A Dish Best Served Cold

Hermione could hear a voice calling her to consciousness, but she didn't want to leave the warm protected sleep she was in. She could feel warmth on her neck, and something solid against the entire length of her back and legs. She took a deep breath in preparation for the plunge into full wakefulness as the voice called her again. She could feel a warm weight resting against her ribs as well. It was pleasant, this warmth and reassuring solidity. It was Ron, she remembered. In the middle of the night she had curled up in the protective embrace of his arm and gone back to sleep.

"Hermione," called the voice yet again, this time it was a little more insistent. The voice was deep, too deep and too far away to be Ron's. Perplexed in her state of being half-awake and half-asleep, she opened her eyes. "Morning, sweetie."

"Uncle Marcus! This isn't what it looks like."

"So, this isn't you sleeping curled up next to Ron in his bed?" She noticed that he was smiling, almost laughing at her. She could feel her face burning with embarrassment. "I didn't necessarily mean for you and Ron to start looking in my guest bedroom for what you lost so long ago."

"We didn't do anything." She hoped her voice wasn't as shrill as it sounded in her ears. "Besides, you're hardly one to say anything about people sleeping together. God only knows how many women you've paraded through your bed."

"I'm not seventeen years old either." All traces of joviality were gone from his voice now.

"In the wizarding world, seventeen makes me of age. I can make these decisions for myself."

"This isn't the wizarding world, and I am your legal guardian for the next three months. Now get you're arse out of bed. You and I have a lot to talk about this morning." Marcus slammed the door.

"Apparently, my short temper is a bad influence on you." Ron whispered in her ear. She spun around to face him. He still hadn't opened his eyes.

"How long have you been awake?" she demanded.

"About ten minutes or so."

"Why didn't you wake me up?"

"And give up this perfect dream? Not bloody likely." Hermione smiled, it was hard to be cross with someone who was calling you the perfect dream. "Then Marcus knocked, and I didn't want to get in trouble for this one. Sorry, but he's your family, not mine."

"Oh, I never got you out of trouble?"

"My mum never caught us in bed together." Ron raised an eyebrow suggestively.

Hermione swatted at his arm and rolled out of bed. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail and made sure her very conservative nightgown was straight. "There, how do I look?"

"Edible." Hermione rolled her eyes with a sigh of exasperation and headed downstairs to talk to her uncle. It wasn't like she and Ron had done anything. Watching herself be cremated had taken a lot out of her, she had simply wanted Ron's warm, comfortable presence. He had seemed to crave her closeness as well. They hadn't talked much, both more interested in sleep. Although waking up in the crook of his arm was more pleasant than anything she could remember in many a long month.

"Morning," her uncle's greeting was terse. "Tea?"

"Thank you." She sat down at the small kitchen table facing her uncle.

"Let's get a couple of things straight." He slid the teapot over to her and indicated the teacups on the table top mug stand. "I'm not your father, I'm not going to try and be your father." His tone was sharp, he wasn't apologizing, he was laying down the law. "But as long as you stay in this house you will keep a civil tongue in your head. When you were younger I thought your rebellious streak and smart mouth were cute. I encouraged it because I knew that someday it would serve you well. It also had the added bonus of driving your parents crazy. However, you are almost an adult now and you will not speak to me like that in my house."

"Well I am..." Marcus held up one finger and interrupted her..

"I'm not done yet." Hermione sniffed and crossed her arms in a petulant statement. "I don't know what the relationship between you and Ron is; but in my opinion you two have no business sharing a bed yet, even if it is just to sleep." She opened her mouth to retort, he pointed a finger at her. "Don't give me that 'I'm an adult' crap either. Until you hold a regular job and pay bills you are not an adult." He left her an opening by taking a sip of his tea.

"We didn't do anything." She pursed her lips and glared at her uncle.

"I never said you did. Now, these are the rules." He held up one finger, "No illegal activities in the house." He held up a second finger. "You treat me with respect, I do the same for you. Two very easy rules, let's keep it that way." Hermione nodded, but didn't say anything. "Look, I'm not used to having house guests that stay more than a couple of nights. I'll do the best I can to get along, but I'm very set in my ways and I still have a law firm to run. You and Ron are welcome to stay, since you two seem to be in a rather unique position, Ron in particular. I've got some contacts, I'll see if we can't get something arranged for him."

"Thank you, Uncle Marcus. Sorry about that remark this morning. It's just that..." she held up her hands not quite sure how to express what she was thinking.

"It's just that you've been through a lot and you were looking for some comfort. I understand completely. You also think you're an adult and can make these decisions for yourself. I'm sure you can, but make sure your head is clear before you start making them." He took a drink of his tea and smiled at her. "You're a smart girl, and your parents taught you well. Don't let it all go out the window just because you found a boy you like. Got it?"

