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Disclaimer – still not mine, etc…

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Hermione and Ron

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The cells that the Ministry had placed them in had only the bare minimum of amenities. There were bunks with a blanket and a small privacy screen for washing and other necessaries. Light was provided by a torch that burned without heat perpetually and was firmly fixed to the wall, probably with a permanent sticking charm. Hermione had been unable to reverse the charm wandlessly, so the torch became a frustrating reminder of a weapon denied.

The family had been split into rough groups. The Weasley Spouses and their children were in one cell, and Hermione could only hope that the conditions for the children were a bit better than for her cell. The Weasley Men were in another cell, and she hadn't seen or heard from them since they'd been taken in. Her husband was in there, as was her father-in-law, and she could only hope and pray that the Weasley patriarch was still alive. Arthur had become so fragile, thin and wan, his once fiery hair paled almost entirely to white. The Weasley Women, and for some reason beyond her comprehension Hermione had been included in that category instead of Spouse, were in a third cell. Ginny spent most of her time with her mother, and Hermione privately thought that Molly was going to break soon. She had not been apart from her husband for more than an hour since he'd been cursed, and the torture of not knowing how he was faring was acute. The Ministry couldn't have devised a crueller punishment.

The Spouse's cell was diagonally opposite from theirs, and sometimes the wall that led into the corridor outside went from opaque to transparent. If this occurred simultaneously, the Spouses could signal to her cell, and had been doing so in an effort to keep Molly's spirits up. The children would come and wave to Grandmother, and Ginny's husband, who was taking care of their three children, would use the signals that they had devised in the war to communicate more complex messages.

The war continued to haunt them, reminded as they were every day of their losses and betrayals. Even after all this time, she couldn't speak to Ron about Harry. Both of them felt keenly the betrayal of their friend, abandoning them to the vagaries of a corrupt Ministry. He had escaped, and they had been left to make their way as best as they could. Her life had taken a very different turn from how she had imagined it. She had married into the Weasley family, but her dream of becoming a Professor had been smashed by her status as best friend to Harry Potter. Professor McGonagall had offered her an apprenticeship, and the two of them had worked hard on the Professor's business. She had gained her Mastery in Transfiguration, and a friend in her former Head of House. Towards the end of her life, Minerva had become a little secretive, often giving Hermione looks of such compassion combined with longing, that the bushy haired woman hadn't known what to make of it. Since her mentor's death, Hermione had maintained the business on her own, though her husband had often urged her to 'chuck it in'. He disliked the long stretches of time they spent apart, and Hermione had to admit that she had been seriously considering it of late. Despite all she had lived through in her very busy life, she was still young enough to think about children of her own, and her husband would make a good father.

Ron had become a broom wright, and his work was sought after by several different companies, something that he was justifiably proud of. He'd worked hard to gain his status, and as an independent member of the guild, he could pick and choose the commissions he took on. Ginny's husband had offered him some advice on building up his reputation, and once Ron had got past the idea of Ginny marrying Draco Malfoy, he'd taken the advice. Malfoy had quite a sharp business sense, and that had helped Ron build his success.

Hermione had to admit that marrying Draco had not been the worst thing Ginny could have done. The two of them were well matched in temperament and ideals, balancing each other out. Draco gave Ginny the airs and graces that had turned her into a Witch to be reckoned with and Ginny had knocked the snobbishness out of her husband. Draco had turned from the Dark in the last months of the war, and had acted as a spy under Harry's sole command, giving them information that had helped them to locate and destroy the final horcruxes; or at least the ones not located within Harry.

Draco had taken Ginny to France, thus escaping from the Ministry's intrusions into their lives, but the curse on Arthur had called his daughter home, bringing her children and husband with her. They had moved into the Burrow at Arthur's insistence, and Draco had proven himself to be a very amiable and helpful son-in-law. It was obvious that Ginny adored him, he worshipped her in return, and Hermione had been genuinely happy for them both. All of the Weasley children had come home, including Bill and his wife Fleur, along with their five children.

