A/N: A hearty thank you to my wonderful beta-readers for their greatly-appreciated assistance once more. Also, this is a gentle reminder that this story is indeed rated PG-13, in case that fact had somehow eluded you. Here's hoping you enjoy Chapter 13--perhaps in time for Halloween! NZ

Chapter 13
Flaime's Fall and French Faux Pas

Happy birthday, Harry, Hermione said under her breath, ripping the July thirtieth page from Null's desk calendar and tossing it in the wastebin. Remembering what day it was had made her a bit sad, but she had no more time to think about it.

You have everything, Hermione? Dr. Null asked, suddenly sweeping into the room to collect his clipboard and his intern.

I think so, sir, Hermione said, hurriedly scooping up a clipboard of her own and several file folders, along with a quill and some ink. She inconspicuously tried to see if Null had picked up a quill to take with him, but then thought perhaps she'd better take an extra along just in case.

Dr. Null had recovered from his migraine by the morning after her little run-in with Voyde and her men. He hadn't, however, seemed to recover the more relaxed and easygoing personality he'd had when she first came to Trapperton a week ago. At first she'd thought he was angry with her over Starr's unsupervised release, but when she watched him interacting with other people in the camp, he seemed just as irritable and impatient with them. Hermione could tell that something was definitely on his mind--she just didn't know what it was or how serious it might be. Oh, he was still distractable--just that now she was more likely to find a worried frown on his face than a look of pensive wonder.

The other problem was that he was tougher to keep up with--and by the time she'd located a second quill on his desk, he was nearly out of the office room door. She could hear him giving her instructions, since he expected her to be right behind him--but she wasn't close enough to hear what they were. She jogged across the room, hoping to be able to catch up with him.

--should be in the training room by now, Dr. Null was saying, striding along the hallway ahead of her. This is an entirely different situation than you've worked with before--and it's far more dangerous. Up until now, you've worked with the Yeti who have adapted to training well. Today you'll see one of those with the negative behavioral changes we've been studying in the males.I'm sorry, doctor, I didn't hear which of the Yeti you said we'll be working with, Hermione said.

As usual, he didn't appear to hear her. I'm not even sure how he'll take to you--as a female-- being there, Null went on. If I tell you to go, you'll go immediately, with no questions, no protests, nothing. You'll leave your parchments and walk away, all the way to your work station and you'll stay there until I come for you or send other instructions. Do you understand?

She'd never seen Null so all-business before, but there was no doubt he meant what he was saying and expected her to comply. Yes, sir.

Suddenly Null stopped and turned to her just before they entered the training room. You may not like what you see here, Hermione. This male has to be restrained and sometimes subdued with magic. It's for his own protection--and ultimately, to save his life. If we can't start to understand why he displays such aggression toward his own kind, he'll either have to be banished to some isolated area on his own--or he'll end up killing or being killed. We need a record of everything that happens in here today, good or bad--that's why you're here. I can't record and work with him, too. Everything recorded--do you understand?Yes, sir, but-- she tried again, realizing she was missing one crucial piece of information, --which of the Yeti did you say this was?

A loud crash, a man's shout, a scuffling sound, and a deafening, angry-yet-sorrowful Yeti-yell came from the other side of the door.

Null released a deep breath in apparent anticipation of what he was about to face. This is Flaime. He pushed open the door to reveal a far different sight than Hermione was used to finding in the training rooms.

Three handlers pulled chains toward three corners of the room, though Hermione didn't pay immediate attention to which handlers they were. She was too focused on the huge Yeti half-seated, half-slouched in the chair whose angry dark gray eyes swung almost uncannily to her face and bored straight into hers.

Look down, Hermione! Look down! Dr. Null hissed.

Hermione did so, reading the urgency in his voice, then immediately remembered something she'd read in one of the Yeti books Dr. Null had loaned her. She'd meant to ask him about it, because it was difficult to believe the issue could still exist, judging from the Yeti she'd already met.

Female subservience? Hermione whispered as she stood frozen, staring at the floor.

Yes. Damn, I forgot to remind you! Dr. Null replied. It was instinct--he knew you were a female the instant you entered--and he was testing. The only females allowed to look straight into a Yeti's eyes are those that belong to him. Any other female can be killed for doing so--and the males will never forget. They know you're of a different species, but we're not going to assume that it makes enough difference to them.

Both of the Yeti's long, furry arms and one foot were shackled; Flaime's arms were pulled behind him and one foot was held off the ground. Still, the one unshackled leg swung out time and again, kicking at the large table that was ordinarily used for the more civilized' Yeti to sequence their diary sentences.

