Ron's face hardened at her remark and he leaned forward, blue meeting brown in a staring match. Even in a sitting position he towered over her, but this time she didn't flinch.

After a tense moment of silence, Ron took in a sharp breath and relaxed into the armchair again.

"Tsssk… That's true, innit? Nothing comes for free…but allow me to give you some free advice," he said, jumping to his feet and turning his back to her so she could see the wand sticking out of his pocket.

"When you want to bargain next time, try not to be in such a shitty position," he continued, reaching for his wand and a tin of ready-made tomato soup on the dresser next to him.

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but Ron raised his wand hand, accompanied by the most patronizing hush sound he could muster.

"See, I will give you three reasons why you're in no position to negotiate. One - " Ron held up his thumb, tapping the tin's lid, "you are trapped in a baby bubble." He grinned.

"You are an a-"

"Tut, tut…" he said, casting a heating spell on the now levitating soup can between them.

"Two - there are certainly more people around here who can offer me the same information you can, while my insight seems to be unique, therefore invaluable."

"You can't possibly -"

"And three," he spoke over her in a menacing voice, snatching the steaming tin from the air, "I'm the one with the wand."

He reached inside the bubble and set the soup and a conjured spoon beside her.

"So, I propose a truce, Granger. A Quid pro quo, if you will." he quirked a cocky brow at her, "Articulate enough for you?"

She looked at the soup, then back at him. The semblance between the tin's content and her face was striking.

"It's letter soup. You can spell out your answer if you're too pissed to talk to me," Ron frowned, taking the other can, "sleep on it."

"Actually, I'll have that bath now if that's alright with you," She said through gritted teeth, holding her head up high, fighting the urge to spit fire.

"Oh, I'm afraid that offer has expired," Ron replied, opening the door.

"Enjoy the soup. We move at dawn," he said, closing the door behind him.

The doorknob hit the wall with a loud thud, leaving a scratch on the rose-patterned wallpaper. Ron's skin was crawling and he desperately needed to hit something. The tin snowballed through the second bedroom and got stuck in the plaster of the opposite wall, while the bedside table suffered several blows.

That was disturbing as fuck.

The nagging voice in the back of his head reminded him constantly that the woman in the other room wasn't the same woman he had asked to marry him, but the whole ordeal felt equally disgusting. The only people he had ever threatened was the scum he and Harry hunted down, but she gave him no other choice. It didn't take much conversation for Ron to figure out that she was ruthless and conniving.

However, the simple fact was that they needed each other's help and would have to find a way to trust one another.

He had no clue where to go from here. This world was a different planet - Ron was a stranded alien…and Hermione his reluctant guide.

Ron dropped to the bed with an agitated huff and crossed his arms over his face. Dawn was only a few hours away and he needed to sleep.

The window of the bedroom was broken and soft eolian tones were the sole sounds disturbing the dead of night. The last time Ron had felt this alone was when he left Harry and Hermione during the hunt. Over the years, the guilt diminished and was eventually replaced by overprotectiveness. Harry jested it was fatherly, Hermione said it was mollycoddling (and she actually intended the pun), but it was his atonement.

He missed them so bloody much but was determined not to despair. If there was a way into this place, there certainly was a way back and he would find it. Raising his left hand slightly, Ron traced the golden coin in his bracelet with his right-hand finger, wondering if a tap would even reach Harry. Grabbing his wand he did it anyway, then turned to face the window, closing his eyes.

In his mind he was back at the lunch hall, holding them, breathing in Hermione's perfume - the same he'd bought her for Christmas of '95 and he slowly drifted off.

"Wake up sleepy redhead.. "

"Five more minutes, 'Mione…" Ron moaned and turned to his side. He opened his eyes and saw her hugging the pillow, long hair spread over her bare shoulders. The morning light brought out the tiny freckles on the bridge of her nose and as she moved her hand to tuck some curls behind her ear, something shimmered and Ron blinked.

She giggled at his reaction and moved closer, shoving him on his back and straddling him, but instead of looking at him, she stared at the source of the light's reflection - her engagement ring. Ron rubbed her thighs, trying to redirect her attention, but to no avail. A second later, she took it off and began passing it between her palms. Suddenly, one glint became two, then three, then four…with every pass it multiplied and Ron's eyes widened as she straightened a golden chain in her hands. A wicked smile flashed before his eyes a second before she leaned over him.

"Hermione, no!"

The weight of her became unbearable and he sank deeper into the bed until he was encased in it, struggling to catch a breath. Before he could do anything, the bed disintegrated and Ron plummeted through nothingness.

"NO!"

