Helen Michaels thinks she's happy. She really does. She's got a wonderful fiancé, who she just bought a house in Dublin with; she has an orange cat that protects her with his life and a job at a bookstore that pays well. Everything about her life is perfect, right down to her down-to-earth friends. But something is missing.

Variety.

Her life, while perfect, isn't anything like she imagined it would be six years ago. If it hadn't been for that night at the bar, if she hadn't insisted on going out and celebrating, her life would be a mess, full of redheaded children, a badly paying job, a cramped house in Diagon Alley and despite the lack of glitz and glamour that her life now possesses, she'd at least have friends who weren't so fake, a job she actually enjoyed getting up and going to every day, a cat that hated her husband with such a vengeance, her husband would have to fight for her attention, but most of all, she'd the life she wanted. The life she'd always thought, no matter how hectic or monotonous, would always be perfect because it was what she longed for.

It was the life without the horrible secret she kept bottled up.

Chapter One Pre-Game Warm Ups

"In the case of the country of England verses Ronald Weasley on the count of murder in the second degree, how do you plead?" the bailiff barked, handing the clipboard to the judge.

"Not guilty," Ginny replied, her face betraying no emotion.

"Any thoughts on bail, counsellors?" Judge Mitchell Kings asked, rolling his eyes. He knew the defence was going to ask for ROR, release on one's own reckoning, or extremely low bail. Sometimes he wondered why murderers thought they could get away with these things when it was obvious they were guilty.

Ginny Weasley looked straight at the judge and flashed him a cocky smile. "The defence asks for ROR, your honor, on the basis that my client's first trial was mishandled and since justice wasn't served, there is no evidence the crime was committed by my client. The prosecution's case is-"

"We got him convicted once, we can do it again, Your Honor," Nicholas Gates told the judge, ignoring the agitated sigh Ginny let out. "The gravity of the offence demands the defendant be remanded."

"The original judge and prosecutor have been brought up on misconduct charges, there's no way anyone can be sure the so called 'evidence' wasn't manufactured to suit their needs-"

"There's no basis for these accusations!"

Kings slammed the gavel down and sighed. "Order! Counsellors, this isn't open court, save the arguments for the presiding judge. Ms Weasley, I am well aware of the," he paused, thinking of the best way to put his next words. "Situations the former presiding parties are in. Taking that into consideration, 100 galleons bail, coins or bonds. Next case!"

Nick Gates rolled his eyes. Just because the accused had Harry Potter on his side didn't mean everything should come so easily. He'd looked over the case, it wasn't as strong as he would have liked, but he had been feeling confident until he'd seen the new defense attorney's name.

G. Weasley

That wasn't good. He had been two years above her in law school, but he had heard the stories and read the articles running in the Daily Prophet. She was on the warpath, and wouldn't stop at this case. He realized his best bet was to make a deal. And fast. He stepped out into the hallway and saw the red hair. Thank goodness."Weasley!"

Two pairs of heads snapped around, and Nick quickly closed the gap between them. "Nick Gates," he told them, extending his hand. "Pleasure," he continued. No other hand was extended for him to take, so he dropped his hand awkwardly. "I was wondering if we could try and settle this out of court."

Ginny sighed. Why was it every attorney she'd ever faced wanted to settle things out of court? Was no one in for a good bloodbath these days? Not only was she in the mood for one, she felt if she couldn't blame someone for this, she wouldn't survive the trial. "I'd have to check with the barrister," she replied calmly, casting a glance over at Ron.

Nick noticed, and something hit him. "Aren't you supposed to be in prison until your bail is paid?"

Ginny cut in. "That's being handled as we speak." As she finished her sentence, Harry came rushing out of the bail office, smiling. "It's taken care of."

Nick, realizing all three were staring at him, cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Just call my office and set up an appointment." He rummaged through his briefcase and pulled out a card. "Just tell my secretary it's important."

She nodded brusquely and placed her hand on Ron's arm. "Let's go," she told him quietly, looking over at Harry. "Everything's taken care of, correct?"

He nodded. "It was nice meeting you," he added, and stuck his hand out for Nick. Nick shook it and turned around.

Harry watched him leave. "He sounds like a real son of a bitch."

