As usual, my beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

Chapter 11: The Dinner

Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, July 16th, 2005

"Oh, Ron…"

He felt arms wrap around him from behind. A nude body pressed against his back. A chin on his shoulder, hair tickling his ear. Taking a deep breath, he smelt her scent. "Yes, love," he whispered, slowly turning around.

Then they were on the bed, him on top of her. Kissing. Her bushy hair covering the pillow...

Ron woke up, alone and feeling disoriented. Had he had that sort of dream, featuring Granger? Bloody hell, he must have had a pint too many last night. No, he'd only had the one pint Luna had liberated from the kitchen. Had it been tampered with, perhaps? Luna was smart, but she wasn't exactly a master thief, so, odds were, the kitchen staff were aware of her 'pilfering'.

He blinked. His room looked the same. No trouble with his eyes. His sense of balance was fine, too.

He sighed. Well, it had been a while since his last relationship. Or one-night stand. His work made having a relationship a little difficult. And Granger was about the only woman with whom he'd been spending time lately. Apart from Luna, of course. And Luna was his ex.

Totally normal. Probably.

A shave and a shower later, he went to the lounge, which served as their 'private' dining room as well. Harry was already buttering a scone at the table.

"Morning," Ron said, sitting down and grabbing the teapot.

"Morning," Harry replied. He didn't look or sound too chipper, Ron noticed.

"Did you have trouble sleeping?" he asked.

His friend shook his head. "No."

That didn't sound convincing. But before Ron could think of a way to dig a little without making Harry mad, Luna arrived, Granger in tow. Literally - she was holding her hand and dragging her along, from the looks of it.

"Good morning!" Luna announced. "Oh, scones!"

"We had scones yesterday as well," Granger said, frowning. "Morning."

"That's no reason not to enjoy them!" Luna replied, grabbing two before she had taken a seat.

Granger snorted and looked around. Ron handed her the teapot - he knew what she wanted first thing in the morning.

She didn't look like she had in his dream, he noted. And not just because she was dressed. Her hair wasn't free, but up in her usual messy ponytail. And she was grumpy and growling, not moaning. But the way she stood fit. And the proportions seemed to match, as far as he could tell with her wearing jeans and a T-shirt.

"Is something wrong?"

Ron blinked. He had been staring at her! He quickly shook his head. "Oh, no. Just wondering if Luna dragged you out of bed to here."

Her eyes widened, then narrowed, and he saw her baring her teeth when she frowned at him.

"Oh, no, I would never do that!" Luna said. "Unless it was an emergency, of course. But I dragged her out of her room."

Fortunately, the news started on the TV in the lounge before Granger had enough tea to tell him off.

"... and the Metropolitan Police have just confirmed that the main suspect in the murder and missing person case that culminated in a shoot-out leaving half a dozen dead in the middle of London a week ago is Chief Superintendent Corban Yaxley, a subordinate of Deputy Commissioner Rufus Scrimgeour and Commissioner Amelia Bones, the two murdered police officers. Officer Yaxley's current whereabouts are unknown, and he is considered armed and dangerous. Should you recognise him, do not confront him. Remove yourself to a safe place and inform the police at once."

Ron snorted at the picture that illustrated the news report. Someone had found the most unflattering shot of Yaxley for the press release. "Finally!" he exclaimed. "It was about time…"

"Shhh!" Luna interrupted him, pressing a finger against her lips. "It's not finished yet!"

And, indeed, Granger's picture - quite a bit more flattering - appeared on the screen. "There has been no news regarding the fate of missing scientist Dr Hermione Granger, though usually informed sources claim that she, like her parents, was in protective custody and that the police officers guarding her haven't yet come forward because Commissioner Bones warned them about possible moles in the force before her death. The Metropolitan Police have declined to comment."

"Anyone want to bet Dumbledore had a hand in how quickly they changed their tunes about us?" Harry asked. "We've gone from 'suspicious police officers with a troublesome past' to 'diligent bodyguards'."

