Author notes: I felt bad for waiting ages to post the last chapter, so I thought I'd post this one up now. Then I was planning to go on a computer strike. Mad, I know; I can't live without computers. But my mum was really getting to me by saying that I was obsessed with the computer, and I set out to prove her wrong. I do not know how I planned to survive, but there you go, didn't even try, I took the coward's way out.

I wrote this chapter with the old fashioned, but just as reliable, paper and pen, so now I have a whole lump of fan fiction for you, so enjoy! Oh yeah, I almost forgot; this chapter is from the POV of Mrs. Weasley. Yea, I know, I'm so evil, aren't I? Not telling you what happened to Harry and Ginny! But not to worry, that's coming in the next chapter.

Chapter 8 – Everything will be OK

Mrs. Weasley sighed, and looked at the family clock for the hundredth time since Ginny had left. About two hours previously, Ginny's hand had moved to read 'IN MINOR PERIL', and had stayed there ever since. Blinking a tear away from her eyes, Mrs Weasley turned to the twins.

"Cheer up, mum!" said George, putting a comforting arm around her shoulder.

"Yeah, mum," Fred chipped in. "Harry and Ginny will be fine! We've had enough Divination lessons with Professor Trelawney to know that!"

Mrs. Weasley chuckled; Fred and George always knew how to cheer her up. Drying her eyes with a tea towel, Mrs Weasley got up to send the hourly owl to her husband to tell him that they had had no further news.

"Mum! I'm home!"

Mrs. Weasley ran down the stairs to the kitchen; she recognised the voice as her eldest son, Bill. Sure enough, there he was, standing in the middle of the kitchen, smiling, with a glazed look in his eyes.

Bill walked over to his mother and gave her a hug; she was taken aback, usually she had to force the hugs out of him like scraping bits of dried pumpkin pasty off of a baking tray. But here he was, hugging her . . . hugging her to death!

Choking slightly, Mrs Weasley sank to her knees, and her head came to rest on the floor. His business done, Bill strode out of the front door, and apparated as soon as he got to the end of the gravel path.

Fred and George left their mother as she began her letter to their dad, and went to find Ron. They found him in his room, slumped over his desk, asleep. Grinning, Fred pulled a Noiseless-Noisy-Trumpet out of his pocket; it was a new product that they had recently put on the market. The Noiseless-Noisy-Trumpet jumped into Ron's ear, and the twins watched with smirks as their brother jumped up with a yell.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded crossly.

"New invention," Fred said.

"Noiseless-Noisy-Trumpet," George added proudly.

"A what?" Ron exclaimed, raising his eyebrows threateningly. "How can you have a Noiseless-Noisy-Trumpet?"

"Well. First of all, it jumps into the victim's ear . . ." Fred started helpfully, but was interrupted by Ron's angry glare.

"I had something that you two made in my ear?"

"Well, just,"

"Whaddya mean, just?"

"Well, it was an incredibly close fit, what with all that ear wax in there!"

"Oh, shove off, George! So anyway, what happens after it's jumped into my ear?"

"The trumpet sounds," Fred said with a grin.

"Noisily."

"But noiselessly."

"Precisely, Fred," said George, then sighed, exasperated, when he caught the look on Ron's face. "Basically, Ronald, only the victim, ahem, lucky individual, hears the trumpet."

"And it's loud," Fred.

"Very loud," George.

"Very, very loud," Fred.

"Very, very, very loud," George.

"Very, ver-"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, Fred. It's very loud."

"Fred, you told our trade secret!"

"Er, guys, would you mind telling me why you woke me up from this blissful dream I was having about Herm . . . ione doing my homework?" Ron said, blushing like mad. Standing on either side of him, Fred and George grabbed his arms and dragged him out the door and down the stairs.

"We're going to play Quidditch," they said, "and a have a little, brotherly, heart-to-heart session while we're at it. Main topic on the agenda; your heart!" Ron groaned and reluctantly let them drag him to the broom cupboard, and then outside.

As soon as their feet left the ground, the twins bombarded Ron with questions.

"So, what's this dream that you had about Hermione, then?"

"Coz it certainly wasn't about homework!"

"Yeah, we saw how red you got!"

"Almost as red as Umbridge got when she couldn't get rid of our fireworks, remember that, Fred?"

"How could I forget? It was a blast! Literally! But back to the matter at hand, George."

"Yes, Fred, this is certainly more important than . . . sweet, sweet, memories . . . so, did you and Hermione . . . do anything in your dream?"

And so it went on. Suddenly, a horribly familiar voice cut through the air.

"I don't know what you're saying about me, but it's sure to be nasty! Anyway, for no we must put our differences aside, as you may be concerned to know that at this very moment, your mother is lying unconscious on the kitchen floor, and I'm no Healer, but it doesn't look like she passed out because of the heat!"

The three siblings frowned, unsure whether it sounded serious or not.

"It may not sound too bad to you," Hermione continued, as if reading their minds, "but catch a glimpse of her face, and you'll know for sure that something's up!"

Noting the panic rising in Hermione's voice, the four of them made their way back to the house as quickly as they could.

They hurried into the kitchen, and the motionless body of their mother slumped on the floor was the first and only thing that they saw. Hermione rolled her over so they could all see her face, and it was a haunting sight. Her eyes, unblinking and glazed, seemed to drill holes through to the back of their necks. Her mouth hung open slightly, as if she had preparing to scream, but not had the chance. And her skin was white, as white as . . . death.

"Oh. My. God." Ron whispered, the shock registering on his face. "What's wrong with her? What did that to her?"

He was pointing to the bruising covering her neck, and on her arms.

"Somebody call St. Mungo's, and quick." Hermione said, with her usually calm, though now disturbed, voice.

George ran to get in touch with St. Mungo's, Fred ran to get in touch with their father, and Ron stayed with the weeping Hermione, and his mother. He took another look at his mother's face, and shuddered. Putting an arm around Hermione's shaking shoulders, he hugged her to his chest.

"It'll be OK, Herm. Everything will be OK."

Author notes: Dun dun dun! I am so evil; I leave you with two cliff-hangers! Mwahahahaha! So what's happening with all of this? Only time will tell. Your gonna have to wait. Or, come to think of it, you could track me down and come and torture me until I reveal to you the plot line. But please don't, I'm a good girl, I do my homework, don't make me die young! Oooh, and there might be a little R/H action emerging, I'm not sure yet. Tell me what you think about that idea. The next chapter shouldn't be too long, I've already started it, I just need to re-read what I've done so far before I can carry on. But yeah, please r&r, you have no idea how happy it makes me feel to have 'Review Alert' pop into my inbox.