Chapter 36

As a Field Agent, there were many things you learned things that were contrary to common sense. For example, enemies today could be friends tomorrow. If you were unlucky enough be in that position, the best thing to do was to give them your best smile and be the best team player in the world. Just make sure you have someone you trust to watch your back in case things went pear-shaped.

Also, sock them in the face at least once when you meet them again. It really sells it.

However, there were things that one could never tolerate. Everyone had their own peeve. Mine? Well…

"—and to say that I am proud of what our young duelist has accomplished," Minister Fudge finished, making the cameras engage once more. The headache I had been feeling was slowly coming to the point that it couldn't be ignored. Why was I doing this again? What good would I accomplish by being partially blinded, smiling to the point that I couldn't feel my cheeks anymore, and getting assaulted by Fudge's bloody offensive perfume?

Calm down and play your role, Ron.

"Thank you, sir," I replied. "I'm a little embarrassed, actually. I could barely believe I was going to France to participate in a tournament, much less win."

"Yet you did, dear boy," Fudge said. "And all of Britain is proud of your accomplishment."

I kept wondering how many times he was going to say 'proud' before he grew tired of it. I lost count after the seventh or eighth. And all of Britain? Did Fudge break the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy?

The man turned to the press. "Are there any questions for our Dueling Champion?"

One, mention that I won the Junior Leagues. Just calling me The Champion was a little too vague and I don't want to offend the Amateur and Professional League winners. And two, could we please not do this?

When at least a dozen raised their hands, I wanted to place my head in the fireplace. Maybe that would satisfy these people. Youngest Duelling Champion Kills Himself With Fire in the Greengrass Estate.

Fudge picked an obnoxious-looking reporter with slicked-back hair and glasses. "Hi-hi," he greeted. "Tim Gopher, from the Magical Post. Can young Ronald give us a clue about how he pulled such a massive upset?"

One, young Ronald can hear you. Two, get a less stupid greeting, you wanker.

"A lot of hard work and the steadfast support of my family and friends," I replied. "Especially from the Most Ancient and Noble House of Greengrass. Without them, I doubt I could have accomplished this much." Time for a little buttering up. "I would also like to thank Minister Fudge as well for being such a staunch, if silent, supporter." Even if he didn't really do anything but call in a stupid press conference and talk about how he made it all possible.

I glanced at the man, and he was eating it all up. The things I did to keep my future options open.

"Mister Weasley!" called another reporter, a female one this time. "Victoria Jones from Witch Weekly. Is it true that in just a short time, you were able to garner quite an interest from the, uh, veela community?"

Merlin, why did Valerie have to be a publisher's little princess? Well, maybe not so little.

Focus, Ron.

"I was surprised as much as anyone," I replied. "I guess it happened because I met a nice girl named Valerie—"

After a few more questions and some more dodging, it was finally over. The press seemed to be rather satisfied with my answers. They left, though not before asking me to do a few poses for the camera. Fudge shook my hand again before he went with them, and with everything nice and quiet once more, I sank into the sofa of the Greengrass' drawing room.

Dad had requested that I continue staying with them a little longer. Apparently, he was still concerned about how Mother would react when she saw her Slytherin son again. I didn't mind. While I would have loved to go home and decompress fully, considering the cluster-fuck that was my vacation, there was work to do.

The main thing on my mind right now was my missing memories. It had always been a background problem for me. Sure, while it was a little unnerving that I had forgotten someone like Wormtail or even the few hints when it came to some of my current friends, I felt I could leave it alone. That was until my showdown with Fleur gave me a glimpse of what I was missing.

Now, I couldn't get it out out of my head. So when I could, I would delve deep into my mind, trying to recall anything. While I had managed to make the traumatizing memories of being born again surface, I couldn't fill the holes of my old life.

It was utterly confusing.

I remembered the Field Agent training, but I couldn't remember my recruitment. In fact, the last memory before that was seeing Rose off to Hogwarts for her first year. Focusing in between the two just gave me a migraine that lasted for hours.

However, something good did come out of my trips to memory lane. While some things still felt a little spotty, I recalled a few good times I had on the job. It was the little things, after all, that kept people sane.

