A/N I finally finished another chapter! 24 took ages because I didn't like how it was going. Now its done and I know where I am taking 25 and 26 . Love to be on kind of a roll again. Now I just need to give it attention daily and keep plugging away. Hope you enjoy this one! Less drama than the last two but, a fun twist at the end?

Chapter 22

Stepping back through the floo, they were all experiencing varying degrees of anger and apprehension. His father had gone straight upstairs to the room he shared with his Mum after ascertaining that Dumbledore hadn't shared the prophecy. The rest of them trudged down the hall to the kitchen to discuss the meeting over some Ogden's.

Fabian took a slow, savoring pull from his glass and looked across the table at George. "What did he say? None of us could hear him but he looked angry. Moody was damn put out too."

Before he could answer, Hermione scoffed irritably. "I'm surprised he's not better used to the way Dumbledore operates. That man hoards information like a Dragon does gold." The ice in her glass clinked as she swirled it around in her hand. "Haven't they been friends for years?"

Gideon's smirk was weak as he stared down into his own drink. "Sure they have. But after the vile stunt he'd just admitted to, Moody wanted to hear everything. It's exactly because he has so much loyalty to the man that he needed to hear it. I'm sure he'll try to wheedle it out of him before allowing himself to be pacified."

Dragging a frustrated hand through his hair, George sighed. Gideon was right. Dumbledore just had too much influence, especially with the older generation. This prophecy had made them important to him and unfortunately he didn't seem ready to back down. "He didn't really tell us anything either. He dropped what sounded like a single line about two people knowing how to defeat the Dark Lord and then some gloomy tidbits… to be honest he's probably right. Considering what we know and what we're planning, it probably is about us. Not that it means we're going to work with him."

Hermione's hand was warm on his thigh as she leaned against his shoulder. The exhaustion that had been lingering since he'd gotten out of bed that morning suddenly seemed to settle around him all at once. Knowing Dumbledore wasn't likely to stop meddling made everything they still had to face feel that much more impossible. It was going to be hard enough dodging Voldemort and the Death Eaters without having to worry about Dumbledore tailing them too.

"Maybe we really should send your family to France, George. I don't want to always be worrying about them too and we have more than enough galleons to set them up somewhere."

George kissed the top of her head and rested his cheek there as he thought over her suggestion. "Well… they survived last time. There's no reason to believe they won't this time."

Across the table, Fabian poured himself another drink and shook his head. "You two weren't here the last time. Nevermind Dumbledore's meddling, who knows what else you've changed. Our little hat project has put a target on all our backs. I think Hermione's right."

Gideon sighed and blinked up at the ceiling. "Damn, I'm going to miss those little buggers. Won't want to risk visiting often if we have people watching us, though."

"Well…" George finished his drink and stood, pulling Hermione up with him. "All that's true, but it's not really up to us. Talk to them tomorrow, I have a feeling I won't be bothering to get up. If they want that extended holiday, we can pop over and spend the rest of the week looking for something."

Both of his uncles nodded as they left and headed for the stairs, Hermione's hand still tightly laced in his. By the time they reached their room he was nearly too exhausted to take off his robes, the offending garment landing in a heap on the floor. Toeing off his dragon hide boots as he sat on the edge of the bed, George hoped his parents would take their offer. He knew how proud his family was when it came to charity and hoped that since it was coming from him they wouldn't see it that way.

Hermione's hands snaked around his waist and began undoing the buttons of his shirt, her cheek pressed against his neck. Blinking, he realized he had stopped moving as he'd stared at the wall in thought, his own hands frozen around his belt buckle.

"You must really be tired." She dropped a kiss on his now exposed shoulder as she settled her thighs around his hips and finished the bottom half of his shirt. "Falling asleep sitting up or lost in thought?"

He sighed and shrugged out of his shirt, letting himself lean back into her. The soft giggle and 'oof' as he flattened her against the mattress drew a smile from him. "Hmm… both"

"George!"

