Once more, My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

Chapter 18: The Kiss

East of Prizren, Kosovo, August 2nd, 2005

As the helicopter tore through the sky, Ron held Hermione. Kissed her, heedless of the mud and dirt covering both of them. They were safe. She was safe. They had made it.

She was in his lap, arms round him, hands pressing against his back. He could feel her heartbeat. Feel her warmth. Feel her lips. Her tongue.

They broke the kiss, panting. And not just from that last sprint to the helicopter. He smiled at her. "We're safe," he said.

She blinked. She couldn't hear him, he realised. Not with the infernal noise of the chopper's engines drowning out every word. He had to laugh at that. It was just too silly - he hadn't even noticed the noise until now.

She laughed as well, still in his arms. They started kissing again.

And then Harry, the git, pushed headsets with ear protectors - earphones - towards them. Granted, Ron's friend was grinning from ear to ear, but still - the moment was lost. Hermione let go of him to pull on the headset, and he followed suit.

"Testing, testing," he said after adjusting the throat mike.

"Loud and clear," Harry replied.

"Yes," Hermione added, still fiddling with hers.

"Where are the others?" Ron asked.

"Back at the base," Harry replied.

Not the safehouse, then. "Base?" Were these people actually KFOR soldiers?

"Our employer set up a helicopter with ground support," his friend explained.

"I assume the NATO forces don't know about them," Hermione said.

"That's right," Harry confirmed. "Officially, it's a medevac flight for a British citizen. Which is kind of true, actually, seeing as Sirius was hurt."

"How's he doing?" Ron asked.

"He's fine. He was complaining that he wasn't allowed on the chopper, of course."

"Ah." Ron glanced around. There were two soldiers in the helicopter, both manning machine guns by the doors.

"They don't know our names," Harry answered before Ron could ask. "Hence the code names we used on the radio."

"Ah." So it hadn't just been Sirius being an officer.

"This channel is secure?" Hermione asked.

"Luna checked it."

That was good enough for Ron, even though the constant secrecy was a pain. Being able to talk freely any time he wanted to had almost been worth being shot at and hunted. "Is she OK? And Ginny?"

He saw Harry take a deep breath. That wasn't a good sign. "This was the second time they were under fire," he told them after a moment. "And this time, the danger wasn't over after a few minutes."

Damn. Ron closed his eyes. They should never have let the two girls come along. He remembered the shakes he'd had after the first time he'd been in a shooting as a police officer. Not even catching Pettigrew had prepared him for that. He felt a hand on his thigh and looked up. Hermione was smiling at him, though in a sad way. He smiled back. She would know what they were going through right now. "They'll need help," he said.

"Yes," she agreed.

"I've talked with Ginny about it, but…" Harry shrugged.

Ron nodded, sighing. His sister was too stubborn for her own good.

"So…" Harry trailed off, looking back and forth between Ron and Hermione.

Ron ignored the unspoken question. It wasn't as if he knew what exactly was between them now, anyway. They hadn't talked about it. But they would have to. Once they had some privacy.

North of Prizren, Kosovo, August 2nd, 2005

The flight to the 'base' was very short. Ron shook his head when he realised that, as much as it had felt as if they were in the middle of nowhere when they had been running for their lives, they hadn't actually been very far from help. "We could have walked here in a day or two," he commented.

"I think you underestimate the terrain," Hermione replied as the helicopter touched down and they saw Sirius - his arm in a sling - as well as Ginny and Luna rush towards it, behind a ground crew with a refuelling vehicle and what looked like a replacement cockpit crew. And people carrying… cleaning devices? Oh, to scrub the decals labelling the machine as a NATO vehicle. He also spotted a stretcher with a figure wrapped in bandages - including their head. That would be Berisha.

"Stay in," Harry said, unnecessarily.

"Can't we take a shower and change our clothes?" Hermione asked.

"We'd rather not be here once the NATO forces check flight plans and radar contacts," Ron's friend replied. "You'll have to use wipes." He didn't quite manage to hide his grin.