Hermione was drawn from her thoughts when the cell that she was sitting in shuddered. Dust drifted down from the ceiling, and the torch actually flickered. Molly looked up, life returning to her eyes in a rush, and Ginny quickly stood up from where she had been sitting and holding her mothers hand. The cells were deep inside the Ministry, and it was no secret that the Sorcerer who called himself 'Son of Merlin' was attacking the building they were housed in with more and more frequency. Disturbances like this were an almost welcome break in the monotony of cell life, and they had an unexpected but very serendipitous side effect.

The wall that led to the corridor became transparent again, and all three of them hurried to it. Draco was standing at his own wall and Ginny sighed in relief.

"Hello, Draco," she murmured, though the barrier was sound proof and didn't let them hear each other. They were very surprised to hear Draco gasp.

"Dearest!" he put a hand on the invisible wall in front of him and grimaced when it held, "Are you alright?"

His voice was shaken, further proof if anyone needed it, that Draco Malfoy hadn't married Ginny for reasons other than love. Hermione watched as Mrs Malfoy smiled and put her own hand on the invisible barrier, as if reaching out to her husband.

"We all are," she replied and he nodded, before turning and looking down the corridor. Molly was also pressed to the barrier in an attempt to spot her husband and her sons. The rest of the spouses and those children that were awake had come to the opening of their cell and the noise level rose dramatically as people started calling across to each other. Some of the voices were not familiar to Hermione, indicating that there were other prisoners down here.

"Shut up!" the bellow came from further down and Hermione sighed in relief at the familiar voice. All that time working with dragons had really increased his volume control.

"Charlie!" she cried, "Charlie is…"

"We're all fine, Hermione," the reply had Molly sagging against her wall in relief. Her son would not lie about Arthur's demise, "Ron's sitting with Dad now."

The cells shook again, and the torches flickered and went to about a quarter of their previous strength. It was obvious that they were under attack once more, and the idea of being trapped helplessly in their cells while the Son of Merlin laid waste to the Ministry was not an appealing one. Their wands had been confiscated when they'd been taken into 'protective custody', and Hermione had never reached the level of proficiency that Harry and Ron had for wandless magic. She would not be able to take down the barrier holding her prisoner, let alone the others.

"Bloody hell," Hermione swore softly as she watched the dust float down into the room, "We have to get out of here."

There was the sound of stone grinding on stone, and Hermione watched as Draco ducked back into the cell, reappearing with his three children, the baby cradled in his arms. The sound stopped and Ginny clutched Hermione's wrist tightly as footsteps replaced it. They were brisk and resolute, though slightly arrhythmic, and Hermione squinted into the gloom, trying to see who was walking down the corridor. The other prisoners had fallen silent, and when the man came into sight, she could understand why. He was thin, and of average height, but there was an air to him that screamed danger. His battle robes swirled with each precise movement, and although he had a slight limp, there was no indication that the injury would prevent him from doing whatever he felt necessary.

The man walked without pause to the Spouses cell and pulled something out of the folds of his robe. It enlarged itself with a flick of his fingers and floated obediently beside him. Draco's eyes had widened, obviously he recognised their visitor, and when the man spoke, Hermione did too.

"Get the children onto the carpet, the older ones and the adults are to hold onto it. It's a port key; it will take you somewhere safe."

"Potter?"

"Not now, Malfoy," Harry's voice was cold, and the carpet floated into the cell. Draco hesitated for a moment, but Ginny was pressed against the barrier to their cell, nodding frantically, and Harry had treated the blonde fairly in his time as spy for the Boy Who Lived. Draco put his daughter onto the carpet and helped put the younger children on as well, including his son. His eldest daughter was old enough to grasp the edge and Draco wrapped an arm around her as well before securing his own grip. They were gone in an instant and Harry turned and limped his way towards their cell. He was familiar and a stranger at the same time, and Hermione wondered for a moment if they were going from the frying pan to the fire.

"Thank you," Ginny sounded close to tears, and Molly put an arm around her daughter as their cell opened to the corridor. Harry nodded and fished out a bag. He gave it to Ginny and then tossed something to Hermione. She gasped as the stick of wood flooded her with warmth.