Rallying his waning strength, he rolled over so they were chest to chest. Momentary humor faded to something more serious as he stared down at her, her hands reaching to pull his face close. "George…" Somehow she'd managed to put the weight of everything they were both feeling after Dumbledore's revelation behind that soft whispering of his name.

Pressing his forehead against hers, George kissed the corner of her mouth and sighed. "Is it really ok, Hermione? That we've changed so much? We're not going to cause some kind of, what was it you called it… a time paradox? Collapse the universe?"

She huffed a small laugh. "I think we're beyond that at this point. I'm not sure what I was expecting him to say, but a new prophecy certainly wasn't it." One hand twining idly through his hair, Hermione traced her thumb along his cheek. "I can't decide how to feel about it or what we should do…"

"For now…" He turned his face to the side and yawned impressively. "I say we sleep on it. Well, you can. I don't have the energy to think about anything." And he meant it. Rolling off of her, he dragged himself into bed properly, nearly asleep before she'd dimmed the lights and wrapped herself around him.

George hadn't been exaggerating to his uncles after all. When Hermione had risen the next morning, he hadn't so much as shifted. Eventually he'd half woken—sore all over and starving—to find Hermione sitting at her desk beside the bed. Later, he wouldn't clearly remember what they'd said. He must have asked for food because it had appeared and she might have said something about Bill but he wasn't sure.

Other than a few bleary-eyed trips to the loo across the hall and more food later on, George had slept until the following morning. When he did finally get out of bed, he felt hungover. Hermione, bless her beautiful arse, had laid out a pain potion on the desk beside a mug of water, a plate of food under a stasis charm and fresh clothes. Potion and water downed, clothes on and food eaten, he went downstairs to rejoin his family.

It was strangely quiet considering how many people were currently staying there as he made his way down the hall to the sitting room. Hermione wasn't there, but Gideon was. Sitting in one of the chairs and reading something, he looked up when he heard George come in with a grin.

"Good morning sleeping beauty. Have a nice lie in? Feel any different?"

Scoffing, George leaned over the back of his uncle's chair to see what he was reading. "Not really. Maybe? I don't know, I've only been up for ten minutes." He gave him a strange look. "Have you always smelled like that?"

Gideon chuckled and swatted George's head away. "I smell just fine. Anyway…" He gestured to what he'd been reading. Upon brief inspection he could see it looked like real-estate listings in French. "We talked to your parents yesterday. Hermione managed to convince them to really go, not that they took much cajoling. They'd already discussed it themselves and weren't comfortable staying."

That nearly broke his heart. His family had been driven from their home, something not even Voldemort had managed to accomplish in his own time. Guilt, perhaps misplaced, flooded him as he moved to sit in another of the chairs. Was this their fault? Was trying to save Fred, as desperately as he'd thought he'd needed him, worth all the potential damage they were doing now? Leaving the Burrow was one thing, but how much further would it go?

"Hey, stop that. You being here didn't do this. Dumbledore did. It's fucked but…" He waved a hand as if to dismiss the thought. "Hermione and Fabian are at the Ministry getting an international portkey. We're all going to pop over to get them settled."

George nodded and reached forward to grab one of the real estate listings from the table between them. "Where did these come from?"

Smirking, Gideon set down the villa he'd been reading about. "Fab and I took an illegal portkey yesterday. Met with a muggle real estate broker. Figured, what with all the kids, it would be good to get a head start."

Nodding again, he looked down at the country home in his hands. It reminded him vaguely of the Burrow. Rustic, nothing fancy, plenty of space. "Where are they anyway? It's so quiet."

"Oh." Gideon laughed again. "They're in the kitchen at the moment. Put silencing spells on most of the rooms while you were sleeping."

Just then Hermione walked through the door, an excited gaggle of boys following her. "So what part of France are we going to live in?"

"We haven't decided for certain yet…"

"Are we still going to go to Hogwarts or do we have to go to Beauxbatons now?"

