A/N: Again, very sorry about the cliffhanger. But hey, at least I updated quickly, right?

Disclaimer: I live about 4000 miles away from J.K. Rowling and I have about $20 to my name. If I was making money off of this both of these things would likely change. But I'm not. So broke on.

"Who's been attacked?" she repeated, her voice louder this time, but shaking.

Bryce took a deep breath."I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. We need to go."

"Tell me!" Hermione insisted, her panicky voice rising an octave to a screech. "Just tell me exactly what's happened!"

"I'm so sorry," Bryce repeated after a beat of hesitation, his expression twisting even further, "but there's been an attack at your parents' home."

"We've got to go," Isaac said matter-of-factly as Hermione collapsed into the nearest chair, Ron kneeling down with her and squeezing her hand tightly. "You said five minutes, Bryce?"

"It'll be less than four now," Bryce replied. "Bring a wand and a clear head. This time we're taking a Portkey to get there, in case the protective charms are back up." He waved around a fairly large, jagged rock he had his hand, which Ron had only just noticed.

"You said there're people there already?" Harry said sharply as he moved from behind his desk to place a comforting hand on Hermione's trembling shoulder. Ron rubbed her hand with the back of his thumb; she looked deathly pale.

"About a dozen by now. Like I said, last I heard it's a hostage situation. They're alive, and that's what's important. I'm so sorry you had to hear about it like this, Ms. Granger, but we've been trained for this, and we're going to do our best to diffuse the situation as quickly as possible," Bryce said, turning to address Hermione as calmly and professionally as he could.

"I'm coming along!" Hermione insisted suddenly, her voice stronger than it had been since Bryce had arrived.

"Like hell you are," Ron retorted fiercely. "You're staying right here!"

"They're my parents, Ron!" Hermione snapped, nearly stumbling as she stood up on wobbling legs and turning to face him. "You can't honestly expect me to sit here while they're being held hostage!"

"Well, I do!" Ron bellowed. "Brilliant as you are, Hermione, you haven't been trained for this, and you risking your life isn't going to help matters any! And what if it's a trap? What if the fuckers want you there?"

"He's right," Harry confirmed quietly, cutting off what was sure to be an angry retort from Hermione. "And even if you were qualified, we can't expect you to keep a clear head about this. Even Ron being involved is bending the rules a bit. But we'll do our best to bring them back, Hermione." He patted her shoulder once and went over to join Isaac and Bryce around the Portkey, tactfully allowing Ron and Hermione a moment in semi-privacy.

Tears were filling Hermione's eyes at an alarming rate; she was very nearly hyperventilating, and she looked liable to faint at any second. "Two minutes," Bryce told them sharply, and Ron shot him a dirty look as he took Hermione into his arms.

"We'll get them back," he said determinedly as he rubbed her back. "We'll all be back before you know it, love."

"I can't just sit here, Ron," Hermione sobbed into his shoulder, pounding her fists lightly against his chest. "I can't be expected to sit here while everybody I love is out there facing who knows what!"

"We'll be back before you know it," Ron repeated, perfectly aware that he was quite possibly lying. "Trust us, Hermione."

"I do, I trust you," she cried, bringing her arms out from between their chests to wrap them tightly around his torso. After a short moment, Ron leaned his head back so that he could rest his forehead against hers.

"You know we'd take you if we could," he told her, unsure of what else to say.

"You wouldn't want to," Hermione choked out through her tears.

"Of course not. I'd never want to put you in danger," Ron admitted readily.

"So you know how I'm feeling, then," Hermione pointed out, taking deep, gasping breaths in between words as she attempted to calm herself down.

Ron sighed heavily. "I love you."

"Is that all you can say?" Hermione asked softly, blinking her eyes rapidly to control the tears.

"That's all I've got," Ron replied apologetically. "It'll have to be enough."

"It's always been," Hermione replied, her voice not much above a whisper now.

"I'm sorry it's not more," Ron said, knowing he couldn't give her the firm sort of reassurance she craved.

"One minute, Weasley!" Bryce shouted.

"I love you," Hermione said, almost breathlessly as she blinked away the last of her tears.

"I'll bring them back," Ron promised, leaning in and kissing her softly on the mouth.

"Bring yourself back, too," Hermione requested with a great sniff.