"Arse," Ron muttered, but Harry ignored that, just as he ignored Hermione's glare.

"Oh my god! What did you do, wallow in mud?"

"Hi, Sis," Ron said with a wry grin. "It's camouflage."

"You posed as pigs and fooled your pursuers. Well done!" Luna said, getting in on the teasing.

"It might have worked better than what we actually did," Hermione replied.

Ron raised his eyebrows - he wouldn't have expected her to be a good sport about being teased. Then again, she would know what Luna and Ginny were going through. He nodded, forcing himself to smile. "Yeah. Not our finest hour."

"Oh?" Sirius said, stumbling a little as he tried to climb inside with one arm in a sling and the other busy waving off the men moving to assist him. "Do tell! We could do with better in-flight entertainment."

Sirius, on the other hand, was a veteran soldier and, therefore, fair game.

North of Tirana, Albania, August 2nd, 2005

"...and then Hermione dropped a cookbook on the spider," Ron said.

"That must have been terrible," Ginny commented, looking concerned.

Being shot at really must have shaken her. Ron winced at his own thought - his sister wasn't the bratty kid who annoyed him whenever she could get away with it any more.

"It was terrifying," Hermione replied. "I should have thought of that possible threat when we planned this."

"We all should have," Ron quickly added. In hindsight, it was obvious.

"We weren't planning on hiking through the wilderness," Harry pointed out. "We just planned to board a helicopter and fly to the Land Rover."

"Which, I have to point out, worked as planned," Sirius told them. "Despite a few problems."

"It was my fault!" Luna said suddenly. "I should have kept you from getting lost."

"No, it wasn't your fault," Hermione told her. "None of us thought this through as much as we should have. Least of all me, and I should have known since it was my potion and my plan."

"I should have had a box with a cushion for you," Luna insisted.

"We probably would have fallen out of it anyway," Ron pointed out. "And that couldn't be helped either, not with them shooting at us," he added before Ginny could feel guilty.

"Everyone made it out alright," Sirius said. "We lived, and we'll learn from this for next time."

"Next time?" Harry asked.

"We'll have to track down whichever bastard warned Berisha," Sirius replied. "And I don't think we can leave that to others. Not when we have to assume there was a leak."

Ron glanced over at the Albanian, who was sedated and strapped to a stretcher in the back of the compartment. Bandages covered his face - he would be passing for a burn victim. If anyone looked into the flight, they might connect it to the burned-out vehicle they had left behind. It wasn't much of a cover story, but it should keep Hermione's presence a secret. So they hoped, at least - but if there was a leak in the Phoenix Gruppe…

The pilot's voice interrupted their secure communications. "We'll arrive at Tirana International Airport in a few minutes."

"He didn't tell us to fasten our seatbelts and put our seats in the upright position," Ron muttered. Hermione laughed, and he smiled at her.

"Do we have to pose as medical professionals for the transfer?" he asked.

"Not you two," Harry told him and Hermione.

"You look more like patients," Ginny added. "What with all the mud."

"Don't tell me we can't even take a shower at the airport," Hermione protested. "If we arrive like this in Scotland, then analysing the mud could tell someone where we were." She glared at everyone.

She had a point, in Ron's opinion. And not just because he really wanted to wash off the dirt, mud and sweat he had accumulated during their 'detour'. "Yes. It would look really weird if we arrived like this."

Tirana International Airport, Albania, August 2nd, 2005

A mobile shower in a corner of the hangar, partitioned off with a few tarps hung from lines, wasn't exactly a luxury bathroom. But the water was warm, and it felt incredibly good to get clean again. Ron sighed loudly as he ran his hands through his - finally! - clean hair.

"Ron, hurry up! We need to take off in ten minutes!" Ginny called out from the other side of the tarp.

He sighed again, annoyed now, and turned off the water.

"No rest for the wicked," he mumbled while he grabbed a towel.

"Don't forget to take your dirty clothes with you."

"Yes, Mum," he snapped back.

