Once again, My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

Chapter 43: The Grangers

Ministry of Magic, Whitehall, London, Wizarding World, December 24th, 2005

"I'm sorry about the foreign correspondents," the Minister said after the press conference - if you could call it that, what with the majority of the audience not having been journalists - had finally ended and they were back in his office. "But banning them from such events only makes them more hostile."

Ron could imagine how the tabloids back home would react to such measures.

"It wasn't as bad as I feared," Hermione said. "I'm still not used to the fact that Skeeter's now in prison and the Prophet is touting the party line."

"Well, the French and Germans are trying their best to replace Skeeter," wizarding Ron commented. "Can't do much about them, though. Fleur's dad's currently not too popular in France."

"Oh?" Hermione looked surprised.

They hadn't heard anything about that at the dinner at The Burrow. Nothing about international politics or Fleur's family in France.

"The measures we've taken to root out pureblood bigotry were not received well by the French or Prussians," the Minister explained, "and the Delacours are seen as our allies."

"An obvious result of the archaic feudal system that is oppressing Magical France, where marriages are considered just another political tool. It's a tragedy that the oppressive French pureblood regime is abusing the freedom of the press in Britain to attack the democratic - and clearly superior - system that granted that freedom in the first place."

Ron winced - Hermione's portrait had returned.

"Using the implied threat of Azkaban to keep the press in line isn't exactly the best example of the freedom of the press," Hermione retorted.

"Freedom of the press doesn't protect those inciting genocide or committing other crimes." The portrait sniffed. "You should know that."

"I know that freedom of the press can be granted on paper while being all but removed in practice," Hermione shot back. With a glance at the Minister, she added: "I don't know how it plays out in Wizarding Britain, and I certainly don't miss Skeeter's articles, but a self-censoring newspaper isn't a good thing."

"They're merely showing more restraint and responsibility," Shacklebolt said. "Both of which have been lacking before. They might be erring a little too much on the side of caution, but that's not a bad thing at this point - we're still reforming the Ministry and educating the people."

"And education is crucial for any country! Only a well-educated population will ensure prosperity and democracy!" the portrait added. "Hogwarts is crucial for our future, and everyone needs to do their part to ensure it's the best school it can be."

Wizarding Harry and wizarding Ron had the grace to blush a little when Hermione glared at them, but Ron's counterpart quickly grinned. "'Or worse, expelled'?"

It was Hermione's turn to flush. "I was eleven!" she shot back. "I can't believe you modelled my portrait on my pre-teen years!"

"If you feel that I do not accurately reflect important aspects of yourself, I'm still eagerly awaiting your lessons!" the portrait stated, beaming at her.

"Rest assured, as soon as I have the time, I will educate you thoroughly," Hermione bit out.

"In any case, we should have a period of grace over the holidays," Shacklebolt said. "Although you might want to celebrate with your parents in a house that's protected against eavesdropping spells and similar tactics."

"We will be completely safe from any magical interference," Hermione said with a thin smile.

That probably meant they'd celebrate in Ron's world. But they still had to find a Healer and a unicorn horn. "And why do the Germans care about Britain?" Ron asked.

"It's mostly Prussia, although the smaller German countries tend to follow their lead, with the exception of Bavaria," the Minister replied. "They tend to be contrarian, but they're the only German country large enough to stand on their own."

"Both are ruled by purebloods and still scared and scarred from Grindelwald's War," wizarding Harry added. "They're afraid of us starting another war."

The Minister nodded. "They wouldn't admit that, of course. But apart from the Scandinavian feuds and the Balkan Troubles, both of which are low-intensity conflicts at best, Britain's civil wars were the only notable conflicts in magical Europe since Grindelwald, and we're considered somewhat extremist as a result."

"'Extremist'?" Hermione blinked.

"The Battle of Hogwarts involved a significant part of our population - the French called it a 'levée en masse' in the Tribune Magique. As a result, a number of European wizarding governments have a slightly skewed view of Wizarding Britain." Shacklebolt spread his hands with a wry smile.