"My wand!"

"Ginny has the rest of the families in that bag, but I only recognise yours and Ron's," Harry said softly, "Ginny, I need you and Molly to take the port key out now. I've got Ron's wand with me, and the others will follow you soon. Hermione, will you stay for a moment?"

"Of course," she nodded, realising that Harry may well need their back up to get out of the Ministry. There was no way that the alarms hadn't been sounded in the Aurors division, and he'd need all the help he could get to get them out safely. Hermione watched as Harry handed a piece of string to her mother and sister in law, and they disappeared.

The rest of the inmates were shouting again, and Hermione stuck close to her former best friend as he moved up the corridor. Although they passed several occupied cells, Harry didn't once pause to let the inmates out. Hermione approved of this – not all of the people locked in here were innocent, if any, and they had no time to begin an interrogation to discover who should be freed and who should not.

"Hermione!" Charlie's voice was urgent and she sped up, coming to Harry's side as the cell containing the Weasley men came into view. Charlie's eyes widened when he saw Harry and he gaped for a moment before recovering from the shock.

"Harry!" he gasped, and stepped back into the crowd of exclaiming men when Harry waved for him to do so.

"Everyone else has gotten out, you lot are the last," Harry's voice had deepened a little since his teenage years, but it was still unmistakably him, "Ron, I've got your wand."

A hand waved above the crowd and Harry tossed the wand to it, pulling out another piece of string. It was long enough for them all to grasp, and Hermione wondered how many port keys Harry had brought. The cells they had passed were full, and if he wanted to release all of the prisoners, he'd need a ball of the stuff.

"It's a port key," he informed the Weasley brothers, "It will take you to your families. I need to examine Mr Weasley before I send him after you; Ron and Hermione will stay if they agree?"

"Dad," a weakened voice corrected him, "Dad, Harry."

"Dad," Harry agreed, passing the string to Charlie, who exchanged a long look with Hermione before turning to his brothers. Hermione watched the crowd of redheads disappear and then turned to look at the remainders. Ron was perched on the side of his Dad's bunk; a hand resting on the other mans leg. Harry was kneeling beside them both, the hand that didn't hold his wand stroking tenderly through the white hair. His face was calm, but his eyes held immeasurable sadness as he looked at the wreck that Arthur had become, a reaction that Hermione had learned to hide in deference to the sick man.

"I was so pleased to get that hug, Harry;" Arthur smiled faintly, "Bill passed it on…"

"Good," Harry smiled, but his heart wasn't in it, all of his attention on the glowing tip of his wand, "Did you know I specialised in organic curses? Why didn't you send for me?"

"The Ministry would have murdered you the moment you broke the exile," Arthur shook his head, and Harry scowled. He didn't say anything else, returning his concentration to his spells. Ron was staring at him intensely, but Harry was apparently oblivious to that. The glow from his wand tip faded and he grunted, sitting back on his heels, showing his usual grace and perfect balance.

"I can't transport you while the curse is active," he informed Arthur and Hermione dropped a hand onto Ron's shoulder, gripping it tightly in disappointment. She may have ambivalent feelings about Harry, but she had hoped that he'd be able to pull something off for the family.

"I can break it, but it will be very painful Arthur. Normally I'd set up a proper ritual and do it slowly so as to avoid any discomfort, but I don't have the time. The Aurors are under attack at the moment, but as soon as they see the morons upstairs off they'll come to investigate the alarms on the cells."

"Typical. You can't even appreciate those who you send into danger," Hermione huffed and Harry glared up at her, his green eyes flashing in the half-light.

"I have nothing to do with the Son of Merlin," he hissed, his anger shocking, "I simply took advantage of his latest attempt on the Ministry. If he hadn't attacked tonight I would have had to wait until some friends arrived to help me get you out."