"That's a fool's bet," Luna replied. "The question should be: Who arranged for you to come under suspicion in the first place?"

Ron shrugged. "Wouldn't take much. We've made our share of enemies. Both in the police and outside." And they had some - minor - incidents on their files which someone could blow out of proportion.

"The Skeeter I knew," Granger said, "thrived on this sort of scandal-mongering. And she'd do it just to sell more newspapers. Completely amoral."

"Our version is a little more careful," Ron pointed out. "And her name didn't appear to be connected to the news reports."

"That doesn't have to mean anything. She could already be writing a new book, and any scandal centred on you would help with advertising," Luna said.

Ron could imagine that. On the other hand, Dumbledore probably had a lot more influence - and Ron couldn't tell what the old man might think would serve his goals best: them being fully cleared or them remaining under suspicion. Both situations had their advantages and drawbacks.

He'd have to gather more intel about Dumbledore - and about Grindelwald.

But first, he had to talk to Harry. His friend was… looking happy now? Ron suppressed a frown. Talking to Harry without anyone listening would be a little tricky. "Better eat a light meal," he told Granger and the others, "we have our morning run to do."

Granger groaning he had expected. Luna's lack of enthusiasm he hadn't. "But it's raining!" she protested.

"Fitness doesn't care about the weather," he replied.

"Fitness does care about getting a cold!" Luna retorted. "And it's raining."

"There's no bad weather, only unsuitable clothing," Ron told her.

"That was Percy's line when he chased us out of your home to play," Harry said. "And you know he only did that so we wouldn't bother him when he had Penny over."

Ron hadn't known it back then, of course. "That doesn't make it wrong," he pointed out. He wasn't about to wink; Harry already knew why he wanted to go on a run. "Besides, since we don't know what we'll face once Dr Granger finishes her portal, it only makes sense to be physically fit. Just in case."

That convinced her; he could see her pressing her lips together as she inclined her head. She didn't like it, but she saw sense. But then she suddenly frowned. "You plan on coming with me?"

Of course. "Yes. We're your bodyguards, aren't we?" he added, to sound less pushy.

"And I'll come because I'm your friend!" Luna piped up. "And because I want to meet my counterpart! It'll be fascinating! Like having a twin sister! And a second Daddy! We'll be a whole family!"

Ron suppressed a wince - the loss of her mum was still hurting her and her dad. He was almost glad her counterpart had lost her mum as well - if there was a Pandora Lovegood in Granger's world, Luna might not want to come back.

Like Granger, he thought, pressing his lips together. Her family and friends were waiting for her. Or so she hoped. And her world, in more than one sense.

"Let's meet outside in five minutes," he said, finishing his tea. A fast run was just the thing to clear his mind of these depressing thoughts.

"So… what was so important that you had to run them into the ground?" Harry asked in a low voice behind Ron as they stretched.

Ron felt a little guilty - and dirty - as he glanced at Luna and Granger. They had collapsed and lain down on the grass in the small clearing where they had taken their first break, uncaring of the drizzle hitting their faces as they struggled to recover their breath. "Technically, they did that to themselves, trying to keep up," he defended himself. The pace Ron had set had been challenging, indeed - for him and Harry.

"Yeah, right. As if we'd let them run at their own pace by themselves," Harry replied.

Ron cleared his throat. "What are you going to do now that we're about to be cleared?" he asked, changing the subject.

Harry shrugged. "What we agreed on: staying with Granger. And Luna, now."

"I didn't mean that," Ron said. Though it was nice to have confirmation that there hadn't been a change of plans. "Will you be meeting Ginny?"

"That wouldn't be smart," Harry replied.

Ron snorted. He knew an evasive answer when he heard one.

Harry glared at him. "I want to, but it would endanger our cover."

"Well, she's pretty famous," Ron remarked. Which was a slight understatement. And which was, in hindsight, a little odd. "I wonder why the newspapers didn't bother her about the affair."