She laughed "No, you're not going to live there forever. Just a year or so." When she saw George, her eyes lit up and her smile widened. "You're up! Feeling better?"

He felt himself smile widely back as he stood to meet her. "Yeah…" Ruffling Charlie's hair as he passed, George immediately pulled her close and buried his face in the crook of her neck. It was strange. He had always thought she smelled nice, but like his uncle her scent was somehow different, stronger, more important. "Much better." Hermione hugged him back tightly and turned to kiss his cheek.

"Blech! Why are grownups so gross! Mum and Dad kiss all the time!" Bill whined as both older boys flopped down on the sofa. Knowing what he did about his brother's possible future, George couldn't hold back the laugh.

"You won't always think that way Bill."

Hermione's laugh was musical as she leaned into his embrace and watched the boys share disgusted, doubtful looks. Behind her, Fabian and the rest of the family piled into the room, a trunk levitating in front of his father. Little Fred and George were snug against his Mum in some kind of sling, Percy perched high on Fabian's shoulders. It was his uncle that seemed to be directing everything now.

"Alright everyone, we've got five minutes till our portkey leaves. Are you ready boys? This isn't exactly the most pleasant form of travel."

Hermione peeked over at the twins, both sleeping, and chewed on her lip before muttering so only George could hear. "Maybe we should have taken muggle transport. It would have taken longer but a ride across the channel and a train would be less traumatic for them."

Huffing a laugh, George kissed her temple. "They'll be alright, love. Besides, this is faster. What part of France are we headed to first?"

"Avignon. There is a small magical community there and your uncles set them up in a resort for the week while we house hunt." She held up her beaded bag and slid his own bag from her back where he hadn't noticed it before and held it up to him. "Here. All ready."

He took it from her and smiled curiously. "When did you have time to pack this?"

One slender brow arched and the corners of her mouth turned up with humor. "I wasn't the one asleep for the last day and a half, George. We got a lot accomplished while you slept."

Following her around the sofa, George shook his head. Apparently they had been busy. Illegal portkeys and all.

"Ok, Bill, Charlie, don't forget: don't let go." They both rolled their eyes as though their mother's warning was the most uninteresting thing they'd ever heard as they took firm holds of the bent bicycle tire. "And remember, we may have gotten special permission to leave from here but we'll be landing in the French Ministry so stay close once we land. The last thing we need is for one of you to get lost where none of us speak the language."

One hand on the bike tire, the other inconspicuously on Charlie's shoulder, George smiled over his head at Hermione as Fabian counted down.

"Hold tight everyone. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1."

The familiar, uncomfortable sensation overtook him and his feet left the ground. It was good he'd grabbed ahold of his brother. Charlie nearly lost his grip on the tire as they spun through space but George had hold of his jumper. After several long, nauseating seconds they finally all landed in the French Ministry. Charlie muttered an embarrassed "thanks" and walked over to a rather green looking Bill.

"Oh, poor boys. It was such a long trip for their first one too." George followed Hermione's gaze to his three month old self and twin brother who both looked to be screaming inside a silenced bubble around his Mum.

Arthur soothed a grumpy Percy as they made their way out of the portkey landing and smiled at Hermione. "They'll be fine. Molly will sort them out. And Fabian says there's plenty to do at the resort for the older boys while you lot explore the local real estate." He turned around to make sure said older boys were following them out of the crowded area. "Both managed to keep your breakfasts. Good job lads!"

Out on the cobblestone street, their next stop was only a short ride away on the French version of the Night Bus. It was a smoother ride than with Ernie but just as fast. George still managed to catch the beauty of the city as they whizzed south away from Paris.

Avignon was beautiful too. The small magical community was welcoming to the English family fleeing the dangers most people knew abounded at home. With the help of the friendly elderly couple that ran the resort and spoke English themselves, it didn't take long to get his family settled in. A few quick goodbyes and an extra ward around their château and they were off.

"So, where to first?"

