Here you go, the next chapter. Thank you as always for your incredible reviews...you don't know how they make me smile and how much I appreciate you taking the time to leave me feedback. Btw, to those of you asking me to write more Romione or upset that this one is nearly at an end, you might be happy to know I have started writing some more Romione :) More info on that soon!

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter and friends. I'm just allowed to play with them sometimes.

Chapter Twenty

Unfortunately our new normal happy home life didn't last as long as we'd have liked, coming to rather an abrupt end. It would seem that from the moment I had discovered I was a witch and entered the Wizarding World, my life had never been quiet or peaceful. There had always been something there, just waiting to try and mess things up. And that still held true in my adult life.

Thankfully Ron and I were blissfully unaware anything was going on for a few days, though I did begin to notice people staring at me whilst I was at work. One morning, whilst nipping from my office to use the loo, I'd ran into a cluster of women ensconced by the sinks, gossiping avidly. Only the moment they saw me, they all froze and went silent, as though they'd all been met with a multiple hex. I smiled at them politely, whilst feeling somewhat paranoid and shut myself into a cubicle before the whispering started up again, fading slowly as their huddle made for the exit. I tried not to take it personally, but was curious when I heard someone mutter something about feeling sorry for the poor woman.

Curious and paranoid as I was, I was still rather oblivious to the latest scandal rocking the Wizarding population, or that my personal life had anything to do with it. At least until I had chance to catch up with Harry and ask his opinion.

"Harry," I began whilst chasing the salad around my plate that I wasn't really eating. "Have you noticed other people staring at me today?" I asked him. I'd noticed it happen again as I'd left the Ministry for lunch with Harry and it was becoming a little disconcerting to be honest.

"Who?" he asked, turning his head and glaring at the poor little old Muggle man sat sipping his tea on the table behind us. We liked to get out of the Ministry when we could and eat at a local café in Muggle London.

"Not here," I nudged his arm and smiled an apology at the old man. "I meant at work, you know, in our world. People have been giving me funny looks and whispering all day."

"Oh," he shifted in his seat and picked up his glass. "They have?" he asked me, not meeting my eye.

"Yes. Is something going on?" Harry was behaving oddly now, obviously uncomfortable about something and trying to avoid the subject. He'd become a master at it over the years, but those close to him knew the signs. He continued gulping his coke as an excuse not to answer me. "Harry!" I frowned at him and lightly kicked his ankle under the table. "If you know what's going on, I demand you tell me right now."

He sighed and set down his glass with a small burp. The man behind gave a disgusted tut. "It's nothing," he shrugged and picked up another chip, once again filling his mouth so he didn't have to talk. I merely stared at him, waiting for an answer. "Okay," he finally relented and set his fork down. "I only just found out myself though, Ginny sent me a note."

"About what?" I was worried now.

"About this," he muttered, rummaging in his pocket and pulling out a couple of sheets of glossy paper. "Ginny sent them to me with the note. It's erm…it's an article, printed in this week's Witch Weekly." He grimaced as I snatched it from him

I smoothed out the pages. "Bloody Rita Skeeter, should have known!" I grunted at noticing her name alongside the article. "Why can't the annoying excuse for a woman leave us alone?" I grumbled as I began to read to myself, horrified at what was printed and completely dumbfounded over the whole thing.

"Ronald Weasley – a hero in hiding?

As my avid readers know, it was a tragic loss for the Wizarding World when Ronald Weasley, one third of the heroic trio who brought about the fall of Voldemort, was lost in action almost two years ago. He mysteriously went missing when an Auror mission to defeat remaining Death Eaters went disastrously wrong. After months of an extensive search for Weasley, it was regrettably assumed that he had died in battle.

But, was that really the case or has he simply been in hiding all this time? Our offices at Witch weekly have recently been inundated with owls from avid readers reporting sightings of said Ron Weasley at a recent Cuddly Cannons vs. Puddlemere United Quidditch Match, along with good friend, the infamous Harry Potter. As well as old school friends Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnigan.

It has now been speculated that Weasley may have faked his own death. Why remains unclear. But one suggestion is that he wanted to escape his disastrous marriage to Ms Hermione Weasley nee Granger who once completed the trio of heroes. Weasley allegedly once confided in one of our sources that his marriage was over and he wanted out, claiming his wife was a "nagging hag who never gave him a moments peace."

