Part 3

Something cool and smooth like liquid slithered across his skin. Ron flinched, then tried to sit up, and the cold sensation moved lower across his body as he realised he was lying on his stomach. He rolled over, the satin sheet slunk off him and pooled in a crimson puddle on the floor, and he saw that he was lying naked on a bed in a room swathed in dark red and purple fabric.

He felt as if he had a hangover without the sickness or the sore head, just a general dizziness and loss of time and place. A woman walked in, wearing very little, and he threw himself over the side of the bed with a thud and clutched the thin layer of crimson fabric to his groin before standing.

"Is good morning, sir." The woman smiled, bowed and carried a tray of fresh fruit and a steaming pot of some kind of hot liquid toward the bed.

"I'm not dressed," he said, stupidly.

"I know, I undress you," she smiled.

"What?"

"I undress you, Melehet put you into bed, Somaz give you massage."

"What?"

"Massage," the woman mimed massage with her hands, "your body scarred all over. We use oils and massage."

"Why? Who asked you t... Why?"

"You from Ministry, yes?"

"This is the Ministry."

"No," she laughed, "Ministry big building of stone outside. Ministry men come to us, we...massage."

"Oh my stars," Ron wrapped the sheet around his waist and sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands, "please tell me message isn't a euphemism."

"You no worry, when you no want to have real massage, they give you to me to look after. I virgin."

"Wha...Whoa...Wh...I didn't, I didn't have sex with you. I couldn't have had sex with you."

"No, I still a virgin," she said with a giggle. "Ministry men want sex and we think you like them but you... say no. You virgin too?"

Ron laughed, then felt sick.

"Wait, this isn't the Ministry building? I was in the Ministry building, with clothes on."

"Your friends brought you for massage. You very drunk."

"Oh my God," Ron groaned, rubbing his temples before jolting back to his senses again. "You have my stuff?"

"We have clothes."

"My bag? My backpack?"

"No, it was just you."

Ron knew he'd been spiked. He was taken to the brothel so he could be blackmailed maybe, exposed as immoral, he didn't know. He was also taken away from his property so they could go through it. He had no evidence on him, apart from the photo he took along. He rose up from the bed and scanned the floor.

"Where are my clothes?"

"I will bring."

"There was a photograph, I had a photograph in the pocket, was it still there?"

The woman blinked.

"Is there a photograph in my pocket?" Ron yelled.

The woman squeaked and ran away. Ron swore and tripped over a cushion on the floor as he flung himself at one of the covered windows. He peered outside, the sun was bright, the dust was thick and Jalil was still sitting outside the Ministry, focused on the doors.

"He didn't see me leave." Ron muttered to himself.

He raised his hand to knock on the window and get Jalil's attention when the door to the Ministry building opened and Gulubekov and the Nakhchivan Minister for Magic stepped out with big smiles on their faces. They looked across at the building he was in and Ron threw himself away from the window and against the wall.

"Oh shit."

He could hear laughing, then Jalil's voice saying something in another language, and then what had to be the sound of Jalil being struck by one of the security escorts. He couldn't look. What if part of the plan was for him to expose himself as being inside the brothel.

He slid down the wall and wished he could either be a coward, and never have bothered trying to help, or be brave enough to fling the curtains wide and shout their crimes to the rooftops without caring about what might happen to him or his reputation.

He wasn't brave enough or cowardly enough. Yet again he was just average enough to fail.

He wondered if they were going to get to Hermione before he could. He wondered if Hermione would believe them. She probably wouldn't believe a single word of it...and then believe it all when he confessed the parts of it that were true.

At least three women, in a brothel, with him naked.

He might just be coward enough after all, he burst into tears.

"Here your clothes... Oh." the woman was back and she froze at the sight of him snivelling.

"Thank you," Ron said, roughly wiping his face and grabbing his clothes from her hands. He began to root through the pockets.

"I look, there nothing."

Ron sighed and his shoulders slumped. He had three others but that wasn't the point. They had proof that he had proof of corruption and injustice in their Auror department. They knew for a fact what he had on them. They also had proof that Hasmik's mother had broken their rules and gone to him for help. Maybe this would get Hasmik and Simeon arrested too.