One of my favorite recollections was of Harry and I talking and joking about whatever caught our somewhat drunken fancy in a Knockturn Alley tavern. At one point, we'd been laughing about some punk who recognized him during an operation.

Field Agents normally operated in the shadows, following the defining trait of the Unspeakable Department—secrecy. We never wore uniforms during a job. Instead, we used other means to hide our identities.

Well, except when we were supposed to do publicized work, like teaming up with Aurors. If that happened, we would wear our uniforms and masks.

Yet because of his fame and power, Harry had been so easily recognizable. No matter what he tried to hide his identity, his fighting style would still give him away.

"I always wanted to join because I thought I could finally be a… faceless protector," he had said in one of our sessions. "Instead, I can't even get into a proper fight anymore because the airy-fairies would immediately surrender when they realized I was the one they were fighting."

It worked out for him, though, considering he was the FA's most famous Hitter. If you needed someone to smash past the opposition, he was your bloke.

I took a quieter but equally important role of being an Infiltrator. It was perfect for me because… well, I never really became famous. Maybe there was a time in my youth when I would have thought badly of it, but I had eventually accepted the truth.

Everyone remembered Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the Savior of Magical Britain.

Everyone remembered Hermione Granger, the Witch Genius, the first muggleborn Minister of Magic.

But Ron Weasley? Nobody remembered him. Somehow, not even being the husband of said Genius Minister brought me any type of notoriety.

Reality didn't care about things like opinions, desire, and whatnot. It didn't care if I wanted to be as famous as my friend or wife. The powers that be said that I was an unimportant man in the grand scheme of things, and honestly, who was I to argue?

However, being anonymous was very useful in my job. I didn't even need polyjuice to transform myself. With just a simple dye-job, hair growth and an aging potion, or even a simple change in clothing, I could blend in almost anywhere.

As an Infiltrator, my job was primarily to gather intelligence. Most of the time, I did that by being a bit of a grifter. I had acted out different characters for many different scenarios. Not to brag, but I was pretty good at it.

I soon learned to love it. There was something rather thrilling in stringing along your enemies until it was time to spring the snare. A lot of times, it was far more useful to be able to deceive your opponents than just outmatch them in a duel.

Of course, the purpose of tricking your enemy was to let them underestimate you. The less they knew, the more room you had to maneuver.

It was rather funny, though. After having finally accepted my fate of being an unknown, I was now climbing up the ranks of recognition. France put up my name and face in almost all their publications. The last few days of staying there saw me hounded by fans and watchers alike. Now, Magical Britain was following suit.

I was just glad that Violet Potter was still a bigger name here. I didn't need any more glory.

The door opened, taking me out of my thoughts. I saw Darius approach with a small smile.

"Please tell me it's over," I said, almost pleadingly.

"They're gone," he replied amusedly.

"For now." I snorted. "But they'll be back. And in greater numbers."

"Star Wars?" he asked, grinning.

"No offense, sir, but you're not supposed to know that."

"Why, because I'm a Pureblood Lord?" He chuckled. "How are you holding up, Ron?"

"Just glad they are gone," I replied, shaking my head. "I didn't expect so many when you told me that Minister Fudge wanted to congratulate me."

He frowned, nodding. "I'm sorry about that. I did insist on keeping it small. I guess for our esteemed Minister, a dozen and a half reporters with their cameramen were considered that."

"It's okay, sir. And you don't have to keep apologizing. I've had enough of that since we left France a week ago."

"Sometimes we feel it isn't enough," he said, looking at me carefully.

I inwardly frowned. Darius and Mariana had been treating me a little too gently since the hospital incident. Partially because of guilt, and partially because I played the frustrated and angry kid a bit too well.

Not that I was completely acting. For the first few days after our conversation back in the hospital, I actually had been angry and frustrated with the Greengrasses. By choice or not, they put me in the middle of their feud with the Delacours.

However, once the shock had worn off, it was easy to see that they were not to blame for the whole fiasco. If anything, I understood their situation. There was almost no indication that the Delacours considered the truce broken until during the Finals. Every one of them, me included, were caught off guard.

