Follow Through

Nobody knows it but you've got a secret smile
And you use it only for me
Nobody knows it but you've got a secret smile
And you use it only for me

So save me, I'm waiting
I'm needing, hear me pleading
And soothe me, improve me
I'm grieving, I'm barely believing now, now

"Secret Smile" Semisonic

**

Hermione knew who he was the moment he walked out of the glamorous office building onto the bustling street of Sofia. It wasn't because she had caught a brief glimpse of him in a photograph a few days earlier, or that he was carrying a briefcase with a dignified S.D. seared into the expensive leather; it was his aura. He had the aura of confidence, strength, and determination that must run in the Dolohov family. His head was held high and his stride was long and resolute. He was a man with a mission, just like his father had been. Hermione just hoped that Sean Dolohov's mission was not the same as Antonin Dolohov's. If so, she would be in a world of trouble.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione waited until he had strode about a half a block away before falling into step behind him. Sean Dolohov certainly had not been an easy person to track down, and now that she had finally found him, she didn't intend on losing him anytime soon. After Goyle had given her the name of Anthony Dolohov, Hermione had spent the next few days trying to find a trace of this person, with little success. Finally, she had decided to enlist the help of Viktor; perhaps Goyle had gotten the names confused and had really meant Sean Dolohov. Viktor had been able to use his connections at the Bulgarian Ministry to track him down for her. Although he had insisted that he accompany Hermione, she had refused. This was her mission. Hermione tucked some hair behind her ear as she peered discretely at the briefcase he was clutching. She had sharp eye and could usually tell when someone had a wand close at hand. Sean, however, appeared to be unarmed.

That didn't necessarily mean he was, though. Hermione had made mistakes before; she could very well be making one now. Hermione repositioned her wand more securely. She was just going to have to take that risk anyway.

Sean made an abrupt turn down a darkened alley. Hermione's eyebrows shot up. That certainly looked suspicious. Hermione quickened her stride, making sure she didn't lose him in the shadows. She made it just in time to see a hidden door swing shut about a block and a quarter down the way. A yellowing sign over the doorframe read 'The Iron Goblet'. Oh, Hermione realized with relief as she hurried after him. It wasn't so suspicious after all. She paused in the doorway to shift her wand to the front of her waistband, then resolutely pushed open the door and stepped into the pub.

It was amazing how magical pubs around the world were so similar. The gritty floor, the worn, deep reddish-brown wooden walls and furniture, the massive stone fireplace that served as a Floo Network, the thick odor of smoke, alcohol, and greasy food--it was remarkably similar to the Leaky Cauldron, the Dirty Goose, and the thousands of other pubs throughout Europe. Apparently, this particular pub wasn't a very popular one; besides Sean, who was already sitting alone at a back table, downing his drink, there was only the bartender behind the counter and a couple seated at one of the dingy tables. Hermione approached the counter, giving Sean a sideways glance. He didn't even look over, but the bartender immediately fixed Hermione with a shifty glare.

"What'll yeh have?" he called flatly as he reached for an empty glass.

"Nothing just yet," Hermione said politely. The bartender rolled his eyes, annoyed, but he didn't say another word. Apparently, they didn't believe in service with a smile in Bulgaria. She glanced over at Sean again, but he only retreated deeper into his chair, hanging his head away from Hermione. A small stab of suspicion passed over her, but the bartender was watching her again, so she turned her attention back to him. "I'll be ready in just a minute," she informed him.

The impatient bartender heaved another heavy sigh, so Hermione quickly nodded toward one of the taps. "I'll have some of that mead please," she ordered. He nodded and snatched up a spotty glass, holding it under the tap. "What's with him?" she finally asked in quiet voice, tilting her head discreetly in the direction of the anti-social wizard.

The bartender set her glass before her with a bored plop. "Who? Sean?" he grunted. He laid a meaty forearm on the counter so he could lean closer to Hermione. She wrinkled her nose slightly in disgust as she caught a whiff of his breath. Apparently, he was a bartender who believed in sampling his products. "He's always in a foul mood; he hates his job, y'see. He hates his whole life."

"Why is that?" Hermione asked, keeping her face deceptively casual. She could be on to something.