"It didn't help that a couple bigots fled the country before we could catch them and spread lies about us in the rest of Europe," wizarding Ron added.

"Indeed, there is a small but vocal community of British exiles, most of them in France and Prussia." Shacklebolt nodded. "They aren't a real threat, but they can cause 'interesting' diplomatic problems from time to time. Nothing we can't handle, though."

Great. It might not be a problem for Wizarding Britain, but it seemed that they would have to be very careful while in Prussia.

Greenwich, London, Wizarding World, December 24th, 2005

Ron checked himself again. His gun didn't show. Not too much. It would be a little uncomfortable to sit with his pistol resting against the small of his back, but he was used to it.

He wasn't used to spending Christmas Eve with the Grangers.

"My parents don't expect you to show up in formal wear, you know."

He glanced to the side and saw Hermione shaking her head slightly. "I know," he told her. "Formal wear would be easier, actually - I could hide my gun easily in a shoulder holster under a tailored jacket."

"They know that you're a police officer and that you're carrying a gun."

"That doesn't mean they want to be reminded of that fact," he retorted. Mum hadn't been pleased the time she had spotted his gun during a family dinner. "Especially on Christmas Eve."

"I think they're more concerned about the fact that they cannot celebrate Christmas in their own home because wizarding journalists would pester them."

"Maybe." Ron wasn't convinced. If he showed up on Christma Eve to tell his parents that they had to move out into a wizarding tent for the holidays and that it was all his fault…

"Let's go! There's no one hiding under a Disillusionment Charm nearby." Hermione grabbed his hand, and a moment later, they appeared in the Granger's living room. "Mum? Dad?"

"Hermione? Oh, you're here already!" Mrs Granger stepped into the living room and hugged her, closely followed by Mr Granger, who didn't bother removing his apron.

Ron took a step back to give them more space and looked around. A small but nicely decorated tree in the corner, with real candles, not electric ones. A stack of presents underneath it. A miniature native scene that had to have been hand-crafted by Hermione as a child - it was, honestly, too crude to have been bought.

Electric fireplace, not a real one. Vintage furniture - expensive, but not ostentatiously so. What one would expect from a pair of dentists. And… the ugliest and largest cat Ron had ever seen. A squashed face, bright orange, poofy fur, a tail like a bottle-brush and enough mass for two normal cats.

And it was walking up to him, sniffing his shoes and trousers, before it tilted its head, looking confused. "Crookshanks, I presume," he said. The cat made a questioning noise as if it had understood him.

"Oh, Crookshanks! That's not the Ron you know, that's a new Ron!" Hermione exclaimed as she knelt down and picked the cat up. "I know it's confusing, but you'll learn to tell them apart quickly."

"Cats use their sense of smell, so he shouldn't be confused," Mrs Granger said. "Oh!" She gasped. "I'm terribly sorry, Ron - I just saw Hermione, and…"

"Yes. Hello, Ron," Mr Granger added.

"It's OK," he told them. He probably would've reacted the same, in their place.

"Crookshanks is a half-Kneazle, so you can't just assume he'll behave like a normal house cat. He's much, much smarter than a cat!" Hermione claimed.

"That's probably why he's confused," Mr Granger replied.

"Isn't he adorable? He's the best cat a girl could want!" Hermione held the cat up to Ron, and he found himself staring directly into its face.

"He's certainly unique," Ron said.

The cat sniffed in return.

"He likes you!" Hermione announced. "Here, hold him - I'll fetch his cage."

"His cage?" Mrs Granger raised her brows.

"Oh… we need to move for the holidays." Hermione had the grace to blush. "I was told that we can expect the press to hound us, otherwise, and the house isn't safe."

"What?"

"I've prepared a wizarding tent - it's roomy and comfortable. I'm sorry about springing this on you," Hermione said, "but the Ministry doesn't seem to control the foreign press as they do the domestic. Not that they should control any of the media - but it would've come in handy today."