"She's probably gone to ground," Harry said. "But they should have mentioned her, you're right."

Ron muttered a curse under his breath. "Do you think Dad got Dumbledore to pull some strings?"

"We'd have to ask him."

"You're training in dodging today, I see," Ron remarked. He ignored Harry glaring at him again.

"I want to see Ginny. Happy now?" his friend spat.

"Well, we should be able to arrange that, once we're fully cleared and Yaxley's caught."

Harry scoffed. "That would be putting her in danger. Whoever's behind Yaxley will follow her. And even if Dumbledore manages to protect her, it would mean that he's got more leverage on us."

That was true, Ron knew. But he also knew that it didn't really matter. "He already has Dad in his pocket. And do you think he wouldn't offer to arrange for Ginny to visit us if he thinks it'll make us feel indebted to him?"

Harry's curse would have even gotten Mum, who adored the bloke and still saw the poor orphan boy Harry hadn't really been, to scold him.

"So, might as well meet her anyway - she'll be furious if she thinks you didn't want to meet her," Ron told him.

Harry scoffed again, but Ron caught a faint smile on his face as they went to get Granger and Luna so they could continue their run.

At the second break, near the shore - not planned, but necessitated by the pace Ron had set at the start - Granger approached him. "Did you have to run us into exhaustion just so you could talk privately with Harry?"

He didn't try to deny it. She wouldn't buy it. "When did you figure it out?" he asked, instead.

"Just now," she admitted. She looked a little embarrassed, but after running three-fourths of the route, she was red-faced from the exertion, so he couldn't tell if she was also blushing.

"Ah."

"Couldn't you have just told us that you wanted to have a private talk?"

That made him feel embarrassed. "Now that you mention it, yes. I could have."

"And why didn't you?"

He shrugged. "Habit. I grew up with six nosy siblings. Fred and George were especially bad - still are, actually, just in case you ever meet them - so if I'd told them I wanted to have a private talk with Harry, they'd have gone to even greater lengths to listen in. And you and Luna would behave more naturally if you didn't know the reason for the run."

"More naturally out here, where we weren't under surveillance?"

He grinned at her. "Would you believe me if I told you that I was taught to pay attention to the smallest detail when creating a cover story?"

"Yes."

Right, she knew Moody's counterpart. "Let's blame my instructor, then."

"As long as you don't repeat this stunt," she replied.

"Alright."

The looked at each other for a moment. Just long enough for the sudden silence to become awkward. "You should stretch," he told her. "You pushed yourself hard today."

"You pushed me," she retorted.

"As I recall, it was more like leading. I ran, and you followed. No pushing was involved - on my side."

She glared at him, then sniffed. "You told us to keep up."

"And you always do what you're told?"

"You are in charge of our training," she retorted.

"And now I'm telling you to stretch."

He could almost hear her jaw snap together and feel the heat from her glare. But she was stretching.

His smile slipped a little when he remembered what she had told him about 'accidental magic'. Perhaps he really shouldn't push her too much. Or lead her, in this case.

"I'll hold you responsible if I don't make as much progress in my work today as planned!"

A little late, but she had retorted, he noted. Well, he already knew that she was passionate and stubborn.

Too stubborn for her own good, Ron thought hours later, when he looked into her room and saw that Granger had fallen asleep at her desk, not on the bed right next to her. Shaking his head, he went in.

Once again, he noted how she looked softer when asleep. Usually, she was always pushing. Herself, or others. Driven. But when she was sleeping… He snorted. She wasn't drooling on her notes, but she had an ink smudge on her cheek.

He could tuck her in - she wasn't as slender as Luna was, but he wouldn't have any trouble lifting her, and the bed was right next to the desk. And she certainly needed the rest.

But it was dinner time, and she needed food as well. So he reached out and gently shook her shoulder. "Wake up!"

She didn't shoot awake but slowly opened her eyes, blinking and looking confused as she saw him. "Ron?"

