Chapter 10 Nothing New Under the Sun

"There is no similarity, no likeness of one thing to another, as great as the likeness we all share. Thus whatever definition of a human being one adopts is equally valid for all humans." Marcus Tullius Cicero in Law (De legibus circa. 40 BC.).

Ron Weasley was trembling. He got up, then he sat right back down. The trembling grew worse. He hit the table with an open palm, mostly to stop himself from shaking. Then he buried his head in his hands and silently wept. His friends looked at him befuddled, fixed in their sits, unable to react, as if restrained by a powerful curse.

Hermione was the first one to be able to get up. She went to her husband and hugged him tightly by the waist from the side. She didn't say a thing. People with baggage are weary to let their demons roam freely. She let him grab a hold of himself. When he did, he turned around, he kissed her and embraced her tightly by the waist. She asked softly: "What is it, my love?"

Ron let his wife go. He laughed curtly and said: "I used to play bouncy too."

Ginny and Harry shot him an interrogative look but remained silent.

Ron passed his hand through his hair; which was not as long as Bill's, but longer than the buzz cut he had worn when he still was in the Aurors. He cleared his throat and explained: "Gellert Grindelwald is right again. Bouncy is rediscovered by wizarding kids time after time. Though we Weasleys have never been a classy lot, we used to call it rubber butt..."

Ginny protested: "Hey, speak for yourself, bro, I am classy! But sure, you Weasley boys are all rubes."

Ron looked at her with red but steady eyes. He chuckled softly. Then he went serious again and asked her: "Do you remember when we were living in London, Ginny?"

Ginny's eyes grew wide with surprise: "We lived in London?! I don't remember ever living anywhere else but the Burrow! You are winding me up!"

"I'm not surprised you don't remember. We moved out by my fourth birthday, you were two and a half. But we used to live in central London when dad was working in the Department of Mysteries."

"Bollocks!" she cried out and immediately covered up her mouth. Hermione had gifted them a book about how babies learned things even in the womb. So Ginny was trying to quit cussing and, save for Quidditch matches when the Holly Harpies were losing, she mostly managed. Ginny asked incredulous: "Dad, our dad: Arthur Weasley used to work in the Department of Mysteries?"

Ron smiled weakly: "He wasn't part of the Order of the Phoenix just because, sis. He joined Mysteries right after school and apparently was underway to becoming top dog there for his studies of Muggle and Wizarding concurrent energy management. Whatever that is. I didn't know about it either. Bill told me quite forcefully when I was eleven and complained about not being able to have new clothes and books for Hogwarts. I was saying the reason we were dirty poor was dad's lack of ambition. He told me I'd better shut up, I didn't and then he reminded me the story I had forgotten. I probably forgot the incident 'cause it was my fault that he had to quit his job and we had to move."

Hermione frowned: "How could it had been your fault? You said you were only four at the time!"

Ron leaned on the table with his palms supporting his forehead: "I made him quit 'cause I could no longer stand living in London after the incident… Our incident… not bloody Dumbledore's… Though things haven't changed much in these hundred years..."

Harry, Ginny and Hermione looked worriedly at each other.

Ron inhaled deeply: "We lived in a flat at Osborn St. on a second floor right in the middle of Spitalfields, a couple of blocks away from where Jack the Ripper murdered Victorian red ladies." He looked at his wife defiantly, but Hermione did not protest the word red ladies. He carried on: "We were a big family and the only flat big enough to accommodate us all in central London that we could afford was there. Half the neighbors couldn't speak English; most of them were Muggles who came from Bangladesh. OK people, despite being Muggles, I guess. I remember curry being nice. We tried it one time mum took us to the Muggle market, which is right above the wizarding one that is underground. It was noisy, colorful and a bit scary, but it was fun too."

Ginny swung her head from side to side: "I don't remember a thing!"

"It's OK Ginny, you were so little, and perhaps it is best you don't remember..." He sighed: "The flat was crowded. Mum and dad had the master bedroom. Charlie, Bill and Percy shared another room. I shared the third bedroom with Fred and George and you slept in a basket in the living room. When the incident happened dad had just been promoted, he and mum had been looking for a house where we could all live more comfortably. It had to be close to the Ministry 'cause dad's experiments often made him keep odd hours. He was permanently on call and that way he could spend some time with us and mum. At times he could only come home for an hour, grab something quick to eat, kiss each one of us and go right out again."

Hermione said: "So the incident happened there?"

Ron denied: "No, nothing happened to us while we were living in Spitalfields. The incident happened right after moving to the house in Hallam Street in Marylebone. It was a five story building that had once belong to some Muggle woman with an infamous reputation that made the place relatively cheap. It had been changing hands since 1836. Muggles avoided it. It was supposedly inhabited by ghosts, but there were no real ghosts in it. We only found a doxy infestation when we moved. Charlie says that there was a dungeon in the basement, but we kids weren't allowed to go down. Charlie had only sneaked a pick when he had fetched dad's lunch while he was fixing the place. Doxy dust can induce hallucinations, if you don't get rid of them. That and the house reputation is what probably made the Muggles see ghosts. The reputation was good in keeping Muggles out, so my parents bought it gladly."