"I promise," the woman said as she poured him a hot cup of whatever was steaming in the pot, "you do nothing to be ashamed. We both have our virginity, we can still be proud."

"I'm not..." Ron shook his head and pulled his tatty t shirt down over his chest. "Your English is very good."

"We have English speaking men come here all time. This is my work. I don't massage so I find out what English want."

Ron fastened his trousers and then dropped onto the bed again.

"Those men not friends?"

"No," Ron said with a weary shake of the head.

"You drugged?"

"I don't know."

"Drink, this no drugs."

He took the hot drink from her and thought about how offensive it would be to ask for sugar before tasting it. Instead he asked her a question.

"What's your name?"

"Zaliha," she smiled and picked his boots up from the floor, carried them around the bed towards him and placed them beside his feet.

"Thank you Zaliha. I'm Ron."

"I know, they told us, you Ron Weasley and we are to tell everybody your name and that you were here."

Ron groaned.

"We say nothing. Nobody listen to us anyway. They no come here to talk."

Ron found himself laughing.

"I will get good job when my English is better. I no work here like other girls."

"Good for you," Ron mumbled. "Hey Saliha?"

"Zaliha."

"Zaliha, sorry, um is there a way out of here that doesn't involve anybody seeing you?"

"Pop!" She took out her wand and mimed Disapparition.

"My wand, yes my wand would be handy, I bet that's with my stuff across the road."

"Or you just use passageway like other Ministers," Zaliha said with a shrug.

"Excuse me?"

"That how friends, not friends, brought you in. Carry you through passageway under ground."

Ron pushed his feet into his boots and got Zaliha to show him the way to the secret underground passage.

Back in the room he didn't spend the night, Ron emptied his clearly tampered with backpack and found his wand. He performed the spell to see what the last spell used was and saw his own Lumos ghosting the tip of the wand. He slotted it into the holder strapped to him and found nothing other than the spare clothes he'd taken with him.

He lit a fire in the hearth and threw the backpack, contents and all, into the flames. He couldn't trust them not to have planted anything on him or cursed any of his things. He watched the pack burn and then left.

Nobody was anywhere to be seen, they were probably all standing outside waiting for him to stagger out of the front door of the brothel, and he let himself out to find nobody but the pair of goons who had been roughing Jalil up. They were still harassing him, even now, and Ron approached from behind and tapped one on the back of the neck with a stinging hex.

"Are you two Aurors?" He demanded of them.

The stung escort turned on Ron with his wand drawn. Ron disarmed him like the pro he was.

"I said are either of you two Aurors?" Ron said, puffing himself up.

"Ron," Jalil looked relieved to see him again, "they say you go alone but I know you n-"

"I'm an Auror and you pair are nothing so back the fuck off my friend and don't ever point your stupid splinter ridden sticks at me again!"

Ron kicked the wand that had fallen at his feet away.

"Jal, my broom."

"I have it."

"Still got yours?"

"I do."

"Good, we're going."

Jalil grabbed Ron by the front of his cloak and looked up into his face.

"They did something, what was done to you?"

Ron put his hand on Jalil's shoulder and squeezed it.

"Politics, they didn't hurt me, they just killed my moral credibility. We need to go back to the city, Jal. They know I'm after them and I need to get to my wife."

"I will get you home, safe," Jalil vowed with a firm nod.

Ron shook his head.

"You need to go to Hasmik and Simeon. They took the photo Harry got enhanced for me. They know the mother lifted the concealment charm and they arrested her for that. They're gonna know how the photo got taken, how I got it, they're gonna go after them and you have to-"

"I have to warn them," Jalil said, mortified.

"We fly our separate ways," Ron said as he fidgeted in his shield breastplate, he never could fasten it as well as Hermione, "hopefully they'll follow me rather than you."

"No," Jalil said as he gripped Ron's cloak harder, "I tell you, never travel without me."