Keeping her eyes down, Hermione slinked along the wall until she reached the shelf on the wall behind the table; she slipped the folders and clipboard onto the corner of the shelf so she could quickly set up her quill and ink and start writing.

Dr. Null approached the chair where they usually sat to monitor the Yeti building their diary sentences; it was only a few feet away and in front of where Hermione had positioned herself. He sat down and stared quietly, but intensely at Flaime for what seemed like a number of minutes. Mumbling under his breath, Dr. Null began talking calmly in Hermione's direction. Write this down. Flaime is a fifty-four year old male in his reproductive prime...appears to be in good health, eyes are bright and focused, coat is thick and shiny, no apparent excretions from eyes, nose, mouth or ears. Teeth are--

Just then, Null bared his own teeth and made some strange head-gesture at the Yeti. The gesture must have held some Yeti meaning, for Flaime stopped squirming in his chair and yanking at his chains to focus on Null. Eyes leveled on the zoolowizard, Flaime repeated the identical teeth-baring gesture that Null had performed.

Without moving his gaze one iota from the Yeti, Null continued -- Teeth appear to be in good condition. Response time to challenge gesture excellent, which means attentiveness strong. Suddenly Null snapped his gaze to the floor to break the stare-down, which apparently ended the challenge gesture and freed the Yeti to move on to other thoughts as well.

Flaime began to squirm and pull at his chains once more, jerking the handlers back to reality after watching the stare-down themselves.

How's his appetite? Any changes since his arrival? Null asked the handlers.

Eats like a graphorn, Hank replied. Actually--take that back--more likely he'd want to eat a graphorn. The handler snorted at his own joke. Get everything they want, these animals--hard to imagine why they're so damned ornery.If the Yeti -- Dr. Null emphasized their species name versus Hank's classification of them as animals', --were getting everything necessary, there'd be no need for all of this in-fighting between them. We're certain that all of their basic needs are being met? I mean, I'm sure Dr. Voyde has instructed all of you on procedure, but is there any chance that it's not being checked on often enough? Perhaps she hasn't had time to follow up with your people as much as she'd like what with the other research and all.Oh no, Hank insisted. They're gettin' everything, believe me.

Dr. Null persisted for some reason. It's just strange...I think I'll make arrangements to stay in the habitat a night or two--

The handler in the farthest corner interrupted quickly. Dr. Voyde has strict rules about that-- she says it messes up those behavior patterns she studies when there are changes. That even includes letting someone new into the habitat.Well, I'm hardly new--and the Yeti all know me--it's not as if I'm some stranger, Null said.

Hank shook his head. You can check with Dr. Voyde, Doc, but I think she'll say no. Besides, it's too dangerous out there at night--you never know how these animals'll react.We'll see about that later then, I suppose, Null said, apparently giving in for the moment when he noticed Flaime getting more agitated with impatience. Do you have any lacerations, punctures, bite marks, or apparent bruises to report for Flaime?No, none here, Doctor, Ulav replied, but glanced nervously at the next handler over as he said it.

During the time that Null had been talking with the handlers and while Flaime was distracted, Hermione had been visually inspecting the Yeti after pausing in taking her notes. He was definitely one of the larger creatures she'd seen so far--and there was no doubt why he associated himself with a flame. His tufted, semi-matted fur held a deep reddish tone, much like the color of a firelog that had just dwindled from full flame to glowing coals. Proportioned much like an enormous upright gorilla, it was easy to see why he might be inclined to challenge any male in the habitat, since he appeared to be very muscular and have great upper body strength. At least the handlers seemed to be having a time of it in controlling him three-on-one.

Sir, is that--? Hermione whispered. As Flaime had twisted in his chair to face the windows and snarl at the two handlers on that side of him, she saw a well-defined, darkened, and more matted ridge in his fur, cutting across the center of his upper back and over one shoulder blade.

Dr. Null asked tersely.

Is that a -- cut across his back? Hermione continued, peering intensely at the ridge she had spotted.

Null gave her a questioning look and she pointed to where she'd been staring.

Null called.

Hermione's eyes widened at the name, but she tried to cover her recognition. She watched as the handler in the opposite corner looked away from his charge and over at Dr. Null in response.

What is that there on his back? There--where there's that sort of matted ridge of fur.

Sloane looked either as if he didn't understand what Null what talking about or that he didn't want to say, but Hermione couldn't immediately determine which it was.

