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

Chapter 19: The Aftermath

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

Ron stared at the night sky. The trees hid most of it, but he could see a slice of it - there were a few stars visible through the branches. His backside hurt a little - he must have ground some small rocks into it. His chest hurt a little as well - he was bound to have some scratches there. And his right side was feeling a little cold, being completely exposed.

But, damn, he didn't mind. He felt great. That had been… He sighed and closed his eyes. Not that he could see much, anyway. His flashlight must have been pushed away at some point. But he could feel Hermione's body pressed against his side, draped half across his chest, and her hair brushing over his skin whenever one of them shifted their weight a little. He could smell her, too. Just like before.

It hadn't been like in his dreams. They hadn't been in a bed, or in the shower. Or on the hood of a car. It had been rushed, not paced. And in near absolute darkness, instead of in dim light. And they had fumbled around a lot.

But, hell, it had been great. He sighed again, wishing they could just stay like this.

But they couldn't. It was getting a little chilly - this was Scotland, after all. Even in summer. And if they didn't return soon, someone would start a search for them. And Ron didn't know what would be worse - Dumbledore's men or their friends stumbling upon them while they were like this.

"Uh…" he said.

He heard her sigh. "We should return."

He nodded. "Yes." He looked around. "Ah. Did you notice where my flashlight went?"

"No," she replied. "But let me… Accio flashlight!"

Five seconds later, he saw a cone of light appear out of a bush before the flashlight dropped down next to them and he could feel and hear her taking a few deep breaths.

"That's handy," he commented, picking it up with his free hand.

"It has its uses," she replied. "But generally, wandless magic is a parlour trick - something you do to show off and impress your friends."

"Ah." He could think of at least one important use - reacquiring your wand after you lost it - but this wasn't the time to pry or discuss tactics. He moved the flashlight, illuminating the area around them. He didn't remember throwing his clothes away, but… he hadn't actually been paying attention to much of anything apart from her.

She sighed once more, then rolled off him and got up. He sat up and pointed the flashlight at the ground so she could see what she was doing without being put under a literal spotlight.

"Thank you."

"My pleasure," he replied, then winced. That was an unintended double entendre, given their situation. Stupid.

She didn't seem to mind, though. At least he thought her cursing was aimed at the state of her clothes and not at him.

"We could claim we stumbled and fell?" he asked, adding a forced laugh.

"You think being thought clumsy would be less embarrassing than randy?" she replied, and, even without seeing her face, he knew that she was raising her eyebrows in that particular way she had.

"I prefer 'passionate'," he said. "This wasn't just some urge, some itch that needed scratching," he added in a more serious tone. As serious as you could be while pulling up your pants and trousers without taking half of the forest's floor with you.

"We were - and still are - under a lot of stress," she pointed out as they both started to stand up.

He wasn't going to let her do this. "I've been dreaming about you for weeks," he told her.

"Oh."

"This isn't just some form of stress relief," Ron insisted. Not for him. And not for her. Or she wouldn't have asked about his past lovers.

"But what if I'm just trying to replace my Ron?"

He really hated hearing 'my Ron' from her. But she hadn't denied that this was more than some casual fling. "I'm not him," he said. "I'm no wizard. I was raised differently. I had a different life."

"And yet, you're so much like him."

"It's been seven years," he replied. The other Ron would have changed. Would have moved on.

"I haven't had a relationship since I arrived here."

"You were focused on going back. And you didn't want to develop ties, did you?"

He was tempted to lift the flashlight. To see her face. This wasn't a discussion that they should have in the dark.

"And yet, I did," she replied, followed by a sound that was as much a sob as it was a sigh.

"Yes," he said, reaching out to embrace her again.

She let him.

They took their time walking back to the laboratory - even with the flashlight, it was hard to walk through the woods without stumbling over roots or rocks. Claiming they had fallen down in the forest really wouldn't be too far-fetched, Ron thought. But it wouldn't fool Harry. Probably not Ginny, either.

