AN: have to say i wish i owned Harry potter but i dont it all belo9ngs to JKRowling
Framed by the doorway Ronald Wesley presented a menacing picture. His wide shoulders blocking the entrance, and with his six foot seven height he towered over the occupants of the room. His muggle attire should have reduced the threat, but the ripped jeans and tight shirt only served to highlight the man’s strength. His face was twisted into a deep scowl, eyes flashing a dangerous stormy grey, the pupils lost in their dark depths. His wand was gripped tight in his one good hand, the other scar damaged and knarled pointed at the couple on the floor. At Fred’s snort a look of distain flashed across his face and a entirely human snarl ripped from his throat. George had his wand trained levelly on his brother, knowing from experience how dangerous he could be when he thought he’d been wronged. Eyes never leaving the angry visage in front of him, he slowly moved between Ron and his twin, instinct to protect Fred over riding battle training of ten years. The move wasn’t lost on his younger brother, whose face showed disappointment for the merest sliver of time before the dangerous scowl lowered again. He raised his wand and aimed it directly at his own brother’s heart.
Time stood still as the two brother’s faced down, neither lowering their wands, neither giving an inch. Fred’s arms tightened there hold on Hermione, and she leaned into his shoulder both bracing themselves for the outcome. George now understood his twin’s warning of Ron. The warning that Ron was not the same brother they loved, was not the same man their family remembered. He’d laughed it off at the time, thinking grief had addled his twins mind for a time. Now facing down his younger sibling the warnings, the flashes of proof came rushing back in a flood. The man in front of him was a hardened killer, trained from a young age in the heart of a vicious battle between the light and the dark, it appeared the scars ran deeper than his hand. He hadn’t escaped been touched by the darkness the same was the rest of his family had. George’s eyes flashed, the man in front of him was prepared to take down family for revenge. For the blame he placed on someone who’d already lost so much. He claimed the right for vengeance, but she’d come to them not him. He claimed to have done everything for justice but anger flowed through him. He claimed to know Harry Potter’s wishes yet every time he visited the man had an episode. He claimed to love his family, but from the look in his eyes he would murder them if they stood in his way.
Ron’s hand twitched and George tensed, a shield spell forming in that instant. Neither spell was cast. Between the two stood Hermione, seemingly at ease, her stance loose, her shoulders relaxed. George lowered his wand as he felt his twin’s hand on his shoulder, turning his head their eyes met in confusion before turning back to the scene unfolding in front of them. In the seconds that followed both the twins and Ron realised the young woman standing so nonchalantly between them had no weapon, and her wand was lying on a small table at the other side of the room. Frozen with shock the twins watched as Ron smirked and raised his wand at the defenceless young woman in front of them.
“Wrong choice, Bitch,” he hissed, oblivious to the growing power swirling round the woman in front of him, “I hope you like pain.”
To Fred’s gasp of “no” and George’s disbelief, Ron mouthed “Crucio”, all the while keeping his wand trained on the female in front of him.
Hermione showed no sign of the spell affecting her, bar a slight straightening of her stance and squaring of her shoulders. Unseen by Fred and George she smiled at the caster of the curse, her teeth white, her smile a warning. Ron lowered his wand, but before the twins could feel their relief or shock, a wickedly sharp, snake shaped blade dropped into his disfigured hand. Hermione’s reaction was instant; she dropped into a crouch, her weight on her back leg. Her reactions saved her. As he lunged towards her, she twisted her shoulders and leaned heavily back, the blade passing harmlessly past her right shoulder by millimetres. Before he could draw his arm back she raised her locked fists straight upwards, slamming them into the extended elbow joint in front of her. A resounding crack filled the room, as the knife clattered to the floor. Instead of dropping as he should Ron swung his free hand at her catching her by surprise. As his fist barrelled towards her ribs, she braced herself, settling her mind to accept the pain. As his fist connected, she dealt a sharp stinging slap to the side of his face. His shocked expression fuelling her rage. He pulled back sharply taking a step back, his mind registering to late he had put himself into a position in which he could have been easily killed. His rage at the woman flooded through him, his face flushing and ignoring his now useless right arm, dropped into an attacking stance. Hermione grinned. A predator’s smile. All teeth and flat eyes. She watched as he positioned himself, humour filling her as she realised he was going to try attacking again after two failed chances. She stepped back, dropping her weight onto her left side and loosening her tight shoulders. Before he could make a move she slammed the heel of her hand into his nose her the crunch of collapsing cartilage with satisfaction. He responded with a growl, she chuckled, deliberately fuelling him on. His attempts at menacing were good for a human she decided. Shame she could show him how to do it properly, as her thoughts ran freely through her mind her body avoided his blows automatically. He finally made the move she had been waiting for, and as his right hand sailed past her nose, she grabbed it twisting and pulling upwards. His body followed the path, and within seconds, he was pinned to a wall. The arm twisted tightly behind his back, his face pressed into the hard boards. Hermione leaned into him heavily, breathing in short shallow gasps as she forced herself back into control.
The door behind them burst open, and she felt the twins draw their wands. A familiar scent washed over her as the breeze swirled through the room from an open front door. She felt herself relax slightly, as the two men behind her created a defensive screen preventing the person at the door from having a clear view of the room. She leant in closer, her breath whispering over the bare pulse point in front of her. “You disappoint me Ronald,” she hissed from behind clenched teeth, “I was hoping for more of a fight. Maybe you didn’t love Hermione as much as you thought.” As he whimpered, she released him, stepping back sharply expecting an attack that never arrived. The tall red head in front of her turned and slid down the wall, silent sobs shaking him.
Ignoring the now sobbing heap on the floor, Hermione stepped round the twins. Her defensive stance in front of them not lost on the figure standing in the door. Fred laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and she relaxed back against him a hand reaching to wrap around his. She sought George’s hand with her free one. Giving them both a reassuring squeeze, she sighed and stepped forward. The figure in the door way raised a wand, and with a flash of vivid green, darkness descended.
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