Mum and Dad would have been quite annoyed if faced with having something like that sprung on them, even if it had been their daughter who had just returned from the grave, but the Grangers seemed to take it in stride.

Well, they were probably used to it.

Forest of Dean, Gloucestershire, Britain, Wizarding World, December 24th, 2005

Christmas Eve with the Grangers was very different than what Ron was used to. For starters, it was far quieter. Granted, Hermione was talking a lot, but she was just one person - back home, there'd be three or four conversations going on at the same time, at the minimum. And the food was, not that Ron would say so, not as good as Mum's. But then, few could cook as well as Ron's mother, and it was still good.

"...and then we left the Ministry." Hermione shook her head. "It's incredibly annoying that everyone seems to think that the current situation with the press is a good thing!"

That, though, sounded very familiar. Percy complained about the press all the time.

"Well," Mr Granger said, "they probably think it's better if they have control over the press than if someone else controls the media." He frowned. "And knowing what the Prophet wrote in the past, I can't exactly blame them," he added, his frown deepening.

"But just because they were wronged - as was I, I have to point out - doesn't mean we should do the same to others!" Hermione protested. "What if there's a new Minister with a new agenda? They could easily abuse the Prophet then! We need an independent press, not a Ministry mouthpiece!"

"That's easier said than done," her father replied. "Even if the Ministry relinquishes control of the media de facto as well as de jure, you would need to ensure that the owners of the Daily Prophet and the Wizarding Wireless had enough integrity to avoid influencing their employees or censoring them. And from what I've heard over the years, that's not the case."

Hermione scowled. "We have to start sometime, or things will never change. And the longer we wait, the longer it'll take."

"But if you simply relinquish control and influence without ensuring that the groundwork for a truly free press has first been laid, things will get worse," Mrs Granger told her. "And as long as the Prophet is the only newspaper, things are unlikely to improve."

"There's also the Wizarding Wireless and The Quibbler," Hermione retorted before sighing. "But yes, I understand the problem. That still doesn't mean that it's right to intimidate the press with the silent threat of sending journalists to Azkaban. And that is what's happening! The people in the Ministry might only be joking, but I don't think the British journalists are laughing!"

She was talking about her friends, Ron realised. "I agree," he said. "But what can you do? Short of founding and running another newspaper and leading by example?"

Hermione seemed to actually seriously consider that, judging by her expression. Ron pressed his lips together - that wouldn't be a good idea.

"As long as you know that a newspaper has an agenda, it's not that bad," Mr Granger said. "You know you have to take everything with a grain of salt. Or a handful of salt, in some cases."

"Yes," Ron agreed. "But sometimes, the agenda is just making as much profit as possible, no matter the consequences." He remembered a few particularly unfair articles about Harry and Ginny in The Sun. "And that can cause a lot of harm."

"I'm aware of the problem of censorship, and how much influence someone controlling the press has," Hermione all but snapped. "But things have to change - you heard the Minister's offer: A cushy job for me and my support for him. That's cronyism in action!"

Mirs Granger shook her head. "Dear, you're a brilliant young woman - as you've proven by getting a doctorate in quantum physics."

"And by managing to open a way to travel between universes," Ron added. That was far more impressive, in his biased opinion.

"Yes," Hermione's mother agreed, "however, I was about to say that you would have received that offer anyway. Or a similar one."

"I haven't even taken my N.E.W.T.s!" Hermione exclaimed. "I don't qualify for a position at the Ministry - certainly not a high-ranking one!"

"But you're more qualified than most others, aren't you?" her father asked. "And you could take your N.E.W.T.s now, couldn't you? If you wanted to work at the Ministry, that is."

"I don't want to work at the Ministry." She shook her head. "I have more important projects. And I don't need to take my N.E.W.T.s. It would just be a vanity project."

"But you want to take your N.E.W.T.s," Mrs Granger said with a faint smile.

Hermione pouted at her. "Yes," she forced out with a scowl. "It would… it would give me a sort of closure, I suppose, to formally finish my wizarding education. And since the portal uses both physics and magic, it would probably inspire more confidence if I didn't just have a degree in quantum physics but also in magic."