"Harry…" Arthur caught the green-eyed man by the wrist, "She didn't mean that…"

Harry blew out a breath and looked down at the cursed man, nodding obediently. Hermione wilted under the glare that Ron was giving her and bit her lip when he slid his shoulder out from under her hand. Harry took a breath and reversed his grip on his wand, holding it over Arthur's chest. He handed Ron a port key with his other and then braced that hand on Arthur's chest.

"Once the curse is out of him, you'll need to take the port key," Harry instructed, his voice hard and flat, expecting obedience, "Get all three of you out to safety and I'll join you later. I need to put the wards on the cells to rights so no one else escapes. You'll be met by a Healer on the other end of the journey, and he'll check you over to make sure I've done this correctly, Dad."

Hermione took the end of the string numbly, and watched as Harry leaned down and kissed Arthur on the cheek before putting both hands on the wand and stabbing it directly down, deep into Arthur's chest.

0o0o0o0

The three of them were met by an Italian Healer, who took immediate charge of Arthur as he swayed on his feet between them. His father had been unable to stand for months, supported or not, and this immediate return of strength proved beyond all doubt that he had been healed in the brutal ritual that Harry had just put them through. Ron refused to leave his father's side and Hermione stayed with him, an arm around his waist in silent support. The Healer stepped back after a few minutes and smiled at them all, a hand patting Ron's dad on the arm gently.

"You're clear of all harmful magic's and taints," the announcements made Ron want to sag to the floor in relief, "Harry was most thorough. A few days rest will see you recovered physically, and your full magical strength will return by the end of the month at the latest. Your wife is here; I'll pass the news to her and let her in, Mr Weasley. Welcome to the City of Tents."

The Healer ducked through the curtains, and Ron wiped his face defiantly before leaning over and kissing his dad on the cheek just as Harry had done. Arthur smiled up at him, colour already faintly present in his cheeks, and Ron grinned, stepping back as the curtains parted and Molly hurried in, sobbing in her own relief. Ron let her have access to her husband and the Healer unobtrusively widened the bed before urging her onto it. In moments Ron's mum was asleep, his dad dozing in her arms, both of them more peaceful than Ron had seen for a long time.

Outside the curtains, there was chaos as his brothers and sister reunited with their loved ones, children clinging and several spouses in quiet tears. Hermione was swallowed up in Charlie's arms and Ron patted his brother on the back gently, stepping away to find a clear space to have a moment to himself. The hospital closely resembled the field tent that Madam Pomfrey had used in the Triwizard Tournament, and Ron remembered that the Healer had said something about the City of Tents. The name was obviously literal in nature, and he wondered where they were, geographically speaking. Port keys were normally confined to the country they were located in, unless the person casting it had access to the international wards. That was usually a ministry official, or a law enforcement officer, though there weren't any international law enforcement officers stationed in Britain at the moment. Ron could clearly remember the outrage when they'd withdrawn from England, effectively leaving them alone to deal with any crises that erupted. He'd thought at the time that it served them right, the Ministries corruption and questionable ethics finally reaping their reward. After all, they had exiled a boy that had just deposed a Dark Lord, acting while he was still in his hospital bed. It was no surprise to Ron that the exiled man had found a way to circumvent the wards that supposedly protected Britain to come to his family's aid.

There was a quiet pop and Ron found himself looking down at a house elf. There was something familiar about him, and it took a moment for his tired brain to recognise Dobby without his tower of hats and odd assortment of clothes. Despite that fact that the elf was wearing a towel to announce that he was no longer a free elf, Ron couldn't remember seeing the green creature look better. Dobby was healthy, stood straight, and was beaming in genuine pleasure at him.

"Hullo Dobby," Ron rasped, "How are you?"

"Very happy to see all of Master Harry's Wheezy's," Dobby bounced on his toes, "Dobby and Winky have been very busy getting the Wheezy's tents all ready for them, and retrieving their ownings!"

"Belongings?" Ron translated, noting that Dobby's habit of naming the Weasley's as Harry's family hadn't changed since they'd last seen each other, "You went to my house?"