Sure, they had an inclination that something was going on and admitted as much to me before the Finals. If there was any fault I could find in their actions, it was the fact that they weren't thinking as deviously as they should have. I mean, come on, they were all (Astoria still pending) Slytherins.

What impressed me the most was the fact that Darius and Mariana never hesitated in asking for forgiveness. The sad truth was that some adults would never hold themselves accountable to anyone they felt to be their inferior, like kids. The fact that the two Greengrasses didn't spoke quite well about them.

It was pretty easy to forgive them in the end. I understood that they were in a bind and that they knew they were asking a little too much from me to go with the flow of things. They did everything they could to make it up to me, and I felt good realizing that they considered me important enough to humble themselves like that.

Besides, I wasn't ready to cut ties yet. Especially when I still had enemies in Hogwarts.

Still, I continued playing the role a little bit longer. Not for their benefit, though, but for another person who couldn't even do what her parents did.

"Something on your mind, sir?" I asked gently.

"It's about Daphne."

And there was the rub. I closed my eyes for a moment before looking away. "What about her, sir?"

"I understand that both of you haven't exactly been seeing eye to eye. I just—" There was a knock on the door and Darius paused, frowning. "Come in," he declared.

The youngest Greengrass entered, looking around for a moment, somewhat nervously. When she saw us, she approaching slowly, asking, "Are they gone, Father?"

"Yes they are, dear," he replied with a small smile.

"Oh, good." She looked at me. "Ron, let's play!"

"Again?" I asked, smiling.

"Please?" she asked, eyes getting bigger.

I looked at Darius, and he seemed to be debating internally about something. After a moment, he sighed, nodding in agreement. I looked back at Astoria. "Sure." I paused for a moment. "Is Daphne going to join us this time?"

She frowned, looking back at the door. "No, she's still in her room."

I shook my head. That girl. Taking Astoria's hand, we made our way to their expansive grounds. We played a bit of tag before she asked me to show her things I'd learned from Hogwarts.

It was amusing how enjoyable she found the Levitation charm and basic Transfiguration spells. All I did was transform fallen leaves into colorful, sparkly bugs, and made them float around. She chased them with glee.

"I wish I could go to Hogwarts this year," she said after getting tired of all the running. "I want to be with you and Daphne."

"Don't worry," I replied. "It'll just be one more year. Besides, we'll still be there when you get sorted."

"But what if you're not friends anymore?" she asked, frowning.

I heard a rustle of leaves somewhere. I frowned but ignored it. "And why wouldn't we be?"

"You don't talk to her anymore," she replied, a bit of accusation in her tone. "She's feeling really sad about it. You talk to mother, father, and me, but you still ignore her."

"It's not that I don't want to, Astoria," I said with a small sigh. "But she did something something wrong. I'm just waiting for her to tell me that she was sorry, like your parents."

"I didn't say sorry," she countered. Cute.

"Because you didn't do anything wrong," I replied, ruffling her hair a bit.

"Ron!" she protested with a pout and tried to move away. I moved my hand faster, making her squeal as she ran away. I chased her around in circles for a bit, poking her sides to make her laugh until we paused by a tree.

Watching her fix her hair, I heard another rustle of leaves. Rolling my eyes, I waited for a moment before Astoria finally asked, "So, all she has to do is apologize?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"I'll make her apologize now!" she said excitedly. "Wait here, okay? I'll get her!"

"Wait, you don't have to go," I said, but she ignored me. Watching her run away, I felt somewhat satisfied to see familial love showing so strongly between the siblings. I shook my head. "You know, I wouldn't have minded if she stayed. I mean, it was a little obvious that this whole thing is a set-up. Honestly, your family really likes being secretive and sneaky, don't they?"

There was another rustle of leaves. I leaned on the tree behind me, crossing my arms as I waited. A few seconds later, Daphne walked out of the treeline, frowning. "How did you know?" she asked softly.

I faced away.

"What?" she asked, worriedly.

I glanced back at her, raising one eyebrow. I tapped my feet hurriedly before cupping my ear with my hand.

She frowned, putting her hands on her hips. "Really, Ron?" she asked. "Are we going through this charade?"