"He's a Squib who always comes 'round here," the bartender explained. "Everyone in his family is a wizard. He even has a lil' brother who was a Muggle who were one of those that got powers late in life--well, they were really only half-brothers. Their dad was a wizard, but Anthony mum's a Muggle. Apparently their dad knocked the little Muggle up and took off, but Anthony was so set on findin' his family after his mum died that he tracked down his dad and Sean a few years ago. They were all so impressed that he found 'em that they took him in even though he's just a ruddy Muggle." Hermione bit the inside of her lip; she didn't think it would be prudent to make a snappy retort to that comment. "And then just like that, Anthony gets some powers, and Sean's the only one in the whole family who's got nothin'."

Hermione just stared wide-eyed at the informative bartender for a moment. Goyle, as stupid as he was, had led her exactly where she needed to go. Anthony had been one of the unfortunate Muggles to whom the Death Eaters had given Magical Powers, and Sean was--Hermione twisted around to shoot a sympathetic glance in the miserable Sean's direction--this was sick. Antonin Dolohov was so sick that he had practically killed both of his sons. He sucked the magic out of one to cruelly put it in the other. She turned back to ask another question and found that the bartender had straightened up, his lips pursed thoughtfully. "You know, for a newcomer, you're rather curious, missy." He raised his eyebrows toward the untouched glass of alcohol in front of her. "Especially for someone who isn't very thirsty."

Not backing down from his narrowed, angrily suspicious eyes, Hermione picked up the glass, gulped down its contents with one deft swallow, and slammed the now empty cup back down on the dingy counter. "You said he was Squib? Been that way his entire life?" Hermione asked steadily. She had become rather adept at holding her own when it came to liquor. It had been necessary in order to survive the evenings she had spent with the incomparable Weasley twins, playing a variation of Exploding Snap where you had to take a shot when the pile exploded. It never failed to impress Ron and Harry to no end, but the dim-witted bartender was anything but.

"Oh, I get it!" the bartender said loudly, a wide knowing smile across his weathered face. He pushed himself off the counter and yelled across the pub. "Hey, Sean!" Hermione nervously fingered her wand. This could be really bad. He jerked his thumb at Hermione as Sean finally looked up from drowning his sorrows into whisky. "I think this little lady here may be interested in yeh." He gave the surprised Sean a wink.

Oh bugger. Hermione's stomach was seized with immense relief--and embarrassment. She certainly wasn't expecting that to come out of the bartender's mouth.

Sean stared at Hermione for a moment. Hermione looked straight back, and her heart skipped with surprise. He had the air of a Dolohov all right, but his eyes--his eyes were almost like--well, almost like Ron's. They were beautifully blue, vivid, and most of all, they were openly expressive. These weren't the eyes of a Death Eater. That realization caused Hermione's stomach to unclench a little as he gestured for Hermione to join him. He smiled with detached politeness, mentally preparing himself to let her down easily as Hermione approached him.

"Hello," he said. "I'm Sean."

"I know who you are." Hermione gestured to the empty seat across from him. "May I sit?"

"Oh, well, I--"

"It's actually not what he thinks--he made a mistake," Hermione quickly clarified. "I'm a reporter, and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions. My name is Hermione--"

"Hermione Granger?"

Hermione blinked. "Yes. That's me." She tucked her hair behind her ear. She wasn't quite sure she wanted to know precisely how Antonin Dolohov's son knew who she was.

Sean picked up on her discomfort, and his face turned slightly red as he coughed uncomfortably. "Thought so. Hermione's not a name you run across too often." He tried to let it go at that, but he couldn't. Sean sighed and added, "My dad mentioned you a few times."

Even if Sean had denied her earlier request to have a seat, Hermione would have fallen into the empty chair anyway. Staying upright became impossible. "Did he?" Hermione said neutrally. She kept her eyes on a nick in the table. She didn't dare ask in what context her name had come up; she was certain she really didn't want to know.

"Yeah." Sean didn't appear to want to continue the conversation, for he hastily changed the subject after another uneasy clearing of his throat. "But I bet that's not why you're here."

"No, it's not." Hermione pushed aside all thoughts of Antonin Dolohov and leaned forward. "I think I can tell you why you're so miserable."

**

Sean Dolohov slammed the Durmstrang record book shut. "Well." He released the chronicle, leaving behind deep finger indentations. "That certainly explains a lot."