Hermione jumped off the seat: "Merlin's wand! First Jack the Ripper and then your family moved to the house where Theresa Berkley lived!"

"Yes, I think that was the name of the infamous Muggle lady. How on Merlin's name can you know that, luv?"

Hermione cackled meanly: "Because that was indeed a Victorian Red Lady, my love. She was an infamous governess!"

Ron frowned: "You mean like a teacher, luv?"

"Only in a very twisted way: dominatrix were called governess back then. Even the king was said to have enjoyed her hospitality. The letters from her patrons of the high aristocracy both male and female supposedly could have set the world on fire, which is probably why someone burnt them, breaking into the place around the time the woman died in shady circumstances."

Ron nodded: "There were traces of a big fire in a couple of the rooms on the third floor. Especially around a hole in the wall that had an iron box in it. Dad called the box a safe. If you ask me, it was not safe at all. Give me a Gringotts' vault any day over that, but, ya know? Muggles… The damage was nothing that dad and Bill couldn't fix, but we used to wonder what had happened. Now I know thanks to my wife that literally knows everything." He smiled goodheartedly.

Hermione wasn't smiling back, she was frowning.

The wizarding world was indeed a guarded place. Ginny asked: "What is a dominatrix?"

It wasn't Hermione who answered. Harry, blushing, leaned towards his pregnant wife and explained it whispering in her ear.

Ginny looked at him appalled, not sure she had got it right: "Do Muggles really do that?"

Hermione nodded: "Some do and some charge a fee for doing it. Apparently you lived in the house where the woman plied her trade, Ginny."

Ron pointed out: "That is probably why we kept finding these long flexible whip like birch branches. Percy thought the house had at some point belonged to a wand maker." He whistled: "Boy was he wrong! I guess that the horse curry comb we found in the attic was not used on a horse either. No wonder mum burnt it to a cinder when she found us playing with it. Merlin knows the things that poor comb had witnessed..."

"How can you make jokes about this?!"

Ron chuckled, he could make jokes about anything, he coped with a lot doing that: "I thought you were the one who wanted us to be able to discuss these topics from this side of the twenty-first century." He smiled impishly: "You were even willing to teach me weekly lessons on Muggle naked artistry, luv."

Hermione threw him an admonitory look: "Ronald Bilius Weasley, thread carefully or I will teach you a lesson."

Ron held her eyes steadily and said: "Hermione Jane Granger, I'm always willing to learn whatever you are willing to teach."

Harry cleared his throat.

Ron stifled a laugh, sometimes his best mate took life too seriously. Growing up with Fred and George, developing a sense of humor was a matter of survival instinct. He said to Hermione: "I'm actually more interested in finding out about how you know of Theresa Berkley's reputation and trade? You seem very well informed, luv."

Hermione responded in a flustered and dignified tone: "You know I read anything that falls in my hands. I can't help it. I read the back of the cereal boxes for crying out loud! The woman was mentioned as a notorious resident in Victorian Marylebone in one of the periodicals my dad had in his waiting hall. It was summer break, his receptionist was on vacations, I was available to cover for her and, in slow days, I got bored and read all the magazines there. All I know about the lady and her trade is limited to what was in a footnote with a quote of Henry Spencer Ashbee that expounded on it."

Harry scoffed: "Get out! You found about an infamous Victorian dominatrix on the footnote of a magazine in a dental office?"

"Daddy is an orthodontist, actually, but yes… that is where I found it. In all fairness the magazine covered a wide array of topics with somewhat encyclopedic aspirations." She continued with the same tone she had used to explain a lesson at school: "The description of the woman's trade was extensive, it mentioned the birch branches, battledores, horse's tacks and curry combs, butcher's brush, nettles, cat-o-nine-tails, a butcher's meat hook with pulleys in the attic and a contraption she invented called the Berkley Horse in the basement. According to Spencer Ashbee, if you had plenty of money you could enjoy the woman's brand of hospitality, whether to give or take. Though Ms. Berkley didn't enjoy to be in the receiving end save for the mildest of treatments, she had whores in waiting to accommodate her patrons." She looked at her husband as defiantly as he had when he had said red ladies as she called them whores. Then she ended: "I suspect, given his enthusiastic description, that he enjoyed the woman's hospitality himself."

Ginny asked: "Most of those are names of plants or stuff you use to care for horses... How does that work exactly?"

Harry couldn't have blushed redder: "I'll explain it to you latter, Gin. When we are home."

Ginny put two and two together and frowned: "No, wait… I'm starting to get the picture and I think that is as far as I want to know about the woman's hospitality… What on Merlin's name was the meat hook for? Nope, I'm good. I really don't want to know. Yikes!" Then she turned towards her husband and said: "I just want to know one thing: How do you know about this stuff, Harry?"