Other sources insinuate his wife threw him out of their home after it was revealed he was secretly in love with his friend, Potter. He'd been distraught when Potter married his own sister, Ginny Weasley and allegedly only married Granger on the rebound, deeply regretting the action shortly after.

Could it be that our red headed hero is actually a little more cowardly than heroic? Or could there possibly be some other bizarre explanation for his disappearance and subsequent reappearance into our world? We, at Witch Weekly, intend to find out the truth of what's really been going on and where he is now for our avid readers.

We'll keep you posted readers. In the mean time, keep your eyes peeled for Weasley!"

"Well that's just. That's…preposterous!" I gasped when I was done reading, screwing it up and flinging the pages back at Harry. "I can't believe she'd…that's totally not true!" I almost shouted at him as he shoved the offending pages back into his pocket, out of my sight.

"Ssh!" he whispered as the old man behind tutted at us again. "I know it's not, you don't need to tell me. But, you know what that stupid hag is like. Remember all the rubbish she printed when we were at school and what has been printed since the war? At one point they've had me being Knighted by the Muggle Queen – as if she'd care what I did in a world she'd know nothing about. Rita just hears some juicy whisper of a story and run away with it." He tried to comfort me over it, but it honestly wasn't helping.

"Yes, but the sad thing is, people read that stupid rag and believe it. I mean, even Molly believed some silly things printed when we were at school, about me breaking your heart. That's why people are staring and whispering. They all think I'm the poor mug who's husband ran out and faked his death on her." I folded my arms across my chest and sank back into my chair.

"Look," Harry sighed, probably wishing he'd never shown the darn thing to me. "Tomorrow something else will happen, they'll get a sniff of another so called scandal and all this will be over." He shrugged as he picked up his fork and carried on eating his lunch.

"No it won't. You know what the press are like with the three of us Harry. Witch Weekly ran memorial articles on Ron for months. They still print letters from distraught fans of his and do a memoriam on his birthday. If they really think he faked all this, they're going to give us hell!"

Harry sighed, he didn't know what else to say. But he knew I was right.

"This is going to ruin everything," I muttered to myself. "Just when things were settling down for us all and Ron has made such good progress. He's really happy and now he's going to totally hate all this attention and allegations. You know Harry, I know they're grateful for what we did for our kind, but, sometimes I wish they'd bloody get over it all and leave us the hell alone!" I snapped, in a foul mood now. I knew this was going to put a strain on our already fragile recovering relationship. "I've got a good mind to trap the wretched bug in another jar!" I grumbled, folding my arms defiantly.

Having completely lost my appetite, I waited impatiently for Harry to finish his lunch so as we could return to work. The whole time quotes from the article ran through my mind and irritated me even more. By the time we left, rather than face further scrutiny from the gossip mongers within the Ministry, I took the easy way out and disapparated from behind a skip against a wall, directly to my office. Where I hid myself away from prying eyes for the rest of the working day.

Finally, it was time to head home, and whilst I was relieved to get out of the building for the day, I knew I faced a somewhat difficult conversation with Ron at home that I was not looking forward to. He sensed something was off the minute I appeared in the fireplace, taking my bag from me and offering his hand to help me over the grate.

"You look like you've had a bad day," he smiled.

"Yes," I sighed, kicking my shoes off and scraping my hair back from my face.

"Come here," he pulled me towards him, soot and all, and held me close, hugging me tightly. "That better?" he asked, pressing his lips against mine. I nodded and smiled at him, his hugs did make me feel better and I loved the happiness that shone from his eyes these days – no longer lost and confused. But that just made me even more guilty over what I had to tell him. Rotten bloody media! "My day has been pretty weird," he added, throwing his arm around my shoulder and guiding me into the kitchen.

"How so?" I wondered, hesitantly. I hoped no one had bothered him here already.

"Mummy!" Rose gasped, having ran inside upon seeing me through the window. "We got lots and lots of letters today!" She added excitedly before Ron had a chance to explain anything.

"Letters?" I asked confused and then noted the rather precariously stacked pile of letters and packages on the table. "What?" I asked confused.

"We've had owls arriving all day," he groaned, spying yet another one heading this way through the window. "I don't get it at all. Did you win a competition or something?" he wondered, casually as he opened the window to let the owl in and remove the letter from it's leg.