"I'm so sorry," Hermione said sympathetically. She edgily glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one else had joined them in the stacks of the Bulgarian Ministry Hall of Records. She wasn't exactly sure they were supposed to be there, but she had to prove to Sean that at one point in his life he had had magical powers.

"So my own father--"

"I know," Hermione interjected quietly.

"I always knew he was involved with Dark magic, but I never thought he'd use it on us. Especially since he liked Anthony. He and I never got along, but Anthony hated Muggles--his mum was awful to him, and he had always wanted to be a wizard, but I just thought it was good luck." Sean clenched his fists and started to stride away. Hermione trailed behind so she could continue to listen to his ranting. "And I have memories of Muggle school--I reckon if there's a way to erase memory, there must be a way to transplant false ones, right? I got out of school right before the war started when he started getting more involved with them, and then Anthony found us, and oh sweet Merlin--that's why he died, isn't it?"

Hermione started. "Who? Your dad?"

"No, Anthony," Sean explained. "Anthony died just before the war ended. The same time Dad did. We never knew why, but--" His face hardened. "--I reckon Dad hated Anthony more than he let on. I guess I didn't know as much about Dad as I thought I did." He paused and cracked one of his fingers particularly forcefully and cleared his throat nervously. "I want to know how he died."

"Well, we don't know the specifics of exactly what is causing the Muggles to die," Hermione explained. "But I'm sure I can look into it--"

"No. Not him. My dad," Sean clarified edgily.

Hermione's stomach leapt as though she was flying on Buckbeak's broad back. This certainly was an abrupt change of subject. "I don't think that's a very good idea--"

"No, I need to know!" Sean insisted vehemently. He faced Hermione directly and Hermione's stomach wrenched again. He looked more like his father than ever. He and his father both had eyes that could emit a smoldering intensity no villain could ever hope to match--not even Voldemort himself. "All I know is that he died the night You-Know-Who fell, and I read in the papers that you were there. I know my father, and he would have come after you that night. He did, didn't he?" Hermione didn't bother trying to deny it and just stared at her feet. "I know you know. I know you were there. You just helped me realize that I know almost nothing about the kind of man my father really was, and I hate that. You told me everything about this switching spell thing, so now I want to know how he died." Sean repeated these last words very slowly and deliberately, enunciating every syllable.

She shifted her position ever so slightly so that her wand was in easy reach. It looked as though he really just wanted to know how his father had died, but she couldn't be too careful. She knew she would be ready to kill if anyone had murdered her father. Hermione shook off that thought. The row she had had with Ron over a year ago had proven that she could never actually kill anybody. "I-I don't know exactly," Hermione admitted gently. "My friend, Ron, was the one who k--did it, but he never told me what he had to do. All he told me was that he did it to save my life."

Sean flinched slightly. "Dad finally got his ten minutes with you?"

Hermione fought a flinch of her own. So that's how Sean had learned her name. "I suppose so," Hermione shrugged. "I don't remember what he did. I had to spend a day or two in the hospital, but there was no lasting damage." Unless you count sporadic nightmares and flashbacks, a pestering voice reminded her. Damn. She hadn't thought about that in a while, and frankly, it had been a relief. She had enough problems to contend with in her present and future without having to obsess over past woes.

Sean's Adam's apple bobbed sympathetically. He looked as though he was sorry he had even asked. "I'm so sorry."

"You didn't do it," Hermione said almost awkwardly. This was a rather awful conversation to be having. How on earth do you converse with the son of the man who had haunted, assaulted, and almost killed you on multiple occasions? She tucked some hair behind her ear, suddenly needing to do something with her hands.

"So your friend killed him?" Sean pressed. "Ron, was it?"

"Yes."

"Did he use Avada Kedavra?" Sean asked flatly.

"I think so," Hermione answered, thinking back to the brief article printed in the Prophet. She was fairly certain that it had mentioned he had been killed with an Unforgivable Curse.

"Your friend could do Avada Kedavra while he was still at Hogwarts?" Sean shook his head in wonder. "Got yourself a right powerful wizard there. Unforgivable curses are well beyond N.E.W.T. level of spellwork."

"I know," Hermione said thoughtfully. She never had thought about how difficult it must have been for Ron to perform that spell. When Ron's emotions got the best of him, he was capable of anything.

