DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

Thank you to all reviewers; I most fervently hope you enjoyed the surprise in the last chapter.

I'd like to acknowledge the fine ladies of the Death Eater Express FB group, especially the three fabulous authors who founded it: kittenshift17, canimal, and Freya Ishtar. If you are enjoying my fic, you will most certainly enjoy all of theirs! I have borrowed a couple of things from their awesome fics, primarily Walden's tracking crows (which are ravens in this story). Further, with regard to Thorfinn Rowle, I've borrowed the idea of him having been a 7th year Slytherin when Hermione started Hogwarts, having been a near-pro Quidditch player, and having long blond hair.

And with that, on with the show!

NOTHING ELSE MATTERS
Chapter 16 - Specialis Revelio

"She asked me to stay
And I stole her room
She asked for my love
And I gave her a dangerous mind
Now she's stupid in the street
And she can't socialise
Well I love the little girl
And I'll love her till the day she dies"

David Bowie, "Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps)"

Ron, whose feet were not precisely touching the pavement, managed to choke out "Sod off, Death Eater scum! Let me down!"

"I doona care what ye fookin' call me, but ye'll be apologizin' to the lass," and Walden punctuated each of the next words he uttered by shoving Ron against the wall a bit harder, "Right. Fucking. Now!"

Hermione watched with an indescribable look on her face; she further noted, to her chagrin, that a small crowd had gathered. "Walden," she finally said. "In my professional opinion, you may want to let him take a breath fairly soon."

"Fine," he growled, releasing his hand so that Ron crumpled on the ground next to the wall. "Still waitin' to hear yer apology, plonker," he spat.

"OI! What's going on here, then!" The MLE patrolman, who'd been especially enjoying keeping an eye on the crowd of young witches queued up for the Grain Silo, dashed over in their direction, immediately spotting Hermione and Ron. "Miss Granger! Can you tell me what's going on?" He peered closely at Walden, clearly not immediately recognizing him due to the bald pate and goatee. "Isn't he one of your clients? Mr. Weasley, is he harassing you?"

"He's not," came a voice from the crowd. A tall witch dressed in understated couturier robes, her hair swept up under a small, feathered hat, approached the group. "I saw the whole thing. Mr. Weasley was harassing Miss Granger. He had her backed into a corner behind my store window, trying to get her to go off somewhere with him, and wouldn't take no for an answer...and then he insulted her! I was about to step in-I feared he was going to strike her, or worse-but Mr. Macnair arrived just in time."

"And who might you be?" The patrolman reached into his robe pocket and withdrew a small notebook and a quill.

"Madam Parkinson, proprietress of La Magie Noire," said the elegant witch. "I'll be glad to give a formal statement if necessary," and she inclined her head at both Walden and Hermione.

At that moment, several flashbulbs went off.

"Walden," Hermione stretched up on her tip-toes and whispered in his ear, "I'm very glad we're leaving for Australia tomorrow."

Later, they sat together in the lodge's kitchen, staring at their identical copies of the Evening Prophet. Although the article about the incident was sufficiently vague, the photo of Hermione whispering in Walden's ear next to the article wasn't. His arm had been round her while she did, which she hadn't noticed at the time. Thus, the rather overblown headline was GOLDEN TRIO GRANGER SPOTTED GETTING COZY IN KNOCKTURN WITH DEATH EATER MACNAIR! She'd already had to silence and Incendio five Howlers...one of them, she thought, had Molly Weasley's writing on it. They'd debated sending an owl or fire-calling Lucius, then rejected the idea, figuring they might as well just worry about possible repercussions after their return journey.

She took a sip of her tea before saying, "You didn't give me a chance to explain what I said before walking off last night."

"Was just doin' what you advised me ta do, lass."

"I did eventually figure that out," she said. "It's just as well, if we'd had an argument and then make-up sex, I might have missed my appointment at St. Mungo's," she said, reaching for a piece of toast.

"Next time, I'll fuck ye so hard ye'll forget it," Walden said, as he started tamping down his pipe.