"I'll try," Ron said, making to break apart, but Hermione pulled him back.

"Trying's not enough," she whispered, looking imploringly into his eyes. "Promise me; if you're going to make me stay here, you've got to promise."

Ron sighed, bringing his hands to her face to brush away her tears. "We both know I can't promise anything. I'd fucking die for you, and you know it."

"No. Don't say things like that; I want you to live with me," Hermione insisted. "Promise me, Ron."

"Hermione," Ron said slowly, "I'm going to do everything I can to make sure I'm around to see you walk down that aisle toward me on your dad's arm, and your mum's going to be crying her eyes out in the front row." He knew on some level that even though he couldn't promise anything, she needed to hear the words said aloud.

"Less than thirty seconds!" Bryce called impatiently.

Ron kissed Hermione quickly one more time. "I love you," they said simultaneously when they pulled away, and Ron hugged her tightly once more before joining the others and placing a hand on the jagged rock.

The last thing Ron saw before he felt the twisting in his gut was Hermione, collapsing once again into the chair by his desk, and he wished more than anything that she didn't have to cry alone. Willing the image from his mind, Ron set his jaw as they traveled. He couldn't let himself lose his head, especially with so much at stake - but how was he supposed to think straight, given the circumstances? But he had to, so he would - for her.

They arrived in the Grangers' back garden, where a group of ten Aurors stood, wands at the ready. Several of them were casting charms in the direction of the house, which appeared to be undamaged, at least from the outside. As he looked around for any signs of Dark magic, Ron could just make out the faint shimmering of the concealment charms that had been placed around the premises to keep away any prying neighbors.

"The house itself is Impenetrable," Jolene Tracy, a tall, severe-looking woman and one of the leaders of the field Aurors, said by way of greeting as Isaac, Bryce, Harry, and Ron set themselves right. "Robertson was on-duty. They already had a vague idea of where the house was, so once they'd overpowered the guard, taking down the protection we had was only too easy. They've got him and the two muggles in there, they have for about ten minutes now. We don't know how many of them there are in total. Marlene and Riley got here just as they were entering the house; they must've got a distress signal from Robertson, but it was too late to get inside. Luckily, we've nearly broken through the spells they put up."

"Do you know if they're alive? The Grangers, I mean?" Ron asked desperately, all pretense of a professional air out the window as he began to truly assess the situation.

"We're pretty damn sure. They wouldn't still be in there if they'd killed them; they'd have fought their way out by now if that was all they were here to do - but we've got the house tracked; we'd know pretty quickly if they left by magical means. And Robertson was alive; Marlene and Riley saw a couple of masked figures dragging him in. I don't think murder's their motive," Jolene explained, but Ron couldn't bring himself to sigh with relief just yet.

"I don't think we ought to ambush once the charms are down, then," Isaac remarked sharply. "We don't want to spook them into escalating the situation."

"Yes, we were planning to treat it as a hostage situation," Jolene said coolly. "I assumed we'd send the four of you in, as it's your case, and the rest of us would be your back-up."

"Perfect," Bryce agreed. "You think you can keep your head, Weasley? Potter?"

"We will," Harry replied, and Ron nodded his head in agreement. The case may be more personal to them than to the others, but the fact remained that the two of them had kept their cool in similar circumstances before - Ron didn't have to look at Harry to know that the Malfoy Manor was weighing on his mind as well.

"Sorted," Isaac said shortly. "But the two of you are taking a backseat, no question about it. No talking; support the victims if you can, that's your first priority. Let us worry about the captors."

"But have your wands ready," Bryce added. "There's no way we're getting out of this scot-free. There's something they're after, and I have a feeling they aren't going to want to sit around and talk about it for long."

"I'll put up the anti-Apparition ward once we're in," Isaac said. "That's the only protection I'll have on the place, that way your lot can get in if we need, Jolene."

Jolene nodded once. "Screeching charm's the signal?"

"Yep," Isaac confirmed.

"We're just about in!" shouted Sean Collins, a junior Auror about Harry and Ron's age. He and three others were casting spell after spell on the house, and Ron could sense that the magic on the place was beginning to break down.