"I wonder if I was ever capable of something like that," Sean said wistfully. He looked at Hermione hopefully. "Do you think there's a way to restore memory? Most charms are reversible, right?"

"Yes," Hermione hedged. "But I've never heard of a way to erase the effects of a Memory Charm. I could look into it for you, though," she added hastily, wanting to say something to wipe the agonized look off his face. She knew all too well how awful it was not to know the truth about your past.

"That'd be great," Sean said. He raised his head up to the heavens and laughed bitterly. "Thanks a lot, Dad." He shifted his gaze down to the floor. "Well, I suppose I should be really looking down there, shouldn't I?" He let out another harsh laugh. "You know, if he didn't even bother pretending to like me the way he pretended to like Anthony, he must have really hated me, right?" Hermione bit her lip at his tone; he was trying to cover it up, but through all the sarcasm and acrimony, she still caught the tiny ounce of pitying regret that he hadn't had the chance to really get to know his father, or save him from his evil ways.

"How old was your brother?" Hermione asked softly. It might help to talk about the brother he loved, instead of the father he despised.

Sean glanced at Hermione for a second. "He was fifteen when he died."

Fifteen. Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth. He was so young. He was just a kid when he died. She had thought the senseless deaths of the young would end with the conclusion of the war, but realistically she knew that even in the most peaceful of times, the innocents were always the first to die.

Not anymore. Not if Hermione had anything to do with it. She straightened herself up determinedly. "Listen, Sean, as I mentioned, I'm a reporter, and if I could expose the people who did this--"

"But Dad's dead," Sean interrupted flatly. "How is that going to help?"

"Because it's still happening," Hermione explained earnestly. "A Squib died just this past week for the same reason." Sean swore not so quietly under his breath. "This sort of thing still happens, even today. So if I could let everyone know about this, it might be the first step toward making sure that what happened to you can never happen to anyone else ever again."

Sean remained quiet for a moment, jaw clenched as the many emotions eating away inside of him welled to the surface. "What do you want me to do?" he finally agreed tightly.

**

Hermione opened the door to her boss's office, her eyes shining as brightly as they did the moment she had first stepped foot into the Hogwarts library. "I have a source."

Higgins looked up from his pile of parchment in confused surprise. "Huh?"

"For my story on the Switching Spells and Muggle torture? I have a source that will go on record with what happened during the war. Well, with what we can prove--he can't remember exactly, of course, but if I can find a way to restore his memory, the story will be even stronger. I think it can still stand as it is, though. I have enough evidence," Hermione amended hastily.

She gave her boss a bright smile. She knew she was acting a little silly, but this was her first investigative story--the type of assignment she had always wanted--and now she could finally write it. She finally had a source and the evidence to prove that the atrocities were being committed, and with her writing, she could help ensure that nothing like this could ever happen again. She could help change the world just like she had always fought to do. The editorials helped, yes, but this was different. A story like this would undoubtedly instigate a drastic, immediate reaction from the Ministry. Hermione knew, logically, that S.P.E.W. and werewolf rights would take years to initiate, but with this story, she would finally see the fruits of her labor.

"I thought this piece was about the Hogwarts caretaker?" Sheldon Higgins asked.

"It was. It is," Hermione explained. "But I--well, you'll see," she said mysteriously. She couldn't properly report on the Filch angle of this story until Malfoy was found and questioned; she just didn't want her boss to know that yet. She smiled again. "Well, you wanted an update, so I just thought I would pop in and give you one." Hermione waved brightly as she closed the door. "See you later!"

"Wait--well--uh, okay," Higgins called after her. He shook his head before losing himself in his work again. He knew that even if she worked here for fifty years, he was never going to understand that girl.

Hermione glanced at her watch as she returned to her desk to retrieve her belongings. She was just passing though the Prophet; she really needed to head over to the Hogwarts library to see if there was anything in the extensive records of potions about an antidote to Memory Charms. It may be the only way to give Sean some peace of mind. Besides, maybe if she asked some more questions about Filch to different people at Hogwarts, she might be able to find a way--

"Hey!" Hermione abruptly stopped in mid-thought, which was highly unusual for her. As she stepped onto the streets of Diagon Alley, her arm was suddenly grabbed. She instinctively wrenched and went to her wand, but relaxed as she realized whom it was. Her hand automatically went to her fluttering heart. "Ron, you scared the life out of me," she complained half-heartedly. She really was incredibly pleased to see him again so soon; it had only been four days since he had left. From the way he had been talking before he left, she had expected that the separation would be a bit longer.