The handler took a step closer to the Yeti and squinted at the creature's back, though he was still a good ten feet away, trying to keep the chain on Flaime's left arm taut. I don't see nothin', sir.

Null looked perplexed. There, Sloane--across his upper back and his right shoulder blade. Why is his fur all matted in a rough line like that?

Sloane seemed irritated that Null hadn't accepted his initial assessment. Don't have a clue, Doctor. Surely Dr. Voyde woulda mentioned to you if there was some problem with

Null frowned. I suppose so, but what if it's just happened? Do you know when Flaime's last physical assessment was?

Sloane sighed and made a meaningful glance toward Ulav. Don't rightly remember, Doc, we do so many of them. He stepped back into his original position as if that was the end of the conversation.

Then do me a favor, Sloane, Null said persistently. Are the other two strong enough to hold Flaime while you get a bit closer and see if you can make a better assessment?

Sloane rolled his eyes and grimaced, but indicated to Ulav and Hank to pull up the slack in their chains and prepare for him to release his line. To Hermione, it felt like Null's request had been almost as much of a male challenge to Sloane as the teeth-baring had been to Flaime.

Apparently feeling the adjustment in the tension on the chains and seeming to sense someone moving toward him from behind, Flaime squirmed even more in his chair, trying to figure out which of the handlers was missing. The Yeti angled his body such that he could use the two remaining taut chains as an axis; Flaime managed to push off with his free foot and flip his torso in mid-air. The instant he saw Sloane moving up on him, wand at the ready just in case, his thinly-veiled aggression appeared...

...and Flaime disappeared.

the handlers yelled, grunting and straining in vain at chains that seemed to whip through thin air. Null awkwardly drew his wand and bolted upright from his seat, frantically scanning the room for any sign of a purple halo. It was obvious he had no idea where to direct any spell that could stop the Yeti now. The chair that had been under Flaime tipped, fell and skidded across the floor.

The sounds of snarling and snapping rang through thin air. Sloane froze and looked around in panic. From the sidelines, they all watched in horror as some invisible force knocked Sloane's wand from his hand, grabbed his arm, and violently wrenched it from its socket. The man's agonized scream was only interrupted by further wails when bite marks appeared like magic on the side of his head, his neck, then his ribs. Suspended in mid-air, his other arm snapped in one, two, three places, the puncture marks of sharp teeth setting rapidly spreading circles of blood seeping through the handler's shirt. Sloane's body was swept high into the air and the screams went on until he was hurled toward the floor with amazing force. Then the screaming stopped.

Horrified and stunned into dropping their chains, Hank and Ulav drew wands that were almost immediately slapped to the floor; the wands disappeared instantly.

Null whispered behind him, apparently finally able to form the words.

Her back pressed against the wall, Hermione edged her way toward the door. But the havoc continued.

As if an invisible tornado had been unleashed indoors, a trash bin flying through space narrowly missed Ulav as he crouched against the far wall. Cards flew from the walls along with their racks and fell in strange patterns from the air. The training table in front of Null was overturned and smashed; luckily, Dr. Null had stepped back and was rummaging in a box behind him with one hand, no longer in his original position.

The purple halo moved so swiftly through the room they could barely see it. In fact, they all seemed to have lost sight of it completely by the time Hermione was almost in front of the closed door. It was then she felt the leathery palm cover the bottom half of her face. She could feel, but see nothing in front of her, and four rough, jaggedly pointed Yeti claws pressed hard into the tender skin just beneath her jaw line. She froze.

Whimpering a bit for fear that a shout would be the death of her, Hermione felt her chin being angled upward. She remembered Null's warning about not looking at Flaime directly though she had no idea where not to look, and her eyes ached from the effort of trying to keep them aimed at the floor while her face was tilted upward. Finally, she closed them altogether, but the sight her mind threw at her then forced her to open them once more. Without knowing what Flaime's intentions were, Hermione had suddenly imagined the sharpest points of the Yeti fingernails piercing her skin and hooking her jawbone like one would hook a fish.

By the door! Null whispered to the two remaining handlers, pointing as they stood upright from their crouched positions in far corners of the room. Then he turned to Hermione and spoke softly. Don't move; don't make a sound, Hermione. Just blink to answer--if you know the answer--once for yes, twice for no. He's in front of you, not behind or on the side, right?

Hermione blinked hard once. She could hear Flaime's hard breathing after his tantrum and feel his hot breath on the top of her head. He had flinched at the first sound of Null's voice, but was still now.