"Get ready. We won't have much time," Isaac instructed. Harry and Ron followed him to the doorway, Bryce bringing up the rear. Ron glanced at Harry, whose face bore a mixture of terror and determination. Ron was momentarily comforted to see that the latter was winning out, and he took a deep breath and set his expression stoically.

"Almost there…ready…WE'RE IN!" Sean shouted, and Isaac blasted the door open as the foursome rushed into the house, wands aloft. Ron could feel Isaac set up the ward as soon as they entered, but his sense of hearing overwhelmed every other - there was a gut-wrenching scream coming from the direction of the sitting room.

"TELL ME! CRUCIO!" a harsh voice sounded, and Ron wished the hallway were shorter than it was as the outburst was followed by yet another terrible scream. It took every fiber of his being to remain in the moment, not to travel backward to those terrible minutes spent in a dungeon while similar screams rang out above him. But they weren't trapped this time; they were moving, and soon, Isaac had burst into the Grangers' normally pristine sitting room, a disarming charm on the tip of his tongue.

As Harry, Ron, and Bryce scurried into the disheveled room after Isaac, a dark wand flew into the latter's hand, but Ron had to hold back bile as he saw Mrs. Granger, still writhing horribly on the floor from the effects of the curse, while her husband sat a few yards away. He was slumped over, but his were eyes mostly alert, set in a blankly heartbroken, defeated gaze - he'd been tortured as well, Ron realized with a start. Most of the furniture in the room was upturned, and broken glass and torn photographs littered the mantle of the fireplace - the remnants, Ron deduced, of the framed and ordered display of pictures that had once been there.

There were about half a dozen masked figures surrounding the Grangers in a half-circle; all of their wands were pointed at the four Aurors. Ron gripped his wand just a little tighter as he gauged his chances of reaching the Grangers without being cursed; a quick glance at Bryce told him not to risk it.

"Nobody needs to get hurt here," Isaac said carefully. "Put down your wands and take off your masks."

"I'm afraid it won't be that simple," the tallest figure spoke in a low voice; this was the man whose wand Isaac had confiscated. Mrs. Granger began to stir then, slowly moving in her husband's direction - Ron glanced around quickly and was pleased to see that no one else was paying them much attention. For the first time, he noticed Robertson, bound and gagged on the sofa, but conscious.

"It's in your best interest to cooperate. We aren't alone, you see," Bryce said meaningfully, but the tallest figure laughed derisively, and the other six - there were exactly seven total, Ron noticed - mimicked their apparent leader.

"You say cooperate, but you mean surrender," the leader spat. "Curse us, and they die," he added mercilessly, gesturing the direction of the Grangers, who were now sat close together on the floor.

"We don't want to curse you," Isaac said reasonably as Ron bristled, taking a deep breath to maintain his temper.

"The masks have got to go, though," Bryce added as an afterthought, flicking his wand quickly and vanishing the masks before anyone quite knew what he had done. Ron was not surprised to see Greengrass, Parkinson, and Bulstrode; he recognized Goyle as well, and two former Slytherins who had been a few years above him. The leader, though, he couldn't quite place, though there was something familiar about him…he looked…thick, that was the best way to describe it, both by intelligence and body type, and there was a darkness in both his features and his demeanor, though his stare was rather blank…

"Rodolphus Lestrange," Harry said quietly, a bit of surprise evident in his tone. "You're meant to be dead."

"Appears I'm not, though, doesn't it?" Lestrange said disinterestedly. "Faked my own death, you see, back at Hogwarts. Had several hours' worth of Polyjuice on me, so I used it on a corpse. Was a bit of a risk, didn't even know if it'd work on a dead bloke, but it lasted just long enough for a false identification. Quite clever, wasn't it?"

Ron had to suppress a shudder; the Grangers, having recovered a bit from the curses used against them, now looked utterly terrified.

"So you thought you'd come back, round up some of your old mates' kids and have a bit of fun, is that it?" Bryce asked scathingly. "Suppose you didn't have much choice, given the rest of your old play pals are either locked up or six feet under."

"What's it to you?" Lestrange shot back while the others laughed cruelly.

"Let's cut the bullshit. Why are you here, Lestrange?" Isaac asked, visibly gripping his wand just a little bit tighter.

"I would think that'd be obvious," Lestrange said. "I haven't got time to talk."

