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

Chapter 27: The Consequences

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

"Magic? Are you serious?" Sirius laughed, a little too loudly to be convincing. "Magic doesn't exist."

Not that it mattered, since Ron could see that Hermione had looked at Dumbledore for half a second with her mouth open. She might as well have confessed everything.

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy," the old man retorted. "Or, in this case, in our science, Dr Granger."

"How did you know about the fire?" Hermione asked. She wasn't even trying to deny it.

"My men on the yacht had the drone in the air. Thermographic images combined with enhanced pictures taken with a conventional camera showed you two walking out of a blaze without anything resembling flame-proof clothing," Dumbledore replied.

Ron had to admit that, faced with such evidence, lying about it would have been pointless.

"You had the drone up, and we had to make do with a remote-controlled toy?" Harry focused on something else.

"My helicopter was also a drone. Just a smaller one," Luna pointed out.

"You lacked the equipment and training to use the drone in the field," the old man replied calmly. "You didn't expect me to let it remain idle, did you, Mr Potter? Especially since the risk of discovery was minimal, as the successful overflights a night before the operation had proved."

"You should've told us!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Trust is, as some like to say, a two-way street."

Touché, Ron thought. Not that his sister would agree.

"That's why you had people spying on us," Harry said.

"'Trust, but verify'," Dumbledore replied. "Words to live by as a spy."

Had the man memorised an entire book of sayings and quotes? Probably, Ron thought. He had no doubt that this was all part of a carefully crafted image.

"Besides, you were well aware of the fact that the men crewing the yacht were trained agents, were you not?" Dumbledore's smile grew a little more condescending. "Although your reports from the previous missions had already confirmed that you were keeping a secret before you went on this one. After that, figuring out what you were hiding wasn't very difficult." And now he was lecturing. Dumbledore leaned back. "You aren't fools, yet you were far too eager to go on those missions even though you lacked the necessary training. That means you had good reason to expect success. Yet, if your confidence and trust were based on Dr Granger's technology, then why would you have felt the need to keep it a secret? We were already aware of her advanced technology, and to hear she would be keeping a few aces up her sleeve wouldn't have been a surprise. No, that alone wouldn't have necessitated such secrecy."

Ah. Ron frowned. Perhaps they had overdone the secrecy.

As if he had read Ron's mind, Dumbledore added: "The very fact that you were so cautious told me that it couldn't be merely another piece of technology." He steepled his fingers. "So I went back to the capture of Mr Berisha and Mr Sokolov. And while Mr Sokolov had nothing new to share, Mr Berisha had quite the tale to tell - provided one was willing to assume he hadn't been hallucinating."

"Ah." Hermione pressed her lips together, Ron saw.

The old man inclined his head in response. "And, try as I might, I couldn't find a plausible technological explanation. None that would explain your behaviour. So, I explored some rather implausible theories and decided to test one."

Ron almost groaned.

"That's why you quoted Clark," Hermione spat.

"Indeed. I could have segued into a 'miraculous escape', had your reaction not confirmed my - honestly outrageous - theory." Dumbledore spread his hands with a slow shrug. "Sometimes, a little subterfuge and a little luck are all you need."

Great. Ron sighed. And now Hermione would think it was all her fault. "And we played straight into your hands," he said.

Dumbledore tilted his head. "None of you are trained spies, Mr Weasley." He looked at the door. "With that out of the way, shall we now proceed to dessert?" He beamed at them.

Ron wanted to hit him.

At least the dessert was excellent, though it was obvious that the only ones who managed to enjoy the cake were Dumbledore and Luna. Hermione didn't eat more than one or two bites.

"Ah… making such exquisite desserts is truly an art form," the old man commented. "One of the few things the French got right. If only Gellert appreciated it as much…"

"My heart bleeds for you," Harry commented dryly.

Dumbledore seemed to find the comment amusing, but that could be an act. "Thank you, Mr Potter," he told Ron's friend. Then he turned his head to address Hermione. "Now… I believe we established that magic is real. Which would make you…?"

"I'm a witch," she said, staring straight into his eyes.

"A witch," he repeated. "That term has been used to describe a variety of people in fiction."

"A witch who used to fly on a broom, had a cat as a familiar, brewed magic potions in a cauldron and performed rituals," Hermione told him with a toothy smile. "And yes, my school uniform was a robe with a pointy hat."