I can see him pressing your head up--keep your eyes down, that's right-- don't challenge him, don't move for your wand. You were in his way as he tried to get out--I thought he was too frantic to think that fast, Null said, sounding as if he was trying to be soothing. He's not like Starr--can't understand us much, but I'm not going to say his name just in case. I'm trying to figure out where to direct a spell without hitting you. Can you feel him touching you anywhere else--pressure on your arms, your legs?

Hermione blinked again, twice.

Dr. Null moved slowly and silently so that he faced her almost directly. She watched his feet since she dared not look up and guessed that he was visually scanning the air toward the high ceiling, apparently still searching for the vague shadow of a purple halo.

Petrificus To--

There was sudden movement behind the enormous furry hand that had control of her face. Null's spell had ended before it was begun and her view of his shoes was replaced with the sight of his entire body sliding across the floor, propelled by a forceful blow from the huge being in front of her. But apparently Flaime had more interest in getting out than in doing more harm to Null, so his movements again ceased.

Hermione wondered why he hadn't just killed her yet, for that matter--or thrown her out of his way. Perhaps the Yeti was considering taking her hostage; perhaps he was less interested in hurting her than in figuring out what he would do next. The longer he stood in wait, the more encouraged she was that her life would be spared.

Null was back up again, limping, but holding some strange, huge syringe contraption near his feet so she could see it. Tranquilizer -- he did away with our wands, so now we're down to the basics. Reach very slowly to the doorknob about a foot from your left hand. When I say Now!' turn it, fall away from him through the door, and get down that hallway as fast as you can. Hopefully his reflexes won't be quick enough by then to grab you again. Understand?

Hermione blinked again once, so hard that a tear of pure tension slipped from the corner of her eye. Flaime's heavy breathing above her had slowed and his hand on her face had relaxed somewhat, but she knew she had no other option than to follow Dr Null's instructions.

Chains, gentlemen-- she heard Null say quietly to Hank and Ulav, --do what you can. Ready with that doorknob, Hermione?

Slowly, slowly, she edged her fingertips toward the doorknob and jiggled it, feeling its cold metal hardness in her hand. Chains clinked softly and she heard Null sliding up closer behind Flaime. She blinked once again to let Null know she was ready.

A slow, tense breath escaped from Null-- she could hear it-- apparently this wasn't the part of creature research he was fondest of. Five seconds, Hermione-- just so you'll be ready. It might as well have been five hours. he yelled.

Hermione squeezed and cranked the doorknob as hard as she could, feeling it click and the support behind her fall away. She knew she had to fall almost straight back so that she didn't slide down and impale her chin on those claws. A few feet away Null grunted with the extreme exertion of driving the tranquilizer syringe deep into the invisible Yeti, who released a low yelp so loud that she felt it through the floor. Chains chinked into tension and Flaime began to thrash about--the hand was gone from her face but a huge knee drove into her ribs, nearly knocking the wind from her entirely. Strangely, before she hit the floor, the Yeti in front of her began to materialize; as the tranquilizer began to take hold, it diminished his ability to stay invisible. But it also diminished his ability to stay upright.

Before she could catch her breath, untangle her feet, and get past the now-open door between her and the empty hallway, she looked up and realized she might not make it. Flaime was beginning to swoon, his great head falling forward, his eyes starting to glaze over. Almost on reflex and without thinking about the fact that she shouldn't be looking him in the eyes, she searched for his face straight above her and saw an injured, vulnerable expression there, not the fear-inspiring rage that she expected. He looked more like a hurt animal himself than one who was hell-bent on hurting her. Shaking his head as if to clear it and focus on the girl on the floor below him, Flaime reached toward her with his one loose arm.

Hermione thought she should feel afraid; certainly five minutes ago she would have been terrified. But now that she'd seen that look on his face and the vulnerability in his eyes, she knew she had nothing to fear from the Yeti himself. On the other hand, the thought of a seven-hundred pound creature falling on top of her as dead weight could definitely be a problem.

But Flaime's arm reached across his own body to her shoulder, wrapped around her side and pushed her entire body down the hallway with a force she didn't think possible from a tranquilized creature. She slid on her hip down the waxed floor for at least ten meters before her momentum slowed--and before she looked back to see the huge Yeti fall on the spot of floor where she'd just been with a thud that shook the building.

He pushed me out of harm's way, she thought in awe. He understood his weight could hurt me, and even when he was afraid for himself, he pushed me out of the way.

She stood slowly, tugging at her clothes to adjust them while staring at the unmoving form of the magnificent, enormous creature now blocking the hallway. Not until she saw Dr. Null and the handlers scramble over the Yeti's hindquarters into the corridor did she snap from her reverie.

