"You want the truth?" Hermione hissed, throwing the empty mug at him. Quidditch practice made it easy for him to deflect it and she resented that she had finally seen a use for that damn fool game. "I came here to tell you! And you said you knew!"
"I knew you'd married him. Percy told me. He saw the scroll." Ron's chest heaved with the effort of not screaming at her. How could she? How could she betray him like this? In a deep, hidden pit in his soul, he remembered the damn locket showing him Hermione embracing another man. How ironic the cursed thing had been right all along.
"I agreed to the vile writ so he could tour. I never planned to sleep with him." She tried, truly tried to be calm so she could explain and apologise properly. Which he had not trusted her to do so.
"Didn't take him long to change your mind!"
"It wasn't anything he did! I asked him to. I stripped him in the hallway!" Hermione put her hands over her mouth before she said anything else. She needed to tell him about her parents but not like this. She refused to use the funeral against him. It had been her decision to keep everyone away.
"You slag!" Any pitiful hope he had misunderstood, that it was Flint's fault, that there was some way he could forgive her withered at her admission.
Words, angry bitter cruel words, were right there on her tongue. Hermione bit her lip hard to keep anything from escaping. She would not make this worse. She would not tell him her parents were dead. She would not tell him she had not wanted him at their funeral. Had not wanted any of her friends, any of the Order of the Phoenix there because she blamed them for not protecting her parents during the war.
It was not that the Grangers had been spurned. They simply were not a priority. So many other people were more important than two middle-aged dentists from Kent. That her parents could be so easily dismissed had stuck in her craw. No one gave a damn that her dad had got a first class Degree or that her mum had worked three jobs to put herself through university. They were just Muggles. As interesting in their way as spark plugs.
"I apologise." Hermione spoke through her teeth, not able to do better because of the Veritaserum. Not trusting herself not to be compelled to speak more caustic truths. "I won't bother you again."
She Disapparated.
Ron stared at where she had been, and where she was now not. Not. There was an emptiness in her leaving that made him feel sick. It was like Fred dying. There was a space where someone should be and they were not there. He slid down the wall, ending in a crouch. He stayed there, staring at the snow until Harry found him and dragged him back to the Burrow.
The warm concern of the Weasley clan enfolded Ron protectively. Molly plied her youngest boy with hot chocolate and fussed over him while Ginny stormed through the room she shared with Hermione throwing everything that belonged to the other witch into a trunk. With a good helping of Wizard Wheezes.
Downstairs, Harry, Percy, George and Arthur held a quiet conference. Bill had stayed home with Fleur, whose morning sickness was turning into all day, all night sickness. Charlie was somewhere in Uruguay and not due back for weeks. From their collective expressions, each wizard guessed his companions wished they too were in South America.
There was little they could do. Percy had lodged exemptions for all of the unmarried Weasleys. Those exemptions had been approved speedily. Neville's and Ernie's too, even though they were not yet of age to be subject to the Law. Everyone in the Order was nicely shielded. Why Hermione had not exempted herself, no one could guess.
"You don't suppose she actually likes Flint, do you?" George asked in the aftermath of a particularly explosive crash from upstairs. Ginny was not taking the news well.
"Don't be ridiculous." Percy, one year behind the Slytherin, had suffered seven years of the older boy's arrogance. "He's barely literate. All he did at Hogwarts was get into fights on the pitch and grub about in the dirt. Hermione got nine NEWTs. They have nothing in common."
"So, Imperius, then." Harry shoved his hands into his pockets.
"Flint couldn't compel Hermione to give him the time of day." The too-frequent dismissive tone from Percy raised hackles. Molly and Arthur had forgiven their son for his disloyalty but it was still a sensitive subject.
"A conspiracy. Wonderful." Closing his eyes for a moment, Harry marshalled himself. "Right. Arthur, you stay here and keep Ginny from hexing anyone. Percy, head to the Ministry and find a way to contest the marriage. George, come with me. We'll go have a word with Flint."
As they were leaving the Burrow, George caught his not quite brother-in-law's arm and had his suspicions confirmed when he noticed Harry's hands were shaking. They stood in the door way, letting the moment stretch until the Boy-Who-Lived took a deep breath.
"I don't have another war in me." Harry said quietly to someone who would know exactly what he meant. The death of his twin had gutted George. "The Auror stuff is hard enough, but I can do that in chunks. Leave it at work. I don't want to hide." He took his glasses off and polished them on his shirt. "If this thing with 'Mione is a reprisal... Damn it, George, is it wrong to wish she's just doing this to put off Ron?"
"It has been tense between them." He conceded. "Ron's been pushing to get married pretty hard." His little brother was not the most patient person. "But if I was in Hermione's shoes, it'd take more than few arguments to get me to 'I do' with a Death Eater."
"I think so too." Grimly, Harry replaced his glasses. "Right. We'll go to the Magpies first. If Flint isn't there, they'll know where he lives. He'll have Hermione with him. Whoever's doing this wouldn't risk her shaking off whatever they have her under."
Scotland was as cold as charity and as grey as Azkaban. Montrose looked Dickensian, cloaked in dirty snow. There was an Apparition cordon around the stadium so Harry and George had to squelch their way on foot to the gates. Which were firmly shut and guarded by two men who looked like shaven bears.
Shaven bears who were delighted to let them in, in exchange for a photograph with the Saviour of the Wizarding World. George teased Harry about blushing, as he still had not reconciled himself to being a celebrity. As they were escorted up to the Manager's office, Harry Potter and George Weasley were relaxed, purposeful and clear-headed. That lasted about thirty seconds after they met a furious Marcus Flint.