"We have to split up, I can't warn them because they've got my number but you can slip away an-"

"I protect you! Is my job!"

"You're a civilian and I'm an Auror and this is my job."

"But..."

"Go to your friends, Jal!" Ron shouted as he threw off Jalil's hands. "That's an order."

"You my friend!"

Ron took his broom, mounted it and kicked off from the ground. Jalil still wasn't ready and by the time he'd picked up his broom, climbed on and taken off, Ron was too far ahead and accelerating away.

Hermione sent Patronus after Patronus out until her head ached. A small parcel of valuables, her journal on everything that had happened so far, and copies of every scrap of evidence they had gathered were sent to Harry via Pig and a visiting owl. Both creatures were ordered not to come back to Nakhchivan for their own welfare and the risk of anything they carried being intercepted. She'd started as soon as the Foreign Minister left and she'd found that their Floo had been cut off all together.

She'd come to the conclusion that if the fireplace was now useless as a communication device she may as well throw in everything that could be used to spy on them. It was hot outside but like a furnace indoors. She wiped her brow with her forearm and then cast Muffliato over every door and window. She knew that some kind of stealth magic was destroyed when she hurled a bundle of clutter from the dresser near the front door into the flames as something escaped with a scream before vaporising.

The Foreign Minister's aide had waited at the door, he must have planted it, maybe it had been there all along. Just as she was throwing out all the food that had been delivered that morning, she heard Rose crying in the bedroom and ran through to see if it was a simple disgruntled infant or genuine distress from her daughter. Apart from the fact that she was very hot and uncomfortable, Rose had a full nappy. Hermione hurriedly removed her dirty nappy, banished it, and then cast several investigative spells on the nappy bag in the bathroom.

She couldn't quite believe it could have been interfered with, but if she had thought to check it they could have thought to tamper with it. Rose grizzled louder and Hermione convinced herself that the nappy bag was clean, pulled a fresh one out and turned to run back to the bedroom.

Rose stopped crying and Hermione closed the living room door to keep out some of the heat from the blazing fire before stepping into the bedroom to see to her daughter's sore bottom.

"Sorry, sweetheart, mummy just needed to make su-"

Hermione froze. Rose had stopped crying for a damn good reason. Her daddy was rocking her in his arms.

"Ron!" Hermione clung to him and simultaneously felt his body all over for signs of injury.

"It's really me," he said, wearily.

"I know that," she said, voice quaking, "Rose stopped crying, you can't fake that effect." She ripped off his cloak and then wrestled to unlace the breastplate. "I have to make sure you're okay."

"I am."

"I have to see."

"Hermione, I am."

"Shut up and let me see!" She convinced herself that his body was intact and then cupped his face with both hands and looked up into his face. "Oh God, they did something."

"Hermione," Ron began, "I have to tell you something."

"They've been here already," she said, "and I don't care what their smug little men told me, and I don't care if what you have to tell me is even vaguely similar, I know you didn't do anything wrong."

"But I want you to know," he said, "I don't want them to think they're forcing lies between us."

"You didn't do what they said you did, that's all I need to know."

"Listen to me, though."

"They cut off our Floo and left something in the draw by the door and I've kept the doors and windows from being used for eavesdropping."

"I was naked in a brothel with at least three women and I know I didn't do anything but I don't know that because I remember." Ron blurted.

"I know it too. Do you know what else I know?"

Ron looked as if he dreaded what his wife might have to say to him.

"What?"

"I know that was the best they could do," she almost smiled as she said it, "that, was the worst thing they could implicate you with. How desperate are they?"

Then she laughed, kind of manically but she laughed.

"I don't quite..."

"These people pluck random men and women off the streets and torture them into confessing whatever unsolved crime is at the top of their list, they kill people for not admitting to things they didn't do, they are corrupt to their bone marrow, and you... They had to scrape the bottom of the barrel to find something on you and all they could come up with was making it look like you use prostitutes. That was it. You've got them on the back foot. You're honest, they know you're honest, and they're terrified of it."

"These are not people I want to scare," Ron said as he set Rose down in her cot and then sat on the bed, clasping his hands in front of him.