Turns out Harry could blush redder: "Not here, Gin."

"Sure, I'll wait till we are home to find out."

Ron sniggered: "Chill, Ginny. Dirty mags both Muggle and Wizarding were passed around in Hogwarts. Dumbledore was right in that too, porn is the great equalizer. Even that saint of a husband you have had a butchers. If it is any consolation, he was more terrified of some of those mags than of Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. You married a good man, sis. Though I guess you don't tell each other everything, everything. Wouldn't be healthy, if you ask me..."

While Ginny and Harry were having a small meltdown in a corner of the dining room, Ron focused back on Hermione.

He cocked an eyebrow: "Why now, Mrs. Granger- Weasley, I do think that you finding out in a digest is a perfectly reasonable and innocent explanation of how you were informed of the scandalous woman's trade. I have one perfectly reasonable and innocent explanation too. We lived first in Spitalfields, a couple of blocks away from where two victims of the Ripper were found; and then in the den of the infamous Victorian dominatrix precisely 'cause both those locations are just the kind of places Muggles avoid like the pox." He adjusted some imaginary spectacles over his nose and continued in a mock didactic tone: "It is well known fact that wizards choose those locations to live in not 'cause they like haunted, shitty places or 'cause they get their kicks out of kink, luv, but 'cause the bloody Statute of Secrecy forces us to… That has to do with the incident too, if you care to learn about it."

Ginny and Harry had made up and were back. She told her brother to mind his language, covered a giggle with a little cough. And Harry looked away to hide his own smile.

Hermione moaned and grabbed at a couple of bunches of her curly hair, pulling them down to her shoulders, making her look as if she were wearing a hood made of her own messy hair: "Oooh, I'm so sorry, my love! You were trying to tell us about the incident and I got us sidetracked."

Ron sniggered: "Yes, you do tend to do that, luv." She did, when she didn't want to face an issue.

Hermione released her curls and made as if she were locking her mouth and throwing away the key.

Ron Weasley had fallen in love with his wife, all of her, even with her tendency to ride high horses. So he smiled at her with the tenderness we save for those we care deeply for, even when they have wronged us. He knew it was not she didn't care, but that she cared too much.

He kissed Hermione lightly on the lips and carried on: "We moved to the house in Hallam Street and for the first time ever we each had a room for ourselves. We had a backyard with a birch tree and several rooms to play in and explore inside the five story house. There were even a couple of wizarding families around. Dad could share a portkey to the ministry with the fathers who worked there too. Mum made friends with the other mums, she even found a Celestina Warbeck fan among them. And we made friends with the kids. I love my brothers, but being able to have playmates close to my age, other than Fred and George, was very nice. We were all happy in the place, until that happened…" He stopped.

Harry patted him gently on the shoulder as he passed to go back to his sit: "It's alright, mate, you know you can tell us anything."

A deep frown creased Ron's forehead: "It happened one Sunday in late August, a bit before Bill and Charlie had to go back to Hogwarts. Dad had taken them and Percy on a fishing trip. They got up in the middle of the evening as dad wanted to be on the boat in the lake at the break of dawn. We sent them off with an impromptu farewell party. Mum made cakes and sandwiches and tea; as if they were explorers going to the North Pole, instead of just going away for the day. When they were gone mum told us to go back to bed, but we were too wired up to sleep. That's when Fred suggested we played rubber butt in the backyard…"

Harry, Ginny and Hermione shared another troubled look, bracing themselves for impact. They could surmise what was coming. People who have been through a lot, and those three had seen half their school promotion laying dead on the floor during graduation, often find coping mechanisms to deal with their emotional baggage. Each one of them turned to their weapon of choice to steel themselves.

Ron sighed deeply: "There was a full moon up in the sky, we didn't need light to move around. George and Fred kept egging each other to bounce higher and higher. I didn't want to fall behind, I did it too. Better said that I tried, but I was four and I'm no brilliantly magical. I was barely able to get off the ground. I'm not even sure how many of those times I actually used magic. Most times all I managed was to hurt my bum. Then the twins started laughing and calling me soggy butt."

Ginny scoffed, a bit like her mum, her coping mechanism was focusing in trivial things to create distance: "Sometimes the twins could be proper wankers. Darning socks, can't stop cussing."

Ron smiled sadly, Fred had been dead for five years, but they still thought of the Fred, George duo as the twins, even if nowadays they talked about the twosome in the past tense. George barely talked about his brother, whenever he did, it was clear he had to force himself to. Ron could not begin to imagine what he felt.