"Dobby and Winky did, and we have everything in good order. Master Harry was most particular about that!" Dobby nodded, "Master Harry felt it best. The Wheezy's cannot return to that awful place, and Master Harry wants them to be happy!"

"That's very kind of him," Ron nodded, the surreal conversation starting to do his head in, "I don't suppose you can show me to the tent he's got ready for us then? I could do with a shower and a kip."

"Dobby is here to do just that," the elf confirmed and turned, sending a shower of sparks into the air to catch everyone's attention. Once he was sure he had it, he announced that there were homes ready for them, and led the assembled Weasley family out of the hospital tent.

Wherever they were, it was night time, and the stars were not in any pattern that was familiar to Ron, though he'd be able to work them out if he had the time and energy. The air smelt fresh, it was warm, and there was a lake glimmering in the distance. Tents were arrayed in neat rows, all sorts of colours and configurations rustling in the evening breeze, but it was the atmosphere that soothed Ron more than anything else did. He felt safe and accepted, much as if he would if he'd entered the area protected by the family wards on the Burrow. Dobby led the way to a grouping of tents behind the hospital tent, and stopped at the second one, announcing that it was for Bill and Fleur. The third was for Charlie and Hermione, the fourth for Fred and Tonks, the fifth for George and Angelina, the sixth for Ginny and Draco, and the last for Ron. He stood watching as his siblings and their children disappeared inside their own tents before ducking inside. He was greeted with the sight of his own couch and armchairs, laid out as they had been at home, and managed to find his kitchen, dining table and study all set out properly as well. His workshop was also set up exactly, with the design table underneath a skylight. His bed was finally located with a groan of relief and Ron collapsed gratefully, out before he'd had a chance to change his clothes.

Birdsong greeted him in the morning, and it didn't take long to get up, clean up and make breakfast from his well-stocked cupboards. Dobby had apparently taken note of his favourites, as they were all present and he shook his head, wondering what the hell he'd do now. It was obvious that he'd never be able to go back to Britain, and his skills were good anywhere, but he wasn't sure he wanted to re-establish himself once again. He'd finally found Harry, or rather, Harry had found him, and Ron had a lot of unfinished business with the former Boy-Who-Lived.

Deciding that he should at least take in the lay of the land and see if he could persuade his mum to leave his dad long enough to take her own bath and rest for a while, Ron exited the homely tent, smiling at the pleasant view that greeted him. The lake was even more beautiful in daylight, and the warmth of the sun promised a glorious day. There were several people moving around the collection of tents, including children, a sight that reassured him. Their happy laughter and carefree faces offered proof that they were safe and well cared for, something he'd expect to see in a camp that Harry dwelled in.

"Good morning, Ron," Hermione's voice broke into his musing and he turned, swallowing a snicker at the hickey on her neck, gesturing to it and raising an eyebrow.

"I won't ask how you slept," he told his friend, who blushed and scowled, applying a quick glamour, "Maybe I should ask if you slept…"

"Shut it, Weasley," Hermione grumbled good naturedly, and Ron grinned, wrapping her in a hug and then stepping back. They were interrupted by a short figure that came barrelling out of a tent with a shriek of laughter and almost ran into them, skidding to a stop barely in time.

"Harry?" Hermione gasped, and Ron watched as the child laughed, a happy sound that his friend had never made in their time at Hogwarts.

"No! I'm Davy, Aunt Hermione!" his voice was a young version of Harry's, and the elfin face and messy hair made for a very strong resemblance to his father. It was the dark blue eyes and lack of scar that made him different, that and the air of confidence that Harry had only possessed in battle.

"You're going to pay for that Davy!" another young voice shouted and Davy laughed again, dodging around behind Ron and running as a redheaded child burst out of the tent, followed by a tiger cub. Both boy and cub had pink dye on them, and the redhead was at least chuckling as he pursued his quarry. The tiger cub stumbled to a halt and there was a shiver, pop and then a boy with Harry's hair and eyes appeared, his resemblance marred by the red streak running though his hair.

"Uncle Ron?" the child was no more than three, and liberally stained with pink dye, "Hullo! I'm Kit. Are you staying then?"