He felt a small pang of guilt. And jealousy. "That's Officer Ron," he joked.

"Oh. Sorry. I was… Dear Lord, I fell asleep at the desk!" She started to check her notes, ignoring his reassurances that she hadn't ruined them.

He knew better than to stop her and waited until she had stashed the notes in her beaded bag. "It's time for dinner."

"What? Already?"

"A few minutes past dinner time, actually," he told her with a smirk.

"Why didn't…" She bit her lower lip, trailing off. "Let's go, then."

"After you, Dr Granger." He held the door open with an exaggerated flourish.

"Officer Weasley." She walked past with a curt nod and toss of her head that could have fit into a number of fantasy novels he had read.

Which reminded him. "Say, Dr Ganger…" he said as he followed her out of her room, "did you read a lot of fantasy when you were younger?"

She narrowed her eyes at him for a moment. He grinned - he wasn't talking about magic, even if he was skirting the line a little.

"I haven't read a fantasy book since I was eleven."

"Ah." He forced himself to look embarrassed and add: "Sorry" - Dumbledore would assume they were talking about her kidnapping, not her entering magic school.

"It's OK. It's in the past."

"Ever tried picking up the habit again? A lot has changed in the last ten years."

"I'm too busy for such diversions," she replied as they entered the lounge.

"Hi, Hermione! Ron, what took you so long?" Luna asked.

"I had to wake her up." That earned him another glare from Granger and a giggle from Luna, but it was worth it to shut down any off-colour jokes about needing a chaperone from Harry before his friend could make them.

It wasn't like that, anyway. A wet dream didn't mean anything. Certainly not at his age.

Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, July 17th, 2005

Ron groaned after waking up. A second wet dream involving Granger didn't mean anything, either. Other than that he was probably going stir-crazy. Which a good run would help with. Should. The shower wouldn't help, though. Too close to the dream. Perhaps a cold shower… Yes.

He nicked himself while shaving, his concentration broken when he had a disturbing thought: Was this perhaps some 'bleed over' from her Ron? Some connection across the dimensions? A psychic or magical link? Granger had mentioned something about Harry - her Harry - being tied to the Dark Lord, hadn't she?

He'd have to ask her for more details. Without letting her know the reason. After breakfast. Well, the light breakfast they took before the run.

His chance came an hour later, at their break. He hadn't set a punishing pace this time, but he hadn't gone easy on her, either. So she wasn't exhausted but still needed a short break. He watched her stretch - correctly, as he had shown her - then glanced around. Harry and Luna were a little too close. "Did anyone spot a bug? The electronic kind," he clarified.

"Oh! You think they started hiding them in the forest?" Luna perked up. "That would be just like a corporation built on blood! Spying on people and harming the environment at the same time!" She got up from where she had made a 'grass snow angel' and started to look around for listening devices.

Harry sent him a look, and Ron nodded at Luna, then at Granger. His friend shook his head at him but turned to follow Luna, as Ron had known he would. Which left Ron to talk to Granger in peace.

"I thought you said you wouldn't try such stunts any more." She wasn't amused.

"I didn't. You didn't have any trouble keeping up, did you?"

She scoffed. "You would make a good lawyer, weaselling your way through loopholes."

He ignored the barb at his name - after seven years in the same school as Malfoy, there weren't many insults that he hadn't heard often enough to grow bored of them. "Knowing how to bend the rules is essential to be an effective police officer."

"I notice that you didn't say 'a good police officer'."

He shrugged with a grin. "We get results."

"And your colleagues don't, I guess. Yaxley is still at large, after all." Her smile wasn't that friendly.

"He might be already dead, the body dissolved in acid. Or dropped into wet cement."

"Do you think so?" She changed positions, hands on the trunk and bending her knee while stretching her other leg.

He shook his head. "No. He's too smart for that. If he were that dumb, he wouldn't have been in CI5 for this long. If he's really smart, he'll be on some tropical island by now, with a fake ID and some dirty money he's laundered."