Her laughter was short-lived but loud, though it felt a little forced. She was definitely affected by her close brush with death. And killing. Luna would be as well, of course, but she was better at hiding her emotions.

Though all he could do right now was be a good sport about the teasing.

He dressed himself in the clean clothes on the plastic chair in the corner and slicked his hair back - no time to blow-dry it. Well, it was a warm day. And it wasn't as if he had a mane like Hermione.

He tied his shoes and pulled the tarp back to slip out. Ginny was rolling her eyes at him. "Don't you ever complain again about me taking my time in the bathroom!" she told him.

"Sure, sure." It wasn't as if they lived at home any more.

His sister narrowed her eyes at him, then shook her head. "Let's go. Everyone's waiting for you. Hermione's waiting for you."

He saw her grin as she turned towards the plane and shook his head. Did she think they had sex while running for their lives? On the other hand, they had kissed in the helicopter. Harry would probably have told Ginny about it, the git. "It's not like that," he said.

"What is it like, then?" she asked, halfway to the plane.

"Complicated."

"Really?"

"Yes. And between her and me." There were lines he wouldn't let her cross, shock from being under fire or not.

She scoffed but didn't say anything else before they entered the plane, and then she went straight to her seat next to Harry - behind Sirius and Luna's row. Which left him the seat next to Hermione.

Hermione's hair was still wet and tied back in a ponytail, but he could spot where the first strands were about to escape. She had changed into a white T-shirt, black capris and trainers - like a tourist on a trip. And he could see that parts of her neck were sunburned.

She looked great.

"Hey," he said in a low voice.

"Finally dragged yourself out of the shower?" she asked with a grin.

He sighed, though he was smiling. "I see you've been listening to Ginny."

"Yes." She glanced forward. At Ginny, but also at Luna, Ron assumed.

Of course she would have realised the same thing he had - their counterparts were her best friends. And she had gone through the same, Ron was certain, when she had fought her first battle. Which, he reminded himself, had come far earlier than theirs. "I feel like a new man," he said.

"You look like a new man, too," she replied. "I almost forgot what you looked like under that 'camouflage'."

"It was necessary," he told her. "Like the disguises."

She snorted in response. "He knew who you were," she said with a nod towards the stretcher behind them, to which the still sedated Berisha was strapped. "And it won't be hard to tie me to you."

"You were in disguise as well," he pointed out. "Technically, you still are in disguise." At least her hair was dyed.

"Nothing that would fool a decent observer," she replied. "And our group? Quite distinctive. I wonder whether Dumbledore planned for this to happen."

"We can't assume everything that happens is according to one of his or Gellert's plans," Ron said. That would lead to paranoia.

She made a noncommittal noise. Not convinced, then. Ah, well - it certainly was more prudent to err on the side of caution when it came to those two old men.

A few moments passed without either of them saying anything. Then the plane started to taxi out of the hangar. A little late by his estimate.

That was the only delay, though - they went straight on to the runway and then on into the air. A few minutes later, they were almost at their travelling altitude. At least according to their pilot.

"So…" He trailed off. The middle of a plane wasn't exactly the best place to talk about whatever the two of them had. If they had anything. But the lab wouldn't be any better.

"Yes?"

What could he say? His prepared speech suddenly felt stilted and stupid. "I've been in some sticky situations with Harry, but I never wanted to kiss him," he blurted out.

She chuckled, apparently surprised by his comment. "I didn't think you would have." And now she was being evasive.

He wet his lips, then went on: "We kissed."

"Yes." She seemed guarded now. Almost wary.

"It wasn't just a reaction to the danger." He looked at her. Daring her to contradict him.

"You already said that," she replied, meeting his eyes.

"Yes."

They stared at each other for a few seconds. He wouldn't drop this. They had something - and he needed to know what it was. Needed to know what she was thinking. And feeling. Needed to know…

He jerked at the sudden exclamation.

"Oh, for the love of God! Just kiss each other, you idiots!"

Ginny definitely wasn't helping.