"No," I replied. "I hoped this wouldn't start yet," I added under my breath,

"What was that?" he asked over his shoulder, having given the owl a treat and watched him fly off, tossing yet another letter to the pile.

"Can we open them?" Rose asked, already rummaging into the pile, scattering them all over the table.

"No!" I almost shouted at her, and then felt bad when she pouted. "Not right now sweetheart. Have you read any?" I asked Ron.

"Of course not!" He looked affronted. "They're all addressed to you. Is something going on?" he asked, eyeing me closer.

I sighed again and sank into a chair at the table, looking at all the letters, wondering briefly who they were all from before deciding they could all sod off – the lot of them – and mind their own damn business.

"Rosie," I got up and went to find my bag. "Why don't you go check on Hugo for me, and here…you can take him his Gingerbread man, and you can have yours too." I handed her the little paper bag from my work bag.

"Now?" she asked, her disappointed face lighting up again. "Not after dinner?"

"Yes, now." I smiled. Every Wednesday, when Harry and I left the Ministry for lunch, I always called at a bakers on the way and bought them both a Gingerbread man as a treat. "Just give mummy and daddy a few minutes, okay?" I asked.

"Thanks Mummy!" She grinned and ran outside again.

"Okay, are you going to tell me what's going on now?" Ron asked, taking a seat at the table and pushing the mail aside.

Searching through the mail myself, I pulled one out, assuming it was what I was searching for and unrolled it. It was what I had suspected – Witch Weekly had so kindly sent me a copy of their magazine, along with a note which I ignored. Having only seen the two page article before, I didn't realise Ron's face was on the front cover. I don't even know where they'd got the photo from, but judging from the expression on his face being all smiley changing to instantly annoyed and holding his hand in front of his face – it must have been a paparazzi photo. Underneath was the headline - 'Ronald Weasley back from the dead?'

"Why am I on that magazine?" Ron frowned at it.

I thumbed through, searching for the right page and then passed it over to him. "You should probably read this," I simply explained.

He took it from me, with a slight scowl and began to read. He'd always been rather a slow reader, at least slower than me, and I grew impatient for him to get to the end. I glanced through the other mail as I waited, most seemed to be from readers, probably full of sympathy or scorn for my situation. Whilst others were from other publications, most likely requesting interviews or something. I just wanted to burn the whole lot of them unopened.

"Well, that's bloody fuckin' ridiculous!" Ron spat, tossing the whole magazine aside.

"I know," I sighed, compassionately.

"I mean, I'd never, ever do that. And I'd certainly never say such mean things about you. And I was in love with Harry? As if!" He scoffed. "It's all just bollocks!" He glared at the offending magazine again. "Barely a word of it's true."

"I know that and you know that. But, unfortunately some crazy people do believe everything they read in these kinds of magazines and…."

"Well, they're fuckin' idiots!" He cut me off.

"Ron, please," I sighed again. It had been such a long day and I didn't know how to deal with his anger right now.

"I'm sorry, I just...urgh!" He groaned in frustration and buried his face in his hands.

"I know, exactly," I heaved a huge sigh. "I don't know what to do about it all."

"Just ignore it?" He suggested, slipping one hand from his face.

I smiled at his simplicity. "This isn't just going to go away that easily I'm afraid. From what I know about the media, in any world, things are going to get worse before they get better. Once they get their hands on a juicy story, they'll lay into us for as long as people are interested."

"People need to mind their own fuckin' business," he muttered, glaring at all the mail now. "So, all this is?" He waved his hand towards the other letters.

"I'm presuming from readers and requests for interviews and…other junk."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Why can't people leave us alone?" He voiced the same question I'd been asking myself all afternoon.

"I don't know sweetheart. I know it's not fair. I mean, we're just getting things back on track between us all, getting some normalcy back. I don't want this to cause problems for us."

"Well, I don't want people sticking their fucking nose in our business."

"They already have Ron." I pointed out. "But, please, don't let this change things for us. You know I don't believe any of that, I know the truth, those that matter know the truth. We will stand by each other and we'll get through this together, okay?"

He nodded, grumpily. "So, what do we do with this lot in the meantime?" He again glared at the letters, as though they were bombs about to explode.