"His counterpart wasn't very smart."

"Which is why I don't think he left Britain," Ron said. "Anyway, I wanted to ask you something."

"Something you don't want anyone to overhear." She nodded. "Go ahead."

"You said Harry's counterpart was tied to Voldemort through his scar."

She pursed her lips and stopped stretching. "I didn't exactly say that."

"Cursed scar, ties to the Dark Lord, fated to face him…" He smiled at her glare.

"Yes."

"Did that happen to others?" he asked.

"I've never heard of another case - but few would have made such an event public." She shrugged a little, then rubbed her shoulders. "Why do you want to know?"

"I was wondering if someone could have a tie to their counterpart. It would be a huge security risk if one of our enemies had such a source of information."

"Oh." She nodded. "That would be a problem. Although most of the people who could do us much harm were dead when I left - or are dead here."

"That didn't stop the Dark Lord, did it?"

"He was a special case. And he had a link to Harry through his cursed scar." She smiled thinly. "In order to duplicate that feat, a dark wizard would have to curse someone from this world. And if they could do that, they would be here - and would have used magic against us already."

"Ah." That was comforting. In a morbid way. "Are prophetic dreams real in your world?"

She frowned at that. "No. Divination is nonsense. Real prophecies are very, very rare."

She sounded quite invested in this, he noticed. "Speaking from experience?"

"No," she spat. "Or, yes, sort of - I took Divination until I realised it was nonsense. Harry and Ron - my friends - took it as well, and they made up all their dreams and visions, and the teacher never noticed."

"Ah." Ron smiled. It was reassuring to hear that he wasn't being influenced by the soul or spirit or psychic echo of Granger's lover.

But that meant that he dreamed of her because he was attracted to her or because he was so randy, his subconscious was fixating on the closest woman.

Neither was a very reassuring thought.

Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, July 18th, 2005

Ron had to hand it to Dumbledore: The man had kept his word. At least to Granger - she was currently ordering a dozen men and women around in order to get her new lab set up just as she wanted it. Like a queen ruling her realm.

"No, no - that terminal needs to be all the way back at the wall. Move it!"

"Hey! Stop that - that needs to be in the exact centre of the room. And you! Don't drill a hole there!"

"What did I say about the computers? You need to run their power lines around the room, not through the centre! The magnetic field they could produce might ruin an experiment otherwise!"

A queen that might be inciting a revolution among her subjects - Granger wasn't the most diplomatic woman on a good day, and this wasn't a good day. Too much stress. Ron shook his head as he leaned against the wall next to the entrance to the lab. Perhaps he'd have to act as a bodyguard and protect her from angry workers. Workers, he reminded himself, who Dumbledore trusted to keep a secret - they weren't just the hired help. And they weren't used to being micromanaged, either.

Granger glowered at the last worker she had addressed, then walked over to Ron, sighing. "This will take longer than planned," she said. "I didn't expect that I would need to explain everything twice. Dumbledore should have sent people who can follow directions!"

Ron glanced around, but they were far enough away that, with the noise from the drills and other power tools, no one seemed close enough to overhear her. "They are experienced employees," he told her, "and they're probably used to just getting told what they have to do, not how to do it."

"Hmph. That only works if they know what they need to do. And they don't! I'm the physicist here!"

He shrugged. "It's not their fault - you are breaking new ground, aren't you? I doubt that most physicists would know what you need." And she was planning to use magic as well.

She frowned, but then bit her lower lip. "I guess I might have been a little too harsh."

"A little bit." He didn't quite grin at her, but judging by her scowl, his tone had given his thoughts away.

She huffed and turned to look at the workers in the centre of the room.

"Not going to apologise?" he asked.

"No."

"Ah." He shouldn't have taken such a condescending tone. But he couldn't resist.