"They can't get to you the way they get to everybody else, you've got diplomatic immunity," Hermione said as she sat beside him and took his hands in hers.

He looked at her, not comforted in the least.

"That's not comforting, because that means they're planning something special for me."

"Politics, Ron, this isn't war. This is politics. We can win this game."

She kissed him on the cheek and rubbed her hand up and down his arm.

"Didn't you have a backpack?"

"I burnt it, they've made me paranoid."

She gave a soft chuckle.

"I burnt everything, even the groceries, great minds think alike eh?"

He leaned over and rested his head against hers. She was still holding the fresh nappy in one hand. He slid it from her grip.

"I'll finish Rose off."

"Okay."

They sat together for a little while longer.

"Ron, where's Jal?"

"If he knows what's good for him, he's hiding."

---

It was exactly eight o'clock the following morning when Jalil arrived for work.

"You idiot," Ron said as he checked it really was him with a few spells, then let him in.

"Not true, I safer as Ministry employee than ordinary man in desert."

"Maybe."

"And you help my friends. Nobody in Ministry care about them. Nobody in Ministry care about you either. I keep you safe."

"It's my job to take care of myself."

"Is my job to be with you."

"We can't keep having this conversation, Jal."

"I agree," Jalil nodded, "you shut up."

Ron sputtered on his shocked laughter and Hermione grinned as she leaned against the doorframe.

"That told you."

"Look, Jal, I have a plan for today. They're probably expecting me to either run or do something kamikaze so I'm taking them on at their own game."

"What is kamikaze?" Jalil frowned.

"What's the plan?" Hermione said, stepping towards him and looking up into his face in apprehension.

"Politics," Ron said, simply.

"Kamikaze is politics?" Jalil's brow furrowed even deeper.

"Some might say," Ron shrugged.

Hermione watched as Ron dressed in his finest robes, and then tried to get the smell off smoke out of them, while drumming her fingers on the bedpost.

"I never know if I should do my hair," Ron said as he stooped in front of the mirror to straighten his thin black tie, "I always look a bit of a prat when it's all combed down don't I? Percy doesn't have this problem, his hair's all corrugated."

"Stop pointing that thing at me and turn around," Hermione said, firmly.

"What thing?" Ron looked over his shoulder and realised that his backside was presenting itself right in front of her face. "A full length mirror would help."

"I don't like them and we're not vain."

"It's not vanity to want to make yourself look presentable without having to squat," Ron huffed.

"Harry and Ginny's house has a mirror in every room and it makes me feel so self conscious. All you had at the Burrow was one mirror in the bathroom and one in your parents' bedroom. That's why it was such a nice environment."

"Ginny had a mirror too," Ron mumbled as he half heartedly attempted to make his hair appear formerly dressed without looking Malfoy-ish.

"Girls are supposed to have a mirror."

Ron turned around and looked at her in astonishment.

"I'm sorry, did my wife just say something sexist?"

"Girls have to spend more time on their presentation, even if it's just plaiting their hair so it's out of their way for a test."

Ron snorted.

"Yeah, Ginny was always looking in the mirror and thinking about tests."

"Oh shut up!"

"What is it with you all today? First Jal, now you!"

"Why are you getting dressed up? Is there a function today?"

"I'm not dressed up, I'm just well presented."

"That, for you, is dressed up."

"Did you mean that to be insulting?" Ron asked, impassively.

"Ron, what are you doing?"

"And besides," he turned back to look back into the mirror and stroke his chin, "six blokes, one tiny mirror in the bathroom, men need to look at their faces every day. Do you see any of us with a beard?"

"Seven of you, you forgot your dad."

"No I didn't, I wasn't counting Percy."

"Oh leave poor Percy alone!"

"I'm not picking on him, he can't grow facial hair."

"He what?"

"Percy doesn't have to shave. He can't grow facial hair...or..." Ron mumbled the end of the sentence into his chest as he looked away with a smirk, "...pubic hair."

"Oh now you are just picking on him."