I poked my tongue at her.

"What are you, eight?"

I responded by turning completely away from her.

"Will you stop acting like this?" she demanded, her voice getting stronger. I felt that was a success considering that for the past week she would barely speak louder than a whisper whenever I was around. Maybe a few more pokes would do. I looked up, staring at the branches above me, tapping my foot again.

"You're impossible, you know that?" she growled.

I sniffed and took one step forward.

"Fine! I'm sorry, okay?!"

"Thank Merlin," I replied, smiling slightly as I faced her again. "Now was that hard, Daphne?"

"You jerk!" she accused as she approached me aggressively. I raised my hands in defense, which made it easy for her to grab a meaty part of my arm before squeezing hard. "You insensitive, obnoxious, scruffy-looking prat!"

Once she let go, I rubbed the soreness before replying absently, "I'm not scruffy-looking." She responded by slapping my hand away, grabbing my whole limb, and squeezing it between her arms.

I paused for a moment, looking at her bowed head as she seemed to be attempting some sort of submission maneuver. "If you want to break my arm, you have to—" and stopped when I heard something I didn't expect. "Are… are you crying?"

"No!" she replied roughly.

I hesitated before putting my hand on top of her head. "Daphne, it's fine."

"No it's not! I thought you—! We—!" She sobbed, still gripping my arm.

"Hey," I said, gently smoothing her hair. "Come on, let's sit down, yeah?"

She didn't respond, though she gave way easily enough as we slowly crouched. I let her go on, patting her arm gently as I looked towards the sky. She cried for a few more minutes before she finally composed herself. She wiped her face with her sleeves before giving me a gentle push.

"You're a prat," she muttered hoarsely.

"Mhmm," I responded neutrally. "And you are bad at apologies."

"I didn't think I needed to," she said, frowning as she tried to glare at me. It wasn't that effective, considering there was still evidence of tears in her eyes. "I thought you understood."

"Do you even know what I want you to apologize for?" I asked gently.

"For hitting Durand? For breaking that stupid ceasefire?"

"No." I sighed. "Daphne, we're contracted friends, right?"

She gave me an odd look before nodding.

"From what your father told me, we're supposed to support and not betray each other, right?" When she nodded again, I shook my head. "Well, I felt betrayed when none of you would tell me how big of a problem your family had with the veela. I felt as if all of you just left me, abandoned in the Forbidden Forest to face all the monsters alone."

"We couldn't tell you, Ron," she said softly. "Father and Mother worked so hard to keep her secret from coming out. If people knew—"

"And you think I don't understand that?" I asked, a little gruffness escaping my voice, silencing her. "Why do you think I even went along in keeping quiet after what they did to me, Daphne? I knew that the Delacours had one over your family. Something so big that your father and mother were so willing to accept the new terms of the contract, even if it meant discounting my thoughts on the matter. Something that none of you could explain until I practically demanded it!"

I shook my head. "I could have done without the details of it, you know. I mean, how hard would it be to tell me that your family had problems with the veela, and you were unsure if you might have broken some sort of treaty?" When she said nothing, I shook my head. "Sometimes, I wonder if you just don't trust me."

"We do," she almost whispered.

"It doesn't feel like it, though," I countered. "What, did you think telling me would somehow give me a clue of your mother's heritage? That if I found out, I would betray you or your family?"

She shook her head. "No!"

I gave her a look of disbelief.

After a pause, she sighed. "Yes, maybe. It's just… I just don't want you to hate me. To hate us."

"And why would I?"

"Because you overthink things!" she responded with a growl. "If you knew what my heritage is, you'd start doubting me. You'd probably look over every little thing my family did, and… and—" She shook her head.

"Then tell me," I reasoned. "If you're afraid I'd assume bad things about your family, you can set it straight."

"I can't," she said before pleading, "Please, don't ask me yet. You wouldn't understand."

I glanced at her. She looked desperate and hurt, struggling with something. "That bad, huh?" I asked.

"I… I just don't want to lose you as a friend."

Staring at the treeline, I wondered if this was the hardest I could push her right now. Any more would probably seriously compromise my friendship with her. Risking it didn't seem necessary. After all, I already had another source looking into it, plus I had more options later this year.