Ginny smiled and began to lead them to the back entrance of the courthouse. "He was two years above me, I think. From what I heard, he is."

"Who's the barrister?" Ron asked suddenly, looking at his younger sister. "I have another attorney?"

Ginny blushed. "I haven't actually asked her yet," she confessed. Harry held the door open for them and she cautiously poked her head out and looked around. "No reporters, come on, I had a portkey made so we could go to Hogsmede without any trouble." Pulling a sheet a parchment out of her pocket, she tapped it with her wand and muttered a quick spell. "Useful little bugger," she mumbled, holding it out. Harry and Ron took hold and waited.

The tug behind the naval told them they were moving, and the second Ginny felt herself land on something soft, she opened her eyes. Portkeys always made her sick, and she hated traveling with someone else by portkey, because she always ended up on top of said someone. This time it happened to be Harry.

Somehow, Ron landed on his feet and smiled faintly as Ginny scrambled to hers. She glared playfully, giving him a friendly push as she walked past to get the keys from the front desk. She rang the bell at the desk, tapping her fingers on the countertop impatiently.

"G'mornin'!" the bellboy shouted. He was about 18, tall and gangly with bug like brown eyes and a toothy grin. He smiled at her. "What can I do you for?" he asked, placing his hand dangerously close to hers.

Ginny smiled cheekily at him, batting her eyelashes a bit. "I need three rooms-" she tossed her head back at Ron and Harry "-but I need this kept quiet. Can you help me?"

"Sure can, beautiful," he replied, leaning in. "But I've got a loud mouth. I might need some help keeping quiet…" he trailed off, his smile growing wider. "I can guarantee a week of silence for a kiss…"

Ginny fought the urge to laugh in his face. "Make it a month and I'll do it." She winced inwardly at the fake tone of her voice.

His eyebrows shot up. "A whole month? Wow, what'd he do, kill someone?"

Ginny's eyes narrowed and she stood up straight. "I think we'll be taking our business someplace else." She turned around, but stopped mid-step and turned back to face him. "What you were doing to me back there was extortion. You're lucky I'm not in the mood to deal with you, but you can expect your boss to get a not so friendly owl tomorrow." The look on his face made the whole speech worth it. She didn't care if she was being trivial, she loved a good fight.

"So?" Harry asked, watching as she glanced at the clock. "No rooms?"

"Randy busboy," Ginny mumbled, trying to think of a solution. It was three fifty, and she had an appointment with her hopefully future barrister at four o'clock, she still had to get Ron checked in, settled down and briefed on the case. She rubbed her temples gingerly and sighed. "There's another hotel down the street, right? Can you check in? I've got that appointment…"

Ron nodded and wrapped her in a hug. "Thanks sis," he whispered. "I'm glad you're handling this."

Ginny hugged him back and sighed into his shoulder. "Your welcome."

She watched as Harry and Ron walked away, wishing there was something more she could do. Ron was still deathly pale, and she still had to face the prosecution. Suddenly, her stomach churned. The thought of six years wasted killed her. She was going to win this case, even if it killed her.

XxX

"I don't care! Tell the son of a bitch to get the papers on my desk by seven or I'm going to the press! I don't care if it's bad for my blood pressure, I'm living on borrowed time as it is!"

Ginny stood outside the door in the familiar corridor she had walked for three years. She remembered being in this same position the first day she'd come to the law academy. She'd switched from Healer training to law school weeks after Ron's trial, coming into the academy half way through the year. Her first stop had been to Professor Heath's office for her tutorial. The shouting had died down, so she knocked timidly on the door. It creaked open, and she stepped inside.

Georgette Heath, perched precariously at the edge of her desk with the phone cradled between her shoulder and ear, motioned towards one of the empty chairs in front of her and mouthed a few words at Ginny. Ginny crossed the room and sat, watching her former professor take a drag from the cigarette in her hand and exhale the smoke up into the air.

"You prosecutors are the reason I drink! Tell him Georgie called and if he doesn't return my calls I'll come down there and knock him around something good! Same to you. Goodbye." She slammed the phone down on the receiver and sighed before crushing the cigarette in the tray. She broke into hysterical laughter and stood, embracing Ginny in a bone-crushing hug. "Ginevra, it's marvelous to see you again!" she exclaimed, still laughing.