Perth Airport, Scotland, Britain, August 2nd, 2005

"I'm sorry."

"Yes." Ron rolled his eyes at Ginny's words as they gathered their luggage from the back of the plane while the others took Berisha to the waiting transport.

"I'm really sorry. But you were acting like a teenager. Both of you."

He took a deep breath and refrained from snapping at her. "We're not acting like teenagers." If they were, they probably would have snogged for the whole flight instead of sleeping. "Things are complicated."

"Are you still worried that she's pining for the other Ron? She kissed you!"

"That doesn't have to mean anything. We were under a lot of stress."

"Oh, you…" She shook her head. "I'll talk to her."

"No!" He reached out and grabbed her shoulder. She whirled and glared at him, and he released her at once. "Sorry." Ginny huffed. "But, please, don't meddle. We're not teenagers any more."

"Then don't act like a stammering boy!" she retorted.

He clamped down on his temper again. "Ginny, look, we just survived an ambush and a manhunt. We need to… to decompress and rest and recover before we deal with this."

"Oh." She started to nod, then suddenly frowned. "That's aimed at me, isn't it? I'm fine."

She huffed again and picked up her bags, then left the plane.

Ron sighed. Ginny wasn't fine. He could tell. But she wouldn't listen to him. Too stubborn, too proud.

He needed to talk to Harry about this. And to the others.

He sighed as he carried the rest of their luggage out of the plane.

What a mess.

Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, August 3rd, 2005

Filch was waiting for them in the garage when they returned to the laboratory. Ron had expected that, but it was good to have confirmation. Filch was one of Dumbledore's most trusted employees if he was not only in charge of guarding Hermione's lab but also among those who knew about Berisha.

Though if Filch was a mole, then this would be the perfect opportunity for him to silence Berisha. Not with just two men at his side, though. And Ron would bet that at least one of the men was keeping an eye on Filch for Dumbledore. The old man was an experienced spymaster, after all.

"Hello, my good man!" Sirius greeted Filch with a wide smile. "The luggage is inside; please don't drop it - parts of it are fragile."

Filch glared but didn't acknowledge the barb in any other way - was that a sign that Dumbledore was already running a mole hunt and Filch had to be on his best behaviour?

The two men moved to get Berisha's stretcher out of the second car while Filch looked on.

"I think I'll tag along," Sirius went on. "I could use some medical attention for my wounds. Did you hire a cute nurse while we were away?"

Filch slowly turned to face Sirius. "No," he said.

"What a pity."

"Sirius…" Harry sighed.

"Hey, I'm wounded - I need all the distractions I can get, due to the pain I'm in!"

"You are a pain," Hermione retorted.

"Oh, shot to the heart!" Sirius put a hand on his chest.

"No, in the arm," Harry said.

Ron glanced at Ginny and Luna; they were smiling at Sirius's antics, but it seemed a little subdued. He really had to talk to Harry.

But that could wait until later - it was early morning and while he had slept in the jet and in the car on the drive here, he was still tired. A few hours in a real bed would be great.

Dumbledore arrived hours later, during their late lunch. The old man looked as dapper as always. "Ah, I'm a little early, I see. Please forgive me for disturbing your meal," he said with his usual smile.

Ron didn't believe for a second that Dumbledore hadn't been aware of the fact that they were currently eating.

"Would you like some?" Luna replied. "There's enough, and the filet mignon is delicious."

"Don't mind if I do," he said. "I only had a sandwich on the way here - I had to deal with a few enquiries from NATO about an incident in Kosovo."

"Enquiries to whom?" Harry asked. "Have they tied you to the events?"

"Oh, no, rest assured that particular secret hasn't been spilt," Dumbledore told them. "But I decided to get involved personally. Some things are best solved with a little bribery and diplomacy."

"Because you haven't found the mole who betrayed us yet," Harry said, looking at him.

"If, of course, there is a mole." Dumbledore inclined his head as one of his men set down a plate for him. "I do hope that the guest you brought with you will be able to shed some light on this situation."

"And when will that happen?" Ron asked.