"Guess Dumbledore's squib grandpa knew what he was talking about. We redheads have tempers. I hadn't wet the bed since I was three, not that odd, but it was just another thing in which I had lagged behind all of my siblings, including Ginny. The name made me so bloody angry. I saw red. Somehow I managed to bounce." He sighed, lost in the memory: "I bounced so high that I went right over the hedges. I kept bouncing on the pavement in the street. A car full of Muggles was driving by just then. It swerved to avoid hitting me and crashed loudly on a streetlamp. I had no control over it. I bounced once more and I landed on a vacant lot that was in front of the house. I hit a tree in that last bounce, it took my breath away and the rubber butt spell faded. That could have been it, except for the Muggles in the car." He let air slowly out: "They were furious, cursing each other and trying to figure out what the hell had been that they had almost hit. I was spying them through a hole in the wood palisade surrounding the vacant lot. They had finally agreed that I was some sort of animal. One of them growled that I was an effing stupid animal that had ruined his car. That one pulled something out from the car's glove compartment. Dad has always been fascinated by Muggle stuff, he has these Ian Fleming paperbacks about the adventures of some Muggle called James Bond. I had seen the contraption in the bright gaudy covers that had ladies in scant dresses sitting on or leaning against giant golden versions of it. I knew what the thing was: it was a gun…"

Ginny was looking at her brother wide eyed, she put a hand protectively over her swollen belly.

Harry was breathing shallowly, his hands curled up in fists on their own accord. His go-to was rage. It had serviced him well in the past, he'd used it as both cattle prod to keep him going and as a twisted refuge. Inside righteous anger he felt relatively safe.

Hermione blurted out: "Well now that's Freudian!" She blabbered when she was nervous. She could go on and on, expounding the director commentary of the horrible acts required to create a horcrux, for example. But she wanted to be there, attention undivided, for her husband. She covered up her mouth with both hands to cut off the babble.

Ron didn't seem to have listened to her: "Even if I had never seen that Muggle weapon before, the man looked so menacing that he made me take a backwards step. I hit something, but before I could turn around and see what I had hit, a plump hand covered my mouth. I tried to scream but the hand pressed harder, I could barely breathe. I started trashing around."

Hermione gasped looking at him horrified. It was nothing but a flicker a break in the mask of still calm she had tried to put on her face in place of the verbosity. It didn't work. Ron caught it.

Ron gulped. He had seen his wife facing dead calmly plenty of times. That look was not one he ever wanted to see in her face, the least of all over him. His coping mechanism was either humor or just letting it slide. He did that last one, let it slide, saving it up for later, when they were alone.

"Then someone whispered in my ear that I had to be quiet. Through the fog of numbing fear I recognized mum's voice. She had apparated behind me. She was getting ready to disapparate with me when one of the Muggles said that whatever it was had gone into the vacant lot. The one with the gun jumped over the fence and I lost it. I ran. Something hit me in the back and I began shrinking. I grew fur and whiskers. Mum had turned me into a mouse. She had turned herself into a mouse too and caught up with me running on her four paws. Without stopping she pointed with her round pink nose towards what seemed to be a cave. We ran towards it. It was a boot. It smelled really bad, the leather was wet and rotting from being outside. We cowered inside it while above us, barely missing us, sounded the thunderclap of the Muggles' steps. The Muggle with the gun said in a bellow that he was sure he had seen something pass him by with the corner of his eye. I pressed myself against mum and closed my eyes tight. All I could hear were the Muggles and her heart beating against her rib cage." He looked downwards, fixing his eyes on the grain of the dining table. When he spoke his voice was barely above a murmur: "I think that her fear was what scared me the most. You know mum, she can be frightening sometimes, but I'd never seen her being afraid of anything before. Molly Weasley is fearless, you get that from her, Ginny. I've only seen mum that way again when she faced the boggart who showed all of us dead. That is her worst fear, losing one of us, and I almost did that to her..."

Ginny teared up. Grumbling she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand: "Blooming hormones." Explaining her moment of weakness away. Yeah, right, blame it on the pregnancy.

Harry wasn't sure using obvious euphemisms was better than outright cussing. In fact he had learned with Tom Riddle that hiding behind words could be worse. But his eyes were glistening too, so he unclenched his fists, walking away from his fortress of rage, and held his wife's hand tightly. He found it hard, seeking and giving comfort even after so many years after the war, but he was getting there.

Ron continued the exposition undeterred by the waves he was creating inside his friends and himself: "One of the Muggles shouted to the guy with the gun: John, there is nothing here. If there was anything to begin with, it's gone. The name John sounded so normal... It was hard to believe that awful Muggle was called such a common name. And then he fired the gun. The bastard shot straight into the air, but it really startled me. I dunno if it was 'cause I had these tiny, tiny mouse ears or 'cause I was on edge; but the explosion sounded unmerlingly big... I couldn't help peeing myself. I was shaking so badly that I could barely stood up. If I hadn't had four paws at the time, I would have probably fallen over."

Hermione was looking at him bewildered and began trembling herself, the mask breaking completely. She couldn't stand it, she turned her back on then until she was able to get a hold of herself.