"Inspire confidence in whom?" Ron couldn't help asking. "Everyone who knows about the portal trusts your work, degree or no degree." Well, perhaps not Grindelwald.

"It's the principle of the thing," Hermione retorted.

"And your pride," her father added.

"Yes," she spat. "In any case, I don't think we should talk about my supposed vanity when we have much more important problems to discuss. Such as the Ministry."

"And how the country will react to the revelation of your survival," Ron added.

"Yes." She took a deep breath. "The way they built me up as a heroine, I'm almost afraid of how people will react when they find out what I'm really like. Although I suppose that not everyone buys into Ministry propaganda."

"Most did, though, didn't they, when you were in school?" Ron asked. He remembered the stories she'd told about her fourth and fifth year.

"Did they ever find out who sent you that acid letter?" Mrs Granger scowled.

"Bubotuber pus," Hermione corrected her, then blinked. "You know about that? I didn't think I ever told you about it."

"Ron and Harry told us," Mr Granger replied.

"After your disappearance, the first year, we met a couple of times, started to work through our grief, shared stories about you," Mrs Granger explained. "You kept a lot of secrets from us." She didn't sound angry, but Hermione flinched a little anyway, Ron noticed.

"Wasn't that my prerogative as a teenager?" she protested in an attempt to defend herself. "It's not as if anyone tells their parents everything, do they?"

"I think there's a little difference between not telling your parents about a crush on your friend, or the drinks you had at a party, and fighting mass murderers," Mr Granger retorted.

"Or being libelled in the press, and attacked," Mrs Granger added.

"You would have known about that if you'd bought a subscription to the Daily Prophet, as I remember proposing to you," Hermione replied with a pout.

"We thought daily visits by owls would be a bit much," Mr Granger said.

"And I was sure Gabriel would accidentally leave an issue in our waiting room. And that would have caused problems for us."

Ron could see that. "Obliviations for everyone, I guess."

Mrs Granger nodded. "Along with accusations of endangering the Statute of Secrecy."

"It's about the only law that all wizarding countries respect and try to enforce," Hermione said with a huff.

"Well, let's just enjoy the evening, dear," her father suggested after a moment. "We can discuss international politics - or should that be interdimensional politics these days? - tomorrow."

Ron chuckled at the joke. "Well, at my family's Christmas dinner tomorrow, someone's probably going to be talking about politics." Likely Percy or Dad.

"Ah." Mr Granger nodded. "And our dimensional counterparts will be present as well?" He sounded a little… reserved?

"Yes." Hermione smiled weakly, then set her jaw. "They're not you, but…"

"You spent seven years with them. They became part of your family," Mrs Granger said.

"Yes. And they recently got confirmation that their daughter was killed," Hermione told them. "They've known for years that she was most likely dead - the odds of any missing child reappearing after seven, much less fourteen, years are infinitesimal - but... " She shrugged. "They're very nice people. Well, they're versions of you."

"It should be interesting to talk to them," Mr Granger said before turning to look straight at Ron. "You've met your counterpart."

"Yes," Ron said. "But we didn't talk much." He shrugged. "We're a little more different than you and the Grangers."

"I can imagine," Mrs Granger told him. "Though Ron changed a lot, after…"

"Let's just call it 'after the war'," Hermione said.

"After the war." Mrs Granger sighed. "He was so broken - more than we were, to be honest. We weren't there with you, but he was. And he blamed himself. For not being there with you, for being too slow, for letting you go alone…" She shook her head. "It took a long time for him to pull himself together. Lavender helped him a lot."

Hermione didn't quite scowl, but Ron caught her lips twisting a little. "Ah." She paused for a moment before adding: "I'm happy for him."

"Well, I'm sure he's happy for you," Mr Granger said, smiling at both Hermione and Ron. "Though I can imagine that has to feel a little weird."

"Just a little," Ron lied.