"In the evening, provided our guest recovers from being sedated on schedule. His condition isn't the best."

Ah. "That was the fault of his own men," Harry was quick to point out.

"And his betrayal," Luna added. "He wouldn't have been thrown around in the car if we hadn't been forced to capture him."

Dumbledore chuckled at that. "A pragmatic view. Though next time you kidnap someone, I would suggest securing them better." He glanced at Hermione. "And, perhaps, reduce the risk to your friends."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "Our plan worked perfectly. It was pure bad luck - a golden bullet, I think, is the term - that caused our unforeseen problems."

"Such things can be anticipated."

"That's why you had people in the area," Ron pointed out.

"What exactly happened?" Dumbledore asked.

"A shot hit the rear door just right so it swung open - right when we were climbing a slope. We fell out, and they couldn't stop," Ron said. "Fortunately, we fell into some bushes, so our pursuers didn't spot us as they drove past." It was the truth - from a certain point of view.

"Ah." Dumbledore finished his filet. "Should we be glad that our guest didn't fall out of the car as well?"

"More or less," Ron said, ignoring Harry's scowl. And Ginny's glare at the implied criticism of her driving. "In any case, we achieved our objective without losing anyone."

"Let's hope your luck holds. And that our guest will share his information." Dumbledore rubbed his chin. "He will be aware that, should he betray his partners, he'll become a liability. I think he will prove to be rather stubborn - and, contrary to the claims of my American colleagues, torture generally isn't very useful in such a situation. Even if it works, it usually takes quite some time to produce results, which then have to be verified through various means before they can be deemed actionable intelligence."

Hermione spoke before Ron could stop her. "There won't be any torture. I can make him talk easily."

"Oh? That is convenient, indeed."

Ron was certain that Dumbledore wasn't in the least surprised.

"Hermione." He caught her before she went to her lab. Now that he thought of it, it had been a small miracle that she hadn't gone straight there upon arriving in the morning. Or a sign of how exhausted she was.

"Yes?" She turned her head, lifting her chin slightly. She probably knew what this was about.

"About the serum…" He couldn't talk about magic in here.

"It's a truth serum. Non-reproducible with the resources available here," she replied, narrowing her eyes a little. "It's the best solution in our situation."

She was being a little too defensive, in his opinion. "Very few people can actually keep silent when being interrogated," he said. "Sooner or later, they start talking." He had experience in interrogating suspects, after all. And without using torture.

"And lying," she replied.

"It's harder to keep lies consistent than people think. Especially if statements can be verified with other sources." And Dumbledore would be aware of that.

"But Berisha will be aware that as soon as he talks, he becomes a liability to his partner or contact." She stared directly at him.

Or to Dumbledore, Ron added to himself.

"The serum is the easiest way to get information," she said. "And the most dependable."

Did she think Ron was annoyed at not getting to run the interrogation? He shook his head. "He'll want to analyse it."

"He can make an attempt, but duplicating it requires technology that we lack."

But it would still provide Dumbledore and Grindelwald with more information. As Ron had just said: It was hard to keep your lies consistent. Especially if there was more information available.

But they couldn't do anything about that any more. Not with regards to the Veritaserum, at least.

Even strapped to a metal chair, Berisha looked better than he had while being transported here. That didn't mean he looked well, of course. His gunshot wounds had been dressed, but without the bandages and wearing only underwear, his numerous bruises were clearly visible.

"He looks as if someone worked him over," Harry commented.

"We've got bruises as well," Ron replied, refraining from rubbing one of his.

"That argument never worked with Bones," his friend said.

Bones had been a little prejudiced, of course. Moody had been their mentor, but that didn't mean that they had adopted everything he had taught them. Like the 'old school' view on interrogating suspects. Not that it was currently very old school, what with the Americans calling torture 'enhanced interrogation'. And not to mention that the way this interrogation room had been set up also made it seem that this wasn't the first time Dumbledore's men had done this.

"You have the serum?" Dumbledore asked, sounding as if he were asking about the weather.