"John shouted he was not crazy that he knew he had seen something. If you ask me, that bloody Muggle sounded plenty crazy. The whole neighborhood seemed to have gone bonkers. Dogs were barking. Lights began to turn on in the windows. And in the distance a Muggle Auror siren was wailing approaching the vacant lot. One guy grabbed John by the shoulder and managed to convince him to leave. When they were gone, Mum nuzzled me with her snout until I stopped trembling. Then she disapparated us home and transmuted us back to human as soon as we were in our kitchen."

Ginny sniffled: "That's my mum! Not many witches can disapparate wandless, let alone while transmuted. But that's just how good Molly Weasley is."

Harry smiled too, the better future that had once been a carrot he chased behind was finally becoming a reality. He could finally let go of some of the anger: "Molly Weasley, grandma extraordinaire, vanquisher of bitch Lestrange."

Ginny was back on track focusing on minutia: "Even if Lestrange was one sorry b-word, try not to cuss love, mind the baby…"

Ron nodded with a small smile. He could read his friends like a book. He knew how troublesome this was for each of them and how hard they were trying not to let it show. He steadied himself too and carried on. He needed to convey to all of them that the dangers imposed by the Statute of Secrecy were not back in the past. They were here, they were now and they needed to be addressed. Leave it to bloody Dumbledore to push this on him, when he wasn't ready for it yet. But wasn't that always the case with that guy? Ron was definitely putting that one on the man's tab too.

Thinking that there is no better time than the present Ron pushed forward: "The need to protect our young is something we all share…" Then he thought about what they had just read in Dumbledore's diary and about Harry's Muggle family and sighed: "At least most of us do…" And then he continued: "I thought that Fred and George were gonna make fun of me for peeing my pants, but they didn't. They had been worried sick, waiting for us in the kitchen. I think part of it was 'cause they thought mum was gonna punish them. But part of it was they were truly scared. They were only six, but I've never seen them being anything but funny and carefree. That dawn they were like kids exchanged for changelings. Fred in particular was dead serious as he looked bewildered at the clock on the wall. The hands that depicted me and mum were slowly moving from mortal danger back into home. That is when it hit me, we could have died in that field. That made me cry. Fred cried too and George followed swift."

They all gulped holding onto their coping mechanisms for dear life. Demons pounding on the door.

"Mum was positively wailing, kissing us, hugging us and touching us as if she needed tactile reassurance that we were really OK. She never did punish the twins or me for what we did, she said we had already been punished enough, but that if we ever did anything so stupid ever again, she was going to hang our hides from the ceiling. None of us wanted to repeat the experience of a close call with the Muggles, so she didn't have to. I honestly felt like I never wanted to see another Muggle again in my life." He scoffed: "I have a word to describe a mother who accuses her ten year old of orphaning his brother and sister while she slept the draught away. It ain't a pretty word, though, and my mum told me that if you don't have anything nice to say, sometimes is best to say nuthin' at all."

Hermione had tears running down her cheeks, but tried to speak steadily: "You must have been terrified of Muggles. Your whole family must have been. And yet you married a Muggle born with Muggle parents."

Ron looked at her: "Luv, I may not look it a lot of the times, but I'm not four anymore. You are one of us and your parents are good folks. Being good people is all that matters in the end. And there are good and bad folks on both sides of the fence. Some wizards and some Muggles are shits, most of us aren't; or we would have already blown up the world."

Hermione nodded beaming proudly at her husband; the fact that his philosophy was on the down to earth side, did not preclude it from being right: "You were telling us about what had happened."

He sighed deeply: "Yes, I was…We were still crying huddled against each other when dad and our older brothers found us. Mum must have sent word to dad somehow, before going out to get me. They threw the fishing gear carelessly in the hall, though it was brand new. Dad was so pale that his redhead looked like a clown's wig. We all embraced each other again and in the end we were all crying like crazy, rocking back and forth… Even Charlie, who likes to think he is so macho, cried like a baby..."

Harry was looking at him, waves of the anger he felt at what his friend had gone through still crashing against his mental shore: "Mate, you never told us any of this."

Ron smiled weakly unable to joke about it at the moment: "I've never told anyone, mate. But it does feel like the wound has been drained now that I have… I wish we had thought about that back then. We went through the day glad of being together and, while I was surrounded by my family in broad daylight, I was OK. The trouble came visit me when I was alone in my bed laying in the dark. When I finally managed to fall asleep it jumped on me in the shape of horrible nightmares. I woke everyone screaming like a banshee."

Hermione turned to spurting facts, another useful tool in her bag of tricks for not connecting with certain emotions. She said: "Nightmares are normal after trauma like that..." And stopped short from quoting statistics of it.

"That's what mum told dad. She also said that I just needed time, but she was wrong about that last part. It didn't get better, it got worse. It got so bad that they had to take me to St. Mungo, they couldn't explain all that had happened because my mum was not a registered animagus and, even if she did it to save our lives, transmuting into a mouse right in front of Muggles might have gotten her into big trouble. Maybe Dumbledore was up to something about that thing he said of honoring the spirit rather than the letter of the law and erring on the side of compassion."