First scanning the hallway in the opposite direction, then back toward her, Dr. Null ran to her side. You all right? he asked breathlessly.

Hermione felt under her chin to be sure it wasn't the shock talking, but then she nodded. Perfectly. Dr. Null, he-- he pushed me out of the way.Thank the heavens you're safe. Sloane's still breathing-- the handlers are in with him now, stabilizing him magically-- Null said, then furrowed his brow as if finally understanding her words. He-- who? What?Flaime -- he pushed me down here--all the way down here --when he saw he was going to fall on me, she explained.

Null looked confused. You didn't run?No, I couldn't--I couldn't get up in time. The door blocked one way out and he blocked the other. So he reached down and pushed me--out of harm's way.

Null smiled a bit, but Hermione sensed it was in a somewhat patronizing way. I'm really glad you're all right-- I am. But, Hermione-- that Yeti just destroyed a man in there--I should never have had Sloane release the chain. He's still alive, but he'll be healing for a very long time, if he ever heals completely. It's not likely an enraged Yeti is going to try and save any of wizardkind unless perhaps it's some individual he's known for a long time. Yet it's a nice thought--there aren't many of our kind that have so much faith in other creatures.

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but she really didn't have any proof except for an unexplainable sense of that look in Flaime's eyes. In fact, it was a look she'd seen before, but not in a Yeti. Where did I see that before?

Are you all right by yourself now? Dr. Null asked.

Hermione nodded and looked back toward Flaime, noting that a number of other people had appeared on the run by now, including Dr. Voyde with her medical emergency kit (she doubled as the site's mediwitch as well). They all crawled over Flaime's legs and disappeared swiftly through the training room door.

What will happen to Flaime? Hermione asked, a bit afraid of the answer.

Dr. Null shrugged. I'm not sure. He'll be sedated for a few days and probably held in one of the soc labs by himself. We'll have to compile his records and meet to decide if we can let him back in the habitat with the others--or if we can allow him to be among humans again. It's sad, too-- we were only trying to help him get past this aggression.But--you'll have someone check that wound on his back, won't you?Of course, Null said. It did look rather serious. That certainly could have contributed to his agitation. We should be able to get a good look before he wakes up.

Hermione wasn't sure whether to bring it up again or not, but in defense of Flaime, she did. Did you-- ever get a chance to check out what Starr said about Sloane?

Dr. Null looked a bit thoughtful. That was Sloane mixed up in that mess, wasn't it? Hmmm--no I haven't worked with her yet, but I think I may want to do that before we make any final decision about Flaime's future.

Hermione watched as Dr. Null turned and walked back to the door of the training room. Just as he approached Flaime, two of the handlers emerged from the room with Sloane's now-moaning and bandaged body in tow under a Mobilus Spell.

Dr. Voyde exited the room as well and the two zoologists began to speak heatedly about something, though they used hushed voices and pointed at Flaime from time to time. Since the handlers were coming her way down the hall, Hermione decided to return to her work station to take a breather and catch up on a report that Dr. Null had earlier asked her to complete.

She wasn't sure she wanted to hear what any of them had to say anyway.

Later that evening Hermione sat at the tiny desk in her cabin and found herself with time to ponder the fact that today was one of her best friends' birthdays--and how odd it felt to be so out-of-touch with him.

She had never been officially with Harry on his birthday--but she had always been able to owl him and have him return word to her about his gifts and his day. Today was the first exception to those birthdays since she'd known him.

It had been not only two days, as the owl post had been running regularly with her parents for some odd reason, but three since she'd owled the boys. Hermione had owled Ron with both his and Harry's letters three days before Harry's birthday, hoping to have their return owl come on the thirtieth so that she could send an owl directly to Harry on the thirty-first. But the return owl never came--from either of them.

The boys were occasionally remiss in returning her letters promptly--especially Ron. But she had really hoped that once they received word from her from Trapperton, especially after all of the ruckus Ron had made about her being out of touch--that they might be anxious to let her know they were pleased to get her correspondence. She decided to try one more time.

It was Harry's birthday--perhaps he'd been too busy to write (though unless things had changed drastically there, she couldn't imagine what kind of birthday celebrations at Privet Drive would keep him from scratching out a quick letter). But so as not to spoil his birthday, she would give Harry the benefit of the doubt and send birthday greetings to him, even if they were belated. To Ron, for not responding after harassing her so, and for possibly not forwarding Harry's letter, she would simply send a short, terse note filled with a good piece of her mind.