Not that he regretted it. Quite the contrary. Some teasing and snarking won't change that. He helped Hermione over a fallen log. Had they passed it on the way? He didn't think so. But all they had to do was to head to the shore, then follow it back to the laboratory. And they couldn't miss the lake - he remembered that much of the geography, at least. He chuckled at his own thoughts, then blinked.

"If you can, let Dumbledore believe that memory modification requires a lot of resources. A large device and a great deal of computing capacity, for example," he said.

"Oh?" Hermione replied. "Good idea. If he thought that there were nanomachines travelling to the brain through someone's blood, he'd expect to get samples." She sighed. "But he'll find out the truth sooner or later - I need to do a ritual to activate the portal."

They should still be far enough away from the laboratory to be safe from being overheard. "How long does that take? The ritual, I mean."

"An hour at least," she told him. "Perhaps longer - I haven't refined it, yet, and there's a certain amount of guesswork involved."

That didn't sound too promising. "As long as you don't connect to the wrong dimension…" he said, only half-jokingly.

"Oh, that won't happen. I'll serve as the link, so to speak."

"Ah." He was both relieved and disappointed. If she couldn't find her home dimension, she'd stay with him, after all. Though Dumbledore and Grindelwald wouldn't be happy in that case. "Good," he added.

If she'd noticed his hesitation, she didn't say anything. And she didn't let go of his hand when they reached the rough path at the shore and took a short break to watch the lake.

So close to the new moon, it was almost pitch black, with just the stars reflected in the water. "It's beautiful," he whispered.

Hermione made a sound he took as agreement and leaned into him a little.

"Did you come out here to watch the lake when you were at school?"

She snorted. "There was a curfew, you know. Like in any boarding school."

"Well, there was one at my own school, but that didn't keep us from going out at night," he replied. The things he and Harry had gotten up to at school…

"When we left the dorms at night, it was usually because there was a crisis to deal with," she said.

Oh. He had stepped in it again. "Ah."

"Don't get me wrong - I loved my time here. At the school, I mean. But I never really sneaked out after curfew for fun." She snorted. "Well, I wouldn't have done that anyway - I wasn't that sort of girl."

"'That sort of girl'?" What did she mean?

"The rules-breaking and pranking kind," she explained. "Well, I broke the rules, but I always had a good reason."

"Ah." He nodded and, after a moment, added: "It was the same for us, but our teachers never agreed."

She laughed at that, and he smiled, relieved. "It is beautiful," she said.

He knew better than to say 'so are you' - far too corny.

But he thought it as he kissed her again.

Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, August 4th, 2005

He felt her weight, he felt her, on top of him. He heard her moan as he panted, hands touching her, and…

Ron woke up, blinking as he realised that he'd had another dream. A different dream. More like… well, more real. Or was that realistic? It wasn't his imagination any more. Well, not just his imagination any more - it had been dark last night, unlike in his dream.

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, remembering last night. And his dream. If he hadn't gone to his room upon returning to the lab… If their good night kiss at the door had happened in her room…

He sighed. He didn't regret anything - apart, perhaps, from not asking to spend the night with her - but did Hermione share his feelings? Was she still pining for the other Ron? After seven years? Anyone would have moved on, wouldn't they? Even wizards.

But then, Hermione hadn't had a relationship in this world. Until, or so Ron hoped, him. And the way she had focused - fixated - on returning to her home, moving on probably would have felt like betraying her goals. Like she was losing faith in her work.

Though if that was true, then did she still think that? Feel like that?

And, even more importantly: What would she do if she managed to return to her home world? Would she stay?

And what would he do?

By the time Ron was ready for breakfast, he still hadn't found any answers.

What he did find, though, was a smirking Ginny, Harry and Sirius. And a smiling Luna.

"You were out pretty late last night," Harry said.