I sighed and pulled the stack towards me, quickly I checked through them that there was nothing of any importance. There was one letter from Max and Mildred addressed to us both and another from Flourish and Blotts about some books I'd ordered. I set those two aside. The rest I collected up and carried towards the fire in the lounge, tossing them all in, watching as they burned. Ron joined me, an arm around my shoulders.

"You're right though, that isn't going to stop them for long, is it?" He realised gloomily.

"It will stop them tonight." I turned and kissed his cheek. "Come on, let's make dinner and forget about it all. It's just a whole load of nonsense!" I hugged him and we returned to the kitchen, making a quick dinner between us.

I awoke early the next day, despite it being my morning off work, thanks to an incessant tapping on the window. Finally I dragged myself from bed and peaked out of the curtains, only to be met with the sight of about half a dozen owls fluttering around, all with letters attached to their legs.

I groaned loudly, jerked the curtains back in place and attempted to ignore them. At least until the tapping, now much louder, woke Ron and the children.

"Was'goin'on?" Ron mumbled into his pillow.

"Mummy!" Rose ran into our room excitedly, crashing doors open and flinging the curtains back with a flourish. "There is lots and lots of owls!" she exclaimed, grinning at me as she jumped up and down.

"So I've seen," I mumbled, squinting in the now bright sunshine streaming into the room.

"More owls?" Ron asked grumpily, slowly sitting up as a sleepy Hugo crawled into his lap. Usually on my mornings off, we all liked to sleep late, having a lazy morning and then enjoying a huge brunch together before I had to get ready for work. As it was, it was barely eight am and we were all awake, having been rudely disturbed.

"Lots!" Rose reiterated, waving her arms in an arc and a wide grin adorning her face.

"Why are they so fu…lipping," he quickly corrected his language, "interested in us anyway?"

"Are you kidding?" I yawned. "After the war, everything we did was reported – we were hot news for months on end. Hailed heroes of our world and people wanted to know everything about us. Everything we did, any dates we had, when we got engaged and got married. When the children were born. Every shop, event or funeral we went to – everything. We could barely blink or sneeze or…."

"Fart?" Ron asked, making Hugo giggle from beneath the sheets.

"Charming Ronald, but you get the idea. We couldn't do anything without it being reported. I thought they'd lost interest in later years, but…this, I suppose it's hot news to them. A hero returning." I groaned. "Always made me feel bad for how Harry must have felt dealing with this the majority of his life." I sighed dramatically.

And as I spoke Harry's name, I recalled a story he'd once told us, of his guardian's home being bombarded with owls whilst trying to deliver his Hogwarts acceptance letter. His Aunt and Uncle, afraid of magic, had tried to bar them being delivered. Only to have letters stream in through cracks under the door, through windows and down the chimney. That mental picture was enough for me to finally acknowledge the owls and open the window for them.

"You'll have to form a queue and be patient!" I called to them all, irritated, as they all clamoured around the window the moment I opened it, wanting to deliver their letter first.

It became evident whilst removing the letters from each owl, a pile mounting on the bed behind me, why we had another influx of deliveries today; The Daily Prophet had latched onto the story already and were now running wild with it.

Ron and I, each with our own copies of the newspaper, read them over breakfast – the children happily distracted with the smiley face eggs their Dad had made for them. Every so often we'd groan at a bit, or burst out with comments such as 'how ridiculous', 'don't be daft' or, in Ron's case, 'get a fu…lippin' life'!

"Here's a new one," Ron read out to me. "You threw me out of the house and I've been living in a cave ever since." He rolled his eyes. "Or, how about this one…I've been on the run from Aurors themselves chasing me." He slapped the newspaper closed and tossed it onto the table in disgust.

"I can beat that one," I muttered, still reading it. In all honesty, some of their theories could be possible, such as him being in hiding from Death Eaters or bed ridden in a Muggle hospital. But most of them were even more ludicrous than what Witch Weekly had already printed. "Apparently you're an unregistered Animagus, and you've been living in your animal form the last two years."

"And what are they saying my Animagus is?" He wondered, sipping his tea.

"Erm," I scanned the rest of the article. "Everything from a weasel…"

"How original!" he quipped.

"…to a cow and, hmm, an elephant!"

"Elephant?" He laughed. "Yeah, like that would go unnoticed wandering around the Hertfordshire countryside!" He shook his head. "Honestly, these people are…bloody stupid!"