"Sorry," Ron apologized, but they both knew he really didn't mean it. His eyes were shifting anxiously about, causing Hermione's heart to once again to flutter apprehensively. Ron only acted this edgy if something was really wrong.

"What's going on?" she asked quietly. "Are you okay? Is Harry--"

"We're fine," Ron said dismissively. He guided her expertly through the throng of people merrily spending their afternoon shopping in the festive neighborhood. "And you haven't had any trouble lately, have you?"

"No, I've been fine--you'd know if I wasn't," Hermione reassured. "What's going on?"

"We may have a situation," Ron said cryptically. Hermione opened her mouth, but he was already cutting her off. They were only a few meters away from the Leaky Cauldron, and Ron gestured over to it. "Listen, I want you to go in there and Floo straight to the Ministry. Go up to my office--I gave you clearance, so you shouldn't have any trouble with security--and meet me there. I'll be along in just a minute."

"What are you going to do?" Hermione asked worriedly. From the way Ron was speaking, it was as though he expected Voldemort to pop out of the bushes any minute now and threaten to purge the world of Muggles and Harry Potter again.

"Harry's going to get Ginny," Ron explained as he nodded his head toward the road that led to Ginny's clinic. "We're all going to meet up at headquarters and take you two to Grimmauld Place for a few days."

Hermione couldn't help wrinkling her nose in distaste. She didn't have the most pleasant memories of that house. The last time she had been there, she had spent the time obsessing and crying over Ron's kidnapping. "Why there?"

"It's our safe house now." Ron impatiently steered her toward the pub. "I'll explain more later, I swear. You need to get to safety now."

"Ron, wait, I don't know if Ginny--" Hermione tried to get the important information about Ginny's possible whereabouts out as quickly as possible, but Ron's little patience was already gone.

"Hermione, please," he begged. "Just go. I'll be right there to explain everything, I swear."

Hermione unconsciously recoiled a step at the intensity of his voice and eyes. All of Ron's newfound Auror-trained confidence was gone, and all that Hermione saw standing before her was the terrified boy who had, with bravery beyond his twelve years, stepped forward on the chess square into certain death. Something had terrified him that much, and the fact that she was here arguing with him instead of complying with his demands was scaring him even more. He really believed that if she didn't get out of here now, something terrible was going to happen. It was almost as though the war had started all over again.

"Okay," she said softly. "I'll go straight there. See you in a bit."

"See you," Ron said tersely, and without another word, he Disapparated from sight.

Hermione blinked in shock. Wow. Now she knew how annoying it was whenever she would walk away from Ron, lost in thought. But remembering the look in Ron's eyes, Hermione pushed aside that annoyance and hurried into the pub, preparing herself to set a world's record for taking the least time to Floo from the Leaky Cauldron to the Ministry.

**

"Well?" Hermione demanded the moment she saw the flash of Weasley red hair, not caring that he was still at least three meters away from her.

Ron looked even more disheveled than ever and was sorely out of breath. "Is Ginny sick?" he asked with preamble.

"Maybe," Hermione replied honestly. "I dropped Crookshanks off for observation the other day and she wasn't there--I went by her flat and she wasn't there, either. I hadn't heard from her since--" She swallowed hard as Ron, more panicked than ever, immediately started rifling through his desk at top speed for the appropriate paperwork to give to the guards of the safe house. He needed to get Hermione there quickly before she joined his sister. "But that was days ago, you don't think that they could have gotten to her that early, do you?"

"I don't know what to think," Ron said hastily. "Harry went to check his flat and if he doesn't find her, he's going to come back here and we'll go from there." He stopped looking for a moment, however, to reconsider that plan after finally taking in what Hermione had just said. "Maybe we should swing by there now and then take you over there," he mused, staring at Hermione and hoping that she would validate his idea.

However, Hermione couldn't do that. After all, she really had no idea what he was talking about. "Ron," she said slowly, hoping that her matter-of-fact logic would penetrate through his clouded, concerned mind. "You're scaring me. What's going on?"