She'd given them specific directions on which days they might expect owl posts from her and which days they should return post. They were never very happy about being told exactly what to do and at what time. Perhaps they had been put off by thinking this was only more of the ridiculous attention to detail they often teased her about. Maybe they were irritated that she'd originally thought she wouldn't be able to contact them at all.

But one thing she knew for certain. She missed them both desperately and at that moment she would have given most anything to be able to discuss with them, even by post, some of the worrisome events that were taking place at Trapperton. Hermione didn't want to write anything to her parents about how serious her internship had become; she knew how concerned they would be. But Harry and Ron would understand, though it's true they might worry and Ron might jump at the chance to say I told you so. At least she would have the comfort of knowing that, as it had been for nearly five years, the three of them shared their worries and did what they could to help one another get through the tough parts.

A lone dog barking somewhere in the distance only served to make her melancholy mood darker. Sighing deeply, she assured herself that if she had ever taken her friendship with Harry and Ron for granted in the past, that it would never, ever happen again.

Ron yawned and reached over to the log book to write in the dimensions of the large box in front of him. This deal of working full-time can get tiring rather quickly, he thought. And someone like Dad works even more than that, what with the unpaid Ministry overtime and the Order business-- no wonder the man sleeps like a rock.

Of course, Ron's own version of overtime might have been less stressful, but certainly required no less time. He had spent many hours at home after work in the five days since he'd started working with Leo, either trying to figure out which parts he needed next for the motorbike or trying to correctly install the parts he'd already managed to earn.

Not to mention the one evening early on that his mum had come to search him out, thinking that he was still trying to organize everything in the shed. Ron had heard someone enter and, thinking it was his father coming to check up on his progress with the motorbike, he yelled cheerfully, Back here!

That had been two days ago, but he still clearly remembered the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when he heard his mother squeal from near the front doors on her way through the enormous room. Ron, you've done a wonderful job, dear! Why, it must be all done! What else could you possibly be--

And there had been nowhere to run. Her delighted, cooing voice had stopped dead the instant she saw him standing there, hands covered in motorbike oil and holding parts and wrenches, parchments with assembly diagrams spread all around him on any flat surface that would hold them. Next to him stood a motorbike that was beginning to hold the definite promise of being able to run, even fly one day soon-- Godric willing and the key be found.

Molly Weasley gasped so deeply that he would have sworn she sucked all the oxygen from the room--at least, he knew he was having trouble finding the means to breathe. She started to slump and Ron thought quickly enough to shove an old plastic crate beneath her before she sat, looking rather woozy indeed.

Ron swallowed hard, once, twice -- it was enough to barely croak out, Mum-- let me explain. Dad, where are you when I need you most?

Apparently she had remarkable recovery abilities because all the air she'd sucked in was spit out in that one accusation--or well, maybe that and the next one. You! And your FATHER--!

Ron was definitely thinking by now that this didn't look good. She was so angry she could barely speak--and that had never happened before that he knew of. But Dad was in on it too, poor bloke--at least he wouldn't hang alone.

I should have known that cursed motorbike would show up here! she growled. She turned her piercing stare to her son's somewhat fearful eyes. How long?

Ron hated having to do maths under pressure--especially when he was tired. Uh--erm-- a while--Don't tell me it's been here longer than a week or two, she ordered.

Damn! Another one of those trick questions! It was at times like this he wished he had Hermione's abilities with words instead of his own. There was no way he wanted to tell his mum it had been here longer than that if she didn't want to hear it--but if he didn't, he'd be lying, and if he got caught lying...He felt beads of sweat pop out on his forehead and one ran down into his left eye, stinging badly and causing him to now face impending doom with only one eye fully open.

a deep voice called from the front of the shed.

Ron released a huge sigh. Thank God! At least he wouldn't be dead before reinforcements arrived. Back here, Dad!Oh--what a relief! Arthur said loudly as he headed through the huge room himself. I was trying to find your mum and Ginny said she was headed this way--

Ron's eyes widened (even the one that stung) and he stared across the room, trying to catch his father's attention. He realized there was no way his father would have been able to see his short, seated little mum beyond the stacks of items on the surrounding tables. He found himself very afraid for his father--and his father's next words.

...so I was worried that she-- Arthur continued, now only some ten meters away.

Worried about what, dear? Molly interrupted, standing and turning slowly to face her husband. How sweet of you to be so worried about me!


Although Ron was secretly relieved that he wasn't the only one to ever be on the receiving end of that sugary-deadly tone of voice, he now found himself more concerned with the state of his father's health. The man was more pale than Sir Nicholas and stood there with his mouth opening and closing like a beached codfish.