"Mind if we drop that subject for the time being?" she said, after she'd crunched through her toast. "I'd prefer to clarify what I said to you, which was that I didn't think you'd want me interfering in your family reunion or that you'd want to meet my parents, given that they're Muggles, and I also...er, figured we were just having...er, a little fling..."

"Ye never asked me opinion on any o' that, lass," he said, releasing a great puff of smoke. "And I've told ye how I feel about ye."

"Oh, and, it's not that I don't think it makes you look rather more handsome, but why the haircut and the, er, beard?"

"I doona like gray hair," he said. "And I wanted to meet ye in Diagon Alley without attracting too much attention."

"I think we can safely declare that latter plan a debacle," Hermione said. She looked up at the window and observed Miranda hovering outside it, and then stood up to let her in. "Hmm...not a Howler, thank goodness...looks like it's from Ginny..."

Dear Hermione,

We'll still be glad to board Miranda while you're gone. I'll sort through your mail and burn all the Howlers. Harry says he doesn't understand what you're up to, but he's not going to interfere, and he convinced Ron to not press any charges. Mum's not happy but I'll talk to her tomorrow.

Meanwhile the git is passed out on the couch downstairs and I've just Vanished his anti-hangover potion.

Bring me a cuddly toy koala...oh, and one for James, too!

Love,

Ginny

"I like her," Walden said, after Hermione had passed the letter to him to read.

"I'm surprised she hasn't done the Bat-Bogey on him yet."

"He still didna apologize...and I do want ye ta stay with me after I meet me son, not go runnin' off-" he took a long draw on his pipe after this last statement.

"I have to find out what my parents want, first," she said. "They may not want to leave at all. They talked about visiting Australia for years-we'd actually all been planning to visit there once I left school..." and she let her voice drift off.

"Always wanted to go there meself," Walden said. "All those interestin' creatures. And, by the way, I wish someone would tell that blatherskite that I didna kill that fookin' hippogriff!"

"He knows," Hermione said. "He used to help feed it dead ferrets." She stood up. "Shouldn't we turn in soon?"

"Sure ye want to stay here and shag the big nasty Death Eater?" he said, standing up next to her.

"I was rather planning on it," she said, as she took his hand and Disapparated them upstairs.

"Step forward, Macnairs," said Lord Voldemort. "Step forward, Walden and Rowan, I require your presence in the other room," and without waiting for the couple to follow him, he swept away through a side door.

"I don't want to go, Walden," Rowan removed her mask, got up close to him, and whispered-which was not strictly necessary, as most of the Inner Circle had quickly returned to their previous amusements in relief.

"What-ye threw off me Imperio? Nay, lass, we have to go! He'll kill us both if we doona go with him!" Walden raised his wand. "Doona make me do it again, just go in there with me, it'll be over soon, I'll pleasure ye so ye'll enjoy it-I'll do that spell Lucius taught me, ye'll just keep comin' through the whole thing!"

"I won't enjoy anything with him!" Rowan paused, then turned as someone tapped her shoulder. Bellatrix Lestrange stood there, a mocking smile on her face.

"What are you waiting for, girlie? He's chosen you, there is no higher honor!"

"We're goin'," Walden said, grabbing Rowan's arm and pulling her quickly away so that she wouldn't answer. "What do ye think ye're doin'? She'll kill ye ta take yer place!"

"I don't care," Rowan said, stopping in front of the door.

"We have to go in, lass, we havenae choice! I told ye, I'll make it good for ye!" He pushed the door open and pulled her through it.

"No!" Rowan said.

"Are you refusing my command, child?" said Voldemort, who was seated on the end of the bed. He lifted up his wand and lazily flicked it, so that the door closed and locked behind them. "Come here."

"I won't," Rowan said, digging in her heels and reaching in her wand pocket.

"I regret this, Walden, you've served me well...AVADA KEDAVRA!" Rowan crumpled to the floor.

"Nay, Master, nay!" Walden sat up in bed and screamed, loud and long.