Dumbledore laughed at that.

"I'm serious," she added, with a pouty scowl.

"Ah. It seems, then, that certain stereotypes are based on fact. Even if they're literally worlds apart. But… flying brooms?" The old man slowly shook his head, looking bemused.

"There's an entire broom industry, producing a variety of brooms, including specialised racing and Quidditch brooms," Hermione elaborated. "There are also flying carpets, but they were banned in Wizarding Britain, presumably after lobbying by broom makers."

"And certain things stay the same in different worlds." Once more, Dumbledore laughed. "You don't have many of those devices, do you?"

"No. If I had my full resources, things would be very different," Hermione said - once more revealing too much information, in Ron's opinion. On the other hand, Dumbledore might already have figured that out as well.

"I see. So you're limited to a few magical potions and similar devices - non-renewable resources." Dumbledore ran his hand over his short beard as if he had just come to that conclusion.

"Yes," Hermione replied in a clipped voice.

"Like the truth serum that you showed us."

"It's called Veritaserum."

"And impossible to make in this dimension, I gather." Was there a hint of reproach in his voice? Ron couldn't tell. Dumbledore also looked slightly impressed, but the man was a former spy, so that was likely a facade.

"Yes. Key ingredients do not exist in this world." Hermione looked a little contrite.

"That explains certain… questions your story raised, upon closer examination."

"Surely you understand the need for keeping secrets," Ron cut in.

Dumbledore chuckled in response. "Oh, I do, but there's also the matter of trust."

"We didn't lie to you. We merely omitted certain facts," Hermione retorted.

"Which amounted to a deception," the old spymaster replied.

"And you've been spying on us," Harry pointed out.

"Everything I promised is true. There are magical ways to prolong your life, and wizarding healthcare is better than muggle healthcare," Hermione told him.

"And would they be extended to those who are not witches or wizards? Those of us who normally only have access to, how did you refer to it, 'muggle healthcare'?" Dumbledore asked, tilting his head.

"'Muggles' is one of the terms for those humans who cannot perform magic. And yes - the Wizarding World is as corrupt, or worse, than the muggle one," she said. "There won't be any problem with finding a Healer willing to sell their services."

"Provided we have anything to trade," the old man pointed out.

"Gold is valuable in both worlds," Hermione replied.

Ron suppressed a sigh. That was very dangerous information. He was certain that Dumbledore and Grindelwald would acquire copious amounts of the precious metal as soon as possible.

"How fortunate." Dumbledore beamed at her. "However, am I correct in assuming that your planned portal needs both magic and technology to work?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "So you would, in any case, have been told about magic prior to the opening of the portal."

"Albeit, I presume, without leaving a lot of time to adjust," he retorted. "Given what you have told us about the political situation in your Britain, that would have been very dangerous. They could easily invade."

"No, it wouldn't have been." Hermione shook her head. "In my dimension, the magical and muggle societies are separated. The muggles, with the exception of the families of wizards and witches and the rulers of countries, do not know that magic exists."

"Oh? You made it sound as if wizards and witches ruled the world."

"They don't. Though they strictly control knowledge about magic." Hermione pressed her lips together.

"Peculiar. Why would they hide their existence?"

"Officially, to avoid another witch hunt. And to avoid being pressed into serving the muggles." She shook her head before Dumbledore could say anything. "That, of course, is not true - almost no trained witch or wizard was killed in the witch hunts, and the idea that that the muggles could subjugate the wizards is not credible. But I wasn't able to find out the real reason that wizards went into hiding over three hundred years ago. Surviving a civil war against wizards who believe muggleborns - wizards and witches like myself, who were born to muggle parents - should be exterminated took priority."

"Ah. So magic is a mutation that breeds true?" Dumbledore asked in a deceptively mild tone.

Hermione frowned - she must have realised just what she had revealed, even if too late to prevent it. "It's complicated. There are wizards born to muggles, and muggles born to wizards."

"But those are minorities, correct?"

"Yes," Hermione said in a flat tone.

"Human nature also stays the same, then." Dumbledore sighed.

"Yes."

"Well, that answers several questions, and will likely raise additional ones," the old man said. "I'm sure we'll talk about this further in the future. But there are some quite pressing matters that we should discuss. Matters best discussed with some drinks available."

"And cake!" Luna piped up.

"And cake," Dumbledore amended with a smile.