The air outside the tent was cold, but Ron didn't mind. It helped to clear his head - he shouldn't have helped Mr Granger - Gabriel - finish that third bottle. He took a few deep breaths. The air smelt clean, too.

"Feeling better?"

He turned to look at Hermione. "I wasn't feeling bad. I just wanted some fresh air." He gestured at the clearing around them.

She nodded and stepped up to him. "Not sick of my parents, then?"

"Of course not!" He shook his head. "At least they know what I'm talking about when I mention Doctor Who."

She giggled at that for some reason. He was about to comment when he heard something moving in the bushes. "Careful," he snapped, drawing his gun.

A moment later, she had her wand out and was standing about two yards away.

Then a fat cat walked into the clearing.

"Crookshanks!" Hermione exclaimed. "There you are! And did you bring me a present?"

The animal walked up to her and dropped a dead mouse. How the tomcat had managed to catch anything when he made so much noise passing through the forest, Ron couldn't fathom.

"Thank you, Crookshanks! That's a lovely mouse!"

Ron bit back a sarcastic comment. Hermione was convinced the cat could understand humans, and, since it was a magical creature, he'd rather not risk antagonising it. Having your girlfriend's pet hate you would put a strain on any relationship. Poor Percy could tell you all about it.

And the cat wasn't really bad. Ugly as sin, and wide enough to pass as a lynx if put on stilts, it hadn't tried to scratch or bite him. And Hermione obviously adored it.

As long as…

Crookshanks jumping out of Hermione's arms and hissing at the forest - no, at the sky - interrupted Ron's thought. What the…?

Out of the sky dropped shapes, multiple numbers of them. Silent as… owls in flight. A dozen of them, it seemed. And all headed towards Hermione.

"I can't believe I forgot to ward myself against post owls! If I had made that mistake during the war..." Hermione shook her head almost violently, even though she was repeating herself.

"You're not in the war any more, dear." Ellen seemed more amused than concerned, Ron noticed.

"There could still be Death Eater remnants. Sleeper agents who weren't activated during the war and went to ground. Bigots who were too young to fight, but are now adults. And purebloods who got radicalised by the Ministry's policies since the war," Hermione retorted.

"Well, that's why the letters won't be opened until they've been checked for curses," Ron commented. "Bill's counterpart is a curse-breaker, isn't he?"

"Yes. We can meet him the day after Christmas," she replied.

He nodded. "They won't expect prompt answers, will they?"

"I hope not."

"Are you planning to answer them all?" Gabriel asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Only those I know from school, or if there's a special reason. It's not as if I was close to many people, and I've already met most of them."

Or they were dead. Killed in the war. Not a subject to dwell on, especially on Christmas Eve. "So… tomorrow, Weasley Christmas Dinner. Then the Other Weasley Family Dinner." Ron shook his head with a grin. "I didn't expect to get that sort of holiday schedule. Certainly not before marriage."

Hermione didn't take the bait. "But you were together with Luna for a few years, weren't you?"

"More or less, yes. But Xenophon isn't fond of big holiday dinners." Not since Luna's mum had died, at least as far as Ron knew. "So Luna just joined our family dinner, sometimes with Xenophon. Sometimes he was busy 'undercover' somewhere." Or, as Ron suspected, but had never asked or confirmed, getting drunk.

"Does that mean the Lovegoods will be there as well, tomorrow?" Ellen asked.

"Probably," Ron replied. Xenophon hadn't seen Luna as often as usual during the last few months, after all. "I don't know if the other Luna and her father will be present as well, though."

"I'm still not convinced that us showing up is a good idea," Gabriel said. "Your whole family will be present, right?"

"Yes." Ron shook his head. They had gone over this before. "For months, they've been in danger because of us. It's only fair to let them know why. And it will keep them from trying to investigate on their own."

"They cannot reveal what they don't know," the older man retorted.

That was a little selfish. "But they'll be much more cautious if they know what's at stake." Especially the twins. Although Ron had his - very private - doubts that even that would make them cautious enough.