She curled up one side of her mouth in an embarrassed smile. "Yeah. Thanks." He was right of course, she had been a little out of her head the last few days. She was going to have to take some time to sit down and sort it all out. Maybe she'd go down to the library and hang out for a little bit with a copy of Pride and Prejudice, or just go buy a new copy since hers was locked away in a trunk she'd never be able to see again. Damn, there was a lot of stuff in her Hogwarts trunk she was going to have to replace, not the least of which was all of her clothes and her favorite books. "Um, Uncle Marcus." He nodded to indicate he was paying attention. "Is there any way I can get access to the money in any of the accounts? I know they're all supposed to be in trust till I'm eighteen, but I need to get some stuff."

"Already taken care of." He walked into the den and then back. When he returned he was carrying an envelope, which he dropped on the table in front of her. On the front was the MasterCard International logo. "The card is actually in my name with you as an authorized signer. When the estate transfers to your name in September, you will pay off the card and close the account." She nodded that she understood and opened the envelope. Inside was a MasterCard International Platinum card. Her jaw dropped. "This is not a license to go crazy. No buying a car or anything." He handed her another envelope. "This is your birth certificate, passport, all that kind of stuff. Don't lose it." He patted her back, "Don't forget, we have an appointment at 2:00 to sign the guardianship papers and start the probate process on the estate. I'll pick you up at 1:30." He walked out of the kitchen.

---------------

"What I need more than anything is a wand. I simply refuse to use Malfoy's." Ron nodded in agreement. The idea of using Malfoy's wand sickened him as well, but at the time he'd had no other choice.

"It's not like you can just walk into Ollivander´s and get another one though." Ron remembered the last time he had been in Ollivander´s, he had been replacing his own wand at the end of his second year.

"Yeah, I know. Wouldn't that be funny though. Just waltz into Ollivander´s and say, 'News of my death has been greatly exaggerated. I need another wand." Hermione laughed a little bit, then her demeanor turned serious. "That would put a serious dent in Malfoy's credibility."

"Is that what you want to do? If you did it today you could still take your N.E.W.T.'s. Then all that study and revising wouldn't be for nothing." He was afraid she would say yes. If she went, he would probably have to give serious thought to going back too. It was one thing for his mother to think him dead when he was already buried. It was quite something else remain in hiding while Hermione knew the truth and could well tell everybody. He couldn't do that to his family.

It also meant he might lose Hermione again. He didn't know exactly what they were now, but if nothing else they were united in their mutual trouble. He glanced over at her as they walked through the throngs of shoppers. She was deep in thought, as though weighing the relative merits of the argument. For himself, he didn't want to return, not really. He was sure that if they did, Malfoy would find some way to spin it to his advantage and continue to be the golden boy. Ron didn't want to even contemplate returning to the wizarding world until he had his revenge on Malfoy.

Hermione led him over to a bench and they sat down. If nothing else it was a relief to finally set down all the bags he was carrying. "What about you? Do you want to go back?"

"I asked you first." They both sat in silence for several long minutes. Finally Hermione answered.

"I want justice. If we go back, nothing will happen to Malfoy. His father is the Minister for Christ's sake. There won't be a trial; probably not even an investigation. If he's going to pay for what he did, we have to make him pay." She turned and looked at him. "Do you want to go back?"

"No." He turned to face her as well, his expression somber and stoney.

"Why didn't you just say so?"

"Because I had to know what you wanted. You said yesterday that you wanted to get him back. I wasn't sure if that was really you talking, or if you were just... I don't know, angry. Ever since Malfoy stabbed Harry I knew I was going to kill him, but you're not like that. You always believe the best about people; you give them second chances, like you did with me even after all the horrible things we said to each other." Ron steepled his fingers and rested his head against them.

"You're a better person than I am, Hermione. You were the best of all of us. I just didn't want to think I had somehow," he paused, "contaminated you." He felt her slide over against him and slip her arms around him. He lifted his arm and put it around her. He was glad to be close to her, even if he didn't deserve her. He was also glad that she wanted revenge on Malfoy, she was probably the only one smart enough to do it.

"You're good too, Ron. You never doubted for a minute what you would do to Malfoy. Maybe you were a better friend to Harry than I was. I didn't know what to do, but you were willing to spill blood for your friendship." There was a pause when he could feel the beating of his heart very distinctly. "It's almost barbaric, but I admire it." He felt her shake a little, then heard her snicker.

"What? What's funny?" She was starting to laugh now.

"I," she sat up and fanned herself, trying to stop laughing but couldn't. Ron watched her very closely, trying to figure out what she was laughing about. Finally after several long seconds of silent breathless laughter she put her hand over her mouth and took a deep breath. "I just had the funniest picture of you in a kilt, all covered in mud and war paint, with a huge Claymore held over your head." She started laughing again. "You were shouting," here she affected a Scottish accent, "Malfoy, I'll kill ye and yer whole clan fer what ye done to me friend!" Hermione was leaning against him now, again laughing hysterically. Ron was sure she had to be suffering from some kind of mental illness, because he didn't think it was that funny. It was nice to hear her laugh again though. There hadn't been anything to laugh about for days now so he wouldn't begrudge her something funny, even if it was at his expense.