"Don't tell me you spent half the night waiting anxiously for our return," Ron replied as he took a seat.

Harry scoffed - of course Ron's friend would have kept an eye out for him. Just like Ron would have done in his place.

"We can multitask, duh," Ginny added.

"I rigged a sensor to alert me," Luna said. "I was busy checking the net anyway - some time zones are rather impractical for keeping in contact with others around the world."

"I was merely resting so my wounds will heal," Sirius told him. "But… I don't suppose you decided to have a night march to work off some 'nervous energy', did you?"

Sirius's jokes needed work. Ron filled his cup with tea, then grabbed a slice of toast. "We had a private walk and a private talk on the shore."

He heard Hermione enter the lounge ad turned to smile at her. "Good morning."

"Good morning." Her own smile faded once she took in the others. "Oh."

"Don't worry, we're happy for you two," Ginny said. Luna nodded.

Ron rolled his eyes. As if Ginny wasn't itching to hear all the sordid details her imagination craved. Although, in this case, perhaps her imagination wasn't too far off. "We don't bug you about your relationship," he said with a glare. "So I expect you to reciprocate." He pulled out a chair for Hermione, then sat down again.

"Of course," Luna said, Ginny nodding in agreement after a noticeable pause.

"You can bug me about my relationships whenever you want!" Sirius declared with a wide grin.

"I'll remember that next time you bring a date home," Harry cut in.

Sirius waved the threat away. "I think Ginny would have words with you if you wasted a free evening bothering one of my dates."

"I think we have more important things to discuss than relationships," Hermione said before taking a sip from her cup. "Like the repercussions of the events in Albania." Ron caught Ginny's smile slipping a little as Hermione went on: "Unless I'm mistaken, for you two, this was the first time you were in a real battle, wasn't it?"

Ginny frowned but, to Ron's slight surprise, didn't bring up the brawl in which she once had been involved. "We managed."

"That's what you think. Trust me, you'd be exceptional if you could shrug off combat like that," Sirius said. "A number of my friends and acquaintances never got over their experiences in the war."

"It was frightening," Luna admitted in a small voice. "But mostly in hindsight."

"That's normal as well," Sirius told her. "Even officers sometimes can't handle their memories."

"Yes," Harry said. "That's why there are psychologists working with the police."

"You've always complained about them," Ginny pointed out.

"Well… only when they didn't leave me alone. But they can help," Harry replied.

If this weren't really important, Ron would have been amused at the exchange.

"We can't exactly talk to a therapist about what we did," Ginny said. "My agent would kill me if someone spread the story of me being involved in a shoot-out with a warlord's army. And Mum would be worse!" Ron blinked and was about to question her priorities when she added: "Not to mention that we can't have anyone hear about Hermione's secret and Dumbledore's involvement."

She was grinning, but Ron knew his sister - she wasn't quite as nonchalant as she tried to appear. He glanced at Harry, who seemed to have noticed it as well. Ginny had good reason to be wary, of course - thanks to his and Harry's position in CI5, they knew about Operation Motorman and Operation Glade. To think the tabloids would go as far as to hack the phones of celebrities… No, they couldn't trust a therapist not to betray them, even if unintentionally, and even if they didn't tell them about magic. Not with several famous people involved and after the assassinations and shoot-outs in the middle of London. "Dumbledore might have a vetted therapist." he said.

"You mean he'll have a spy who'll try to find out our secrets," Luna retorted.

"If we have to lie to the therapist, then that defeats the purpose of talking to them in the first place," Ginny said.

"Talking about it does help, though. Even if you're not entirely honest," Sirius interjected, with Hermione nodding in agreement. "If you don't want to talk to a therapist, talk to a friend."

Both Ginny and Luna turned to look at Hermione - who blinked, obviously surprised.

Ron managed not to smile at her reaction.

Sirius laughed.

"So… Hermione's going to play therapist," Harry said as they warmed up outside for their morning run.