She glanced at him with her lips pressed together. After a moment, she sighed again. "I might have been a little rude, but it wouldn't have happened if they had been following my instructions to the letter."

"And you don't want to admit that you were also in the wrong," he replied.

She huffed and went to her temporary desk without another word.

Watching her go and shuffle paper, he felt both satisfied and disappointed. And a little bit guilty.

Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, July 19th, 2005

"Someone important is coming to visit," Harry said as they approached the building on their morning run.

"Either Dumbledore or Grindelwald - or both," Ron agreed. They were running at a quite comfortable pace; Granger would be insufferable if he ran her into the ground right when she was about to finish her new lab. More insufferable.

"What?" Granger asked.

"There are more guards than usual, and Filch was up already, inspecting his crew," Ron explained. "And weren't the workers in your lab making more of an effort yesterday evening?"

She didn't answer that. He hadn't expected her to, either - she hadn't talked to him much since yesterday. The woman could hold grudges. "Ah," she said after a moment.

"Oh, the spymaster returns!" Luna cut in, blurting out a sentence per breath while she ran. "Will he arrive in a submarine? Did you have magical submarines, Hermione?"

"No, we didn't. There were spells which let you breathe underwater. We had a giant squid, though."

"A giant squid?" Ron blurted out. He hadn't heard about that. Was she taking the mickey?

"Really?"

"Don't squids need salt water?" Harry asked.

"Normally, yes," Granger replied. "This was an exception. He served as a lifeguard when the first-years used the boats."

"What?" Ron shuddered. To be dragged out of the water by a giant tentacle with suction cups...

"Oh!" Luna exclaimed. "Was he sapient or just well-trained?"

"I don't know," Granger replied. "It's sometimes hard to tell with magical creatures. Or with some wizards and witches," she added and Ron could hear her smirk.

"Your school was crazy," he told her.

"Yes, it was," she agreed.

And she was missing it anyway. Ron felt guilty again. But they reached the building, and there was no more time to talk about magic.

Ron frowned at the mirror as he adjusted his tie. Unlike the suit he was wearing, which fit him well, the tie was proving a little difficult to handle. His first attempt had resulted in the tie being too short, the next had left it too long.

He snorted. Why did he care about the length of his tie? They were in a secret lab, not at a gala. And it wasn't as if he were wearing a tailor-made suit, either.

But he wanted to look good. With the effort being spent on this dinner - suits had been provided for Harry and himself, dresses for Granger and Luna - he didn't want to look like he shouldn't be there. Mum and Dad had raised him better than that. It wasn't the money, but the manners - something Malfoy had never wanted to accept.

And Ron didn't want to look bad next to Harry, who cut a dashing figure in a suit, as he knew from experience. And from Ginny's pictures and stories.

His tie finally adjusted, he brushed a piece of lint from his shoulder, checked if his guns were showing - they weren't - and left his room.

Harry was already waiting in the lounge, looking sharp, as Ron had expected. And grumpy, too. "What a load of… whatever," his friend complained. "We look like we're going to a ball. We're even waiting for the girls. It's just a dinner invitation."

"Did you ever tell Ginny what you think about balls?" Ron asked with a faint smirk.

"Do I look like I'm a fool?" Harry shot back.

Ron chuckled. "Well…"

His friend rolled his eyes. "She loves them."

Indeed, Ron's sister liked being the centre of attention. As the youngest of his siblings, and the only girl, she was used to being treated like a princess. And becoming a - minor - celebrity in her own right hadn't exactly helped there.

Harry, though, loathed balls. Ron's friend was frowning at him, he noticed. "We don't go to many balls," he said.

"Unless you count fancy parties as well," Ron pointed out.

"Those are different."

"Just because there are no formal dances?"

"Yes."

Ron was about to point out that those dances were what little princess Ginny loved the most at balls, but then Luna and Granger finally appeared in the hallway.