"Yes." Hermione pulled out a small pipette. "It's administered orally, so someone needs to hold his mouth open." She seemed entirely unaffected by the whole room.

Ron reminded himself that Hermione had done this before as well.

Dumbledore glanced at him and Harry. "If you would be so kind?"

Ron nodded. It wasn't as if they had a choice - apart from them, Dumbledore and Berisha, no one else was present. So he stepped up to Berisha, from an angle that wouldn't let the man spit at him.

"I won't talk," the man hissed instead. "You might as well kill me now."

Ron didn't reply. He merely grabbed Berisha's head and pulled it back, then forced his mouth open. The warlord tried to struggle, but he was tied up tightly, so nothing came of it.

Hermione stepped up, pipette in hand. A few seconds later, three drops fell into the man's mouth.

And Ron felt the man's struggles cease. He shivered a little as he let go of Berisha's head and stepped back. It wasn't a dark curse, not like the Imperius Curse Hermione had mentioned, but it was still mind-control, as far as he was concerned.

"It takes effect remarkably quickly," Dumbledore said.

"It's very effective," Hermione replied.

"How long does it last?"

"It varies, but usually about an hour," she said. "You'll notice when they start to recover - their eyes begin to focus again." She turned back to Berisha. "What's your name?"

"Burim Berisha," droned the drugged man.

"He's all yours," she said, nodding at Ron.

Perhaps she really thought he had been annoyed at not being allowed to interrogate Berisha without Dumbledore.

Ron forced the thought away. He had a criminal to interrogate. And he'd do it by the book.

"Do you know who hired your cousin Avni Berisha for the mission during which Avni was killed?"

"Yes."

Ah. Ron should have anticipated that. "Who hired Avni?"

"Anatole Sokolov."

"A Russian 'businessman' who works as a middleman for various people," Dumbledore said. "He often acts as the go-between when families are negotiating with kidnappers. He's been suspected to be a little too close to the kidnappers, but nothing has ever been proven. Presumably a former KGB member, but not a high-ranking one according to my information." Which came straight from MI6.

"Who told you that we might be visiting to ask after Avni's employer?" Ron asked.

"Anatole Sokolov."

"Do you know where he lives?"

"No."

"Do you know how he can be contacted?"

"Yes."

"How can he be contacted?"

"Call a phone number."

One that might have been abandoned as soon as Sokolov had heard about Berisha's abduction. Ah, well - Ron hadn't really expected this to be easy.

"What business did you have with Sokolov?" He continued the interrogation. Every little bit of information could be crucial, after all. Every little bit except certain details about their escape.

An hour later, the Veritaserum's effect was starting to fade. Ron watched as Berisha blinked more and more, until his slack jaw suddenly snapped up, and his eyes widened. "You… you…" A tirade of curses - or so Ron assumed - in Albanian followed.

Of course, realising that you had spilt everything about your criminal enterprise in an interrogation because of a truth drug would have such an effect on anyone.

"You really shouldn't have tried to ambush us," Harry told him.

More profanity followed. Berisha pulled on his bindings again, but they held.

"Quite enlightening," Dumbledore commented. "He recalls the interrogation?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed. "Memory isn't affected by the serum. If someone has forgotten something, they won't recall it under the serum's influence. It's not a fool-proof method of solving a case, and it cannot be used to treat memory loss, either."

"I see."

"Dumbledore!" Berisha spat. Of course a warlord would recognise one of the two owners of the Phoenix Gruppe.

"In the flesh," the old man replied with a nod that managed to be both polite and mocking, in Ron's opinion.

"You're behind this!"

"I'm merely lending a hand to a few young people in a sticky situation, Mr Berisha." That annoying smile appeared. "I'm hardly the mastermind behind your abduction."

"We didn't want to abduct you in the first place," Hermione added. "But you just had to attempt to betray us. None of this would have happened if you had been honest."

"Honest? With the murderers of my cousin?" Berisha spat in their direction.

"He attacked us. You cannot blame us for defending ourselves!" she retorted.