A few minutes spent in - to Ron; Luna didn't seem to mind - strained silence later, during which tea and drinks were served, they were alone in the room once more, and Dumbledore leaned forward. "Due to Kirikov's escape, we're no longer facing a Russian oligarch or rogue spy; we have to prepare to face the considerable resources and reach of the Russian government."

"They can't exactly invade Britain," Sirius protested. "Even if they're using 'terrorists' and 'criminals', they need plausible deniability."

"President Putin is by no means reckless, but even he might decide that the ability to travel to other dimensions - or to be able to teleport - would be worth the risk of a thinly veiled intrusion on to British soil," Dumbledore told him. "And under the right circumstances, even the thinnest excuse might be accepted by the international community."

"What?" Harry shook his head. "Britain would never accept an attack by Russia on our soil!"

The old man chuckled. "Oh, some will never accept that an attack happened, no matter the evidence provided, precisely because it would appear to be a reckless as well as senseless attack. And, of course, many will not want to risk an escalation with Russia even though they might be convinced of their guilt. Even more than a decade after the Cold War ended, the danger of a conflict with Russia escalating into a nuclear war remains."

That was a sobering thought. Chilling, too. Ron took a sip from his whisky - single malt, and very expensive - but it didn't help.

"But they can't just let Russia attack Britain - otherwise, no country would be safe!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Indeed. But given a choice between accepting the lie of a criminal or terrorist attack, and retaliating against Russia and risking triggering a war, what do you think Her Majesty's Government would do?"

"They'd blame the fictional terrorists," Hermione stated. "They might even use it as an excuse to strike at some convenient targets, knowing that Russia will have to support their story."

"That's a very cynical, but not entirely impossible scenario, I'm afraid." Dumbledore himself was drinking tea, not alcohol, Ron noted. "Although I could not predict their reaction with any certainty. One fact remains, however: Should Russia decide that the prize is worth the risk, even the considerable resources of the Phoenix Gruppe wouldn't be able to stop them."

"I don't think they'll start their tanks rolling," Sirius retorted. "That would be hard to explain as a terrorist attack. The Germans and the French - hell, all of Europe - would call on NATO."

"Oh, no, perish the thought. But some of their parachute troops? Or marines? That's an entirely different scenario."

"No one would believe Spetznaz went terrorist!" Sirius shook his head emphatically.

"But no one would believe that Russia would invade Britain without a very good reason," Dumbledore said. "Our own government included."

Ron narrowed his eyes. "Do you want to tell the government about magic?"

"Not if I can help it," the old man replied with a wry grin. "Even during the Cold War, the government had trouble keeping secrets. These days? We might as well inform the press."

"I do hope that's hyperbole," Hermione said.

"Mostly, but the point remains." He sighed. "However, we might not have a choice. I am confident that our operatives can handle a Russian oligarch or two, but the Russian government itself? Phoenix Gruppe is a business, not the secret service. We cannot match their capabilities, not even if this were limited to the intelligence arena."

That was worse than Ron had expected. "Cyberpunk lied to me," he said with a forced grin.

At least Hermione snorted at his joke. But seeing Dumbledore confused, if only momentarily, was also a sort of success.

"As did Hollywood," the old man added with a chuckle.

"What about telling the government a half-truth?" Luna shrugged when everyone turned to look at her. "They already know someone is after Hermione. And they know what she's been working on. They will suspect that her research isn't just theoretical without any practical use."

"A valid point, Miss Lovegood," Dumbledore conceded. "But if I tell them that Phoenix Gruppe is financing and protecting Dr Granger, I fear Her Majesty's Government would expect more details - I have a certain reputation, in some circles."

Luna snorted in response. "Just tell them it will revolutionise nuclear physics or something. They wouldn't believe dimensional travel anyway."

"But they might believe that this could lead to an alternate power source," Hermione said.

"However, they would then expect results," the old man pointed out.

Sirius scoffed at that while he refilled his glass of brandy. "They've wasted huge sums on projects that never paid off; they won't expect results any time soon. We'd be good for at least five to ten years, perhaps even twenty."

"Especially if you foot the bill for the experiments," Hermione added with a frown.

"Indeed. It has been often said that the treasury is our forces' worst enemy." Dumbledore slowly shook his head with a bemused expression. "But while this might earn us sufficient protection to make President Putin think twice about throwing the dice, it'll also threaten our security by exposing our location."