He blinked and almost whistled. Granger cleaned up really well. Luna, too, of course, but he already knew that. But Granger almost seemed like a different person in her little black number instead of her usual clothes. Sensible shoes, he noted - not flats, but the high heels weren't too high. And nice legs. Even her hair looked nice, framing her face in soft waves instead of being tied back in a bushy ponytail.

"You two look nice!" Luna announced. "Don't they, Hermione?"

Granger nodded, a little stiffly, Ron thought, as she said: "Yes, one could say that." She did seem a little too self-conscious for the occasion. "I guess Dumbledore wants us to make a good impression."

"Well, you'll certainly succeed at that," Ron told her. "Both of you," he quickly added, ignoring Harry's snort.

"Indeed," his friend remarked.

"I would prefer to impress people with my mind," Granger replied.

"You can be pretty and smart," Luna said. "Don't let old men - and some young ones - tell you otherwise! That false dichotomy is just another tool of the conspiracy to divide us!"

Ron cleared his throat before Luna could go into details - her unhappy experiences at school hadn't been solely because of blonde stereotypes, but they had certainly contributed. "So, shall we?" He offered Granger his arm without thinking, and, for a moment, both of them seemed to freeze.

Then she took his arm. "Let's go, then."

As they walked down the hallway towards the lift, he kept an eye out - and one on her. "Say…"

"Yes?"

"Did you adjust the dress?" She'd know that he meant 'with magic'.

"No, I didn't," she replied. "I don't have the necessary tools, even if I wanted to alter a dress."

Ah. "It fits you perfectly," he pointed out. And it looked nice on her, which didn't matter, of course.

"Thank you." She flashed him a smile - a pleased smile. She didn't understand.

"As if it had been tailor-made for you," he went on.

"Oh." Now she got it.

He nodded. How had Dumbledore's men managed to get her sizes without her - or him - noticing?

"I guess my tailor's computer security is poor," she said.

"You had dresses tailored for you?" Ron asked before he could help himself.

She frowned at him. "Once. At my... family's request. For a celebration."

"Ah."

"I don't see the need to spend more money on tailor-made clothes," she continued.

"I didn't think you would."

And there was the glare he was so familiar with - until she suddenly laughed.

He blinked. Oh. "What did my counterpart do?" he asked.

"You don't want to know," she said, with a slightly sad-looking smile.

But Ron did want to know. Very much, actually. Even though he didn't know why.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," Dumbledore greeted them as they entered what Ron had overheard the staff call 'the Presidential Suite'. "May I introduce you to my dear friend Gellert Grindelwald?"

"Good evening." The other man in the room, which was quite a bit bigger than their lounge, nodded at them as he stepped closer.

Ron looked him over. Dumbledore had a slight paunch, but Grindelwald made him look almost fat; the former German spy was rail-thin. And looked tough as leather - a far cry from his jovial partner.

"Mr Potter. Mr Weasley." The man met Ron's eyes but seemed to dismiss him at once, focusing on Granger. "Dr Granger. I've been looking forward to making your acquaintance." He had a slight German accent. Probably put-on, Ron thought - a spy turned CEO would have learnt perfect English, especially if living with Dumbledore.

"Good evening, Mr Grindelwald." Granger looked and sounded composed and polite, Ron noticed.

"Gellert's been badgering me to arrange this visit," Dumbledore cut in with his usual smile.

"It's a fascinating tale. And a priceless opportunity," Grindelwald said, nodding. His lips twisted slightly, subtly signalling some doubt.

For all her occasional lack of social graces, Granger, of course, had to pick up on that. She was probably used to people at Imperial doubting her. Ron saw her raise her chin and frown at the German. "I will deliver what I promised."

"Don't you trust your partner's judgement, Mr Grindelwald?" Luna spoke up. She was frowning as well, and much more noticeably, with an added pout.

"Trust but verify, Miss Lovegood," Grindelwald replied with a slight sneer.