"Thanks for seeing me on such short notice," Ginny replied, hugging the older woman back. She let go and watched as Georgette circled her desk and collapsed into her armchair. Ginny took her seat again, smoothing out her robes as she sat. "It's nice seeing you again as well."

Georgette's smile expanded. "No need to be so formal, I'm not assigning extra homework anymore." She reached into her desk and pulled a bottle of firewhiskey out and pouring two glasses. She handed one to Ginny. "You said it was important?" she prompted, tilting the glass towards Ginny and tossing it back. "What brings my favorite student back to see her old professor?"

Ginny took a small sip before setting the glass back on the desk. She hated the taste, she preferred Muggle liquor after a particularly hard case, it didn't burn like firewhiskey did. "Six years ago, my brother was sent to Azkaban--"

Georgette waved her hand to quiet her. "I know. The case was weak, but the defense attorney didn't even bother to try and defend him. I hear you're taking on the case?"

Ginny nodded. "I've never done a murder trial before, and I'm scared to death I'm going to lose this case. Professor, I can't afford that. Ron didn't do this, he couldn't do this, and if he goes back to Azkaban, I don't think he'll survive."

Georgette sized her up. "You don't think he could survive, or you don't think you could?"

Ginny faltered, her words evaporating. "He's my brother," she said weakly, looking down at her hands, tears brimming her eyes. "He was the one who stood by me all my life, and the day he got locked up, I thought I had died. We're so close, so dangerously close, I can taste it… If I was to mess this up, I'd never forgive myself." Her eyes drifted back up, and she knew a tear had leaked down her cheek. "I can't just sit by and watch him get slandered again. He didn't do it, I know he didn't, I just need help proving it."

Georgette smiled. "That's what I always liked about you, your trust in humankind. That's hard to come by anymore, and it's a quality that a good lawyer can't get to work in their favor most of the time. You always wanted to prove them innocent, but that's not your job. Your job is to create reasonable doubt, not to start a crusade. But your determination for the jury to see what's good in the defendant always works in your favor. That is one thing I never managed to make work. You'll be able to do this, you're too determined to take anything less." She poured herself another glass of firewhiskey. "Now, what's on your mind? I hope you didn't just come here for a confidence boost."

Ginny sighed. "I need someone with experience to help me, I realize that. And I feel that I just can't pull some random person out of the phonebook and ask them to help me. I need someone who can work with me and fight for my cause, understanding why it's so important to me. I need someone who can work with me, not above me or below me. I need a partner, and that's why I came to you. I want you to be Ron's barrister."

The older witch arched her eyebrows in curiosity. "Why? You're just as qualified to handle this case as I am. Why in Merlin's name would you want my help? This is the biggest case of your career, and you're willing to share the spotlight?"

"This isn't about the spotlight," Ginny said exasperatedly. "This is about getting my brother out of Azkaban. I don't care what I have to do to achieve this, I will do it. If you won't help me, I'll go to someone else." Ginny stood, taking her briefcase and walking towards the door.

"Ginevra."

Ginny stopped, still not turning around. "I'm listening."

"Forgive an old woman, she doesn't have all her wits about her. All my life, I was taught it was about the glory. We were in it for the fame and the spotlight, helping others was just a very small bonus. I knew from the day you walked into this office that you weren't like the rest of them, and I shouldn't have assumed you were in this for any other reason other than to help your brother." She leaned back in her chair and watched Ginny's back intensely. "If you'll reconsider, I'd love to talk about the case with you."

Ginny's perfect posture slumped a bit and she turned around, fighting back a grin. "Is that a yes I just heard Professor?"

"Only if you agree to call me Georgette."

Ginny extended her hand. "I'm reconsidering as we speak."

XxX

Harry turned the key and stepped into the hotel room. It was a suite, a kitchenette sat proudly in the corner, complete with mini bar, microwave and a stove. Nest to it was a settee and living room chairs, a TV, and two doors were at either end. The closest led to a bathroom and the other led to the bedroom. "Home sweet home," he mumbled, stepping in closely followed by Ron.

