aren't protected. It would be tantamount to committing suicide. You can't force them all to drink a coupling potion. I mean... they'd have to be willing to bare their soul to someone else and I don't think that's very likely. More importantly, the less people that know about this the better. No one else can know about this, Ron. Not even Harry."

"What? Why not? You know you can trust him."

"Not until he gets better with his Occlumency," Hermione added quickly. "Otherwise Voldemort might find out and we can't let that happen. Now that he has a body, he's mortal. He's made himself vulnerable and we're going to use that to our advantage. If he knows we can block the killing curse he won't use it."

"And that would be bad because--?" Ron asked, staring at Hermione as if she were slightly mad.

"Because if I can shield Harry the curse will rebound back on whoever cast it. Don't you see?" she said keenly. "If we're lucky Voldemort will end up killing himself with his own curse."

"I don't like the idea of keeping things from Harry," Ron protested.

"Neither do I, but ..."

"This isn't some small secret we're talking about. This is HUGE! I mean, you do realize that if we do this," he said, pointing down to her notes, "we'll basically be--" But he never finished voicing his thought.

"Be what?" Hermione asked, shooting him a puzzled look.

She doesn't know. "Um... connected," he finished lamely. How could she not know? This is Hermione you're talking about. She knows EVERYTHING. But she's Muggle-born. She's probably never even heard of the Lànain. But what she's suggesting we do is essentially the same thing, isn't it? We'll be bound together. And not just by blood. Ok, so our magic won't be linked, but other then that it's pretty much the same thing.

"You were the one that said we shouldn't tell him we were together," Hermione reminded him.

Ok, maybe she does know, Ron thought to himself. There was only one way to find out. He was going to have to ask her. "Um... Hermione," he said ventured cautiously, "has Professor Binns ever mentioned the Lànain in any of our History of Magic classes?"

"The what?"

"The Lànain ?"

"Not that I recall. Why?"

"Er... never mind. It's not important."

"Then why did you bring it up?"

DAMN! Now what are you going to do, you idiot? Quick, pick a fight and distract her, Ron instructed himself. But before he got around to doing it, he realized Hermione had already been distracted. She wasn't even looking at him anymore. She was staring over his shoulder at the empty doorway. It wasn't until he twisted around to see what she was looking at that he realized that the doorway wasn't empty anymore, his mother was standing in it.

For a moment, Ron felt blind panic clawing at him. How much did she overhear? What's wrong with you, you idiot? What were you thinking, talking about the Lànain in a room with no door? But, no one was supposed to be here. Bloody Hell! If she heard me talking about the ancient binding ceremony with Hermione, she's going to go ballistic. "Mum?" Ron said, shocked that his voice hadn't betrayed his fear. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to speak to your brother," she replied, her eyes moving from the empty doorframe to the missing door, which had been propped up against the wall. "Where is he?"

"Downstairs, I think," Ron replied, his stomach flipping again for an entirely different reason. "Why?" he asked. It was far to early for the party to be over. If she was here, something must have happened. "What's going..."

"Never you mind," she said, cutting him off before he could ask anymore questions. "It's nothing for you to worry about," she added. "You two just stay up here and finish your homework," she said just before she spun around and headed towards the stairs.

"She thought we were doing homework," Hermione said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Yeah, but what's she doing here?" Ron asked. "Why isn't she at Harry's party? And why ask us where Bill was? Why not apparate straight into the kitchen? She had to know that's where he was going to be."

"You think she was checking up on us?" Hermione questioned.

"Obviously," he replied. "But she sure didn't stick around very long. Something strange is going on here," he said rising up off the bed and heading for the door. "Come on," he said, motioning for Hermione to follow him. "Let's go find out what it is."

"MUM!" they heard Bill cry in astonishment, even before they reached kitchen door and placed their ears against it. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you at Harry's party? It can't be over yet."

"There's been an attack," Mrs. Weasley replied. Ron and Hermione glanced at each other with wide eyes, but neither of them spoke. Instead they listened to the sound of chairs scrapping across the floor as Bill and Tonks jumping out of their seats. The scraping was proceeded by a bang, as one of the chairs, most likely Tonks', toppled over, and then there was silence.

"Where's Harry?" they heard Tonks ask, the concern evident in her voice. "Is he alright?"

"It wasn't Harry," Mrs. Weasley reply.

"What about Ginny?" Bill asked, his voice wavering slightly as if he were afraid he might not really want to know the answer.

"Your sister is fine," they heard Mrs. Weasley assured her son.

Ron and Hermione both breathed a sigh of relief. Harry and Ginny were both all right.

"Dumbledore and I just left them at the Dursley's," Mrs. Weasley continued.

"You left Ginny with those Muggles?" Bill cried in disbelief.

"It's the safest place for them to be right now," his mother shot back fiercely. "As long as they stay inside that house no one, not even you-know-who, can touch them. Tonks, dear," she added. "You better go check in with Kingsley. The dark marks have the Ministry in a bit of an uproar."

"Dark marks?" they heard Bill asked. "How many?"

"At least five that we know of. All widely dispersed. They all appeared at relatively the same time. That's all the information I have right now, other than the fact that they were after Muggle-borns. Kingsley didn't have time to pass on anymore information before the Minister showed up and started interfering. You need to check in," she said again. "Fudge has called in every available Auror."

"Wait a minute," Bill cried. "I...I don't think you should go." His comment was met with silence. "Someone needs to stay here with Mum, just in case."

"Bill," Mrs. Weasley replied. "Tonks is an Auror. She has to go."