"Yet you don't seem to be doing much else," Bryce mocked. Though Ron knew Bryce was far more experienced than he, he couldn't help but internally scream that provoking Lestrange would do nobody any good.

"Thought you could torture these two for information about their daughter, did you?" Isaac asked sharply, gesturing toward the cowering Grangers.

"Again, what's it to you?" Lestrange repeated, raising his wand just a little higher.

"Well, threatening messages, escaped convicts, and tortured muggles don't seem to bode well for you," Bryce pointed out fairly.

"What's interesting to me is why there aren't more of you," Isaac continued. "Seems there's only seven left sympathetic to your cause, are there?"

"Had to start somewhere, didn't I?" Lestrange sneered. "But you're right, we ought to cut the bullshit. You're here because you want your precious muggles safe. Let us go, no retaliation, and you'll have that."

"You're barking if you think we're letting you free," Bryce snarled. "But I'm curious, you know, what exactly you meant to accomplish with all this. Hardly following your dead master's footsteps, really, and whose favor are you gaining now? It's just the seven of you left, isn't it? All the others are gone, dead or in Azkaban. Couldn't quite get the rest of them out, could you?"

"The heavier protective charms put on the cells of those serving a life sentence would have slipped you up a bit, I suppose, even if you did manage to get these three out of the lowest security zone there is," Isaac continued condescendingly, with a casual look of disdain in the direction of the three women.

"Shame we did away with the dementors," Bryce chimed in. Ron silently wished they would cut to the chase; it was all he could do not to curse the bastards standing before them on the spot.

"Let us go, and we'll let them go," Lestrange repeated, clearly beginning to lose his temper as he gestured toward the Grangers again.

"So that you can run off and torture more innocent muggles? Hardly bloody likely," Harry snapped, apparently deciding Isaac's initial order to remain quiet was no longer important. Ron would have done as well, if he weren't sure he'd end up making the situation worse.

"The Boy Who Lived, is it?" Lestrange spat in Harry's direction. "Surely you're not so stupid as to believe the Dark Lord's way of thinking would have died out with him? It does not matter how few of us remain; the truth will be known soon enough."

"So you're trying to make a statement, then?" Bryce snorted derisively. "Haven't done a very good job of it, I must say. It's quite pathetic, actually. Apparently you can't even execute scare tactics properly." Ron couldn't help but agree, but he wasn't ready to write them all off just yet - the Grangers were still in danger, after all.

"Not without Riddle or your insane wife to hold your hand, anyway," Harry added with disdain.

"It was ginger's mum that killed her, wasn't it?" Lestrange cut in, gesturing toward Ron with the hand that ought to have been holding his wand. "Bloody shame. A word from me and she'd be avenged in an instant."

Ron tightened his grip on his wand, but Bryce laughed contemptuously once more. "Yet the word's not coming. Seems you're a bit scared yourselves, mates. None of you's a proper Death Eater, after all, 'cept the one that hasn't got a wand."

"It's in your best interest to come quietly," Isaac added.

"Like hell it is!" Bulstrode shouted, the first of Lestrange's associates to have the gall to speak since the encounter began. "I'd rather die than surrender to a filthy mugglefucker like yourself," she added, gesturing toward Ron.

"Shut the fuck up, you bloody miserable twat!" Ron spat fiercely, well aware that he was merely stringing various swears together rather than forming a cutting insult as he struggled to keep the volume of his voice in check. He flickered his gaze to Mr. and Mrs. Granger once more; they seemed more terrified than ever, and they were looking between Bulstrode and Ron as if they weren't quite sure what was happening.

"This is tiresome," Parkinson added in an exaggeratedly bored voice.

"You're quite right, Pansy," Lestrange drawled. "This is your last chance to let us go, or we fight our way out."

But no one had a chance to say anything else; a jet of light shot, quite possibly on accident, from the tip of Goyle's wand, and chaos erupted. Isaac set off a screeching charm to call for back-up, and though everyone appeared to be shouting, Ron could hear nothing but white noise as curses shot left and right; the wandless Lestrange dove under the sofa in a blatant show of cowardice.