"You said bloody!" Rose pointed out to him.

"Sorry Rosie," Ron smiled at her. "Daddy is a bit cross with the silly old newspaper."

"Where elepants Mummy?" Hugo asked, trying to pull the paper from me to see for himself. It still seemed somewhat strange to me that commonly known animals like monkeys or elephants were more unusual and thrilling to our children than hippogriffs, dragons or doxy's.

"There isn't a real elephant, they're just being very silly." I explained to our son, folding my own copy and setting it down to finish my breakfast.

"Oh," he murmured and drank his juice.

Ten minutes later, we'd just about got cleared up from breakfast when Molly arrived via the floo. "Ah, you've already seen the newspaper?" she said, upon spying copies of The Daily Prophet on the kitchen table as she greeted her grandchildren with hugs and kisses.

"Yes, and all the utter crap they're printing." Ron muttered.

"Now, don't you worry about all that. I've already written a strongly worded letter to the editor about them writing such things." She looked proud of herself.

"Mum," Ron whined.

"I am not having anyone writing such rubbish about my son!"

"You'll just make it worse," he continued to grumble.

"Nonsense! Someone needs to put them straight and who better than your own Mother!" She puffed out her chest some, with her hands on her hips, making herself look more formidable than usual.

Ron just groaned and slid into the kitchen chair whilst I poured Molly a cup of tea. "That's it!" I realised, setting the refreshed tea pot down.

"What is?" he blinked up at me.

"We need to set the record straight, get the truth out there."

Ron just pulled a face about it all. I think he hoped if he ignored it, it would go away. Molly on the other hand looked at me eagerly. "What are you suggesting love?" she asked, stirring her tea.

"We give them an interview, we can straighten…."

"Oh no!" Ron waved his hands in front of himself. "No way! I'm not telling everyone our personal business and having our entire population read about it. That's just…it's none of their damn business!"

"I know Ron, but they're only going to speculate more and make up even more ridiculous theories if they don't know the truth about you, about what really happened."

"It's none of their damn business!" He repeated, folding his arms.

"But they think it is." I pointed out

"Hermione's right Ron, love. You three are still a hot commodity in our world, they think they have some right to know your business. And, isn't them knowing the truth better than all these silly rumours?"

Ron continued to sulk, glaring at both of us. "I want them to just leave us alone, to get on with our life in private thanks very much."

"I want that too sweetheart, and one day things will calm down. I mean, it's better now than it used to be. But when something like this happens," I sighed, trying to think of another tactic to convince him. Truth be told, holding an interview about our personal life and what happened wasn't my idea of fun either. But it was the better or two evils right now.

"Look, everyone thought you died, not just your family. People we don't even know mourned for you, memorials were printed in magazines for weeks, it was a sad loss to our community. The fact that you're back, it's exciting to everyone, not just me and your mum and the kids. Everyone who knows of you, and whilst right now it's all just going crazy, people just want to share that excitement. A short interview will please everyone and hopefully calm things down."

"How will it calm things down if they'd be excited?" He muttered, being difficult on purpose.

"You know what I mean!" I snapped at him. "The silly rumours and theories will calm down. The letters will eventually stop arriving and then we can get back to our lives."

"Seems to me the letters will stop eventually if we ignore them too."

"So you're just going to hide out here for ever more? You're never going to venture in public again? No more Quidditch matches or visits to Diagon Alley? No drinks at the Leaky with friends? No work? And what about seeing the children off to Hogwarts when the time comes? Because if we don't stop this now and tell them what really happened, every time you step foot in our world, there is going to be talk and people are going to whisper about us and assume things they don't know. This way, we shut them up about it all and they can move onto the next Wizarding drama."

Ron sighed, deeply, still slouched on the char reminiscent of his daughter when she didn't get her own way.

"Ron, I don't want this to come between us. We've worked so hard to get back what we have now. We've waited too long to be happy again. I'm not going to let some silly articles in the newspaper upset us or have this hanging over our heads forever."

"I suppose so," he eventually muttered.

"You suppose so what?" I asked him.

"I guess we'll do an interview or whatever," he mumbled.

"Thank you. It will be for the best, you'll see." I smiled and kissed his cheek. Ron pulled a silly face at me and then rolled his eyes as his Mum ruffled his hair.

"That's my boy!" She smiled.