"Uh…" Ron wasn't sure how to reply when Dobby popped up next to the child and started scolding, vanishing the pink dye and telling him to get back inside the tent and get ready for the day.

"Ok Mr Dobby," Kit nodded and waved to Ron before running back towards the tent he'd exited. Dobby tutted under his breath and popped away again, no doubt in pursuit of the other two children.

"Looks like Harry has been busy," there was a subtle barb in Hermione's voice and Ron flushed, his hopes pretty much dashed by the appearance of Harry's children. He'd thought that Harry had loved him, though they'd never had a chance to declare themselves. Ron had never been able to settle into a permanent relationship, his partners no match for his absent friend. It seemed that Harry hadn't felt the same way. Hermione had more than once urged him to settle with someone, but part of Ron hadn't given up hope that he'd find a way to get out from under the Ministry scrutiny and find Harry one day. Much to Ron's bewilderment, Hermione had felt that Harry's decision to go into exile rather than Azkaban had been a betrayal of sorts, as the Weasley's, Hermione and Remus had all come under fiercely relentless scrutiny to ensure that they weren't in contact with him. Ron still couldn't believe that she would expect their friend to have endured unjust imprisonment for them, and their friendship had cooled for a time. Now, for the sake of family harmony, they didn't discuss it.

"Mr Weasley, there's a meeting in the communal dining area in ten minutes," a blonde man spoke up. They both jumped, not having noticed his arrival, and he gave them a friendly smile, though his eyes were wary, "You're required to attend. You too, Mrs Weasley, it's over there."

Ron nodded to show he understood and headed for the white hospital tent with its red cross on the sides. He wanted to see his dad before anything else happened today.

0o0o0o0

Hermione was glad that Arthur was well enough to come to the meeting this morning, and from the way Charlie relaxed at the sight of his dad, this was being taken as a good sign by his children. The Weasley grandchildren had all been taken away to a day care facility, or a school depending on their age, and their parents sat around at the large communal dining table, looking cautiously at their hosts. Harry wasn't present, and repeated requests had only brought the information that he had yet to return from England.

The five people that were standing before them were a varied bunch. There was a petite woman with dark eyes and spiked hair, stylishly clad in the latest robes from Milan, which showed off her motherly curves. The blonde man that had interrupted Hermione and Ron was there, his own hair wildly untamed, his thin and lanky frame clad in Muggle clothes. A Goblin sat stolidly at the head of the table, watching them all with sharp eyes, and a couple sat comfortably together, middle aged, in genteel robes. The five people introduced themselves briefly and told the assembled family what their roles in the camp were.

"Basically, we're the reason that Harry started the City of Tents," Harding smiled and shook his head, "He was trying to keep us happy."

"And you're complaining?" Ray chuckled, "Accepting this job was probably the second best decision of my life! The boss takes care of his own, and we're not exactly living on the ragged edge out here!"

"What was the first?" Trinket asked tersely, turning his head to peer at Ray, and the blonde man rolled his eyes and waved his hand, a golden hand fasting band flashing on his wrist in the sunlight.

"Accepting Ben's marriage proposal," he informed the Goblin, who made a sound very close to retching in reply. All five of them chuckled, and the linguist of the group waved a hand to quieten them.

"The point," she stressed, "Is that this is a community, and as such it has a charter. Normally you would be inducted by the family or guild that was sponsoring you, but we thought it best not to wait for him to get back. Besides, there are several things we need you to know about our Harry, things that he might not think to tell you himself."

"Oh, you're going to teach us about Harry Potter?" Hermione scoffed, "This ought to be good."

"Yes, actually," Francesca glared at the bushy haired witch, and something in the glare made Charlie inch closer to her, "Because the last time you saw him he was fighting for his life, something that isn't the case now. It's been more than ten years since you knew him, and he hasn't exactly lived in a bubble all that time. Besides, I think you should at least have the chance to understand what sort of life he's built for himself and the role he plays here."