"But... I don't think it's such a good idea. I mean, Fudge doesn't know where you are," he argued. "How can he call you in, if he doesn't know where you are? It'll look suspicious if you show up. He'll want to know how you knew there was trouble."

"He's not smart enough to think of something like that," Tonks objected.

"Bill," Mrs. Weasley replied, sounding rather annoyed. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course she has to go."

"But..."

"Oh, just ignore him," Tonks sighed. "He always gets like this if he's around when I get an assignment. Honestly, you'd think all that Auror training I had was for nothing, the way he carries on."

"Tonks," Bill tried again. "You can't go. They're attacking Muggle-borns."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" she shot back sounding more then a little insulted. "That just because my father's Muggle-born, I'm not capable of taking care of myself? That's a load of bunk, and ..."

"Oh will you calm down," Bill cried. "For Merlin's Sake. You know that isn't what I meant. It's just that... Hermione's Muggle-born and you're her parents secret keeper. If they can't find her, they might try and go after them. So you should probably stay here."

One look at Hermione's ashen face was all it took to press Ron into action. "I thought you were her parents secret keeper," he said to Bill as he pushed the door open and marched into the kitchen.

"RONALD WEASLEY!" his mother shouted as she puffed up and spun around to face him. "I told you to stay upstairs."

"Yeah well, I didn't," Ron shot back. "And it's a good thing too. Otherwise I never would have known what was going on. You certainly wouldn't tell me. No one tells me anything."

"That's because you are NOT a member of the Order," Mrs. Weasley shouted angrily. "Despite what you might think."

"What about my parents," Hermione asked, entering the kitchen herself. "Were they attacked or not?"

"No," Mrs. Weasley said, after an uncomfortable silence. "None of the attacks were anywhere near your home."

"But they're still in danger, right?" she asked.

"We don't know that," Mrs. Weasley said, but before she could say anymore, Hagrid unexpectedly appeared in the middle of the kitchen and brought the conversation to an abrupt halt.

"Professor Dumbledore sent me ter retrieve yeh," he said, shoving the tip of his pink umbrella towards Bill and Tonks. "Turned it into a portkey," he explained, waving the umbrella under their startled faces. "We've found survivors at the Creevey's. Those ruddy bastards," he shouted angrily.

"Hagrid," Mrs. Weasley tried to interrupt before he could say anymore, but he took no heed.

"All them attacks were part o' some sick plan meant teh get at Harry. As if he don' have enough teh deal with righ' now."

"HAGRID!"

"Sixteen people dead. One fer each year o' his life. The Creeveys were the last family hit. RUDDY COWARDS! Attackin' defenseless Muggles and kids. He was a milkman fer Merlin's Sakes. He had no way ter defend himself or his family. They lef' his wife alive teh pass on their twisted little message, but it didn' stop em usin' the Cruciatus on her and forcin' her teh choose which one o' her children would be the las' victim."

"Oh my god," Hermione moaned, as warm tears began to stream down her cheeks.

"Blimey!" Hagrid cried, when he spun around and realized Ron and Hermione were standing behind him. "What'er you two doin' down here? You shouldn' be here. You shouldn'a heard that. "

"Who was it?" Ron asked, but his eyes were riveted on Hermione as he did so. "Who was killed?"

"Er...," Hagrid muttered, looking over at Molly uncomfortably. "Um... well..."

"WHO THE HELL WAS IT?" Ron shouted. "We'll find out anyway. It'll be all over the Daily Prophet tomorrow."

"He's right, Mum," Bill cut in before she could start arguing. "They're going to find out. Even if you do manage to keep the Prophet away from them, they'll be going back to school soon. This isn't something you can keep from them."

"Oh, go ahead then," Mrs. Weasley sighed, knowing that Bill was right.

"Was it Colin or Dennis?" Ron asked in a strained voice.

"Both," Hagrid replied sadly, averting his eyes and swallowing hard. "Near as we could tell, they got Colin firs'. Didn' wan' him defendin' his family, see. Then after they got his dad they made his mum choose between Dennis and her daughter."

"I didn't even know they had a sister," Hermione whispered to herself. There was a lot she didn't know about the Creeveys. They weren't in the same year as she was, but that wasn't a good excuse. They were both members of the D.A. She ought to have at least known they had a sister. "Is she a witch?" Hermione asked as Ron placed his arm protectively around her shoulder and pulled her against him.

"Dunno," Hagrid replied honestly.

"Ron?" Mrs. Weasley interjected. "Take Hermione upstairs. Now. And stay up there with her."

"What about my parents?" Hermione said in protest.

"Look," Hagrid said, turning to Bill and Tonks. "We've got ter go. Professor Dumbledore is waitin'," he added, holding the umbrella portkey out for them to grasp.

"Tonks?" Bill asked, shooting her a beseeching look. She glanced at Hermione and then back at Bill. "All right," she relented, nodding her head in agreement with his request. "I'll stay."

"It's just us, Hagrid," Bill said, reaching over and grapping a hold of the portkey.

"It's really started, hasn't it?" Ron whispered, his mind reeling, as his mother pushed him and Hermione towards the kitchen door.

The war had started. People were dying. People he knew. Kids he went to school with. He knew that he ought to feel something. Anything other then what he was feeling. Fear. Outrage. Sorrow. But those weren't the emotions weighing down his mind. What he felt was relief. Relief that Hermione wasn't one of the Muggle-borns that had been killed. Colin and Dennis were dead and he was relieved. What kind of sick bastard am I? Ron thought, his stomach churning with guilt as he allowed his mother to lead them upstairs. They were just kids. Why did they have to kill them? Why?