"All we need is to remain safe until I can open a portal. Afterwards, the Russians shouldn't be a threat anymore," Hermione stated.

"Provided that the war in your world has not ended on a disastrous note. You have been very lucky so far, but luck runs out eventually."

Ron didn't like it, but he had to agree - the old man had a point.

"So we should just hide and do nothing?" Harry said with a scoff.

"In my honest opinion, you should focus on guarding Dr Granger while she finishes her project, and leave the missions in foreign countries to more deniable assets in my service," Dumbledore replied. "More expendable, too."

"That's a rather cold-blooded assessment," Sirius remarked. He sounded almost casual, but Ron saw that the older man was gripping his glass very tightly - the knuckles were turning a little pale.

"But an honest one," Dumbledore retorted. "As an officer, you should be aware of that. Unlike most of my men, you, Dr Granger, are irreplaceable. Your work is crucial to all our futures." He leaned forward, any trace of his usual smile gone. "With Russia now involved, and soon, I expect, other countries, the odds of any of you living a normal life any time in the near future without magical help are very, very slim. As long as you represent potential leverage, you will be in danger."

Ron winced. He could handle being in constant danger - hell, working for CI5 was dangerous; even before Yaxley's treason, several officers had been killed in the line of duty. But Luna? And Ginny? Luna wasn't really ready to go underground for the rest of her life, no matter what she might think. And Ginny was a professional tennis player. She couldn't just change her name and identity and continue. And the rest of their family…

He glanced at Hermione and winced even more. She was pressing her lips together and staring down at the table, and her fingers were digging into her thighs.

"It's not your fault," he told her.

"But it's my responsibility to fix this," she retorted. "None of you asked for this."

"Well…" Sirius grinned, "We kind of volunteered."

"Yes," Luna said, although in a more sombre tone than usual for her.

And Ginny looked as tense as Hermione.

"But even with help from other wizards and witches, it'll be very difficult to erase everyone's knowledge about us," Hermione told them. "And about me. Although the knowledge about this location could be erased, though rumours would remain."

"Faking your death shouldn't be too difficult, I believe," Dumbledore said. "You die, and your knowledge dies with you. And no one knows who else is working on your research. We could even leak your research data - without magic, it'll be a dead-end, would it not?"

"Yes, but… faking my death?" Hermione looked surprised. Perhaps even a little shocked.

"You want to return to your family and friends, do you not?" Dumbledore asked. "Where you don't have to hide your magic."

Hermione slowly nodded. "Yes."

And Ron clenched his teeth so he didn't say something he would regret.

"It's an obvious solution, in hindsight," Hermione said as she changed into her pyjamas with her back to him. "Once everyone knows I'm dead, you're no longer useful as leverage. And if they leak my data, you aren't of any use for whatever scraps of information you might have overheard."

Ron, lying on their bed, forced himself to nod. "Yes. Quite obvious." And she would be in her world, and he in his. Alone. "Though it might be a little more difficult than Dumbledore claimed - the Russians know you 'died' once before. They might not be fooled by another death. Even with magic helping." It was true - or, at the very least, not false. The Russians wouldn't be fooled easily. He wasn't lying. But he wasn't being honest, either. He didn't want this to work. Didn't want her to leave.

"We'd have to wipe the memories of the key people. Together with the right amount of disinformation, it might be enough," she said, slipping her top on and turning towards him.

He smiled, hoping that she wouldn't notice that he was faking it. Or that she'd think that he was afraid of the Russians - or others - coming after him. "Yeah," he managed to say. "That could work."

"But if they get desperate or think you might know something…" She winced as she joined him on the bed.

He winced at the implication of being included in the group of people she was afraid for. It was selfish. He was being selfish. She deserved to return to her family. To her friends. He knew it.

Yet he didn't want her to leave.

"We'll think of something," he told her as he wrapped his arms around her. "Tomorrow."

"Yes."

He didn't fall asleep for quite some time.

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

"Good morning!"

Luna was in a good mood at breakfast. Or putting on a good act. Ron couldn't tell - he was a little bit too tired. "Morning," he mumbled as he grabbed a pot of tea. "You're in a good mood."

"I've had an idea," she said, beaming at him. "We could all move to Hermione's world."

"What?"