"Well, she didn't refuse their request," Ron replied. "And she did go through the same experience," he added, a little annoyed by his friend's wording. "Only worse." Much worse.

"But will that be enough to help them?"

Ron shrugged, glancing around to check if the others had already arrived. "What's the alternative? Sirius?" And even if they found a trustworthy and discreet therapist, they wouldn't be able to visit regularly.

Now Harry looked annoyed. "You and me," he said.

"You're Ginny's boyfriend, not her therapist." And Ginny wouldn't want the two roles to mix, Ron knew. She wanted to be Harry's girlfriend and wife - not his dependent. "And Luna…" He shrugged. Luna liked Harry, but she wasn't really close to him. And Harry wasn't close enough to her to be trusted with this, yet he was too close to Ron to be trusted with this.

Harry grunted.

"Ginny'll talk to you anyway," Ron added. "Once she's feeling better about it." Less insecure, at least.

"We'll see," his friend replied. "Here they come."

And that ended the conversation.

Of course, as Ron found out in the evening, there was a significant drawback to Ginny and Luna talking to Hermione about their experiences: It meant less time spent with others. Such as Ron. And that just when they needed to talk about their relationship.

He sighed as he leaned against the wall next to her door. "The things I do for family…"

"Stop moping, Ron!" Sirius yelled from the lounge. "Come join us here!"

Well, he didn't have to stand guard outside Hermione's room. Not with the door visible from the lounge if he picked the right seat. So he went and joined them.

"It'll be like old times!" Sirius exclaimed, pushing a beer bottle towards Ron as soon as he reached the table. "Just us men!"

"That's what you usually say when you can't get a date," Harry said with a grin.

"Which almost never happens," Sirius shot back. "As an officer and gentleman, I'm popular with the fairer sex."

"You forgot 'rich'," Ron told him as he opened the bottle.

"Pff!" Sirius shook his head. "I'd say you're just jealous, but seeing how you spent the night…" He held up his own bottle. "Cheers!"

"Cheers." Ron took a sip himself. It wasn't his favourite brand, but it was decent enough. "Did you get that from the kitchen?" He would have expected Dumbledore to provide a more expensive beer for them.

"From the guards," Sirius replied. "We swapped some war stories."

"Ah." Ron nodded. That explained the brand.

"I can't just stare at my girlfriend all day," Sirius went on.

"We're guarding them," Harry said with a frown.

"That's what people call it these days?" Sirius chuckled. He's probably had a few beers with said guards already, Ron thought. "Anyway," the older man went on, "a good time was had. Phoenix Gruppe has hired some quite quality folks. With a few exceptions, of course."

"Great." Harry didn't sound very impressed, even though befriending the guards could pay off in a number of ways. Provided Sirius hadn't antagonised them instead - he tended to overestimate his charm at times.

Sirius seemed to ignore Harry's reaction, though, as he downed the rest of his beer. "So, how are you two doing?"

"Fine," Harry said.

Ron shrugged.

"That doesn't sound very convincing," Sirius told them. "You know, you can talk to me. Even about more serious problems than unrequited love."

Neither Harry nor Ron took the bait. They had been fourteen and dumb at the time. Dumb enough to ask Sirius for advice about asking out girls.

"I just want to find whoever started all of this and stop them," Ron said. Permanently, preferably. And sort out his relationship with Hermione.

"Well, we'll have to wait for Dumbledore to find another lead," Sirius said, shrugging. "We can't run off without actionable intel. Well, we could run off, but it wouldn't be smart;" he added with a wide grin that vanished at once. "But, seriously, are you alright? The girls aren't here; you don't have to act tough."

"I'm fine," Harry said. "It wasn't our first battle."

"Yes," Ron agreed. If he was going to break from killing people who wanted to kill him, he'd have done so long ago.

Sirius didn't look convinced, but he didn't pry.