Hermione smiled: "Well at least you see that he was right about some things."

He scoffed: "Only about some things…" He carried on: "There are some very good healers at St. Mungo, but the arse that treated me for the nightmares wasn't. He made mum feel like she was an incompetent mother for not looking over me twenty four seven. I almost wished he had been out there in the field with his own child; to see how well he fared-up in mum's place. She managed to protect us both without hurting anyone or breaching the Statute of Secrecy. You are right, our kids are gonna have one heck of a grandma."

Ginny chided: "Language, Ron Weasley."

"The healer basically said I was just acting out, seeking attention. He gave me sleeping draughts and told mum not to worry so much about me. The dickhead even made a joke about me bouncing back. He was the only one who laughed."

Ginny huffed: "Sweet Merlin! He was what you said but I'm sure there is a better way of saying it."

"Nope, dickhead is already a concession to politeness, sis. A big concession." His smile almost real.

"This is a lost battle, I'm gonna use a cuss jar, we will either learn not to cuss or we will be able to buy something nice for the baby."

Ron sniggered: "Just tell me how much my share comes to, sis. I'll pay it up front. And just so you know, saying Merlin this and Merlin that is cussing too." He stretched his neck and moved his shoulders, trying to release some tension and continued: "The potions didn't help, the nightmares began to spill out into the day. I began having panic attacks for no reason. I became a little zombie who clung to his mum's skirts; too afraid of going anywhere without her."

Ginny swung her head: "How come I don't remember any of it?"

"You were still crapping your nappies, sis."

"I'd put that one on your tab too, Ron."

Hermione frowned: "What you are describing, my love, weren't nightmares, what you are describing are night terrors. Sleeping draughts would only sweep them under the rug. I know it's hard to believe, but Muggles are better at handling some ailments, especially some of the mind and Wizards are better at handling other ailments, especially of the body. If we managed to be able to live with each other peacefully, without hiding, we would both gain from it."

Leave it to the wife to push her political agenda while he was pouring his guts out. Ron said: "I don't want to live in fear, Hermione. I don' want our kids to live in fear. I wish things were different. I really do. How do you think I feel knowing that I crushed my dad's dreams just 'cause he wanted me to be safe and happy?"

Hermione climbed down from the high horse: "What you mean you crushed your father's dreams?"

"One night I was sick and tired of waking up screaming, I decided just to stop sleeping altogether. I was up and I heard mum and dad fighting."

"Those two are feisty, bro. They are always going on about something." said Ginny trying to minimize it. Minimal she could handle, mayor made her feel like she did when she was using Riddle's diary.

Ron nodded: "They are, they have arguments and are passionate about a lot of things, but I had never heard them fighting like I heard them fight that night. That was real fighting, Ginny even I at four could tell the difference. Merlin be blessed that I've never heard them fight like that since. Dad was saying that they shouldn't give me the draughts. He said that they weren't working. Mum asked what he'd rather do instead. Dad said he didn't know but that the potions were only turning me into an Inferi. Then she started crying and said that he blamed her. He denied, he said that it was no one's fault. Then mum sounded really angry and said the bloody Muggle who'd tried to kill their son was responsible for some of it. Dad protested that the Muggle didn't seem to know what he was looking for. He said that she was making it sound like the witch hunts in the 17th century and it was not like that at all. Then Mum retorted calling him by his full name that it hadn't been dad in that field trembling inside of a boot. Dad said that he'd wish it had been him there; that the thought of losing either or us was more than he could bear. They were silent for a while after that. Finally mum said they should go to sleep. But there was an…" He struggled for the word: "An undercurrent, as if what they were discussing was something more than just the words they were saying."

Hermione protested: "You were so little, there are probably a whole lot of things you didn't understand about that conversation. What happened was not your fault either."

"I'm telling it now as if I had gotten all of it in one piece back then. But a lot of it comes from odd bits and pieces that I only remembered later. Back then pretty much all I was able to glean out of the conversation was that my mum and dad were fighting, really fighting, over me. I felt awful, but I also felt very tired so without quite knowing how, I fell asleep in front of their bedroom. I vaguely remember dad carrying me back to my own bed at some point in the evening. I was slipping back to drowsiness, thinking that perhaps I was going to manage to sleep all night; when the nightmare came to me with a vengeance. I screamed and screamed and once more woke everyone up. The very next day dad quit his job in Mysteries. He transferred to Misuse of Muggle Artifacts where he had fixed hours and a schedule. And could be at home with us in the afternoons. When he told mum she said they needed to talk and made us go to our rooms. Of course we didn't obey, we stayed to spy on them and heard as dad explained that he wanted only the best for all of us. He said something about us being as strong as the weakest link. I figured out that meant me. I thought they were going to fight again, but they didn't. In fact mum sounded relieved."