"Yes." She nodded while eating a piece of toast, somehow managing not to drop jam on herself or the table. "The wizards and witches there hide from the muggles, right? So, we could fill in for our counterparts. Ginny could play tennis there. And no one would be hunting us."

He kept smiling. It wasn't the worst idea he had ever heard. But it was far from perfect, either. "We don't know what happened after Hermione left."

She looked down, losing her smile. "It was only a thought."

"It's better than anything I've come up with," he said, trying to console her.

"Oh? What did you have in mind?"

Keeping Hermione here, he thought. Out loud, he said: "Nothing, really."

"Oh." She shook her head. "Perhaps Hermione will have a solution. Is she sleeping in?"

"No, I just came on ahead while she was taking a shower."

"Oh."

He nodded and drank his tea in silence.

Half an hour later, everyone was on the shore of the Black Lake, opposite the laboratory. Ron was more winded than usual during their break - they had run quite a bit faster than usual. And quite a bit more silently, too.

"So…" Luna said, lying spread-eagled in the grass and staring at the sky.

"So?" Ginny replied, pausing for a moment in her stretching exercises. She didn't look winded at all, of course.

"Well… are we going to talk now? There shouldn't be any bugs, and I can't see any drone surveillance either," Luna explained.

"Talk?" Harry asked.

"About last night," Luna clarified. "The spilling of the big secret. The spymaster ferreting out our ace in the hole. The whole conspiracy laid out in the open, all the cards being shuffled anew…"

"I know what you mean," Ron interrupted her. "Although we all knew that Dumbledore would be told about magic sooner or later, so the timetable has simply moved up a little."

"That's a rather… optimistic view of the situation," Hermione, sitting with her back against a tree trunk, replied. "Dumbledore now has a lot more time to react and prepare whatever course of action he chooses than I had originally planned." She sighed. "I fell for his ploy and spilled everything. Sorry."

"He got us all," Ron quickly told her. "And he still doesn't know the details about how magic works, so his knowledge is still limited."

"He knows a lot, though," Harry pointed out. Ron glared at his friend, but to no avail. "And he'll make plans."

"He doesn't know the importance of wands," Ron retorted. "He might assume Hermione is limited to magical devices and potions."

"That might not be an entirely good thing, though," Sirius said. "If he assumes that anyone can use them and that he can acquire them in trade, he might draw the wrong conclusions."

"He'll get greedy and try to secure magic for his own corporate empire. To replace the Shadow Government with himself. And possibly his friend." Luna frowned. "A spymaster won't shed his spots."

"He still needs me to operate the portal," Hermione said. "And I'm the only one who can provide him with access to magical supplies in the first place. Once I've got a wand again, it won't matter much any more, anyway."

That sounded a little too confident. "He'll have already taken precautions against magical attacks," Ron pointed out. "Contingency plans, dead man's switches, the works." The old man was one of the smartest people Ron had ever met. And one of the most dangerous as well. "You won't be able to deal with him easily."

"I'm planning to uphold my side of the bargain. But once I have a wand, there's not much he can do if he plans to renege on our agreement."

"To alter the deal," Luna cut in.

Ron chuckled. "But as Sirius said - if he isn't aware of what you can do, he might try something anyway." Hostages, for one. "And he might want to acquire his own wizards or witches," he added, glancing at Hermione.

"That's going to be hard," she replied. "Muggles can't even enter most magical areas without the help of a wizard or witch. And those willing to work for gold for a muggle might also consider simply robbing said muggle and cleaning up after themselves with magic."

"What if he wants some sperm samples to raise his own wizards and witches?" Ron asked.

"Ah…" Hermione blinked. "I'm not sure if that would work. As far as I know, no one has ever tried artificial insemination with wizards. Although if anyone had tried, they would have kept it a secret, I think."

"It doesn't have to be artificial," Ron told her. Dumbledore would probably try a variety of methods. Grindelwald certainly.

"Oh."

Everyone looked queasy at that.

"We'll have to be on our guard," Ron went on. "More than before."

And, he added silently, looking at Hermione, we have to talk about us.

"Care for a walk?"

Ron had pondered how to word the request for practically the whole day. It wasn't as if he had had much else to do. Especially not talking. At least not to Hermione.

And unlike her, he hadn't been able to bury himself in research, either. Nor fill the silence in her lab with computer signals. And the awkward talks during her rare breaks hadn't lasted more than twenty minutes when added together.

