I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry. There aren't enough apologies in the world. I doubt even David Tennant could apologise enough to make up for such an extended absence. Over two months really is unpardonable and the excuse of life getting in the way really doesn't go anywhere to cover it. A massive thank you to the two guest reviewers who asked if I was okay, and prompted my lazy, procrastinating arse into gear. Once again, I don't own the characters attributed to JKRowling's Harry Potter and I'm not making any money off my writing- namely because at the rate i'm going, i'd probably starve. Thanks to anyone still reading at this point and thank you all for your lovely reviews and commentary, keep it up, I love hearing your reflections, commentary and criticism.


What you risk reveals what you value.

Jeanette Winterson


The high piercing alarm that issued from Arthur's wand that morning was nothing unusual for the Weasley household. The fact it sounded at 5.46am, however, was. Arthur grumbled and made his way out of bed, ignoring the tugging tendrils of sleep that attempted to lure him back in beneath the covers next to the still snoring Molly. Who on earth was muggle-baiting at such a ridiculous hour? Arthur had long ago configured an automatic charm to trigger every time his office was notified of a raid. Strictly speaking he wasn't required to be contactable outside office hours, but it was the only way he'd been able to catch the elusive muggle-baiters and reverse any artefacts long before they made their way into innocent muggle hands.

Dragging his feet and making his way through the draughty stairwell, Arthur groggily summoned his cloak and satchel to him, shuffling mindlessly to the hearth before remembering the tartan slippers still poking out beneath his robes. Only a few moments later, in a safe, unremarkable pair of dragonhide boots, Arthur stalked through the empty atrium of the Ministry, his footsteps echoing loudly in the silence. Even the swift elevator ride down to his office was devoid of the usual flurry of inter departmental office memos, and for once his automatic duck of the head to let them fly out before him was completely unnecessary.

Reaching his cramped battered office at the very end of the hall, Arthur bemusedly looked around, frowning. Perkins had long ago adopted the same alarm system as him. They'd reasoned that in the event of an emergency, if one missed their alarm, the other would be present. More so than that, the two men quickly realised even an unbearable early start could be improved with good company and hot coffee.

So where the devil was he?

Moving gingerly around the wooden desk that sat in the middle of the squashed room, Arthur looked around for the memo that had called him into the office. A plain piece of pink parchment was laid on top of the desk's normal clutter and Arthur knew before he'd even reached his hand towards it, that this was no ordinary raid missive. In place of the automatically printed raid address and information, there was instead a hastily written scrawl of ink, no more than a single line.

Arthur, make your way to the floo office as soon as you can – Reg.

Standing stock still over his desk, Arthur let all the implications of the note trickle through his mind, tumbling and bumping into one another in a general mass of confusion. He could make neither heads nor tails of such an enigmatic summons, but rather than dwell on the slightly ominous overtones, or consider the situation he was running into, Arthur let almost fifty years of his Gryffindor nature take hold; he was in the elevator before he'd read the note twice over.

Clenching the note in a rather sweaty fist, Arthur waited agonizingly for the elevator to make its way down to the Department of Magical Transportation on level six. Arthur wasn't entirely sure what he'd say should someone ask what on earth he was doing on the wrong level at 6 o'clock in the morning, especially when the otherwise empty passageways would be filling up soon with the earliest of the early workers. He'd simply have to hope the question didn't crop up, he supposed. That or he'd pretend to be following up a report on the muggles new Elektrickity-Mail- E-mail as Hermione had explained. Puffing his chest out, Arthur grinned slightly at the empty elevator. He was well aware just how fast his colleagues at the ministry could run when he got on to the topic of muggle ingenuity. Honestly, if only people weren't so afraid of what they didn't understand, they could afford to wait twenty to thirty minutes. They'd see just how interesting it all was, with the invisible tiny owls flying through wires from com-pewter to com-pewter. Alas- people will always be fools to ignorance.

The lift finally zoomed to a stop, arriving at the sixth floor with an echoing clang that rang out through the dimly lit corridor. Rushing past the doors of departments still firmly locked up, not to be opened for another few hours at least, Arthur was drawn to the one source of light spilling in at the far end of the corridor. Slowing down to creep silently closer to the slightly ajar door, Arthur concentrated on picking up any echoing sounds from within. Unable to hear anything, he moved closer still, all of his concentration on the shadow flitting back and forth past the open door, like a figure pacing the room.

