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Protection by princess052099
Chapter 8 : Oranges
 
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Eight months pregnant, and Hermione felt, in one word, sucky. She was on bed rest already, and, thanks to Ron, the only place she was allowed to go was Harry and Ginny’s house. Not to mention, the constant worry. Stress was NOT good for pregnant ladies, or skin for that matter. Hmph. Pregnant people had to worry about skin too, right?



 

 

Anyhow, before we get into an all-out rant about Proactive, Hermione felt sucky. That, when it came down to it, was the bottom line. Nobody had spotted James since last month when he went missing, Ginny was a mess, and Harry was in a constant depression. Ron was worried sick about Hermione and James, which had resulted into him being an overachiever at work, which made him extremely tired when he came home. Usually, he went to bed before he hadn’t even been home for as much as half an hour. And this ruined Hermione’s good mood, because Ron was her husband, and she had the right to want to see her husband more than an hour a day, didn’t she? 



 

 

Karma, what did I do to deserve this? Hermione thought with a sigh.



 

 

She hated not being able to do anything for once. Sometimes, she hated being intelligent. Everyone always looked to her for answers, and this time, she couldn’t provide them. Travers or Thicknesse was all she could give them. Or both. She shuddered at the thought.



 

 

Hermione had just gotten back from Ginny’s, which had made her even more depressed. Ginny was a total wreck, constantly bursting into random spasms of tears at the most unexpected times and checking the window for owls that may have good news. Of course, that news never really came, which just added to the peachy mood.   Most of the time, Hermione spent her time with Al, who had been rather ignored sense James had gone missing. 



 

 

Day after day, no news. Or no good news, rather. And the bigger Hermione got, the more overprotective Ron became.



 

 

In the long run it wasn’t that bad. Undivided constant attention from Ronald Billius Weasley was definitely not on Hermione’s list of least favorite thing. But, a girl needed her space, right? She thought about sneaking out to Diagon Alley more than once, but if you didn’t have trust in a marriage, what did you have? So, undying boredom for as long as this stocker dude was after the four of them.



 

 

Hermione had been pregnant for eight months and twenty one days, to be precise. She was laying on her bed, bored out of her mind, and staring at Hogwarts, a History for the umpteenth time in the past ten or so years. She had on a nightgown that fit her about eight months and twenty one days ago. Now, though, it was more a shirt than anything.



 

 

She glanced at the clock impatiently. Four-thirty two p.m. Ron should be here any minute, Hermione thought impatiently. That was whenever she heard the door creak open slowly.



 

 

“Ron!” She exclaimed eagerly.



 

 

When there was no answer, Hermione tried again. “Ron?”



 

 

Nothing. Crap, what if it’s Ginny, or worse, Harry? She thought as she jumped out of bed. Hermione didn’t mind them coming by, but she wasn’t really dressed to meet anyone. She quickly pulled on one of Ron’s sweat shirts, which, much to her disliking, were a little snug. After a pair of pants was hastily pulled over her legs, she grabbed her wand and practically sprinted to meet whoever-it-was.



 

 

Okay, don’t judge her for being lonely. I mean, the poor girl hadn’t been out in over a month. Merlin, at this point, Voldemort would have been a relief. Just kidding, Karma, Hermione added hastily. With her luck, she’d probably jinxed it.   



 

 

As she arrived at the door, it was already open, but no one was there. As soon as Hermione realized something was up, someone already had her hair in a death grip.



 

 

“Ron?” It was a stupid question, but being the logical women she was, Hermione just had to ask.



 

 

“Guess again,” The male voice hissed in her ear evilly, while she tossed and turned, trying desperately to escape.



 

 

Hermione was not in the mood for petty guessing games, so she quickly devised a plan in her head. As of now, part one of that agenda was stall like a mad women. She had a feeling that everything would be okay as long as Ron arrived before anything potentially threatening happened.



 

 

So, part one, commence. “You have James, don’t you?”



 

 

The man laughed, “So what if I do?”



 

 

“He’s my nephew, that’s what!” Hermione snarled angrily.



 

 

“What are you playing at, mudblood?”



 

 

Hermione didn’t answer his question. She was getting sidetracked, because if there was one thing she couldn’t stand, it was having her hair pulled. 



 

 

“Let. Me. Go,” She said calmly, taking a deep breath in between each word.



 

 

“Or,” he paused and pulled her hair up extremely hard, “What?”



 

 

Hermione inhaled a painful breath, trying to suffice a squeal.   Whoever this was, they weren’t getting the satisfaction of knowing she was in pain.          Stall, stall, stall, She kept thinking hopelessly. 



 

 

“Let me guess, death eater?” 



 

 

“Ten points to Gryffindor, congratulations mudblood,” The man laughed bitterly, his lips coming dangerously close to brushing her ear.



 

 

Hermione instinctively cowered away from his lips. Any guy who got too close to her and wasn’t Ron made her feel uneasy and vulnerable. And Hermione Granger-Weasley hated feeling vulnerable, especially sense Malfoy Manor.



 

 

Before the man could say anything else, thank goodness, Ron was standing in the doorway, a stupid expression on his face.



 

 

“Ron,” Hermione cried, relief flooding her body. 