It was close to midnight when Ginny and Luna left Hermione's room. "Harry?" Ginny asked as she entered the lounge.

"If he hasn't fallen asleep, he's waiting for you in your room," Ron told her, getting up.

"He better not have!" Ginny said.

"I'm going to chat with a few friends," Luna said. "They should be back from work or getting up now."

"Goodnight." Ron nodded at them on the way to Hermione's room. He knocked, then waited.

"Come in."

She was wearing her usual sleepwear - tank top and shorts - and was sitting on her bed with her legs crossed.

He closed the door behind him and went to sit down on the bed, which caused her to smile - though a little wryly. "How did the talk go?" he asked.

"As well as could be realistically expected, in my opinion." She rolled her neck. "We talked about our experiences."

Mostly hers, or so Ron assumed. He nodded.

"It's helping, I think. I hope so at least, but I'm no therapist," Hermione said with a shrug. "I think it hasn't hit them yet. Not fully, at least. It took some time with me as well, after my first battle."

"Was that the attack in the bathroom?" He couldn't talk about trolls here.

She nodded slowly. "Yes. I had nightmares for weeks."

"It was the same for me, the first time I shot a man," he said. "And Harry…"

"He had it worse." She sighed.

"Yes." Ron hadn't realised that for some time even after they had become friends. He'd been a dumb kid.

"What did you do while we talked?"

"Had a few beers with Sirius and Harry," he replied. "Mostly talked about sports and stuff." Until Sirius had retired to his room, quite drunk.

"Ah."

A few seconds passed without either of them saying anything. "So…" Ron shifted his weight a little. "About us..."

The way she winced wasn't a good sign, was it?

"I don't think this is just some casual thing. Or just a reaction to danger," he went on. They hadn't fallen in bed with each other after the other attacks, after all.

"No, it isn't," she agreed. "But it's a complicated issue."

"Because of my counterpart."

She frowned at that. "It's not his fault."

"I didn't mean it like that," he defended himself.

She pressed her lips together for a moment. "The fact that I'm in another world is at the core of this… issue."

"And what is the issue?" he asked, leaning forward a little. "I'm not my counterpart. I'm a different man." He wasn't a wizard. He wasn't a teenager. He hadn't grown up with her.

"Yes, you aren't him." She shook her head. "But you're very similar to him."

At least she wasn't calling his counterpart 'my Ron'. "I don't think appearances matter that much."

She scoffed at that. "Appearances do matter, no matter how much we want to deny it." She frowned, probably at her own wording. "Subconsciously, at the very least. But it goes deeper than that. Aren't you concerned that I see you as a replacement for my Ron?"

He was more concerned that she'd leave him for his counterpart. "I don't think you'd do that."

He could see her bite her lower lip. "Why not? I didn't break up with Ron, yet I did…" she trailed off.

"It's been seven years," he told her. "Do you think he's still waiting for you?" He wasn't going to ask if she thought that Ron's counterpart was still alive. That would be going too far.

She flinched. "He might."

"You don't think so, though."

"The circumstances of my dimensional travel wouldn't have left him with much hope," she said after a few seconds. "But it's not the same for me. I don't have that excuse."

Was she serious? "I don't think anyone would expect you to carry a torch for anyone for seven years. Certainly not in these circumstances," he retorted. "Hell, most relationships don't last that long."

"I'm aware of that," she snapped.

"You expect him to have moved on. And yet, you expect yourself to stay faithful?" He couldn't keep a trace of bitterness out of his voice.

"I know it's stupid," she replied through clenched teeth. "But I can't help it."

"I think you're being too hard on yourself." He couldn't let her stew about this.

She leaned back, wrapping her arms around herself. He reached out and touched her knee. She didn't flinch at his touch, but she tensed.

"Are you concerned about betraying him, or are you afraid that what we have is not real? That it'll fall apart if you see him again?" The expression on her face when she looked at him told him the answer. "I'm willing to take that risk," he said. It wasn't as if he had a choice, anyway - he couldn't give her up.