Ginny said: "I can't say I blame her. If something like that happened to me…" she caressed her belly worriedly. What would she do, indeed, if it happened to her? Were things different now?

"They started looking for a new place out of London and just a couple of weeks later we moved to the Burrow. The first night we stayed there was a Saturday, the sun had just gone down when dad said he was talking me out for a walk. He walked purposefully though he didn't tell me where we were going. At first we walked with Ottery St. Catchpole laying quietly in the distance besides us. There was a boy flying a broom over the church's steeple, someone, presumably his mum, shouted at him to come right back down. The boy was called John too. I held my breath, but that was it, nothing awful happened. Dad just laughed, said boys will be boys and for the first time in what felt like ages, I smiled."

Hermione held his hand trying to pass on some comfort and drawing a measure of it from him too. He was there, he had survived this and a whole lot of things, this horror, another notch in a bevy of horrors in both their pasts was there: in the past. That is what she told herself to reassure herself.

"When I got tired he carried me piggy back; we walked and walked and walked, past fields and fields of wheat, past a small forest where the trees had bowtruckles swinging playfully in the branches. He kept walking, carrying me on his back into the night. The moon climbed up the sky and it was near the center of it when we reached a small lake, almost a pond, but big enough to have hippocampus in it. The water horses were making waves by racing each other and we watched them until dad said we should head back. We walked back, alternating him carrying me, with me walking on my own. On the last leg of the road, I was falling asleep against his back. We arrived back home when the sun was coming up. By the first rays of the dawn I saw our house, Ginny, right in the middle of nowhere, with gnomes going back inside their lairs and a lazy doxy chewing on one of mum's new drapes, which was flapping like a flag from one of the second story windows. We had barely spoken all the way. But as he opened the door to let us in, dad said to me that we had walked miles without encountering anyone, Muggle or Wizard. And I understood the purpose of our walk. I felt safe. That Sunday I slept until it was time to eat lunch. I ate heartedly, first times in weeks too, then I went right back to bed and slept till Monday."

Ginny frowned: "I just cannot believe I knew nothing of this."

"I didn't remember it either. I buried it deep within until I was eleven and Bill brought it up. That is why when I went to Hogwarts I was a man on a mission. I had to make it count. I had to prove to my dad and myself that I was not a complete waste of space."

"My love, you had nothing to prove, but if that were the case you passed with flying colors. Saving the world from a dark wizard makes you the opposite of a waste of space."

"I was mostly a sidekick. But that is fine by me, luv." He scratched his beard: "I've been trying to find the right time to say this. I'm not sure this is it. But it has been in my mind Ginny, ever since you told us about the baby and I don't think there is ever going to be a perfect moment to say it. Our moments tend to be perfect in their imperfection..." He sighed: "Here goes nothing: I'm not saying is what things should be, but it is what it is and wizarding kids need more supervision than regular kids, they need a witch or wizard minding them. There is no escaping it."

Ginny moaned: "Not you too, bro! I thought you were on my side!"

"I am on your side, sis. I'm not saying it has to be you, Ginny." Harry was looking at him with a cocked eyebrow some of the bitter anger spilling out: "Or you, mate…"

Hermione stared at him intently: "Then what exactly are you saying, my love?"

He smiled: "I'm saying that the wizard who watches over our kids could be me."

Ginny, Harry and Hermione started talking all at the same time.

Ron stopped them with one hand gesture: "Think of it: I'm basically my own boss, which means flexible hours. I already do a lot of the work home which means the kids don't have to move around. And when I do need to be at the office, mum will be happy to take over. And if she can't, then I can take your elf Winky with me to look after the wee ones while I watch the watcher. That way all of you can carry on doing what you are doing, without having to worry about something like what happened to Ariana or me happening to our kids. I've never really felt comfortable in London. The shop is going great and wizarding properties near Ottery St. Catchpole are not expensive…"

Hermione had been about to protest.

Ron didn't let her: "We could keep the flat if you have to stay late during the week, luv. But I think that you can use the Floo Network to commute. And when you need to relax, having a home away from London can be a plus. Mum and Dad will be near too. It won't be too long before dad retires and the kids will have their grandma and grandpa around. Your parents travel a lot, luv, but when they are here it is only a short trip away. The kids can have their grandparents, their uncles, aunts and cousins around. They can be in a place where wizards and witches outnumber the few Muggles there are four to one. They'll have woods and ponds and fields filled with magical creatures. And the few Muggles that are in town will be tolerant, open folks that will teach them to live with them in peace. You don't have to do this on your own, Ginny. I mean, it takes a village… Why can't I be the village mayor?"

Ginny whistled: "You really have thought about this."

Ron shrugged: "As I said, it's been on my mind for a while."

Hermione gasped, it finally dawned on her: "Is that why you quit the Aurors?"

He sighed: "Is not the only reason."