Finally, after about five minutes she seemed to have laughed herself out. "Are you quite finished laughing at me yet?" She looked at him, a wide smile splitting her face, and nodded. "Good, it's almost 1:15 and we're supposed to meet your uncle outside in ten minutes."

"Damn, I was hoping we could stop and look at kilts." She smiled at him again, he was sure she was going to laugh.

Ron gave her a sardonic look and affected his own Scottish brogue, which was quite a bit better than hers. "C'mon wench. I cannae carry ye and all yer luggage. Iff'n ye don' get a move on, I'll abandon ye for the sheep." She snorted and grinned at him, gathering some of the many bags they had accumulated that morning. "Seriously, Hermione, where are we going to get you a wand?"

"Paris is nice this time of year."

"Paris? As in Paris, France?"

"Mm hmm."

"And just how are we supposed to get there?"

"Muggle transport. We take a ferry across the channel to Normandy, rent a car, and drive to Paris. It'll be cheaper than flying." When they walked out into the bright sunlight, her uncle's silver BMW was just pulling up.

"Buying out the store, girl?" He smiled and opened the boot so they could put their many packages in.

"No, but there are certain essentials one must have." She reached into a bag and pulled out a paperback book, which she promptly bent in half and cracked the spine and buried her nose in as soon as they were in the car.

Once they were back in the car, Marcus started talking over the radio. "Ron, I was able to acquire some documentation that will establish you in the eyes of the British Crown." He handed Ron a manilla envelope. "Birth certificate, passport, school transcripts, tax ID, the whole banana." Ron opened the envelope and dumped the documentation into his hand. On top was a voucher for forty thousand British Pounds, and a receipt for numbered bank account at the Banco Internationál de Suisse. "You owe me five hundred pounds in legal fees. If it was just leg work I'd let it go, but I incurred some costs along the way."

"Where did you get all that?" Hermione asked, leaning forward from the back seat to look over Ron's shoulder.

"I told you sweetie, I have some contacts."

"These contacts wouldn't by chance be in the business of creating documents, would they?" Marcus just shrugged. "Those are forgeries! How? Where? Who?"

"That is none of your business." Marcus's tone of voice clearly indicated that there would be no other discussion on that topic. "Tell me Hermione, if someone came to you and said, 'I want the world to believe I'm dead so I'm not going to tell anybody I'm not.' Wouldn't you think that just a little odd?"

"Up until a couple of days ago, yeah." Hermione flopped back in her seat, her expression thoughtful. "But you didn't. You just gave us support and a place to hide out. You...you've done this before."

"A few times. Usually not for the same reasons you're doing it, but I've done it before."

"My name isn't Benedict." Ron interjected into the conversation. "And my last name is Weasley, not Arnold."

"As of now your name is Benedict 'Ron' Arnold." Marcus held up his hand to forestall any arguments. "Let me give you a little history on the name. When the American colonies rebelled, there was one general who stayed loyal to the crown. He pretended to go along with the rebel's plans and was given command over a major strategic location and a large contingent of soldiers. When His Majesty's troops marched on the fort, General Benedict Arnold turned over the location and all the troops stationed there. It crippled the rebel forces for months. After that, Arnold returned to England. He was denied a commission in the army though, and he was never really accepted back into English society. He was a man without a country who suffered a great deal of injustice from both sides."

"Well, it fits," Ron heard Hermione say from the back seat. He flipped through the rest of the items, everything was in the name Benedict or Ron Arnold. He realized the deposit slip didn't have any kind of name on it. Finally, the last two papers were something in his name. A birth certificate and a student record with a picture of him.

"But why did you give me a fake name?"

"You need to disappear from police radar. If Malfoy goes looking for you, he's looking for a bloke named Ron Weasley. You'll be a lot harder to find if you have a different name. Same goes for you Beatrice."

"Beatrice?" Marcus handed another envelope to Hermione. Ron could see Hermione raising her eyebrows without even looking.

"Yes, Helen Beatrice Austen."

"Could I please have just a little more cheese with that?" Ron could see in the rear view mirror that she had her arms crossed and was rolling her eyes. "Did you manage to write 'Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably,' on it somewhere too?"

"What are you on about?" Marcus asked.

"You´re a cultured man, surely you´ve read Shakespeare."

"Nope, I prefer opera. Beatrice was your grandmother´s name. I chose Austen because your mother always said she was your favorite author." Hermione huffed and turned to look out the window. "Well as long as I'm on a roll, I've got one more for you. I think the two of you should go on the lam."

"What is it with the sheep jokes today?" Ron asked.

"No, lam, not lamb." Marcus turned the car into a courthouse parking lot. "Go to ground, make yourselves scarce, get out of sight for a while. Go somewhere and start establishing your new identities. If Malfoy is half as diabolical as you say he is, he's probably going to start looking for you as soon as school gets out. He obviously knows you´re not dead."

"Care to tell us where we should go?" Hermione quipped from the back seat.

"I hear Paris is nice this time of year," Marcus replied helpfully.