She sniffled. It wasn't quite a sob. He gathered her in his arms before she started to cry in earnest.

Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, August 5th, 2005

Ron woke up with Hermione in his arms and her hair in his face. He gingerly moved his free arm - the other felt like pins and needles since it was trapped beneath her body - and brushed her mane away until he could check the alarm clock on the sideboard. Five minutes left.

He sighed and smiled. They hadn't settled their issues, but they were together. More or less officially. Until Hermione managed to open a gate to her home world, at least, and they found out what had happened to her friends.

He wasn't looking forward to that moment, for a number of reasons. A small, selfish and stupid part of him wouldn't even mind if Hermione never managed to get back to her world. It would mean she would have to stay with him.

It would also mean that Dumbledore and Grindelwald would demand that she stopped wasting time and money, and started to teach them her 'technology'. Which she wouldn't be able to do. And that would cause all sorts of trouble.

He knew that very well, but sometimes, he thought he'd prefer that. If Hermione returned to her dimension and decided to stay there, with her friends, with him…

He closed his eyes. He didn't want to imagine that. His counterpart would've moved on. Would have found someone else. Or died fighting the Dark Lord.

That's what Ron would have done. Probably. And he refused to think that his counterpart would be the better man.

His gloomy thoughts were interrupted when he felt her stir, then heard her moan in that cute, confused manner of hers as she shifted around with her head on his chest until she stiffened, realising that she was using him as a pillow.

"Good morning," he whispered.

"Good morning," she replied.

Then the alarm clock started ringing, and they had to get up.

Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, August 7th, 2005

"Ah! The backup mainframe! Finally! I've been waiting for that for ages! Put it down in the other corner, next to the power lines! No, further back!"

Ron shook his head as Hermione ordered Dumbledore's men around in her lab. She went from beaming at them to scowling within seconds. And probably didn't notice the frowns sent her way in return as soon as she turned her back. Or if she did, she didn't care - she was very, very focused on her work.

Not that it mattered much; Ron was certain that anyone working on this project was aware of how important it was for Dumbledore and Grindelwald, if not the exact reasons. And how stupid it would be to do anything to hinder Hermione's research. He doubted that Grindelwald would hesitate to disappear any 'saboteur'. Dumbledore would probably prefer to arrange an accident - perhaps even a non-fatal one.

He still kept an eye on the men, of course. Just because something was stupid didn't mean it wouldn't be done. If there was one thing you learned quickly as a police officer, it was that people were stupid.

But he didn't spot any attempts at sabotage, and Hermione would be checking everything anyway.

Once they were gone and Hermione started installing her programs on the new mainframe, he relaxed. A little.

Half an hour later, he saw Hermione push back from her desk and reach for the mini fridge mounted next to it. "Break time?" he asked.

She froze for a moment, then looked at him. "A short break."

He walked over as she grabbed a can for him as well. "So, how's your research going?"

"Oh, it's going well. With the new computing resources, I should be able to cut down the time spent waiting on simulations by a significant amount!" With a frown, she added: "And they almost dropped it within the magnetic fields created by the cage when it's under power."

"Would that have damaged it?" He took the can from her and opened it.

"Probably destroyed it," she replied, opening her own can with a scowl. "And anyone handling computers should be aware of that danger!"

"I don't think they're aware of your experiments," he pointed out, leaning against her desk.

"Do they think the thick power cables are for show?" She shook her head, scoffing. "And what about the markings on the floor?"

"Probably not impressive enough," he replied. "You might want to add skulls."

"Then they wouldn't…" she frowned as she trailed off. "Very funny."

He chuckled and drank the rest of his drink.

She huffed and took another sip from her own. But he caught her smiling, a little. "Did you hear anything from Dumbledore?" she a moment.

He shook his head. "Nothing yet."

"I would have expected results by now," she said. "Since we have a name, and contact numbers."