The ensuing discussion between the three of them had been an education in itself for Ron. He discovered that if you used a calm, soothing voice, lots of flattery and good reason, and ended your explanation with the words think how wonderful it would be for Harry that it would take you a long way with an irate woman. Furthermore, Ron would be forever indebted to his dad for letting him almost completely off the hook by telling her, --and Ron thought of this for him--wasn't that a perfectly lovely idea?

The grim set of her mouth now softened a bit. Molly looked from her husband to her son several times as if teetering on some proverbial fence, then with a sigh she passed her final judgment. That was a lovely idea, Ron. But how in the world are you going to pay for the repairs and all of those--things--that you need?

This time Ron was off, words about his chance meeting with Leo gushing from his mouth like water trying to escape from the hideous Ministry fountain--and the fact that he actually had to work to earn the money for parts? Well, after a year of fretting about Fred and George, no finer words could have graced his mother's ears. Of course, she'd been aware that Ron had been helping someone out' at the Ministry for the few days he had gone to work with his dad, but she had no idea of the scope of his labors.

By the end, his mum had even reached over, wiped an oily smudge from his cheek and left him a quick kiss there. He was nearly encouraged enough to chance asking for his Cleansweep back.

Well then, Arthur, let's allow Ron to get back to work. Don't stay out here much longer, dear-- you have work in the morning, you know, she cooed to her son.

Ron looked at his father's beaming smile on the far side of his mum's face. But when Molly turned to her husband, Arthur's beam quickly disappeared along with all of Ron's thoughts regarding his broomstick.

Pointing up into her husband's face, Molly's horrifying growl was back. You-- I'm not through with! Let's go into the house and you can explain to me again just how that motorbike got here in the first place!

The two of them had stood and walked away then, Arthur insistently urged along by his wife's arm looped through his. At one point he looked forlornly back at Ron, who silently mouthed the words Good luck to his father.

Picking out another package to measure for shipment, Ron smiled to himself. On their way to work the next day, he had asked his father how things had turned out with Mum.

Arthur had shrugged. She'll be fine. I have to work on her a little more--but she'll be fine.

From the twinkle in his father's eye, Ron knew that his mum would indeed be fine' and it made him wonder just what sort of spell, magical or otherwise, his father had managed to cast over her to defuse all that anger. Hmmm...I need to learn that, whatever it is...might be something really useful on Hermione sometimes...

Leo's irritated voice rang out nearby, seeming even louder because the room was a bit emptier than it had been a few days before.

As Leo approached where he stood, Ron couldn't help but snigger at the sight before him. The wide shipping supervisor was stomping his way across the department, followed by a seemingly endless line of envelopes and tiny packages. The line snaked its way at eye level from just behind Leo's head back through all of the twists and turns that Leo had made to get through the room from Piddle's tiny Owl Room.

Can you believe this? These were all waitin' for him, hovering there in his little room until I walked in and discovered them all packed inside. Here, he said, flipping a small cube-shaped package to Ron. Goes to Ms. Latot, French Consulate. Throw it in the mixed personals bin for this afternoon, will you?Yeah, sure-- no problem, Ron answered.

Leo scanned the area, apparently for any sign of the loafing little wizard. If you ever see Dementors headed this way, Ron, Leo said in exasperation, it'll be because I've finally gone and killed him. --Piddle!

Ron laughed as Leo continued his search toward the back of the room, muttering under his breath.

Good, Ron thought, that'll keep him busy for a little while longer. Leo had treated Ron so well that he felt badly deceiving him just a little. But it's for a good cause... Ron thought ...and I can't exactly explain that I need to know how to use his classified spell so that I can take a million to one chance on finding some intern who apparently still doesn't want to be found.

Ron really had thought that perhaps once Hermione got settled into her position and re-evaluated their parting argument that she might come to her senses and have the decency to write him once. If nothing else, she should have written to Harry simply because Harry hadn't picked a fight with her at the very last moment and he deserved better. As far as Ron knew, Harry hadn't even heard from her directly on his birthday, which was quite unlike Hermione--or else, the Hermione they'd known in the past. Harry had told him in this morning's letter that she had prepared a gift and arranged for her parents to send it such that it would arrive on the proper day-- but that hardly counted as correspondence. That was just Hermione and her finely-tuned day-planner at work.