"I don't want some little hot shot asking us dumb questions though or trying to trick us into saying something we don't mean to or whatever. Or using that damn quick quotes quill – that'd be worse than the rumours."

"I'll see if we can find a friend to conduct the interview. Someone Ginny knows, or maybe even Luna? I think she still works with her Dad at The Quibbler sometimes."

"The Quibbler?" Ron and his Mum both looked aghast. "That won't make things any better. Articles in there are all jokes as far as most people are concerned. You'd be a laughing stock." Molly commented.

"It worked for Harry once," I shrugged. "And we don't have to print it in The Quibbler, she can just interview us. But, if you prefer I'll ask Ginny if she can recommend someone first."

"Fine," he huffed and then looked at the time. "Shouldn't you be getting ready for work?" he wondered, changing the subject.

I smiled. "Actually, they said I can work from home today, what with all the fuss going on. I could do without the stares and whispering to be honest." I admitted.

"Oh, right." he nodded and wandered off, deep in thought about something.

Ginny didn't really trust anyone enough at the Daily Prophet to give us a fair interview. Not that she disliked her colleagues or anything, it was just she knew the way journalists worked and how they'd angle this story.

"With Luna, you can just tell her the story and she'll write it how you tell it. With the Prophet, they'll ask all sorts of personal questions not relevant to the story. All you want to do is explain the truth about what happened with Ron, you don't want to give them any other personal information. But, I know they'd fish for it." She warned us.

"What kind of personal things? I mean, isn't this personal enough?" Ron was still not at all happy with the idea of giving any kind of interview.

"No," she shook her head, flicking her long red hair over her shoulder. "This is nothing compared to questions about your sex life or any romantic involvement with others during the separation. How your relationship is going now and all manner of things they'd want to delve into. I know how they work Ron. Sure, you and Hermione have had your share of the press, but when I was with The Harpies, my relationship with Harry was front page news on a daily basis and the questions I'd get asked were just humiliating at times. You want to keep as much out of the press as possible. Some things are just private."

Ron nodded, thoughtfully. Truth was, he didn't really remember much of our press attention from before. This was his first brutal reminder of it all. And he'd never been around for the aftermath of his disappearance. The Wizarding world went into mourning for him and the media ran with it.

"So, will Luna do the interview?" I wondered, knowing Ginny was right in suggesting Luna was probably our best bet for a fair story.

"I have mentioned it to her and she said she'd be happy to tell your story. She doesn't work with her Dad so much now, she's been off travelling a lot and searching for, well you know, her random and more than likely imaginary, creatures with this new boyfriend of hers. But she said she'd love to see Ron again and hear what happened and promised she'd just write your story. Her Dad will then sell it, as is, no changes, to other publications."

"And that will be that? They'll stop hassling us?" Ron hoped.

"Not straight away, no," Ginny shook her head, giving her brother a regretful look. "And you'll need to make it clear this is the only interview you're giving about the whole situation and you will not be answering any further questions on it. Soon enough, they'll grow bored with nothing scandalous to print about you two and move on to someone else."

"So, could you arrange a time with Luna?" I asked Ginny. "We're free whenever she is, right?" I asked Ron. He nodded, half-heartedly.

A few days later. Ginny brought Luna over to our house, and after we'd all greeted one another, Ginny took our children back with her to allow us some peace to conduct the interview. Gathering around the kitchen table, Luna set up an interesting contraption she assured us would record our voices. It worked in principal the same as a Muggle Dictaphone, but looked completely different with a large ear shape to filter the sounds and instead of being recorded onto tape or digital software, our voices swirled inside a glass dome of glittering specks – like a Muggle child's snow globe.

"Right, so, would you just like to just tell me your story?" She asked, we nodded. "Shall we start with when Ron disappeared? And then Ron, you can pick up with what happened to you, and then we'll talk about how you found one another again?" Luna suggested, after tapping her contraption with her wand and sorting out a stack of parchment and quills.

I breathed an internal sigh of relief, so far it seemed Luna was behaving rather professionally and I was grateful. Luna was a dear friend, but she did tend to have some rather bizarre tendencies we had come to know and love her for. My confidence grew that maybe this interview would go well.

"Of course, I know everything already printed is complete rubbish! I knew none of it was true the moment I read it," Luna commented.