"I'm not, Fred-"

"Don't say anymore," Hermione held up both hands, "Fred told you and you believed him. You're ridiculously naive sometimes."

"Fred did it," Ron said, still smiling, "Percy started puberty and Fred...reversed it for him."

"Oh my God!"

"They managed to get his balls to drop back down and his voice eventually broke, but the hair," Ron shook his head, "never grew back."

"That's...poor Percy." Hermione said, biting her lip very hard and wringing her hands.

"Don't worry, I won't tell him you laughed."

"I didn't laugh!" Hermione stood upright and protested, cheeks flushed.

"You're going to," Ron said with his cocky bastard grin spreading wide across his face.

Hermione looked furious and frustrated. Then her eyes widened and she pointed her finger directly into Ron's face.

"You!"

"He knows I laugh about it," Ron said, still clearly amused.

"Don't you go thinking you can distract me with this. Ugh, you and your aversion techniques, it might work on your family and it always works on Harry, but not with me sunshine."

"Did you just call me sunshine?"

"You bet I did!" Hermione waggled her finger even closer to his face, stepping closer and looking fiercely up at him. "You got drugged and dumped in a brothel. I had a Minister come to the flat and plant whatever it was in our home. We've been cut off from the outside world and today you're...you're wearing a white shirt and a black tie and your smart robes and...and..." she pointed down at his feet as if the final incriminating piece of the puzzle had just fallen into place before her, "...proper shoes!"

"You're not supposed to be angry that I'm dressing properly for work."

"I'm angry because you're up to something and pretending that you're not."

"You want me to sit around all meek because they beat me yesterday?"

"No, but I want to know everything you're planning to do. You were honest with me yesterday and you don't tip toe around me like the fragile little woman who needs to be kept in the dark. You're only allowed one secret and you've already used that up."

"Low blow," Ron said, darkly.

"I know, and I've never asked have I? It's between you and Harry and I promised you I'll never ask. You promised to tell me everything else so start talking."

When he finally stepped into the Ministry with Jalil at his side, Ron looked every bit the ambassador.

"Ah, Mr Weasley," a heavily embroidered puce robe swept before him and a man with a shiny face and a greasy black moustache stepped into his path.

"It's Auror Weasley, and you are?" Ron said, head high and confidence radiating from him.

"I er, heard you probably won't come to Ministry any more," the man said, thrown off kilter by the demeanour of a man he was told had been scared off. "You come to arrange travel home?"

"I am home, I live in Nakhchivan City, just like you. Now can I help you or are you simply a well dressed doorman?"

He could have sworn he heard Jalil stifle a gasp at this. Ron had learned pomposity from the best. Percy climbed the ranks at the Ministry by reaching above his station.

"Mr... Auror...I..."

"So are you going to prevent me from going through this door or are you going to open it for me?" Ron asked him, pointedly.

The man held the door open for him and, amazingly, bowed as they passed through.

"Good man," Ron said, flicking a gold coin at him.

The shiny faced man caught the coin and gaped after Ron as he proceeded through the Ministry with long strides. Jalil was trotting after him, whispering in amazement.

"That was the Minister for Agriculture!"

"Really? Funny how the farmers are all struggling yet he's dressed like a pantomime dame."

"You tipped him," Jalil said, shakily. "You tipped him like a doorman!"

"He's a man, he held the door, he's a door-man."

"Hello," the Minister for Magic himself stepped out from behind a large tapestry hanging on the wall a few feet ahead of them, "I hoped to see you yesterday in Julfa."

"I bet you did," Ron said as he slowed his pace until he was standing before the Minister for Magic and his accompanying Auror.

"I apologise you found nobody free to talk to you before. I am free now."

Ron smiled at him.

"Oh, isn't it always the way? I'm busy. Maybe you can make an appointment with Jal here, he'll see if he can squeeze you in."

Again Jalil gasped. So did the Auror. The Minister looked as if he wanted to punch Ron. Ron was playing their game and they didn't like it. 'Tough', he thought to himself as he strode away, leaving Jalil to stammer something in Russian to the most powerful man in Nakhchivan. He walked all the way to the Polkovnik's office, ignored the secretary at the desk outside, and opened the door without a knock.