"And it's only temporary, until I can figure out how to cast the Fidelius Charm," Hermione added. "Not to mention that Luna probably has her own ideas about need to know." She glanced at Ron, and he nodded in agreement.

Luna had quite strong opinions on family and on information control.

Forest of Dean, Gloucestershire, Britain, December 25th, 2005

"If we keep using this clearing, we might look into opening a portal here," Ron commented as he watched Hermione put up the wizarding tent at the tree line.

"Would that work?" Gabriel asked. "I would feel a little better if we didn't have to go through Dumbledore's underground base. It looks a little too much like a lair in a spy movie."

And it was under Dumbledore's control.

"We would need to remain here for a much longer time, and use a significant amount of magic, to achieve that," Hermione said, flicking her wand in another spell that Ron didn't recognise. "Although," she added with a frown, "It might be different in this world - it might not require as much. I'll have to test that, once I have the time."

Ron smiled - he had been joking, but if it worked…?

"Alright, you can go in now, we should be safe from intruders. I'll go fetch Gabriel and Ellen. Breakfast should be ready inside."

Ron's smile slipped. This would be an awkward meeting. But it was better to have the meeting now, in relative privacy, than at his parents' home. That would be a madhouse.

"Couldn't we have the meeting in Grimmauld Place?" Gabriel asked.

"Ah." That was a good question, actually. "This is more private," Ron said. "More like a neutral place." And one Hermione controlled, not anyone else.

"Ah. Well, I can't complain about the amenities. It's just…" Hermione's father looked around. "This is a really important location for her, isn't it?"

"Yes." Ron nodded as he held up the tent flap for the Grangers. "Well, the clearing in your world is."

Gabriel and Ellen looked around one more time before they entered.

"I don't know if this is a good idea," Ellen commented as they sat down on the couch in the tent's living room.

"You didn't say anything against it." Gabriel gave voice to what Ron was thinking.

"I know. Hermione was convincing. And I understand the reasons for this. All of this. But… to meet another me?"

"Another mother for Hermione?" Gabriel asked, which earned him a frown.

At least they weren't looking at Ron and asking him for his impressions about meeting his counterpart.

Ron heard the tell-tale sound of Apparition before either of the Grangers said anything else.

"And here we are!" Hermione announced with what sounded like forced cheer to Ron as he entered the tent and held up the flap.

Then Mr and Mrs Granger entered, and things got really awkward. They weren't dressed identically, Ron noted with relief as they slipped out of their jackets and coats, but both couples wore clothes of a very similar style.

"Ah… hello."

"Hello."

"Hello, Mrs Granger… that sounds so odd."

"Yes, it does. Doesn't it?"

"Oh, for…" Hermione huffed. "Just talk like normal people!"

"Having four people sharing two names does make holding a conversation a little difficult, love," Gabriel pointed out.

Mr Granger nodded in agreement. "Yes, love."

Then both men looked at each other. "Ah."

"Shall we eat breakfast first?" Ron cut in. That should defuse the situation a little.

Fifteen minutes later, when Gabriel and Mr Granger reached for the tea at the same time - again - he knew he had been wrong. Ellen and Mrs Granger were buttering their croissants in identical ways. They took their tea the same way, too. It was eerie.

"I wonder if magic is the real reason the other Ron's so different from me," Ron said.

"I don't think so," Hermione replied. "You lived different lives." She looked at the others. "You, though, have experienced remarkably similar events in your lives. You went through a lot of the same, ah…" she trailed off. "You both worried about me going to fight terrorists, just at different times."

"Yes. And we both lost our daughter, or thought so," Ellen added.

Ron could feel the tension grow during the next few seconds of silence.

"And you're afraid of losing me again," Hermione spoke up.

A few more seconds of silence followed, then Mrs Granger replied: "To be honest, yes."

Her husband nodded. "You've returned to your world. To your magical world. Your parents." He pressed his lips together for a moment. "Your friends."

"I didn't mean just you, Gabriel, Ellen," Hermione clarified, then looked at her parents.