"Thank you Luna," Ron replied, awkwardly.

"I mean, your Animagus would obviously be a fox, because of your hair," she smiled and sat back, as though that fact was obvious to anyone.

"Erm, Luna, you do know I'm not really an Animagus at all, right?" Ron was trying not to laugh.

"You're not? Are you sure?" She frowned at him.

"Yes, quite sure," I snapped, frustrated already. Perhaps I had been a little hasty in my initial confidence. "Now, do you think we can get on with the this interview?"

"Oh. Yes, yes. Of course," she smiled dreamily.

"Right, well first of all I would like to make it clear that under no circumstances did I know Ron was in fact alive all this time. This has never been a conspiracy or a secret kept from anyone and we've never hid Ron away. As far as I knew, Ron was…gone. I had lost my husband." Even now it was difficult for me to say he had died. "The grief I went through was very real and the months of despondence after that very difficult for me to live through. But I had small children to think of, and somehow I had to find a way to go on without him. I would never have wished that pain on anyone if we'd really known he was in fact still alive."

"And I just want to add, that if anyone seriously thinks I would put the people I love most - my wife, my children or my family, through that grief for nothing...well, they're bloody mental!" Ron huffed.

Luna nodded and offered him a smile. "I know there was an extensive search for him." She asked me.

"Yes, and what many people don't realise is that even after the case was officially closed and Ron was presumed….dead," I almost choked on the word. "Harry, along with some family and friends continued looking for him, trying everything they could think of to find him. It was months before Harry admitted defeat, he didn't want to lose his best friend any more than I wanted to lose my husband."

"How about a locator spell?" She asked, rather rationally for her. "People are saying if you'd used a locator spell you'd have found him easily. Which is why his disappearance is being questioned."

"Of course we tried that," I snapped and then felt guilty. This wasn't Luna's fault after all. No matter her strange reasoning, I knew she knew the truth. "We tried it many times, with many different objects," I sighed. "But, well, circumstances as they were, it's obvious now why that didn't work."

"And why is that?" she inquired.

"Because I was badly injured," Ron took his side of the story up. "I don't remember much of the battle or what happened to me exactly, but I remember waking up in this little room, with an older woman there. Her husband told me I'd crashed through their barn and they'd found me half alive." He explained his version of things. "She took good care of me and I was in and out of unconsciousness for some time. But, when I finally came around, some weeks later, I realised I had lost my memory. I didn't even know who I was."

"You didn't get any owls then?"

"What?" Ron screwed his face up.

"Owls," she repeated slowly as though he was still suffering a head injury. "Owls in our world are supposed to be able to find any witch or wizard, unless they put a repelling or masking spell on themselves, so they're untraceable. So, no owls were sent or received?"

"Erm...no," Ron shook his head and seemed puzzled.

"Of course we sent owls." I interrupted impatiently. "Many, many owls, but none found him. And then Harry realised that Ron had been on an important Auror mission when he went missing. It's common practice for Aurors on a mission to place repelling spells on themselves to protect their location. The spell was probably still on him." I sighed, wondering what Luna's angle was here – it was like she didn't believe us. "And, with him not knowing who he was, not knowing us or that he even had a family or anything, that is probably why the locator spell didn't work either. It couldn't connect with him because he wasn't himself so to speak."

"Where did you lose it?" Luna asked abruptly.

"Huh?" Ron looked confused and turned to me for clarification. I merely shrugged, Luna still baffled me from time to time.

"Your memory, you said you lost it. Where?" She asked innocently.

"What?" He laughed, thinking she was joking. He shared a wry grin with me and rolled his eyes humorously. Luna continued to look at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. "Hang on, you don't really think?" It dawned on him that her question was sincere, that she wasn't just having a laugh with him. "Luna, I didn't actually...I mean that I couldn't remember anything." He added, now rather wary as he frowned at me again, probably wondering what I had gotten him into. I just shook my head.

"Nothing at all?" She asked, surprised.

Ron shrugged. "Somehow I knew I was a wizard and had some basic knowledge of our world. Hermione thinks it's because it's inbred in me or something, being a Wizard is in my blood. Max and Mildred, the couple who took care of me, were magical folk, though they didn't participate in our world any more. But, no, I didn't even know my own name, let alone where I'd come from or that I had a family or anything."