"But it is one of the reasons. You've never wanted to talk about it. You built high walls around the topic. And now you tell me that it is the bloody chess game all over again?! Offering yourself like a sacrifice. I don't think it is fair for you to give up your dreams for the rest of us!"

He chuckled: "Since I've been blabbering about myself… I might as well... Ever since I was a little kid watching Grandpa Madoc brag about his time in the Aurors, I wanted to be one."

Hermione moaned.

"Wait love, let me finish before you tirade again. But as it is usually the case with little kids, I had no idea about what that really entailed. For example, I didn't know Grandpa Madoc was a communications specialist as he liked to say. That amounts to the guy who contacts Aurors through scrying or Floo networking and sends them to their assignments. It is a pencil pusher job. But being there, in the front line you see things. I thought I would be OK with it, since we had already seen so much while we fought Lord Voldermort. But I think that I had my fill of seeing the dregs of the world. I can do without. I've seen enough to shake my faith on humanity, Muggle and Wizarding alike. I think I've earned myself an early retirement from that."

"But you seemed so happy to be there."

"Sometimes I was. But sometimes I felt like it was ripping my soul apart. And that is not a good feeling. Not for what you do for your livelihood it isn't. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes is a place where I feel comfortable. I like the job, I like the people I work with and turns out I have a mind for business. George can focus on the creative part which is what he loves. And now we have finally been able to expand and buy Zonko's the sky is the limit. I am happy. And I'll be even happier, if I'm able to make our kids safe while you pursue your bliss too. Sacrifices in chess like in life have to be thought up to maximize wins, no loses."

Harry was shaking his head unbelieving; the logistic of what they were going to do after the baby was born was something Gin and he had gone over and over: "Mate I don't know what to say!"

"Mate, you don't have to say anything. Ginny is my baby sister, you are like a brother to me. This is maximizing the win. You are bloody Harry Potter and my wife is bloody Hermione Granger…"

"I won't put those on your tab, bro."

He smiled: "Thanks, sis. You are a princes: Ginevra of the high hill… If somebody is going to be able to make things change for the better those people are you two. No offense Ginny, but we are sidecar. Harry is a public figure that can sway opinion and is the most honest, straitlaced guy I know. Luv, with you the sky is really the limit. I have no doubt that one day you are going to run the Wizard Ministry and probably the Muggle one too."

Hermione chuckled and she meant most of it.

"So if I can contribute to that in my modest way, then I'm good. Besides this is not a blank check. You have the power to make things change. To me this is as binding as an unbreakable vow, you have to make everything within your power to guarantee that when our kids are all grown up, they won't be faced with the choice they grandfather made...quitting their dreams to keep their family safe."

Hermione sighed deeply, drawing closer to him: "Ronald Bilius Weasley, I've fancied you ever since I saw you sitting on Hogwarts express with that sooth spot on your nose. I've loved you a whole lot of ways over the years, but I don't think that I've ever loved you more than I do right now. Don't ever dare imply that my husband could be a waste of space. You are a bloody hero on your own right, never forget it. And I don't need a spell to promise this to you: I'll do everything in my power to make things change, not only because it is the right thing to do, but because now I have an obligation to do it for you and there is no fucking way in heaven or hell that I'd break that promise."

Ginny said softly: "I'm not going to put that on your cuss jar tab either."

They weren't listening, they were kissing. The kiss deepened and Ron swept Hermione off her feet and carried her to their bedroom. A loud thud sounded from within and the door closed sharply.

Harry looked at the door bewildered: "What did just happen?"

"I think he tossed her on Grandma's Lavinia four-poster bed." There was a louder crack: "And I think that was Grandma's Lavinia four-poster bed cracking."

A muffled Reparo was followed by a train of giggles.

"Wow, wow, I'm not asking for the game commentary, Gin. I mean, did those two forget we are here?"

Ginny giggled: "I think that is a safe bet."

More loud noises were coming from the bedroom and when something intelligible about a Berkley horse was followed by Ron's boisterous laugh and something about lessons being taught. Harry said mortified: "Merlin's beard! We have to leave, we have to leave right now."

Ginny nodded: "Agreed, but the Floo network is password protected. Hermione changes them monthly and always chooses these long unpronounceable words that I'm unable to memorize. Do you remember what this month's password is, luv?"

Harry moaned in cannon with the moans coming from the bedroom: "No I don't. What about we just disapparate, Gin. The healer said it was OK until the last trimester."

Ginny frowned: "I know it's all probably old-witch tales but you hear awful things about the baby ending up somewhere and the mother ending up elsewhere… Just thinking about it scrambles my brain…I can ride a broom. The healer said it was OK too."

Harry scoffed: "Gin, she said it was OK as long as you rode it not too energetically. I've never seen you ride a broom that way. Tell you what, let us take a first step towards Muggle- Wizarding integration, we'll hail a cab."

They did. Hermione and Ron didn't notice they were gone until the next day.