Hermione folded her arms and leaned back against Charlie, but as Francesca continued to speak, she forgot her animosity and became fascinated in the life that Harry had built here. This Francesca person was right; Harry probably wouldn't tell them about the smaller details that the Italian matriarch was including, such as his role as unofficial Mayor of the City of Tents, and deeds he had performed to ensure their safety and prosperity. The creation of his children was pure Potter, a combination of his big heart and 'saving people thing', something that he obviously hadn't grown out of. Hagrid's role in Harry's life was explained, as was Neville and Luna's. Hermione was surprised to hear that even Remus and Snape had been made a place in the burgeoning community, becoming founders of a new magical school. She hadn't been aware that they were in touch with him.

"Incredible," Arthur breathed as Francesca wound to a close, "He's done so well for himself."

"Yes he has and eight babies! Oh Arthur, we've got eight more grandchildren to meet!" Molly beamed, and her children chuckled. Molly was mad about grandchildren, and it was no secret that her hearts dearest wish was for her children to be parents of their own brood. Hermione's reluctance to become a mother had been a sore point between them, though they'd never really discussed it. She had told Charlie of her new decision last night, hence the hickey among other things, and she was happy to let nature take its course. The Weasley's were all very fertile after all; even Fleur hadn't been able to completely control her husband's ability to breach her defences.

"You'll be meeting them tonight at dinner," Elaine spoke up, smiling at the excited grandmother, "We've been having nightly communal meals since Harry left two weeks ago to release you from the Ministry. It helps reassure his children that they're not forgotten."

"Poor mites," Molly sniffed, but Hermione was frowning.

"Two weeks? He's been gone that long?" she asked and the Goblin spoke up, his eyes boring into hers.

"The Elder is no fool to go rushing in. He needed time to breach the international wards, and gather intelligence. Not to mention getting his elves to empty your properties discretely."

Hermione sat back, thinking furiously. The furniture from her flat and all of her and Charlie's belongings had been neatly in the tent that Dobby had ushered her to, and she knew for a fact that her house wards were strong enough to keep the Aurors out. They had never been able to breach her home defences, but then again, they'd taken her from the shop, not her home. This little matter aside, it was Trinket's title for Harry that had her thinking. Goblin's only named Clan members Elder, and only high-ranking Clan members at that. There was more to the story of Trinket and Harry than had been told, and she wondered what it was.

"How did they get through the wards?" Bill frowned, "I mean, the furniture in our tent isn't ours, but those of us living in England…"

"No need to empty properties in France," Trinket grunted, "And Potter's elves can enter through your wards because he is your family. No family elf can be locked out from a family property unless you build a specific ward to do so, and none of you thought to."

"None of us own elves," Ron pointed out, "Well, Draco and Ginny do, but they've never left France."

"Potter does," Trinket reiterated and Ron sighed, sitting back.

"That means that Harry considers us his family," George said slowly, and then smiled brightly, mischief written in his eyes, "Our little Harrikins!"

"Yes, little Georgikins?" the voice was unexpected and there was a general outcry as Harry stepped under the awning, looking tired and worn. Before any of the Weasley's could get there, his 'team' had, patting him down and ushering him to a chair. Harding poured a cup of the juice sitting out for their 'meeting' and Harry handed a silk wrapped object to Ray.

"This is the Grimoire? You got it?" Ray sounded excited, and Trinket immediately drew his wand, pointing it at the object aggressively. Harry didn't seem surprised by the reaction, nodding wearily and sipping at his drink slowly.

"There's a blank bit of folded parchment I bought in Diagon Alley in its place. Its been concealed under the duplication spell we found at the last site Dupree ever worked on," Harry sighed, "The spell will last for only an hour once taken outside the Ministry wards, by which time it will hopefully be too late for the moron to go back and look for the real one. Any provenance spell will show the store in the Alley, so we should be free and clear. Trinket, there's a special container I want that book stored in."

"I know the one. Come on Fraser," Trinket grunted and they both hurried off. Harry took a deep breath and looked beyond his team, smiling hesitantly when he saw the gathered Weasley's.