Ron let out a sigh; he hated worrying Hermione like this, but it had to be done. She had to know so she could stay safe, because if she wasn't safe--well, his life wasn't worth the scrap piece of parchment he was crushing with anxious fingers. "We caught Lucius Malfoy," Ron revealed briskly. He resumed searching for the papers, as if that short sentence was all Hermione needed to know.

It wasn't. "Well, congratulations?" Hermione said in confusion. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Wait, Weasley, you nabbed Lucius?" An Auror obviously a few years older than Ron popped his head up from his cubicle, his dandelion hair swept boyishly to the side. A woman with very familiar bubble-gum pink hair in the accompanying tiny office also stood up at the sound of Ron's announcement, staring at Ron expectantly.

"Tonks!" Hermione greeted with surprise. "I didn't know you still worked here!"

"Wotcher, Hermione!" Tonks returned happily. "You didn't think I would give this glamorous life up, now did you?" Tonks focused her attention on her fellow Auror. "Well, Ron? Did you or didn't you?"

Ron finally cracked a smile. "Yeah. We did."

"Damn it!" Tonks swore, slapping her hand good-naturedly on top of her cubicle. "You got another one?"

Ron even managed to laugh as he gestured to the two disappointed Aurors. "Hermione, that's Wesley Thompson, Tonks' partner--they're also assigned to Death Eater capture. We've got a bit of a competition going on."

"Yeah, and now Weasley and Potter are winning by eight captures," Tonks complained with a roll of her eyes. "Honestly, how are we supposed to compete with the famous Harry Potter?"

"Don't forget the famous Ron Weasley," Ron joked. Hermione could sense, however, that his good mood was becoming rather strained. The mention of Harry must have reminded him that Harry still hadn't returned from finding Ginny.

"Oh, yeah, I know, I know, you did help save the world that night too." Tonks waved her hand dismissively and winked. Wesley, however, remained stoically concerned, frowning in Ron's direction.

"Everything all right, Weasley? You need some back-up?" Wesley offered briskly. All joking vanished from her eyes as Tonks pulled out her wand and looked expectantly at Ron at the mention of back up. Tonks had a light-hearted, easy-going nature, but one of the brilliant things about her was that she knew when to turn it on and off. She knew exactly which situations called for the utmost attention and seriousness.

"We're fine," Ron lied as he took Hermione by the hand. "We're just going to check on Harry and get these two to the safe house. I'll be back in a bit."

Wesley nodded and sat back down, however he didn't look convinced. Tonks gave them a worried wave. "Let us know if you need any help," she called after them. Ron took Hermione by the hand and led her through the maze of desks and back into the corridor.

However, Hermione had had enough. She twisted her hand free and put both hands on her hips. "Ron, what is going on? Why is your capture of Lucius Malfoy terms for Ginny and I to be cooped up in Grimmauld Place again?" Hermione demanded.

"I told you," Ron said impatiently. "When the investigation began, we started getting threats that if anything happened to a Malfoy, the rest of the family would come after us, and everyone knows that there is no way better way to get to me and Harry than through you and Ginny."

He tried to walk away, but Hermione yanked him back to face her. "Um, no, you did not tell me," Hermione reminded him sharply. Normally, she wouldn't have been so upset, especially at a time like this, but Ron had just promised four days ago that he had told her everything about his job, and threats on her life were definitely something she should have been told about, even if he kept everything else a secret. Keeping secrets about his life was one thing; not telling her things that concerned her was something else entirely. It was how they had broken up and it almost ruined their relationship for good, so whenever he came close to making that mistake again, Hermione couldn't help getting more than a little angry and making damn sure, no matter what the situation, that he would never make that type of mistake again.

"Well, I'm sorry, I thought I did," Ron apologized wearily, picking up on her fury. "You can't expect me to tell you everything about three years of my life in one night--I do forget some things. I'm sorry, okay?" Hermione nodded half-heartedly. She knew that he was stressed and desperately worried right now, so this wasn't a conversation he wanted to have at the moment. However, that didn't change the fact that for the first time in a long time, she didn't believe his apology.

And for the first time in a long time, Ron didn't pick up on the fact that she, too, was lying. "Good. Now can we go?"

"Yes, of course," Hermione agreed. As she and Ron hastened to the lift, however, she couldn't help wondering what else Ron had 'forgotten' to tell her.