"Words to live by," Dumbledore cut in. "Shall we sit down? I've found that most meetings run more smoothly if people are more comfortable. And I have it on good authority that our meal deserves to be eaten at a proper table." He smiled, seemingly unfazed by the latent hostility, and gestured towards the table in the back.

As soon as they had taken their seats, a waitress started serving the hors d'oeuvres - bite-sized meat pies. Quite delicious, as Ron discovered.

"One of the few pieces of English cuisine of which Gellert ever grew fond," Dumbledore commented.

His friend snorted. Once. Ron wasn't sure whether that was affected as much as the man's accent - Ron knew the stereotypes about Germans - or if it was genuine.

"My compliments to the chef," Granger said. Luna signalled her agreement with an appreciative noise.

Ron nodded. "It's very tasty."

Dumbledore beamed at them, though Grindelwald soon did his best to ruin the mood again: "While Albus, as usual, deduced a great deal, I do think it all sounds a little fantastic. Another dimension? A parallel world? Counterparts so close to us, even the DNA matched, so you could pass for a kidnapping victim?"

"If you remove the impossible, what remains is the truth," Dumbledore said.

Grindelwald scoffed in reply. "Or the impossible. I haven't seen any proof so far."

"If I could prove it easily, I wouldn't be here," Granger retorted.

"Really?" Grindelwald scoffed. "What about the device you used to save Mr Weasley?"

"What?" Granger froze for a moment, and Ron barely kept himself from wincing.

"You claim you have no proof, yet you cling to the same ugly, ratty bag you were found with after your arrival - you even take it with you on your runs," the German said before picking up and eating another pie.

"You searched my room!" Granger shot back.

"The staff uses your absences to clean it and do the laundry," Dumbledore cut in. "Like in a hotel."

And then reported to him. Which had been obvious - at least to Ron. That was part of the reason they only talked about magic on their runs. And once more, Granger was spilling information.

"I analysed the reports and records from the shoot-out in the park. There's no known method to achieve the 'cloud of darkness' that covered Mr Weasley," Grindelwald said.

"There you have your proof, then," Granger retorted.

"A deduction. Not quite proof." The old man's smile was a far cry from Dumbledore's. Hard and triumphant.

"What I used was a limited resource," Granger told him.

"And I'm very grateful she used it, despite it being irreplaceable," Ron cut in. "I was in a sticky situation."

"Sticky indeed," Dumbledore said. "There was a lot of blood on the ground - I would have assumed that you were gravely wounded, if not for seeing you here, hale and healthy."

Ron forced himself to keep smiling and nodded. "Yes." He wouldn't show any reaction. Even though the two old men were already aware that he had been hurt.

"Another irreplaceable resource, I assume," Grindelwald said with obviously fake sincerity.

For a change, Granger didn't reply.

But it wasn't because she had managed to bite her tongue, Ron realised with a glance.

"Episkey! Episkey! Episkey!"

It wasn't working. The wounds weren't closing. It was a dark curse.

"Vulnera Sanentur!"

She all but yelled the incantation, then sighed with relief as she saw the wounds close. But he had lost a lot of blood. She reached into her bag and pulled out a Blood-Replenishing Potion.

"What are you doing?"

She froze at the acerbic tone. Snape.

"Saving Neville," Harry spat.

"You're wasting time." The professor - she would never call him 'Headmaster' - sneered. "Time your friends are buying for you with their lives. What use is it to waste a valuable potion on him if he'll pointlessly die anyway so long as you don't accomplish your task?"

"You bloody git! He's our friend!" Ron roared.

"He's not going to bleed out any more." Snape sneered and flicked his wand. A moment later, Neville opened his eyes and groaned. "There. Healthy, if not hale. Now go and destroy the last Horcrux before the last of your allies falls to the Dark Lord!"

"What?" Neville asked, blinking. Then he focused on Harry. "Go! We'll hold them."

She bit her lower lip. But Harry nodded - with clenched teeth. "He's right. Let's go!"

And she stashed the potion in her bag again as she followed her friends to the Room of Requirement.