"A man in that business won't be stupid. Or easily arrested," he pointed out. Not that he expected to arrest the man.

"Well, I hope he gets results soon," she said, putting down her can.

"I'd wager that so does he," Ron replied.

But Hermione was already back at the keyboard - not quite lost to the world, but close.

And Ron went back to standing guard.

"Raise you ten."

Ron threw his cards down in response to Sirius's bid. "Fold."

"Harry?"

"Call."

"Three aces! Who's lucky tonight?"

Harry's cards hit the table as well. "Guess who's not getting lucky tonight."

"That's a low blow!"

"Lucky at cards, unlucky in love," Ron said.

"Luck? That was pure skill!" Sirius replied.

"Chess is skill. Poker is luck," Ron told him.

"Says the man depending on luck!"

"Well, that's enough gambling for me," Harry interrupted them.

"What? You're bailing just when I've got a good run?" Sirius protested.

"Yes," Harry said.

"I taught you better! Gentlemen don't leave a card table before giving the others a chance to win their money back!"

"We were playing with your money," Harry pointed out.

"And I told you that if you win, you can keep the money!"

"Which is exactly what I'm doing," Harry said.

Sirius didn't have an answer to that. Well, not before Harry had left the lounge.

Ron shrugged with a grin. "Tomorrow's another day."

Sirius sighed. "I guess so. With the girls spending the evenings talking, there's not much we can do."

"Especially since someone broke the controllers for the console, and we haven't yet gotten replacements," Ron pointed out.

"It's a plot by Dumbledore," Sirius retorted - without looking at him.

"I'm sure."

"Good." Sirius nodded. "More DVDs wouldn't go amiss, either."

"We'll have to wait for the next trip," Ron said.

"Well, I don't see why we can't go right away," Sirius replied. "It's not as if we can't disguise ourselves."

Ron was about to point out that they still hadn't found the leak when he saw that Hermione's door was opening. "I think I'm going to bed," he said, without taking his eyes off the door, and stood up.

Sirius laughed behind him, but Ron ignored it, just like he ignored Luna's smile and Ginny's remarks, as he walked down the hallway and entered Hermione's room.

Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, August 9th, 2005

"Alright, let's see some kicks! No, not like that! Watch!" Ginny yelled, then demonstrated a kick that hit a training dummy - if the padded pillar deserved that name - roughly at the height of her head. If that had been someone's head, teeth would have been smashed out of their mouth, Ron thought. "See? You need to turn so you can raise your leg sideways."

"Like a roundhouse kick?" Hermione asked.

"No. Not exactly. Try it!"

Hermione tried, but her kick wouldn't have smashed teeth, in Ron's opinion. Probably wouldn't have done much of anything.

"No, no! You need to kick harder! Watch!" Another demonstration followed. "See? Try again!"

While Hermione tried again - improving a little, as far as Ron could tell - Ginny went to correct Luna's stance. "No, no! You need to lower your centre of balance! This is fighting, not dancing!"

"If you'd teach us Capoeira, it could be both!" Luna retorted.

"I'm teaching you effective martial arts moves. Not flashy ones! Now try again!"

"If she ever quits tennis, she's got a career as a military instructor ahead of her," Sirius mumbled next to Ron.

"I'm reconsidering the decision to let Ginny give us some martial arts lessons," Ron replied in a whisper.

"It's mostly to keep her busy, I think," Sirius told him. "So she won't go stir-crazy."

"Instead, she can drive us crazy," Ron said.

"She's not bothering us, is she?" Sirius grinned and nodded towards Hermione, who was currently sitting on the floor after having lost her balance in her latest attempt. "Of course, seeing Hermione suffer makes you want to step in, doesn't it?"

It did, but Ron knew better than to attempt it. Especially with Ginny involved. "It's for her own good," he said instead.

"She won't be able to defend herself against a competent enemy," Harry told them, joining them with a towel around his neck.