Compared to the cells in Azkaban, this place was heaven. The red carpet was soft looking, and the couch looked so inviting, the minute Ron stepped through the threshold, he plopped onto the couch.

"Enjoying yourself?" Harry asked, sitting next to him. He pulled some shrunken suitcases out of his pocket and set them on the floor. Mumbling a spell, they began to grow.

"Yes, actually. This is quite enjoyable." He kicked off his shoes and rolled his neck, wincing as a crack echoed through the room.

Harry winced too. "That sounded painful."

Ron shrugged. "Not too bad."

"What happened?" Harry asked, motioning to the scar along his jawbone and neck. He felt uncomfortable asking, but the curiosity was gnawing his discomfort away.

"Remember that murderer that got sent away our seventh year, Rusty Burette?"

Harry nodded, and Ron continued. "We had a bit of a spat, ending in a broken bottle and a homemade shank."

"Over what?" Harry asked before he could stop himself. When Ron didn't answer, Harry didn't say anything. If he didn't want to talk about it, he didn't have too. Harry mentally reprimanded himself for being so nosy, he hated it when people asked about Voldemort; that must be how Ron felt about people asking him about Azkaban. "Sorry," he mumbled, feeling an apology was necessary.

"It's okay," Ron replied, letting his head fall back. "I'm sorry for when I asked you what it was like to be the Boy-Who-Lived when I was eleven."

They sat in silence for a few moments, each having questions pop into their minds. "What happened to Hermione?" Ron asked softly, his voice so low Harry barely hear him. Harry knew this question was coming, and by the hurt in Ron's voice, she hadn't written him like she said she would.

Harry thought a bit before he answered. He knew this question was coming, and he wasn't sure how to answer it. He had received the invitation to her wedding last month, but he wasn't going to go. There was something about seeing her with her fiancé that made his stomach churn and his blood boil. He'd met the guy once, and his perfection made Harry want to throw up. "She moved to Ireland five years ago," he said finally, looking down at his hands.

"What is she doing now?" Ron asked, his curiosity flaring up. He knew Harry was holding something back, and he had the feeling it was something he wouldn't want to know.

"She works in a bookstore, I think," Harry replied slowly, trying to think. "Crookshanks is still alive, and he terrorizes her neighborhood. In her last letter, she told me he had mated with a female tabby and there's little brown and orange kittens running around with him. He's still very protective of her."

Ron nodded, smiling as he imagined Crookshanks and six little orange monsters following him around. Baby terrorists, although they're probably learning from the best, he thought. He felt a pang of sorrow when he realized he'd give anything to see what the damned cat was up to right now. Not to mention what he'd give up to see what Hermione was doing…

Harry knew he should have told Ron the whole truth, that Hermione had changed her name and was getting married in two months, but he didn't have the heart. The case was all they needed to concentrate on now. Anything else would be a distraction, and distractions were the last thing anyone needed now.

"I think I'm going to go freshen up," Ron announced, taking the suitcase Ginny had packed for him. "Do you know when Ginny will be back? I want to know what my chances are for an--" he dropped his voice noticeably, looking around like something was going to drop on him if he actually said the words out loud. "Acquittal."

XxX

To Wytil: The reason I'm basing this court system on the American judicial system (besides the fact I'm an American) is because I really don't know that much about the English judicial system. From what I understand, a barrister is what we call 'second chair.' They're the type of attorney who settles (or attempts to settle) cases out of court. A solicitor is the attorney that does all the work in court. At least that's how I interoperated what I read and what I was told.

To Eckles: While that's something I never thought of, I fear I've got plans for our dear Hermione. I'm not going to say what they are, but I'll tell you she's going to be 'involved' in the case more than she wants to be.

Special thanks to: Vanessa-Black and Zabini, theKRITIC, japanese-jew, Arianna of Bellezza, luka-black, Quillian, mysticalrain, hploves me, DallasTexas, krissygurl, crystalshine, stropicPia, strawberries, Misshogwarts1125, gigifanfic, goblin monkey, ilikechicken and The Phantom's Lotte. Thanks for your support and feedback. It means more to me than you can imagine.