Fabian and Hermione both had heads bent over a few different listings as they walked away from the magical community. Taking his hand, Hermione answered. "We need to find a payphone to call our real estate agent and then we are going to see a few of the listings in the area." In a small cafe they found a phone, made the call and set up a time.

Thirty minutes later they were walking up the drive of the country home George had liked so well. He liked it even better in person. Annette, their local agent, met them at the gate.

"Bonjour! Welcome! It is so lovely to see you again, Messieurs Prewett. And this must be some of the family you mentioned?"

Her smile for his uncles was openly coquettish as she indicated Hermione and himself. Gideon, never one to ignore a beautiful woman, grinned back just as flirtatiously as he took her outstretched hand, kissing the back of it. "Of course. My cousin, George and his fiance, Helen. Our sister and her family are staying in town until we find something."

"Well…" She nodded to the house. "Let's take a look shall we?" Pushing open the gate, she led them up the dirt drive. "I hate to think our day will be so short, but knowing what you asked for I think this might be the one. Of all the listings I gave you, this is my favorite."

George agreed, and judging by the smile creeping up her face, so did Hermione.

"It was built in the last century from local stone but it isn't so rustic that it's without modern plumbing." She cast them a mildly confused smile over her shoulder as she led them inside. "You said electricity wasn't a concern… Interestingly enough, the previous owners agreed with you, preferring the simple country life. Fires, as you'll see from the three lovely hearths, and candles were utilized instead."

Stopping in the middle of the entry room, Annette gestured around herself. "Have a look around. There are four bedrooms, two bathrooms, unusual for a rural house like this, and lovely grounds. If you need anything at all, I'll be here."

Both of his uncles gave her matching grins heavy with innuendo as they left her there to do just as she suggested. Once they were alone, George caught Gideon's eye and smirked. "So, she seems nice."

His uncle barked a laugh. "Oh, she is. We went to the agency Hermione suggested and when we told them what we wanted, they set us up with her. I definitely plan to let her show me around the city sometime while we're here, but she's also fabulous at her job. Look at this place. It's perfect."

And he was right. They spent the next half hour exploring the house and five surrounding acres. It really was perfect for them. As they walked back through the bedrooms, stopping in one to admire the view from the window, he thought they might even like to keep it after the war if they could afford to. Hermione was apparently having similar thoughts.

"It's beautiful here. If we have the galleons after everything's done, we should keep it. Wouldn't it be nice to have a place like this for our family to visit?"

George looked down at her, ignoring the vista for the even more lovely beaming smile she was giving him. 'Our family,' she'd said and he tried not to dwell on what she might have meant by that. He knew what he'd like it to mean, but now wasn't the time. Instead, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and thought about other things.

"We never really got to take trips anywhere growing up. Well, except that one time to Egypt. Who knows, Bill might meet Fluer early on holiday."

She laughed and shook her head. "I do hope we haven't spoiled that. I know we didn't like her at first, but in the end she wasn't so bad and they were ever so happy."

"Yeah. Well he won't have a war or a werewolf to worry about if we have anything to say about it. Who knows how their lives will go without that."

Turning into him, she perched her chin on his chest and started to say something but they were interrupted when his uncles found them. Their footsteps were unusually quiet behind them as they came into the room but they were no longer alone. Leaning around him, Hermione opened her mouth again.

"Well, what do you think of…" Her wand was out before he could register the panic on her face. Twisting around and drawing his own wand, he was alarmed to see two strange men in the doorway, hands held out in surrender. Neither of them looked French: the smaller of the two had distinct features but both had dark hair and very foreign looking robes. "Who are you?"

The taller of the two, with more European features and sporting an impressive beard, spoke first in a heavily accented voice. "My name is Yuri Bezmenov, and this is my associate, Tanatar Niyazov. We're what you'd call Unspeakables, from the Kazakh Ministry." A genial smile stretched across his face. "We've been trying to catch the pair of you outside of your impressive warding for months."