Although it was obvious that Berisha could and did. "Hakmarrja."

"You're declaring a blood feud?" Hermione shook her head.

"You're familiar with the Kanun?" Dumbledore asked.

"I had a reason to research Albania," Hermione replied. "Though there are some differences, the core of the customs and traditions transcribed there are the same."

"You'll pay for this! You and your entire family!" Berisha yelled.

"I don't suppose you have a way to wipe his memories, Doctor?"

Ron felt a chilling sensation at hearing Dumbledore's casual, pleasant tone. He knew what the man was insinuating. So did Hermione, judging by her expression.

"No, I do not," she said.

"A pity." Dumbledore sighed. It almost sounded like honest regret. "He's a security risk."

Another way of saying that Berisha knew too much. Ron pressed his lips together. They were talking about murder, even if no one was mentioning it openly.

"What are you going to do?" Unless Hermione forced the issue, of course.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at her. "You've dealt with such a situation before, I think."

"The circumstances were different," she replied - and confirmed the old man's guess.

"Were they?" He tilted his head. "You've heard his confession. He has committed dozens of terrible crimes. If Britain still had the death penalty, he would have earned it many times over."

"You could imprison him. Until there are other options available," she told him.

"Other options such as...? Perhaps a way to wipe his memories?" Dumbledore had planned this, Ron was certain.

"Yes," Hermione admitted with a frown.

"Then we shall incarcerate him until such measures are available," Dumbledore said with a faint smile.

And the old man would be preparing for such measures being used against him, as well.

Fantastic. At least they had managed to keep Berisha from detailing his experience with the Shrinking Solution.

"May I have a small sample of the serum for analysis?" Dumbledore asked.

"You may," Hermione told him. "Although I don't think you'll be able to duplicate it. We had to acquire it from specialists."

"Even a partial analysis might offer us insight into new technology."

Since it was a magic potion, Ron doubted that. But he kept quiet and his face impassive. Dumbledore had, once again, managed to find out more than they had wanted to let him know. No need to make matters even worse.

"I'll have my men investigate Sokolov," Dumbledore announced after two guards had dragged the bound Berisha out - presumably to be locked up in a cell somewhere. "It might take a few days to get any results, though. My files aren't as up to date as I was used to in the SIS."

"Ah." Ron didn't quite believe Dumbledore - his files on his competition in the weapons market were probably up to date.

"Unfortunately, we still haven't found the leak of which Berisha took advantage, so further secrecy is needed, which will also cause delays," the old man went on.

"And we can't really plan anything until we know more," Harry said.

"Quite."

Ron sighed. He knew, intellectually, that he couldn't do much - not in Eastern Europe, where he didn't speak the language. And, after Berisha's ambush, it would be foolish to go off on his own. But he still wanted to do something. Anything but waiting.

"Well, I'm going for a short walk to clear my head," Hermione announced.

"Me too," Ron said at once. She needed a bodyguard, after all.

He ignored Dumbledore's smile as well as Harry's grin. But he did notice Hermione's smile.

The outside air felt nice after spending an hour in an interrogation - and possibly torture - room. He took a deep breath, then turned to Hermione. "Do you have a route in mind?"

He saw her glance towards the ruins nearby, then shake her head. "Just along the shore."

He nodded. That would make it harder to get lost.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, then cut into the woods. Just in case the shore was bugged. Night had fallen, but it wasn't too dark. Not yet.

"Do you think I should have let them kill Berisha?" she asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

He took a deep breath. He hadn't expected that question. "No," he replied, shaking his head.

"Because it would have been murder?"

"You wouldn't have murdered him," he told her. "But Dumbledore would have tried to make you feel responsible." It was an old trick to gain leverage on people.

"He was counting on me intervening." She sighed. "But I had to do something." She turned away, looking into the dark forest around them. "We killed prisoners in the war."

"I know."

She went on as if he hadn't said anything. "But we didn't have the resources or manpower to keep them prisoners. And we couldn't risk the Dark Lord tracking them - and us with them - through their Dark Marks."