Edging just a fraction further, Arthur was oblivious to the dark shape coming up behind him until it had forcefully pushed him aside into a narrow door way, an arm coming up to cover his mouth and a wand digging sinisterly into his side, forcing him into silent submission, his own wand pointing uselessly at the floor.

His heart thudding loudly in his throat, Arthur nearly missed the deep whisper at his ear.

"Don't let him see you. Get in here. Sorry Arthur."

The door behind them opened sharply and the two figures all but fell inside, Arthur struggling to stand straight when the now far less daunting figure released him, and firmly shut the door behind them.

"What the bloody he-"

"Shh! Sorry Arthur! Didn't realise the bastard would still be in there by the time you got in. Bloody lucky I got you actually." Arthur stared dumbstruck at the now rumpled figure of Reg Cattermole leaning against the door. He and Reg had always gotten along, but it wasn't until young Ronald had saved the man's wife that the two had formed a fast and steady friendship. Reg had been moved from Magical Maintenance to the Floo Network Authority shorty after the fall of the dark lord and the re-organisation of the ministry. The slight pay rise the move afforded had served as the Cattermole's only compensation.

"What bastard? And what's this about?" Arthur asked, holding up the slightly crumpled parchment. If Reg was taken aback by the sharp, no nonsense countenance Arthur once reserved for the twins alone, he showed no outward sign.

"They had me pulled in here this morning- must've been about 5am, the missus wasn't too happy let me tell you- but it was that Emmanuel lad. Now I don't know if you know him, but he's right up with Teddy Burges' lot- I also remember him, not many do of course, it seems a lifetime ago, but he was damn tight under that awful Umbridge woman. He did Mary's family tree. So I came in, never muttered a word, just set up the connections he wanted, then got working on a list he had. Floo connections to be watched; nothing unusual in that, mind. But it was a long list and it was damned early. So I had a squiz at the names registered with the Floo Ports. Yours was the bloody first Arthur. He was busy in a grate, so I sent off the memo and then left your grate till the end. I had to put the wards on it, Arthur, I couldn't leave it, but I thought I could at least give you some time mate."

Reg didn't pause for dramatics at any point in his tale; its delivery was forthright and earnest. Reg obviously didn't know what this was about, but his trust in Arthur must have been paramount if it had lead him to disobey, if circumspectly, the same man that had lead his wife to trial.

"It's okay reg. Thanks. Thanks a lot." Arthur words were brief, but he hoped the sentiment was understood. With a sharp nod exchanged between the pair, Arthur then gestured to the closed door, in the direction of the Floo Centre, still in use.

"Do you know who he's been calling?" Arthur inquired. He was not a betting man, but he'd put a good ten galleons this was all caught up in the Marriage Law.

Which essentially means bad news, whichever way you look at it.

"First call he placed was with Teddy Burges. Which, well, you don't wake Theodore Burges up at 5am without a bloody good reason. Then there was a Steve Jouston; I know he's right up in the Auror department, not to mention deep in Teddy's pocket. I think I heard him mention Toni Lancemount, but I've no clue who that is."

"- She's on first bench in the Wizengamot. Moved up from Magical Law Enforcement during the shuffle."

"Bought out?" Reg showed no signs of surprise at Arthurs curt nod.

"No idea who he's on the line to now. He dismissed me about five minutes ago- cold as you like. After dragging me out of bed at 5 o'clock to boot."

"Thanks so much for this Reg."

The middle age wizards face faltered for a moment, his tanned lined face torn beneath his auburn moustache.

"I take it you know what all of this is about?" The man finally asked, with an air of someone reluctantly opening a can of worms.

"You'll find out soon enough mate, I'm not about to drag you into this mess. No way to repay a friend's favour."

The relief was palpable across the man's broad features, before the wrinkles about his eyes folded over once more, a grin lighting up the now carefree face.

"It always manages to hit your lot, doesn't it?"

Arthur's smile was bitter and plastic, but he hauled it onto his face all the same. As soon as Reg's back had left the room, the door slipping shut behind him, did he let the grimace fall. Glancing around the small side office, host to a dozen magical expanding filing cabinets and a couple of dodgy old desks, Arthur considered his next move.

They were being watched.

His family, and no doubt anyone else who could be of any aid to Hermione in the next week and a half.