He'd gone so far as to consider writing to Hermione's parents and asking how (and where!) she was. He knew the Grangers would be extremely nice and helpful and considerate--they always were (sometimes much more so than Hermione, he thought). But each of the several times he'd sat down to start their letter, something had felt just a little too awkward.

Of course the Grangers knew all three of them were friends. But he didn't want them to start thinking that his urgent interest in her whereabouts was anything more than friendly--at least not yet--not her parents. After all, Harry was indeed concerned about her, but Ron realized he might have exaggerated just a bit when he'd told his mum and Hermione that Harry was just as frantic--erm, worried-- about her as he was.

Forwarding a letter to Hermione through her parents had been another option. But he assumed they already knew that she hadn't written anything to him. If he wrote to her first it would be just a little too humiliating, especially when she was the one who decided to take off instead of spend the summer with him.

So he was back to looking at the only way he could think of to find her: keep checking boxes and keep checking offices. Her name had to be out there somewhere.

Speaking of that... Ron looked down suspiciously at the small package in his hands. From France? Addressed to the French Consulate? Hermione had been to France before, he remembered--with her parents. In fact, she even liked that stuff the house-elves had made for the Beauxbatons students in fourth year-- that booya--buya-- that stew where they just chucked the clams and mussels in, shells and all, straight from the rocks. Ergh!

But could she be in France? Making that spell work and checking every single box and parcel would be the only way to find out. Ron looked back to the last place he had seen Leo disappear into the stacks of boxes, then he made his own way into a darkened aisle between the parcels. Turning the box in his hands until he saw the scrawly geometric figures of the encryption runes in a small neat line, he held up his wand.

Paresco Escondidum! Nothing happened except that his wand hand stopped, unable to move, halfway through the spell. Apparently that wasn't it, though he knew that last word was what Leo had used. He thought about what the words should have been, considering the nature of the charm.

Parecesco Escondidum! Squinting at the small figures in the dim light, Ron saw movement in the scrawly lines--yes! Something was happening; the person's name was becoming clearer. But it was too dark--he still couldn't tell what it said. So he moved farther out toward the center aisle where there was more light. Let's see... He gasped. The address was morphing into letters--the one that was supposed to read or --whatever it was that Leo had said. But he'd done something terribly wrong. The letters on the box now said:

totaL idioT .sM :oT

He'd completely reversed the lettering with the spell--and of course, with his luck, it had turned out to read something like that--

No, no, no... Ron flicked his wand repeatedly at the address, hoping the letters would change their minds and decide to settle differently.

Ron! Hey, Wissle!

Gah! It was Leo, looking for him--and he wasn't supposed to be trying that spell. Think! Think! Ron shoved the tiny box between two very large ones and promised himself he'd remember to come back as soon as he could--he certainly couldn't send it upstairs that way.

Leo said as Ron emerged from behind the stack of boxes into the center aisle, can you believe what the little worm told me? Said he was upstairs delivering a few letters someone asked him to hold back. Ha! Piddle? What a crock! You'd think he'd learn how stupid it sounds for him to imply he was actually doing some work.Yeah, I think you have a point there, Ron said, hoping he wasn't acting at all suspicious.

There they go, Leo said, pointing to the floating line of letters and packages that had been following him, now winding their way into the Owl Room behind the little old wizard that could barely be seen. That oughtta keep him busy--and awake-- for awhile. Ron agreed.

Leo looked at his watch. Well-- break for lunch in forty-five?Sounds good to me, Ron said, wishing Leo would leave so he could remedy his mis-spelling'. He watched as Leo finally turned and walked back to see what was going on in the Space Dislocation Room.

As soon as he was out of sight, Ron rushed back into the darkened aisle where he'd left the package. What was it Leo had said with that spell? Maybe he'd missed the first syllable--a vowel maybe? Eparecesco? Oparecesco? Aparecesco? Apar--appear? Yes, that should be it!

Holding the box aloft with his wand pointed at the, erm, bad address, Ron tried again.

Aparecesco Escondidum!

Swiftly, the letters began to vibrate, then the connective lines began to pull apart and re-form themselves.

Come on, come on... Ron whispered under his breath, staring at the squirming lines. Finally they fell into place and he let out a big sigh of relief. Who would name their kid something like that? Strange sense of humor... he said to himself, shaking his head and walking to the mixed personals' bin that Leo usually delivered in the afternoons.

He looked once more at the address before him just to make sure he hadn't been seeing things and that the spell had settled. But sure enough, there it was:

To: Ms. Toidi Latot
French Consulate
Office of the Ministry of Magic
London, UK

Satisfied, he tossed the box for Ms. Latot into the bin.