Like buttering up Lockhart for those permission slips.

Calming down, I patted her hand. "You won't," I replied softly. Then, I smirked. "Well, not unless you do something drastic. I like being your friend, Daphne. No one else would allow me to jerk them around so much."

That earned me a gentle slap on the shoulder and a flash of a smile. "Prat."

"You need to get better at name-calling," I commented. "May I suggest tosser? Wanker also has a nice touch to it. Git is good as well." That earned me another slap.

"Father is going to kill you if you start making me say those things."

"Well, it can be our little secret, eh?" I asked with a wink. That made her shake her head. We sat in comfortable silence for a time. Looking up, I watched as the sky slowly turned crimson.

"Ron," she said softly. "I'm sorry. For everything."

I nodded absently. "Just don't leave me in the dark like that again, Daphne. I got lucky this time. You said you didn't want to lose me as a friend? Well, you almost did back in France. And you'll never be able to apologize for that afterwards."

I felt her hand creep into mine. It started with a simple, hesitant brush of her finger, before she finally rested it on top of my knuckles. I debated whether to move away, but I figured she could use the break. After another moment of silence, she asked, "Should we head back?"

"Probably," I replied, slowly standing up. She followed suit and as we began to wipe the dirt from our clothes, I added, "Just to be clear, you will tell me when the time is right?"

She nodded rather eagerly. "Yes. We'll tell you everything."

"I hope you don't think I'll stop asking around, though," I said.

"Ron—" she protested, but I raised my hand to stop her.

"Anything I find, I'll check it with you," I added. "And I expect you to be honest. If it's as bad as you think it is, then you need to be able to clear things up for me. Is that understood?"

She frowned for a moment, looking contemplative. After a while, she crossed her arms. "I want the same terms."

I raised an eyebrow. "At what?"

"If I have questions regarding your secrets," she replied.

I stared at her. "You owe me."

She sniffed. "I apologized."

"Poorly," I countered.

"Ron," she replied softly, "I do owe you. That's why I'm not going to protest or try to stop you, even if I wanted to. However, asking me to actually divulge details is another matter. So, we trade. Same terms. Any honest answer for any inquiries we discover. It's how we always do it."

I put my hands in my hip. Slytherins, honestly. "Fine."

"Good," she said, smiling deviously. "Now, I've recently discovered you know advanced occlumency. Where did you learn that?"

"Basics I learned during Auror training," I replied, crossing my arms and giving her my most annoying smile. "The more advanced lessons I got during Unspeakable training."

She stared at me, frowning. "Ron."

I shrugged. "What? It's true. Don't believe me?"

It was fascinating watching her hands crumple into fists before she forced them to relax. She gave me a more strained smile. "Fine. How about your Substitute? Where did you learn that enchantment?"

"Unspeakable training on that one as well."

Her smile turned to a frown. She opened her mouth for a moment, but said nothing for a while, her hands slowly pointing accusingly at me. Then she tried to calm herself down but couldn't quite get a neutral expression right, considering she looked like she wanted to throttle me.

I didn't want to laugh, but honestly, I found her actions rather funny. My chuckle, though, brought her over the edge.

"Git!" she growled before turning her back on me, walking away as fast as possible. "Wanker! Tosser!"

"Your father would be very horrified to hear you say such nasty things," I called back, following. For effect, I added, "M'lady."

She growled again, half stalking, half jogging away as fast as possible. "Don't speak to me ever again, Weasley!"

Well, she might've acted mad, but the first thing she did when dinner came around was drag me to sit beside her. She never did lose that expression, though, the one that made it look like she had just stepped on freshly-made troll droppings. Her eyes and hands kept on twitching as well.

Poor girl couldn't handle the truth, I guess.

It must have been an odd scene for anyone normal watching, but Darius and Mariana looked really satisfied with what was going on. They were probably happy that things were finally returning to normal. Astoria, bless her little heart, had the brightest and proudest smile of all, as if she had gotten an Outstanding in the first big test of her young life.

As for me, I just gave them all my best innocent look. After all, it wouldn't do to ruin the mood, right?