 

 

Ron had pulled his wand out, ready for whatever was coming their way. Hermione could feel the man draw his wand and pressed it against her throat. A strange sense of déjà vu overcame Hermione and she remembered being at knife point nearly eight years ago by a different death eater. She shuddered.



 

 

Fate, why is it always me? She asked the air angrily in her head. It was true; why couldn’t she just be normal for once? Life is an orange, and eventually all the goodness is going to be strained out of it in the form of juice. Well, that’s what Hermione thought anyways. Life is officially a glass of orange juice with a big black hole at the bottom of the cup, just waiting to suck in the next poor orange to be squeezed. 



 

 

Oh Merlin.  My husband is fighting for my life and I’m comparing it to orange juice. Brilliant.



 

 

“Put the wand down,” Ron snarled to Whoever. “Now.”



 

 

“Fine,” the man said with a smile playing on his lips. 



 

 

Wow, if I would have known it was that easily, I could have did it my-, But Hermione’s thoughts were stopped abruptly as the wand moved its way down her body, landing on her side, pointing to her stomach.



 

 

“What are you playing at?” Hermione snarled angrily.



 

 

Ron seemed to lose some of his confidence immediately. “Leave her alone,” He tried weakly.



 

 

For once Ron was a step ahead of Hermione. All of their school years together, most of their married life, Hermione had been the sharpest out of the two. Always on top of things. But now that was slowly changing.



 

 

“It only takes one tiny Crucio and your little family’s done for,” the man taunted.



 

 

“I said leave her ALONE!” Ron screamed, his grip slowly tightening around his wand.



 

 

“What are you gonna do about it, Ginger?” Whoever asked with an evil smirk.



 

 

“Sectumsempra!” Ron screamed angrily.



 

 

The curse was blocked by Whoever, but caused him to loosen his grip on Hermione, who easily escaped. She pulled her wand up, ready to fight.



 

 

Confringo!” “Expelliarmus!” “Defodio!” Ect.



 

 

How long this continued, Hermione may never know. It felt like an eternity, but really it must have took less the five minutes. Abruptly, the man pulled Hermione’s hair and shoved her body in front of him, like a human shield.



 

 

“Ron, stop!” Hermione screamed. Ron was in the process at aiming another curse at the death eater, but realized Hermione was in the way just in the nick of time.



 

 

Finally, Ron slowly lowered his wand. 



 

 

Hermione was confused. He was… giving up? He was giving her up? She didn’t really mind, more power to him. Run while you still can. It was rather… erm… out of character to say the least, but better her than him… right?



 

 

No one knew what to say or do next. Hermione’s mind was saying, ‘Run, Ron!’ but then again, her heart was screaming, ‘Don’t leave me!’ The man was tempted to high-tail it out of there, with Hermione in tow, but didn’t want to walk away if a fight was still in order. Ron was somewhere between firing another curse and offering himself, and unfortunately he was the first to come to his senses. 



 

 

He lowered his head and dropped his wand, “Take me.” 



 

 

It was barely audible, but in a room with silence bearing down like a forty pound weight, you’d be surprised how loud a whisper can really be.



 

 

Two seconds later, the man unexpectedly chortled, and before Hermione could get her mind on the right track, the man was on the edge of hysterics. 



 

 

“You-you really,” he paused only to burst into a new fit of laughter, “Expect me,” *laughs*, “To give her,” *ditto*, “Up?”



 

 

“Ron,” Hermione started with an exhale, “Now’s not the time to be noble. He wants me; me. Not you. Just leave well enough alone.”  



 

 

“This is NOT well enough!” Ron exclaimed. He couldn’t tell what was making him more frustrated; Hermione or the man’s laughter. 



 

 

“Would you shut up and take me? It was bound to happen eventually, right? I’m on the list, so just take me and get it over with!”



 

 

“Ron,” Hermione moaned.



 

 

“I do expect you’ll be harder to grasp then she was. I mean, you are an auror and all…”  The man said, half to himself, half to Ron.



 

 

“Ron! No! Please, just let him take me!”



 

 

He was fighting for her. That’s what she wanted, right? No, that’s what she expected. Two completely different things. Now that it was happening, she wanted the exact opposite. As long as Ron was safe, she’d be happy. And if he wasn’t safe, well…



 

 

The man put Hermione in a full-body binding curse. Ron didn’t even put up a fight. Hermione, on the other hand, was writhing and fighting the bonds, trying to muster a tiny bit of wandless magic that never came.



 

 

“I have to do this, love,” Ron told Hermione gently.



 

 

“Ron, you can’t leave me.” Hermione was crying, tears slowly welling in her eyes and then eventually overflowing onto her cheeks.



 

 

But Ron didn’t have a chance to answer, because Whoever gagged him with something or another, and then proceeded to drag him outside. He didn’t even bother closing the door so it stood ajar, reveling a struggling Hermione.



 

 

“Ron!” She screamed after them through sobs. “RON!!!”



 

 

The man smirked as they reached the apparation barrier. Before Hermione could scream ‘Ron!’ once again, Whoever was gone. That didn’t really matter. What did matter, however, was that Ron was gone.



 

 

 



 

 

A/N Sooo… Interesting or too dramatic? What do you want to happen next? And let’s not forget about James… Hope you liked it; please review! :)



 

 

XOXO Cierra <3



 

 

 


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