Hermione abruptly awoke and reached for her wand, her eyes muzzy from sleep and her hair in an outrageous tangle. "Walden-what's the matter..."

Walden remained still and silent, his body slicked with sweat. After a very long time, he muttered, "Nightmare."

Hermione, who had started using her wand to try and de-tangle her hair, said, "I, er, don't suppose you want to talk about it?"

"Nay."

"Are you sure?" she asked quietly.

"I'm sure," he snapped. "Need to get some Dreamless Sleep," and he got up out of bed but didn't bother to put his robe on.

"Hold on," Hermione said. "You need to do a low dose of that...we have to get up in several hours...or I could do a Sleep Charm for you-" Walden turned to his bedside table and picked up his pocket watch. "Aye, we have about an hour until we need gettin' up." He sat back down. "They'll make us rest at the Portkey Office in Australia, they always do for the international ones. Have ye ever used one, lass?"

"The only Portkey I've ever used was to the World Cup," Hermione said, as she flipped her hair over her shoulder.

"Well, this will be different than that," Walden said. "There's a room where they'll give us potion and make us rest after."

"I'm really not looking forward to it, if you must know," she said. "I don't like heights or the sensation of falling...or being out of control."

"Sure about that last bit, lass?" he said, with a smile, as he reached over for her. "I can think of somethin' we can do for an hour where ye'll have to give up a bit of control...or if ye prefer, ye can ride me..."

"It feels rather odd going in the Visitors' Entrance," Hermione said, as they stood together outside the red phone box.

"Got used to it meself," Walden said, as he opened the door to usher her in. "Ye sure ye want to go in with me? I can meet ye up there," he added.

"That ship has sailed," Hermione remarked, as she dialed 62442. "Although the odd few who haven't read the Prophet in the last couple of days might think I'm escorting you to a hearing."

The Ministry Atrium, in typical Monday morning fashion, was extremely crowded. Unfortunately, the Daily Prophet news stand was doing a bustling business. Even more unfortunately, the story that had been front-page news in the Evening edition was still front-page news this morning, so the first thing Hermione glimpsed was a witch doing a double-take from the picture on the front page to Walden, who was doing his level best to look inconspicuous as they rapidly walked toward the Security Desk.

"YOU!" she shouted, pointing her tea mug at him. "YOU KILLED MY CHICKEN!"

Hermione turned to him and started to ask a question, but he grabbed her arm and nearly picked her up off the floor, steering her through the crowd of Ministry workers, many of whom had started staring at them and loudly commenting.

"Oh, sod it," she muttered, then cast a Notice-Me-Not spell around them. "Should have done that before we got down here...probably should have done it last night!" They proceeded unmolested to the desk after that, and while the guard was checking Walden's wand and sending a memo off to DMLE to procure his escort, she asked, "Chicken?"

"Vicious Chicken of Bristol. 17 feet tall and breathed fire," Walden said. "And it was Burton who executed it, not me; I thought he needed the practise."

"I suppose this is the wrong time to mention that I really thought your job was disgusting," Hermione said.

"Ye wouldna think that if ye'd had yer arse scorched by that fookin' bird," Walden remarked, as he held out his hands to be cuffed by the MLE officer.

Upon their arrival at the Portkey Office, they were ushered into a waiting area. As they were rather early, Hermione sat down and withdrew a book from her beaded bag, and promptly began to read it. Meanwhile Walden was released from the cuffs and then handed a sheaf of forms and a quill by the MLE officer. Engrossed in her book, and lulled by the scratching of the quill, she didn't immediately notice when a group of wizards entered the room, but Walden spoke to them.

"Didna know ye were goin' today."

"We're off to New Zealand, yeah, nothing much left for us here," said Mr. Crabbe. "We've all got jobs at a sheep ranch." Hermione looked up curiously after this. Mr. Crabbe sat alone on a row of chairs, holding his hands up as his cuffs were removed. On the next row, Mr. Goyle and his son waited their turns.