"Hullo," he even sounded hesitant, and Molly tutted, got up and hauled him into the squashiest hug he'd probably ever had. Charlie snickered into Hermione's hair, and she smiled a little. She was pleased that Harry had returned unharmed, though by the reactions of his team he'd looked a lot healthier when he'd left. Arthur insisted on a hug next and Harry went to him, looking the head of the family over with anxious eyes before hugging him gently. Bill pulled them apart and Harry was pretty much passed from one person to the next, until Hermione and Ron were the only ones left. Hermione hugged him briefly, patting his back, still of two minds about the whole exile versus Azkaban issue, but Ron folded the dark haired man into a warm embrace and held on as if he never intended to let go. Any doubt that Ron's feelings for Harry had faded or changed as time had passed died in that hug; all that remained to be seen was if Harry still felt the same way.

Eventually the Healer that had checked them all over prised Harry from Ron's arms, insisting on looking him over personally, and Harry agreed wearily, requesting that his children be brought to his tent when school ended so he could catch up with them before dinner. He spent a few minutes consulting with his team, the Healer holding him by the elbow and fidgeting impatiently, and then followed the Italian meekly to the hospital tent.

Dobby appeared and offered to usher Molly and Arthur to their tent, and Molly agreed, helping Arthur to his feet over his protests and herding him along. Charlie chuckled in Hermione's hair and the rest of the family made noises about going back to their own tents as well. Hermione had wanted to have a word with Harry, but her husband had other ideas, and herded her into their tent and onto the couch. It was obvious from the very beginning that he didn't have sitting down and conversing in mind.

"This really is an ugly piece of furniture," Charlie muttered, and Hermione arched into his touch, kissing along his jaw to the nearest ear quite hungrily.

"You weren't complaining last night," she murmured and wriggled a hand between them. He gasped and opened his thighs to give her more room.

"Closest soft surface," Charlie explained and then stopped talking in order to concentrate on what they were doing. Hermione had no complaints about that, though silence was impossible towards the end.

Eventually their breathing slowed and conversation was possible again. Hermione had hit the 'door' of their tent with a privacy spell, and she wasn't too concerned that someone would wander in while they were both in the buff. Charlie had her cradled on his chest, as was his wont, and she was quite content to relax against him, a luxury that had been denied them for some time.

"My own, I have to know," Charlie sighed, in his 'I know I shouldn't ask but I'm going to anyway' tone, "Why did you expect Harry not to take the exile?"

Damn her husband and his knowledge of her ways. In moments like this she'd answer just about any question put to her, and he knew it. His adaptation of Ron's nickname for her, 'Mione, always got beneath her defences as well. Hermione lifted her head to glare at him, even as her mouth opened.

"Because he didn't trust us! We'd have gotten him out of there! We'd have found a way to get the Ministry to take back their stupid ruling! But he ran instead, and we were left being watched every minute of every day… practically prisoners in our own homes!"

"Surely you know that you'd never have bested the Ministry, sweetheart! If they'd locked him up he'd still be there!" Charlie protested, "I know that his absence made it easier for the Ministry to brand him a Dark Lord – he wasn't there to defend himself, or us – but there was no way we'd have ever gotten him out of the clutches of Azkaban. They'd have broken him, made him into a weapon they could use and then blame!"

Hermione shook her head and put her face in the crook of his neck, tears spilling from her eyes. A part of her knew that what Charlie was saying was true, but at the same time, she was still smarting over the lack of faith that Harry had shown in them. They'd risked their lives and sanity at his word, and in return, he'd abandoned them to the tender 'mercies' of the Ministry.

"We'd have come up with something!" she muttered stubbornly, "He should have trusted us…"

"Oh my own," Charlie sighed, but didn't press the issue any further, cuddling her close and rubbing her bare back.

0o0o0o0

Next – getting to know the new you… some explanations are in order and Ron is the man to get them!

Further Author's note – if you go back and look carefully I never said directly that Ron and Hermione were married… I just implied it to keep you people guessing! Did it work?