Never mind moving her about the country without magic, sending warning messages, all communicating in general, was about to become virtually impossible. No doubt a consignment of the Magical Law Enforcement team would be allocated to monitoring the situation. The Wizengamot were probably now in the process of rushing the bill forward. Arthur frowned as he realised how much information he was missing. What about St Mungo's? When was all this due to happen?

More importantly, who was the bastard on the floo to now?

Arthur's good sense, which funnily enough had the shrill, unmistakable voice of Molly, all but shrieked in his good ear, down to his legs which seemed to be moving, creeping, of their own accord out of the small, safe office, where they were aided by his equally autonomous arms that silently opened the door and lead both his legs and person out into the empty corridor, towards the ajar Floo office door.

All of his Good Sense' shouts and warnings, prophecies of doom about what should happen if he were caught listening at the door, were now faded, washed out by the green flickering firelight that streamed onto the cold stone corridor floor. Arthur shut his good sense out all together and focused on the sounds of conversation within.

"…and you're absolutely sure Emanuel?" a faded voice floated from the direction of the green tinged flames, while the reply came in clear from the pacing shadow flitting across the floor.

"Absolutely Mr Burges. The M.L.E forces will be assigned this morning, Toni Lancemount is getting things moving within the council chambers as we speak. I've got two of my men heading to St Mungo's now. She has a habit of heading into work early apparently."

"Apparently? Dammit MacDougal, I'm not moving this entire operation on the basis of 'apparently'. You promised me 100% accuracy. Contact Macy in Wizengamot Administration Services; get her to compile a memo on any files pulled by, for or concerning the Granger girl. Now. I'll be in my office shortly, you can reach me there."

Arthur held his breath and pressed further against the corridor wall as the green glow quickly shuttered out from within. Straining to listen to the movements within, Arthur prayed to Merlin's entire wardrobe, unmentionable and not, that the man didn't venture out of the office now.

There was a rustle of papers and the sound of something flying across the room, and Arthur's heart stopped, only to quickly flush back to life as green light flooded the chamber once more.

"Macy. Darling, I can't tell you how pleased I am to see you; you've brightened up this ungodly hour. No, no, I call on business, I'm afraid to say. Teddy's got my balls in a vice love, I absolutely need your help on this one, I'm lost without you gorgeous."

Arthur nearly gagged at the giggle that rang through the room.

"I need all the files that've been pulled on a Miss Hermione Granger." Arthur couldn't make out the interrupting cry from the hearth, it's high pitch muffled by the flames.

"Yes, the one with that hair, just so. I know love. Some girls don't put in the slightest effort; she could use a tip or two from you darl. It's a matter of some security mind, I'm sure anyone else'd be torn to trust even you with it, but I know you're just the woman to turn to with a matter like this."

Arthur stood silently listening at the door and knew two things to be true. One, If he were ever to utter such nonsense to Molly, he'd find himself on the receiving end of either a slap or a gale of laughter, and two, if any of his boys, even Ron in his current circumstances, heard Hermione referred to as such, their fists would be bloody before their wands were ever thought of. Arthur's own hands had curled into fists, his skin stretched taut about his knuckles and just the ringing of good sense in his ears holding him in line.

Just as Arthur had recovered from one near miss, he silently rose his wand and performed what he hoped to would serve to be a proficient Disillusionment Charm. Before his wand arm had even swung back to his side, an enchanted memo swept over his shoulder, pushing the door further ajar as it flew into the room.

I've not got any more Garments of Merlin to thank for that timing.

More insincere words of flattery were uttered from within before the floo call was quickly terminated and the sounds of shuffling paper echoed from the room. Arthur was bathed in Green light once more as a new call was established. Waiting as he was, to hear Emanuel's sycophantic tones once more, Arthur jumped at the agitated bark now issued at the hearth.

"Finkle! Finkle, do you have any idea what a Purple flag is? Do you have any idea what someone, who is competent at his job, is supposed to do if a file is pulled on someone sporting a purple flag? Do you? Well obviously not. Obviously Wilfred Finkle is too much of a decrepit waste of space to withhold all files concerning persons with a flagged record! A potions patent was pulled on the Distilment of Murtlap Essence, a patent lodged by a Miss Hermione Granger. I have a statement from the Wizengamot admin that states the file was taken out for a standard 60-minute viewing. Who inquired about the patent?"