"As long as we don't know who's a traitor in Dumbledore's organisation, Berisha is a risk;" he pointed out. "He does know too much."

She turned back to face him, though it was becoming hard to make out her expression in the fading light. "At least Dumbledore might assume that we don't have anything to hide in that regard since we didn't want Berisha killed to silence him."

He tilted his head, not quite shrugging. He didn't think Dumbledore would be so easily fooled.

"We should have sedated Berisha before shrinking him," she said after a moment. Clearly, she blamed herself for that oversight.

"That might have killed him in his condition," he pointed out. "And then we wouldn't have gained any information."

"Perhaps any claims of being shrunk or carried by giants will be dismissed as hallucinations."

He didn't think so but didn't say that. It was possible, at least. "I don't think he'll believe that there's a Shrinking Solution." But folding space hangars? That wasn't too far-fetched. Not when dimensional travel and bags of holding were on the table. And Ron was certain that Dumbledore at the very least suspected Hermione's beaded bag of offering such options.

So did she, it seemed - she didn't look or sound reassured. "It's my fault. I should've been better prepared."

"It's not your fault. We suffered some bad luck, that's all." He shrugged, then pulled out a flashlight. It had become too dark to safely walk through the woods.

"I should have thought of this," she went on as if he hadn't said anything. "And I should have been prepared for Dumbledore's manipulations."

"He's got a lot more experience, and he's not the Dumbledore you knew." He reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. She tensed - he could feel it - then seemed to relax.

"I keep telling myself that."

She wasn't only talking about Dumbledore, he realised. "I'm not him."

"No, you aren't," she replied in an odd, hesitant voice, staring at him.

He wanted to ask if she had mixed up him and the other Ron. But what if she confirmed that? He moved a half-step forward, towards her. Close enough to embrace her easily. Close enough to kiss her.

He leaned forward, and she tilted her head back.

Their lips touched.

It wasn't like their kisses before. He wasn't reeling from an adrenaline rush. He hadn't just escaped death and felt so alive that he just had to kiss her. This was a different feeling. A very different feeling.

She pressed herself against him. He felt the warmth, the heat from her body. Heard her moan softly.

He wrapped his arms around her. Ran his hands over her back, dug his fingers into her hair.

Damn.

Ron drew a shuddering breath after breaking the kiss and pulling back. And pulling his hands out from under Hermione's sweater. "Oh."

"Oh," she echoed him.

He couldn't see her face - the flashlight was on the ground, illuminating a nearby tree, and he could barely see her at all.

"I'm…" he started, then broke off. "That was different," he said after a moment.

She didn't reply for a second. What was she thinking? Feeling. "Yes," she finally replied.

He wanted to kiss her again. Hold her again. But he couldn't see her expression. He didn't know what she was thinking. What she wanted. "Uh…"

She moved, and before he could react, she was kissing him. And her hands were gripping his head.

He heard her moan. He was moaning, too. Panting. When she pulled back and broke the kiss, he suddenly realised that they were on the ground. And that she was straddling his lap.

This time, he didn't pull his hands back.

Then things started to get hazy.

Ron was staring at her. She knew it. And she also knew that as soon as she turned her head, he'd look away. Or find something to do in the tent.

And, from behind him, she'd watch him, watch his body, move.

They had done this dance often enough. It was stupid. Very stupid. Childish, too. And they weren't children any more. Not even by law. They were fighting a bloody war. They were Wizarding Britain's most wanted people and risked death every day.

And yet, she couldn't bring herself to... talk to him. What if she was seeing things? What if she was misinterpreting his actions? What if she wasn't, but they ruined it? Whatever it was. And what would Harry think if they started something? He didn't see Ginny very often.

She frowned. That was unfair. Harry was in a relationship. They could enter a relationship as well, couldn't they? Couldn't she?

If she dared. If things went wrong, all their plans could be put in jeopardy. If they had a falling out in the middle of the war…

She glanced at Ron.

And he looked away.