Gabriel took a deep breath. "Yes, we share this… sentiment."

"You mean fear, dear," Ellen corrected him, then patted his hand.

"How so?" Mr Granger asked. "It's not as…" He shrugged.

Ellen took a deep breath. "We were slowly losing Hermione to the magical world, and then the magical war, for years."

"I was needed!" Hermione protested. "We were at war, and we needed everyone!"

"Dear, you started to spend your holidays with your friends, in the magical world, before there was a war," Ellen replied. "And it only grew worse once Voldemort returned."

"But…" Hermione bit down on her lower lip. "I couldn't let my friends down."

"We didn't expect you to," Gabriel told her. "But… you've always been passionate. About everything that caught your interest. Reading. School. Magic."

That fit her perfectly. Ron could imagine pre-teen Hermione going all-out about school.

"And now you've got a new project," the other man went on. "The portal."

"I'm working on solving the problems related to the portal," Hermione retorted. "And we will solve them."

"Yes. But that doesn't mean the portal will vanish." Gabriel smiled, a little ruefully.

"Of course not! It's one of the most important discoveries in history!" Hermione shook her head. "It's not just a means to an end!"

"What they mean is that they expect you to spend a lot of your time working on the portal," Mrs Granger said. "As do we, in fact."

"We've long since realised that you throw yourself fully into any task," Mr Granger added. "And this is the biggest task of all."

"Apart from, perhaps, reforming the reformed Ministry," Gabriel pointed out. "In any case… Yes, we fear that you'll be so focused on your work, you won't have much time for us. Any of us."

"With the exception of Ron," Ellen said with a wry smile aimed at Ron.

It was very selfish, but Ron hoped that she was correct.

"And I don't think that either the portal or wizarding politics are very safe," Mr Granger said. "Not after all you've told us."

"The Ministry's been reformed," Hermione replied. "They just might've gone a little too far, but they wouldn't have me assassinated for dissenting."

"You said that there were almost certainly Death Eaters still in hiding," Ellen pointed out.

"I have to take those into account no matter what I do," Hermione told her, "but I understand your concerns. And I will do my best to ensure your fears won't be realised. All your fears." She sighed. "I feel like a child of divorced parents. I guess we'll have to work out a schedule."

Ron snorted at that, then realised that she hadn't been joking when he saw everyone else nodding in agreement.

Well, she had to have gotten that from someone, didn't she?

Ottery St Mary, Devon, Britain, December 25th, 2005

"Mum! Where are the good wine glasses?"

"Fred! We don't drink before dinner."

"Yes, but we need to set the table now, don't we? Also, I'm George."

"No, you're not. And yes, set the table, please. The glasses are in the kitchen; I just cleaned them."

"Did you clean all of the china, Mum?"

"Yes, George."

"What for?"

"It needed to be cleaned."

"Did the twins do anything to the silverware… again?"

"No, Percy, they didn't."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, dear."

After the calm and far too reasonable - on the surface, at least; Ron was certain that the actual implementation of the schedule Hermione and the four other Grangers had been working out would be a little tricky - breakfast and lunch in the Forest of Dean, the loud and boisterous Weasley household felt even better than usual. This was what a family holiday should be like.

He smiled and leaned back against the couch. "You only realise what you're missing when you're missing it."

"That's not exactly how the saying goes, Ronnie!" Fred was leaning over the back of the couch, grinning at him.

"Shouldn't you be setting the table?"

"Already done!"

"Already?"

"Hey, we're fast. When we want to be." Fred slid over the backrest and sat down next to him. A moment later, George joined him on the other side of Ron.

"And we wouldn't want to be blamed for a delayed dinner. Not when we finally get to meet your mysterious scientist girlfriend," George said.

"And her family, apparently - that's rather unusual, isn't it?" Fred added.

"Mum and Dad know the Grangers," Ron told them.

"Yes… they met when they met with you in secret," Fred said.

"We noticed when they stopped fretting as much as before." George grinned.