Arthur could've chuckled at the hearty response that rang out of the fire, free of fear or remorse in absolutely any sense. Arthur could remember Wilfred Finkle from his first year out of Hogwarts, the man had to be the oldest Ministry official left, and if not, certainly the one who'd lasted here the longest. The man was an oddity, there was no doubt about it, and he'd turned down more than one lucrative retirement plan in favour of his small dingy office and it's carefully penned administrative rulebook. He was a bit of a ministry gem stone and Arthur was quite sure that the man had probably weathered the recent political upheaval as a mountain of old would whether a flood; with little bother at all.

"Oh yes quite right, standard file access, all above board. Can't remember the chap's name for the life of me."

"Well pull out the paperwork you useless bloody battle-axe!" Arthur could palpably feel the man's rage through a foot of stone, but Wilfred obviously missed it.

"There was none. No call for it, given the circumstances. That's efficiency for you mind, everything ran smoothly as you like, he was a pleasant enough bloke too, once we had the particulars right."

Molly would have shuddered at the dressing down the young man issued from his place before the hearth; not even Fred and George, arriving back from their second year with a Hogwarts toilet seat had earned such censure, nor amassed as many insults.

It was only with an echoing bang that put out the growing green hearth that the blonde man's ire ended, and Arthur tensed, ready to press himself against the wall once more, only for the steady glow to return once more.

"Mr Burges. I've spoken to Macy sir, one of Miss Granger's patents was examined only yesterday. That incompetent fool Finkle doesn't have a record of the visitor, no form was filled out, and he can't remember a name. But it coincides with the letter sir, it's too much of a coincidence. There's someone else showing an interest in the girls work, and by now she'd have to be aware of it. Either she's contacting abroad in total ignorance of the proposed law, or she's already begun preparations to escape it. The fact is sir, Hermione Granger is not going to make this easy for us, and the longer we wait, the more time she has."

There was a long lull on the other side of the door, and Arthur's heart had perched itself in his mouth, awaiting the outcome.

"We'll bring it forward. I want you in St Mungo's, Emanuel. There's no reason the girl can't be made to see sense, one way or the other. Make sure she's aware of all the… repercussions that await her. I have confidence in your ability to… bend her, to a more appropriate path."

"Yes Sir."

Arthur didn't wait for the path to lose it's pale green hue, he didn't stay to track the movement on the other side of the room. He was up the corridor and into the lift, now devoid of the hastily cast disillusionment charm, before the door handle had so much as turned.

He needed to get word to Hermione before she left for work.

He needed to warn Kingsly before he attempted to use the Floo.

And he needed to devote a horrendously extravagant human sacrifice to each and every last individual item of Merlin's sacred wardrobe.


It was a drowsy transition that delivered Hermione to the fledging new day. She could pin point nothing in the dark cosy bedroom at Grimauld Place that brought her suddenly into consciousness, and yet where one moment she was sound asleep, she now lay starring up at the soft canopy of the bed above. The trickles of dawn light dripped through curtains small cracks and pooled on to the dusty worn carpet.

Unlike the previous morning, no battery of memories laid siege, hidden amongst the rumpled bedding. No armies of doubt sought to plague her early morning moments and any onslaught of guilt was held at bay by the deep pillows around her. Hermione knew she was lying in her best friends spare room, while her spurned now-ex-boyfriend lay injured in the very same hospital that housed a dozen or so ministry drones all working towards a means of forcing the 'free populace' into a carefully controlled and medically monitored breeding regime. Admittedly, most of the drones were only mildly bothersome at best, but there was still one who could pose a powerful threat.

No, Hermione knew all of this, but rather than have the full brunt of her current realities crash down upon her, she awoke into a state of calm acceptance.

These were all just facts. They were the straightforward parameters of her current problem, and she would calmly and rationally work through them. Starting with getting out of bed and getting some coffee into her. It was unreasonably early to be up, and Hermione worried her lip as she contemplated the risk of waking Harry and Ginny up, before remembering Ginny had grown up with Fred and George wreaking havoc in the house, and Harry had to be up in an hour for Auror training anyhow. Pulling a tatty woollen jumper from the bedside table over her mussed curls and over her muggle pyjamas, Hermione quietly made her way into the kitchen of Grimauld Place.

After all, it couldn't do any harm to get to work a bit early.


There we go, I know it wasn't a particularly long update, but I had a bit of trouble getting this chapter to be believable and in character. Let me know what you think, and feel free to abuse me abominably for the late late late late laaate bloody update. I'm going to do my damnedest to keep the updates as close to weekly as I possibly can from this point, and once again I'm so so sorry!