"And how is the memory going now?" She wondered. "Did you find it yet?" She spoke as though it was a lost inanimate possession you might happen to come across one day after spending months searching for it.

"With Hermione's help, as well as my family and friends bits and pieces have now come back to me, there are certain events I can now remember. But not everything, a lot of my memory is like a vague dream, or a dusty old photograph, not quite perfect." He tried to explain.

Luna nodded. "Have you tried eating a dirigible plum whilst standing upside down? And you need to hum 'Thorbert The Troll's' lullaby backwards whilst chewing. Then, once you've swallowed, jump down, take three paces back and then jump twice to the left."

"And what...would I want to...do that...for?" Ron choked out through howls of laughter.

"To remember of course," she smiled at him dreamily, as though it should have been obvious.

"How can that…does that even. Is that actually a thing?" he asked her curiously.

"It's worked for me a couple of times when I've forgotten where I've put my wand, or where I'm supposed to be." She gave a small shrug. That, it seemed, was proof enough for her.

"I hardly think losing an item or a momentary lapse of memory is the same as suffering from amnesia!" I sighed dramatically. I'd rather get this interview over with so I could get on with my day, than discussing Luna's more…loony ideas!

"But, does it work?" Ron asked her.

"Of course not! Totally ridiculous!" I scoffed. How could anyone think the idea had even the remotest chance of working?

"Have you ever tried it?" Luna asked me, giving me an intense gaze that made me squirm.

"Well, no. but…" I stammered, knowing it was ridiculous, but also knowing she probably totally believed in it. Sometimes, with her seemingly crazy notions, it was hard not to offend Luna. Not that she ever took things personally, she just didn't care what others thought of her at all. A trait I often admired in her.

Ron smiled at her, a hint of amusement on his face still, but something else in his eyes, a glimmer of hope maybe. And somehow I knew my daft husband was going to try it. I suppose it wouldn't hurt if he did and strangely, the idea that he'd be willing to try something so ludicrous in order to remember everything clearly, touched me.

"Anyway, our story?" I reminded them both what we were supposed to be doing here.

"Oh, yes. So, would you like to tell us what happened after that?" Luna snapped back into professional mode. Well, as professional as Luna could ever behave.

Ron went on to explain about him living and working on the farm. How he spent his time in the small seaside village, not knowing who he really was or anything and going by the name, Roland. And then finally, we both explained how we found him. How Harry and I had chased after what seemed like an act of desperation at the time.

"I think I'd have clung to any glimmer of hope we might find him one day," I confessed. "I always felt I'd feel it if he was truly gone. So when there was the slightest suggestion he'd been seen, I had to find out for myself."

We relayed the scene of finding Ron in the village pub, our meeting with him the following day and how we realised he didn't know who we were.

"I was both excited and terribly scared about it all." Ron confessed for the first time. He'd never told me that. "Finally there was someone who knew me, knew who I was. But, I didn't know them and I didn't really know what this all meant or what was going to happen. Finding out this beautiful woman was my wife threw me completely, how could I forget my wife and children? I had a bit of a hard time with it all." He admitted.

"But, you came home with me. You trusted me and we have our family back." I smiled at him.

"We do. Things are good now. I love being a dad to our incredible kids and having a family and friends who care about me. We're getting back what we lost, slowly regaining memories and growing closer together as a couple as well as a family. I am well aware I am an incredibly lucky man."

"And I'm a very lucky woman. I have the love of my life back." I beamed at Ron across the kitchen table with soft sigh.

"Although there's still a lot I don't really remember. Like know how we once behaved together or how this felt before. I have this amazing woman I have fallen in love with all over again. In some ways it's all new to me, in others it's as familiar as the back of my hand. We fit together and I've fallen in love with my wife for the second time." Ron wasn't speaking to Luna at all, he was gazing intently at me, a slight blush to his cheeks and the tips of his ears at his heartfelt confession. I smiled back at him, my eyes watery with tears.

"And you're both happy? I mean, it can't have been easy for either of you. But, being back together is what you want?" Luna wondered.

Ron reached for my hand across the table, his fingers laced through mine. We both smiled and at the same time, breathed the word "Yes", together. "Very happy." We added.

"And there's nothing I want more," Ron grinned at me.

Hope you enjoyed. Reviews make me happy...and make me write faster :p Three more to go and I should just get this all posted before my holidays.