"Impressive deduction," Ron said in a flat voice.

Fred snorted. "We might not be police officers…"

"Special police officers!" George interjected.

"...but we aren't stupid."

"Could've fooled me," Ron replied.

They ignored his comment, of course. "Still, Christmas dinner with another family? Is there something you need to tell us?" Fred asked.

"Yes." Ron nodded. "But Hermione's not pregnant, and we aren't announcing our engagement, either."

"Good thing we didn't bet on it, then." George nodded.

Ron snorted. "Who would have bet with you?" Everyone knew better than that - or had inside information already.

"So that means it's another secret. The reason we've been enjoying police protection for several months?" Fred asked.

"Not that it's actually enjoyable. It cramps our style, knowing that we're under observation," George added. "It's not easy to chat up a bird if you know the police are watching your every move."

"Exactly." Fred nodded.

"You want to tell me that you didn't manage to ensure the privacy of your own bedrooms?" Ron shook his head.

"Oh, Ronnie… you can have sex outside your bedroom, you know?"

"You should try it sometime."

"So, what secret will you reveal to us? Government secrets?"

"Are you allowed to do that?"

Ron sighed. And sometimes, you only realised what you hadn't been missing when it annoyed you. "It's not my secret to tell."

"Oh, so it's… Hermione's!"

"Weird name. Like from one of your books. Is that why you like her?"

He shook his head. "That sort of 'interrogation' attempt didn't work on me even before I joined the police."

"Come on. If you're telling us the secret anyway, why wait?"

"So you don't go and blab it to everyone?" Ron scoffed. And they would twist his words so people got the wrong impression.

Of course, the twins weren't taken aback for more than a moment. "Why aren't you with her, anyway? Couples are supposed to come together, aren't they?"

Because Hermione was fetching the Grangers, and having to apparate Ron as well would be an unnecessary burden. In addition to that, having him arrive alone should help with their cover. And there was still some tension between the Grangers, anyway.

"Yes, it doesn't make sense. You didn't come with her, you didn't come with Harry and Ginny…"

"All will be explained once everyone's here," Ron said. "Just have a little patience." Another hour, according to his watch.

Or not, he added to himself when he heard the now familiar sound of Apparition behind him. Why had Hermione apparated directly… It wasn't Hermione.

"Hello, everyone! Oh… are we early?"

Luna was here. With the other Luna.

Great.

She took a deep breath and faced them. "Mum, Dad - you need to leave Britain." She said it as she had rehearsed it - firmly and seriously.

"What?" her father blurted out.

"Why?" her mother asked.

"I told you about the Dark Lord, remember?"

"The one your friend killed as a baby?" Dad sounded rather doubtful.

"Yes. Only... he wasn't killed - and he's returned. It was confirmed recently." No need to go into details there. She took a deep breath. "And he'll be coming after me and after you."

"What?"

"I'm Harry's best friend." Best female friend, but that wasn't an important distinction. "And I'm a muggleborn - he wants to murder us all." And she probably had earned Malfoy's personal enmity. "The Ministry won't be able to protect you; there aren't enough Aurors around." Not that the Ministry would care about muggles, anyway, even if they had the manpower.

"But…"

She went on, talking over her mum. "And we cannot protect the house against magical intruders - not effectively." Not without turning it into an electronic dead zone, but that was neither here nor there. "Or your office."

"That's…" Dad looked at Mum. "...disquieting."

"More disturbing, though," Mum went on, "is that you didn't include yourself."

"I can't go to Australia; Magical Australia is extremely isolationist. Worse than North Korea. Foreign wizards aren't tolerated. That's why it's safe for you." Not even the Dark Lord would provoke the native shamans.

"Then we go somewhere else! With you!" Mum exclaimed.

She winced. "I can't leave."

"Why not?" Dad asked.

Because she was needed for the war. But telling her parents that… "Because Hogwarts is the safest place for me," she lied. "It's protected by Dumbledore."

Her parents exchanged a glance, and she winced again.

This wouldn't be an easy conversation.