The Polkovnik was moving behind his desk, slightly out of breath, almost as if he had run all the way from behind the tapestry Ron had left the Minister. He looked at Ron and opened his mouth to speak.

"Hello, Auror Ron Weasley, British Ministry representative, sorry you're late for our appointment."

"Ah, appointment?"

"We had one a couple of days ago, nice to finally get to business, mind if I take a seat?" Ron sat down before permission could be granted.

"I have been busy," the Polkovnik said, sitting down too.

"Haven't we all?" Ron said before shaking his head and laughing. "All the Floo network going down like that, you must be in such a fluster. Security nightmare eh? Or was it just the international Floo's? Is it just ours that broke all together?"

"You... Your connection..."

"Not working, that's right, so you're going to have to fix that otherwise you're not going to be able to monitor my communications and I know that's not good for national security. I'll be going straight back after our business today so send somebody over then. My wife's not going to let anybody in until I'm back so no point sending them now. We're going to be occupied for a couple of hours aren't we?"

"We are?"

"Well I had something to discuss with you, some concerns about your Auror department, but I get the feeling that information and photographic evidence has already passed through your hands. You're very efficient, I'll mention that in my report to our foreign Minister at home," Ron said as he sat back in his chair, "Floo repair permitting."

"Report."

"Yes," Ron smiled, "if I don't report they're going to wonder what's happened to me. They'll send more like me to investigate. Think of all the paperwork that'll give you, all that border crossing clearance."

"We can't let people in without arrangements agreed by Minister."

"I know, he'd have to put everything on hold to deal with it, wouldn't he? Can you imagine the diplomatic suicide resulting in him trying to prevent a team, who are permitted by international magical law to verify that my civilian family are safe and well, from getting into the country?"

"We will send word for you so they do not worry."

"That will suffice until the Floo is repaired, not a long term solution though is it? They need to hear from me in person by the end of the week and we've already lost one day." Ron sat forward. "Anyway, enough of that, you have great faith in your legal system."

"I do."

"You trust your Aurors implicitly."

"They are good, honest men and women, they honour their country."

"So I must have caused some offence with my questions, I'm very sorry about that," Ron said, shocking the Polkovnik with his attitude.

"We were offended but, you were not rude," he said, clearly suspicious but trying to remain diplomatic, "we should probably talk to you sooner. We make ourselves look bad."

"We've all made mistakes." Ron smiled. "I'm a guest in your country and I don't know how things work around here."

"You can see our Aurors work, reassure yourself, I will arrange a visit to headquarters."

"Well, I look forward to it," Ron said before leaning against the desk and smiling at the Polkovnik, mischievously, "but right now, I'd love to see your legal system at work. You must be dying to show it off to me, I'm free for the next hour or so and your Wizengamot must be holding a trial right now."

The Polkovnik's face fell.

"Wizengamot," he repeated, paling.

"You have so many prisoners in your cells, I mean it goes hand in hand with having such proficient Aurors at your disposal, so you must be holding trials daily. I think my mind would be put at ease once I see how thorough your court procedure is."

"You wish to witness a trial?"

"Yes please," Ron said with a grin.

"Trials are in our language."

"Jalil Araz, you assigned him to translate for me, he can tag along and explain everything. He's very good."

The Polkovnik stewed on his response for a moment and then leaned over his desk to write a memo. Ron sat back and waited. The memo folded itself into a paper plane and darted off, over his shoulder, almost grazing his cheek. The Polkovnik smiled.

"You and your man can watch a trial. The court is expecting you. Your man will know where to go."

"Thank you," Ron rose from his chair and shook the Polkovnik's hand.

He turned to leave. He heard the Polkovnik's leather chair squeaking as he sat back in it.

"Auror Weasley," the man said, waiting for Ron to look back, "I see why they sent you here. You are very good."

Ron gave him a nod.

"We should play chess."

The Polkovnik raised an eyebrow at his suggestion.

"I think we are."