So he'd had a lot of time to perfect his pitch, so to speak. Yet when the time to ask had come after dinner, he hadn't managed anything better than a lame line. As if he were a teenager asking his crush out.

She looked at him, blinking once. Her mouth was partially open, too. For a moment, she looked afraid, then he saw her stand straighter, her lips closing, and she nodded her head, once. "Yes, I think a walk would be a good idea," she replied - in a rather stilted way.

But she had agreed to his request, which was all that mattered. "Let's go, then," he told her, nodding towards the doors of the lift.

Neither of them said anything else until they were at a random spot about a mile from the laboratory. Far enough to be safe from anyone eavesdropping. Even an old spymaster and his hand-picked men. "So…" Ron trailed off, pressed his lips together, then slowly exhaled. He had thought about what to say but had had even less success than with his opening.

"I understand," she said.

What? He blinked. What did she mean?

"I've dragged you into this. I've dragged your family into this. I didn't want to, but it's still my fault. I understand..."

What? No. He shook his head. "Stop!" He held up his hand - the one not holding the lantern he was carrying so they could see each other's faces. "It's not about that."

"What?"

Did she really think he had asked her to come out here to complain about that? Or, worse, to berate and blame her for it? "It's not your fault," he said. He chuckled. "I keep telling you that, but you don't seem to listen."

Now she was frowning. "I should have expected this. I should have let Dumbledore handle the… missions. Left you and your family to return to your lives. If I had faked my death earlier, none of you would be in any danger."

He narrowed his eyes at her in return. She was wrong. "I was involved the moment Harry and I got the mission to investigate you. And that wasn't your fault. Yaxley knew that we were on the case. If you had disappeared, he'd have come after us, suspecting that we knew more than we had told CI5." And he would've been correct.

"But…"

He shook his head. "And we wouldn't have expected him. He might've captured or killed us." Not overly likely, but not impossible either.

"That still makes me ultimately responsible. It was my research that triggered this," she retorted.

"No, what triggered this was Grey telling Kirikov about killing your counterpart - and you didn't ask to travel to this world, did you?"

"But I should have expected it! I knew my counterpart had been missing for seven years! And that the kidnappers had never been found!" She was shaking her head almost frantically. "I should've been more careful. More subtle."

"How? Your 'return' was national, even international, news. You couldn't have kept that a secret." He took a step towards her, then slowly reached out to touch her shoulder. "It wasn't your fault."

"That doesn't change the fact that your family now can't live normal lives any more."

"Until we fix things," he said, staring into her eyes. Why wouldn't she understand and accept that it wasn't her fault?

She looked away. "I didn't even tell you the truth until you almost died."

"And you saved my life," he replied. "But this isn't about that. Or my family. I asked you out here to talk about us."

"Oh." Once more, she blinked, surprised.

That wasn't exactly a promising reaction. But it was better than her blaming herself for everything that had gone wrong. Or… He snorted, shaking his head. "Did you honestly expect me to break up with you over this?"

He could see her flinch. "You haven't spoken to me since last night. I thought you were angry about me spilling more information to Dumbledore, but..."

He closed his eyes. "It wasn't about that."

"But you were angry about it!" She sounded almost triumphant.

"I was afraid!" he blurted out before things could go even more wrong.

She gasped. "What?"

This time, he looked away. "You'll soon be able to return to your world. To your family and friends. To..." - he wouldn't call him 'your Ron' - "...my counterpart."

"Oh."

He kept looking away, out over the lake, as the silence grew. "I'm not a wizard," he said in a low voice.

"That doesn't matter!" she retorted.

He turned back to look at her. "Doesn't it? You said it yourself: Once you have a wand, all our problems are over."

"It doesn't work like that," she told him, shaking her head. "That's about dealing with Kirikov, and, if needed, Putin and Dumbledore. Not about… us."

She didn't seem to understand. "You can easily fit into my world. But would I be able to fit into your world?"

Her silence was answer enough.

He nodded. "I don't want to lose you." Not to the other Ron, not to the other world.

"You know I have to return. They think I'm dead. They might need my help."

"And your parents are there," he added.

"Yes. If things haven't gone completely wrong," she said.

"Yes."

"You didn't seem to have a problem with me being a witch before," she said after a moment.

"I don't have a problem with that," he replied. "But a whole world of wizards and witches? And me without any magic?" He didn't want to be useless.

