Disclaimer: It's all JKR's.

It was a cold night, and pelting rain was incessantly battering the man's face. Ron Weasley was out on patrol through Knockturn Alley. Although there was no longer the threat of Voldemort, there would always be trouble, and as an Auror it was his job to stop trouble in its tracks. Since he did not have much to do back at the Ministry, he had decided to patrol for a while, despite the abysmal weather.

A young girl was struggling against the wind, dragging a small suitcase behind her. "Excuse me!" Ron yelled, although his words were lost to the wind. She stopped and he squinted at her. "Do you need some help?"

She motioned for him to step inside the bar they were in front of. As they stood, dripping inside the dimly lit tavern, Ron took in her appearance. She looked to be fifteen, maybe sixteen or seventeen at the most, with warm brown eyes, delicate features and hair that was dyed a multitude of colours. She was petite, but curvy, and wandering this area at night, alone, she was bound to run into trouble.

"Where are you headed?" he asked. "This isn't the kind of place young girls your age should wander alone at night."

"I'm running away," she sniffed indignantly. "I was headed for Diagon Alley, but with this rain it was hard to see and I must have taken a wrong turn."

They had taken a table, and Ron was attempting to ignore all the illegal activities that were going on around him. "Why would you want to run away?"

"My mum, and my brother. I've got a twin brother and he's bloody perfect. He's top in his class at Hogwarts and he's the star Keeper of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. So my mum is always fawning over him, 'Gregory is such a good influence, why don't you take after him Clara?' Ugh. I hate it, him, and her." After a pause she continued. "Why am I telling you this? For all I know you could be a serial rapist who's going to take me off and... oh I'm sorry, that's such a rude thing to say."

Ron smiled, this girl was just like every other socially awkward teenager. "No worries, I don't pose any threat, I'm an Auror. So where are you planning to run away to?"

She smiled hopefully. "I've got a modelling offer with Tag Henderson in New Zealand. I'm going to be a world-famous fashion model!"

He gasped. "The Tag Henderson? Of ModellInc?"

"Yeah, you know him?"

"Not personally, but we've been trying to hunt him down for nearly a year. He's been raping and killing young witches like yourself, six or so. He's lured them to whatever foreign country under the false pretence that he runs a modelling company, ModellInc."

"What? I don't believe you!" The indignant look on Clara's face shocked him. Being six feet four inches tall, Ron look very intimidating and usually had no trouble convincing people of anything.

"Do you want me to show you the file? It's against Ministry policy, but I really could care less right now." After a short wave of his wand, the Tag Henderson file had appeared. Inside the manila folder were pictures of six beautiful teenage girls, all of them with the unmistakably bluish-gray skin of the dead.

Clara gasped and the way she brought her hand to her mouth and sucked in breath reminded Ron oddly of someone. "I...I could have been in there," she whispered, letting out a shaky breath.

After a few more seconds, to really let the gravity of what the pretty young girl had almost gotten herself into Ron offered to take her home. She gladly accepted and within moments they were Flooing to her house. Coughing and soot-covered, the odd couple entered a small, but blissfully warm living room.

"Mum?" Clara called tentatively, her eyes darting around the room, as if expecting her mother to leap out from behind a chair, or one of the many bookshelves.

Within milliseconds, a petite young woman burst into the room. Her sizable brown hair had been pushed into a bun and she was dressed in a business outfit. "Clara! I am... beyond angry with you! I cannot believe you would do such a brainless, selfish, risky thing!" She turned her attention to Ron, who was attempting to make a quiet escape. "And you, thank you so much for returning my – Ron?"

As he turned and took a better look at the woman, Ron realized exactly who he was dealing with. "Hermione?"

Hermione turned a sick, pale colour. "Clara, go to your room," she muttered, shooting daggers at her ginger-haired guest. As her daughter trudged out of the room, she turned to Ron. "What in the blazes were you doing to Clara?" she demanded, gesturing for him to sit in a crimson armchair.

"I'm an Auror now Hermione, and I was patrolling Knockturn Alley when I found Clara on her way to Tag Henderson's modelling company."

Hermione gasped, and Ron knew why he had recognized Clara's action at the bar. Before she could speak, a teenaged boy shuffled into the room. He had a head full of unruly brown curls, and sapphire blue eyes. "Mum, Clara's up in her room and... oh sorry, I didn't know you had company," he mumbled awkwardly, ears turning bright red.

A scary thought passed through Ron's head, but he set that idea aside as soon as the boy left the room.

"I didn't know you had gotten married," he said cooly after a few awkward moments. She had promised that she would wait...

"I didn't," she replied in an equally frosty manner.

"But..." Ron dared not to say the inevitable.

"You're just as thick as you were in school. Ron, I'm sorry you have to find out like this, but there's no other way I can put it. Clara and Gregory are your kids."