"Your standards are a little unreasonable," Sirius pointed out. "You consider Ginny barely competent," he added.

Harry scoffed in return. "I'd prefer it if we could teach them how to shoot. Practical shooting," he clarified. "Not just the theory of it."

"We'd need a shooting range for that. And a specialised training ground," Ron pointed out, not for the first time. And the laboratory lacked both. They could, in theory, shoot anywhere in the area, but that might draw attention - shots carried quite a distance, and if a hiker heard shooting… Ron didn't want to find out what Dumbledore would do to keep their location secret.

"The guards mentioned that as well. Apparently, they used to train more regularly - now it's down to once a month, and in an isolated spot," Sirius said.

Dumbledore didn't want his men talking to others, not even in the same organisation. Well, he still hadn't found the mole. If there was a mole in the first place - the leak could've been in CI5. Or an analyst had guessed their likely reaction to the Albanian connection. Or simply covered several of the possible leads they might've investigated. Although that would have increased the risk of being discovered. "It'd take too long to teach them how to shoot a gun under fire, anyway," Ron added.

"We don't know how long this will take," Harry replied. "And we don't know if the war on the other side is still going on."

"Well, basic training doesn't take that long…" Sirius trailed off.

Ron pressed his lips together. He didn't want Ginny and Luna to fight in a war. And certainly not on the front lines. Not even their counterparts had done that. On the other hand, he doubted he could keep them from getting involved.

"Oh, I know! We can get some laser training gear!" Sirius said. "And we can train with them. I'm certain that Dumbledore can get us a few sets."

Harry mumbled something about overpriced laser tag, but Ron nodded. It would certainly help. And, at the very least, keep Ginny busy without getting Hermione and Luna bruised.

He winced at seeing his sister teach the other two how to block a kick. Perhaps he should step in and teach Hermione himself.

"We're not here to study for the O.W.L.s. We're here to learn how to fight." Harry faced the gathered students. "Voldemort has returned, and he's gathering his forces. Sooner or later, a war will start. And they'll come for you."

She watched the crowd while Harry spoke. She didn't pay attention to his speech - she had written most of it, anyway. Most of the students nodded in agreement. Some even looked eager - mostly Gryffindors. A number seemed to be having second thoughts - mostly Ravenclaws, as far as she could tell. She hoped that they had avoided recruiting any students who weren't serious about fighting, but they must have missed or misjudged a few.

Well, that was what the contract was for. They couldn't force them to fight Death Eaters when the time came, but they wouldn't have to worry about traitors.

"We won't be learning exotic curses here. We won't be learning how to duel," Harry said.

As if on cue, someone blurted out: "What?"

Ron stepped up. "We'll be learning how to fight - not how to compete in a tournament. In combat, you won't be duelling. You'll either be trying to get away or to take out the other bastard. And you won't be fighting fair. You'll be ganging up on your enemies whenever possible and using every dirty trick you've learnt. That's what we'll be practising here."

Harry nodded. "You won't be learning how to cast spells as much as you'll be learning how to use them. You'll learn how to cast when running, on the ground, on a broom, with one arm disabled, when silenced. A spell you can cast perfectly under any circumstances is far more useful than a dozen spells you can barely cast. The perfect curse for a situation is useless if you can't hit your target."

The assembled students looked a little taken aback. Had they still not realised what was at stake? She pursed her lips and shook her head before she spoke up. "We would be doing this even if our current Defence teacher wasn't useless. This isn't about passing the O.W.L.s. This is about fighting a war. You remember the contract you signed?" She smiled as she saw some of the students grow pale. "It's a magical contract. Don't try to betray us - to anyone. You won't like the consequences if you do."

If they survived the curses she had placed on the document in the first place, of course. Sirius and Remus hadn't just taught them how to fight over the summer, after all. Exotic dark curses had their uses, even if they weren't the best choice for fighting.