"Hermione, no," Ron said, his voice breaking on the last word. He couldn't let it happen to her. He couldn't. It was sort of an unspoken promise he'd made to himself after the war, after what had happened to her at Malfoy Manor. He couldn't control her life, but to the best of his power, he would protect her. This was in his power.
So why couldn't he figure out a way out of it?
She was supposed to be the one with the brilliant plan. Subterfuge had never been his strength. "Fuck." He looked away, blinking back tears, but he didn't let go of her arm. You can't ask me to do this. I can't hurt you. I can't. But he also knew he couldn't let someone else hurt her, either.
"I'm sorry," he said, looking at her again. "I should have listened to Harry when he said we needed to get out of the country for awhile."
Just another few seconds, and they'd think of something. He was sure of it. Ron thought it, but he didn't really believe it. He glanced at the door again, and then at the brand, every muscle in his body feeling like it might clench him to death.