She didn't have an answer to that.

Ron shook his head, snorting despite himself. It wasn't funny, but he couldn't cry.

Hermione bit her lower lip, then started to say something without making a sound, all the while shaking her head. Finally, she took a deep breath. "I understand."

He doubted it, but he didn't seem to be able to find the words to explain himself any better.

"I understand." She was blinking rapidly, he noticed. "But I can't abandon my friends or my parents. Not after years of having them think I was dead and gone."

If they were still alive. But Ron didn't say that.

"And I can't give up magic!" she blurted out.

"I'm not asking you to give up magic," he retorted. "Never."

"But you're asking me to give up my world?" She was still blinking - her eyes were wet - but she sounded reproachful.

He shook his head. "I'm asking you not to give up mine."

"Oh."

She looked very cute when she was surprised.

He nodded. Perhaps she finally understood.

"But that was never in question!" She didn't quite yell, but she came close. "Did you expect me to destroy the portal and forget about it? About you?" He winced, and she frowned at him. "Why would you think that?"

Ron knew that 'because I'm insecure, not a wizard and it happens in stories' wouldn't be a good answer, even if it was the truth. "Would your world tolerate muggles knowing about magic?" Like himself.

"Oh." She looked taken aback for a moment, then shook her head. "I won't tell them about you."

"Do you think you can keep the discovery of dimensional travel a secret? How will you explain where you were for the past seven years?" And where Ron came from.

"I've kept more important secrets," she replied.

"For how long?"

Once more, she bit her lower lip. Then she closed her eyes and sighed. "Merlin's beard, it'll be the same there as here! They'll want the portal."

Right. He hadn't thought about that, but, in hindsight, it was obvious. Worlds without magic, defenceless in the face of a few wizards? It would be Cortez come again. Whatever kept wizards from ruling Hermione's world might not apply to other worlds. "They'll go after your friends and family there."

"I'll... I'll need a cover story. Something that explains the missing years. Not for my friends and family. But for the Ministry. If it still stands. Something that won't draw too much attention. Something that would be easily explained."

"You lost your memory and were found by muggles somewhere far away?" Ron proposed. "And now you've suddenly recovered your memory and returned to Britain." It had worked for Jason Bourne, hadn't it?

"I'm muggleborn," she said. "I'm a British citizen. How likely would it be that no one had managed to identify me in years?"

"Easier than you think," he told her. "It depends on who found you, and under what circumstances. The authorities might not even have been notified about you. People fall through the cracks all the time."

"That's… The implications… I don't want everyone to think I was a victim of muggle criminals!" She shook her head.

"Being mistaken for an illegal immigrant isn't that bad," he retorted.

"But…"

"Besides, it was just a proposal. Spur of the moment," he told her. "We can think of something better." She wouldn't finish her project that soon, anyway.

"Yes."

Once more, they remained silent for several seconds. Then she took a step closer to him. Close enough to touch him if she took another step. Or reached out with her arm. "So…"

"So…" He wet his lips, suddenly unsure what to say. 'We good?' would make him sound like an idiot. But not saying anything would be stupid, too.

"Let's go back?" She sounded almost timid.

But when he nodded, she hugged him. Tightly.

They hadn't resolved all of their issues. But, Ron thought later, as they were headed back to the laboratory, they were back where they had been before yesterday.

He could live with that. For now.

She rolled off him and lay on her back, staring at the ceiling as she slowly stopped panting. A moment later, she felt his arm wrap around her shoulders, pulling her towards him, into his side.

For a while, neither of them said anything. They just lay there, enjoying the moment. At least she did.

Then the guilt returned. Harry was alone in the other room. He hadn't said anything - well, he had smiled and joked, and he knew what they were doing - but it was unfair to him. He was alone, and it had been weeks since they had last met up with Ginny. What would he be thinking about her and Ron?

In his place, she'd be jealous. Envious, she corrected herself. It was unfair.

But to deny themselves this happiness when they might die tomorrow? Or the day after?

"No," she whispered. She'd break under the stress.

"Hm?"

"Nothing," she said. "Just thinking out loud."

"You're always thinking," he told her. "Relax."

"OK," she lied. She knew that she couldn't. Not for long.

And she didn't think Ron or Harry could either. Not with the way the war was going.

They had to find the last Horcruxes. Before it was too late.

If it wasn't already.