Author's Note:

I am glad you guys have favourited and alerted this story. I was excited to see how many people wanted to hear what happened. Sorry about the depressing prologue. The story is a romance; I do assure you of that, but it is a darker fic and the prologue just seemed to be quite torturous. This is the first chapter and I hope you guys enjoy it! Please, if you see any mistakes or have any suggestions on how to improve it, review and tell me! I would LOVE to hear it

Disclaimer:

J.K Rowling owns all.

Love and War
Chapter One

At Peace

Two months. Sixty-one days, four hours and twenty-seven minutes to be exact. That was how long George Weasley let the stubble on his face grow. It was how long the Order had been in disarray trying to locate its brightest muggleborn member. It was precisely how long Hermione Granger had been missing.

The news had arrived with deafening silence. He remembered it clearly. It was the first time anyone heard from the war's golden trio since they left on their mission and, despite the dreadful memory being so long ago, the moment was still fresh in George Weasley's mind. He remembered the smell of the early morning day and how the sun was deceptively bright as it blanketed the burrow with a glow which poured through the windows. George and his twin brother, Fred Weasley, both woke with a sense of hope that, in hindsight, made the heartbreaking discovery even more crushing.

Five Weasleys, the ones who were left to protect the Burrow stronghold, were all seated at the kitchen table. Ginny Weasley, his younger sister, was on George's right while Fred sat on his left. Percy, his eldest brother, sat across them next to their mother, Molly. In a strangely comfortable silence, the family ate. The scratching of cutlery on already wore wooden plates and the quiet sips of pumpkin juice were the only noises. Until the tapping of an owl beak on the window startled them into defence.

It was George who jumped up to take the letter from the dark-feathered, strange bird. He was suspicious at first, but, upon recognising the handwriting, grew excited. He tore the wax seal, charmed to ensure security, and the letter responded to his touch. The page shot out of his hands like a bludger and rapidly folded into a paper face with a thunderbolt rip at the top. Harry Potter's rushed whisper boomed through the Burrow.

"If it is safe, say the password." With a flick of her wand and a mumble of 'gingersnaps,' Ginny removed the security ward and a quick message began.

"I know this is the first communication since we left. We couldn't risk the possibility of interception during the mission, but this is an emergency. They have her. Hermione. Snatchers got her as she tried to keep them away from Ron and I. They went south, south-west away from the Northern Forest, just outside of Rodin. Send the Order, send help. They got her."

Two months ago he heard those words and George still heard the booming instruction inside the caverns of his mind. The choked sob that came from the other side of the table still pierced through his chest. He remembered Percy placing a comforting hand on their weeping mother as she struggled to contain her tears. And the mumbled curse which Fred let slip still fed his internal panic.

Two months ago George rushed out of the kitchen door, collapsing to his knees just on the outskirts of the Burrow's garden. The ripping pain of inaction tore him in two. He knew full well the torture those demons would put her through and that he could do nothing killed him.

Two months ago the war suddenly became very real to George Weasley. Two months ago, she was taken, but it had only been two minutes since George Weasley looked upon the face of Hermione Granger.

On the hard ground of a dungeon cell, the first captured Order member lay before him. Beaten, bloody, and broken.

Tear tracks marred the blood and dirt which coated the white flesh below while bruises plastered nearly every inch of her. The wounds were so dark that the purple lesions overtook the surrounding night. She was a battered mess.

Behind him, the door slammed and the lock clicked shut. He was frozen in place watching the breaths which Hermione took. The stone walls were closing in on him and he shut his eyes to quell his nerves. Certainly he thought he might find her, but he didn't want to. Not with them. He remembered the chaos and destruction that happened just hours prior. The battle outside the Burrow projected on the blank canvas of his closed lids. He watched his family escape and that was the only consolation. Shortly after Ginny's form had twisted into nothing, the torture curse barrelled through him and he fell to the ground in agony.

The memory was so vivid; as the flames climbed the walls of the stronghold, he could feel the heat against his face, scorching his cuts with intensity. The spell consumed him with ferocious aggression and that was mirrored in the inferno destroying his childhood home. In his mind, he still laid on the grass suspended in the catatonic agony of the past, but a whimper drew him out.

All thought left him.

George crawled across the concrete floor; small jagged pebbles littered the broken and abused foundation and tore into his arms. Those little cuts paled in comparison to the gashes on his back, which dragged against the low ceiling forcing him closer to the ground.

This cell was a hole. A hole in a dungeon floor. It was hardly higher than the crawlspace of his Aunt Muriel's bungalow and the stench of blood, piss, and death was incubated in the air.

"Hermione," His voice all but a whisper as he took in the extent of the damage. Gently, George brushed a strand of her bloodstained, brown hair off her face and his thumb brushing against her heavily bruised cheek. Hermione Granger was broken.

He checked for a heartbeat and was immediately thankful for the soft thumping below the layers of ripped clothes and tattered flesh. He glanced at the brick wall before him, taking in the faint tally lines scratched in the bedrock. Slowly, moving towards it, George rested his back against the blocks, placed her head in his lap, and laid his sweater over her like a blanket.

"Soon," her voice broke the quiet. He could hardly believe she was able to speak but the whimper escaped her unconscious lips. He felt like he swallowed an anvil at the weight of what it could have meant.

"Soon," He repeated to her. Unable to look away, George held her. Hermione Granger, the woman the Order had pronounced to be 'at peace,' was living in hell. "It will be over soon."

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