Ron immediately began to make his way toward the Grangers, dodging curses as he went. Mr. and Mrs. Granger had the good sense to duck down low to the floor as their captors attempted to jinx and hex the Aurors, who were just managing to shoot off Stunners between their Shield Charms. Bryce had managed to free Robertson, and they were binding Lestrange; Harry and Isaac had their hands full with the others. But just before Ron managed to reach the Grangers, time seemed to slow down: a jet of purple light had erupted from the wand of the nearest of Lestrange's cronies, and before Ron could so much as take another step, it had hit Mrs. Granger in the small of her back with such a force that he could hear the impact as she was thrown prostrate to the ground.

The screeching charm had stopped, but Ron still couldn't bring his ears to properly hear anything - and he was grateful for it, because Mr. Granger was shouting incomprehensibly as he shook his unconscious wife. "Let me!" Ron roared over the din as he reached them; the back-up had come in now, and the Aurors were easily overtaking the others. Mr. Granger would not let go of his wife as Ron rushed to find a pulse; it was all he could do not to sigh with relief when he managed it - feeble, but beating. Alive.

"She's alive! We've got to get out!" Ron shouted to the babbling, nearly sobbing Mr. Granger. "Follow me; we've got to get her out!"

Mr. Granger, even in his hysteria, seemed to vaguely understand what Ron was saying; together, they hoisted Mrs. Granger up and, supporting her on their shoulders, hurried from the room; there were no flying curses to dodge now, but Harry noticed them and hurried ahead of them, wand aloft, ready to hex anyone that got in their way.

"What happened to her? What happened?" Mr. Granger repeated in a voice that was no less than a scream when they at last made their way out into the back garden. "What the hell did they do to her?"

Ron helped him to lay her down on the ground; he checked her pulse again - still feeble, still beating. "I don't know, but she's alive." He heard Harry breathe a sigh of relief from his position at the door. "We need to take her to St. Mungo's."

"What the hell is St. Mungo's?" Mr. Granger shouted, not taking his eyes off his wife as he clutched her cold hand.

"It's our hospital. I need to take her there now, Mr. Granger; we don't know what she was hit with or what it's done to her!" Ron insisted, gathering his future mother-in-law into his arms; for the briefest of moments, he was thankful she had Hermione's petite figure.

"How don't you know?" Mr. Granger bellowed, still not relinquishing his wife's hand. "You're a fucking wizard, aren't you?"

"I'm an Auror, not a fucking medical professional!" Ron snapped. "I'm taking her to the hospital; they can help her there!"

"I'm coming with you!" Mr. Granger shouted, but Ron shook his head.

"You can't. Hermione needs you!" Ron told him desperately. "She's waiting, back at our offices; you wouldn't normally be allowed in, but you can if you've got Harry with you. Go!"

"But Karen-"

"She needs to see a Healer!" Ron shouted, matching Mr. Granger's distressed tone. "Please, Mr. Granger, I know you don't trust us, I know how you feel about magic, but it's the only way! I promise, I'll bring you and Hermione there as soon as I get her the attention she needs!"

"Come with me, sir," Harry insisted, his business-like tone contrasting almost ludicrously with his pale, stricken face as he tugged Mr. Granger away from his wife. "Please, I can take you to Hermione." For just an instant, Harry lifted his eyes to meet Ron's in a fierce gaze, nodding in response to his unspoken request - he would take care of her until Ron could get there.

"We'll see you in a bit, Mr. Granger," Ron said, gripping his wand and turning on the spot before the elder man could protest. His last thought before the unpleasant sensation of Disapparition overtook him was of his promise to Hermione - Mrs. Granger would be watching their wedding from the front row. She would be. She had to be.

A/N: Another semi-cliffhanger, sorry. Much more to come in Chapter 11, particularly on the Granger front.

There are still obviously many loose ends to be tied re: the mystery as well, and that will be coming soon now that those responsible have been captured - that is, once we've dealt with the more pressing matter of Mrs. Granger's well-being. And by the way - yes, Lestrange as the orchestrator was meant to sort of come out of left field. Thankfully, this chapter contained the last action-based scene of the story - writing them is not my forte, haha!

Also, in the interest of giving credit where it's due - the lovely Ms. Diva-Gonzo alerted me to the possibility of using the term "mugglefucker." It seemed a Bulstrode-esque thing to say. Thanks for reading! Only three more chapters left. :)