Ron jumped up, grasping his neck, beads of sweat trickling down his face, then he patted the bed for reinsurance.

Morning crept in through the bedroom window, broken glass dispersing the light so it hit Ron straight in the eyes and he realized he'd been dreaming. He covered his face and sighed.

"I hate this place so bloody much."

The lone tomato soup tin fell out of the wall when Ron closed the door behind him, hoping other Hermione was awake and ready to leave. It seemed stupid to knock, so Ron pushed the door ajar and cleared his throat.

"I think you made it clear who's in charge. You don't need my permission to come in."

"It's called common courtesy and a good morning to you too," Ron sighed, leaning against the dresser with his arms crossed. "So…?"

Hermione sat on the edge of the bed, looking slightly less angry, twisting her thumbs. The soup tin lay empty beside the bed. Ron had a nagging feeling she didn't sleep much but had instead spent the night trying to make sense of the situation.

"So…Yes," she looked up with bloodshot eyes and Ron's stance softened.

"Just like that?"

"Do I really have a choice?"

Ron shifted uncomfortably and lowered his gaze, "You're not my prisoner, Hermione, but you did try to beat me to death, so I won't apologize for this," Ron poked the air and the rainbow-colored jelly wobbled in front of her.

"Fair point," She sighed in reply.

"We should get going, though," He said, hesitating for a brief moment before he flicked his wand, making the barrier vanish, "I trust you won't try to murder me as soon as I turn my back."

Hermione stood up slowly, straightening her jumper, then stepped forward relieved to be free.

"I won't."

"Good."

"This is just so…"

"Tell me about it."

"I have so many questions…."

"So many…," Ron said, picking up and fastening his cloak, "But we should find someplace safe first."

"Agreed, it won't be long before Tweedledee and Tweedledum figure out they've lost a prisoner."

"Who?" Ron chuckled.

"The Boyd twins. The two Death Eaters you knocked out? Nice to look at, but with a shared IQ of a fruit salad," Hermione explained.

Ron laughed wholeheartedly at her remark and got a timid smile in return. They exchanged a look he couldn't quite explain and this time Hermione cleared her throat, surprised how easily she fell into banter with him: "I know a safe place… We can get there fast if you'll allow me to apparate us."

Ron bit his tongue. There it was - she sure was a woman of action. Out of the bubble for less than five minutes and already testing him - poking to see if he would hold up his part of the bargain.

Touché, Hermione, but he saw through the pleasantries.

"Is it safe to apparate?"

"Not from here, but the woods over the hill disrupt the monitoring network. It's our best shot."

Ron flexed his injured shoulder, still sore despite the healing potion while trying to read her expression.

"Don't expect an apology for that," She said, motioning at his shoulder.

"Fair point," he echoed her earlier reply, "So, what is this safe place? Will there be burly blokes waiting to bludgeon me to a pulp as soon as we land?"

She frowned. "Listen, I don't entirely trust you either. For all I know, this could be a desperate move from your side to finally catch all of us… However, my instincts haven't failed me thus far."

"All of you? You mean the Order?" Ron asked hopefully.

Hermione shook her head, "We're not the Order. So… shall we?"

Motioning at the door for her to go first, Ron soon followed Hermione down the stairs and out into the empty streets. A chilly breeze ruffled their hair, and Hermione pulled up the zipper of the winter jacket Ron had shrunk to her size.

The frost-coated grass creaked under their feet as they ascended the dawn-colored hill, loaded silence lingering between them.

"So… Ron," she began, glancing over her shoulder, "Can I ask you something?"

"I thought we'd agreed to save the questions for later," Ron replied, scanning the surrounding area.

"I know, but…" Hermione stuck her hands deeper into her jacket pockets, weighing whether she should continue or not.

"Ask your question," Ron said, walking past her, and taking the lead as they reached the edge of the woods.

"I just need to understand and… I don't know if you'd be willing to answer in front of the others, so…" She let out a long breath, grateful that she was staring at the back of his head instead of his piercing blue eyes.

"What is your relation to Harry and, well… me from your, uhm, dimension? World? What should we even call it?"

The question caught him off-guard. Not that he didn't expect it, he simply hoped he'd had more time to prepare for the answer since he wasn't sure how much he wished to share on that particular topic. His shoulders tensed up as he stopped and turned to face her, and she almost bumped into him from the suddenness of his action.

"We're best friends," he blurted out, meeting her surprised gaze, "The three of us," he continued to clarify.

"Oh…" Hermione gasped, averting her eyes as she continued to walk.

"Is it that baffling to you that we could actually be friends?" Ron asked, pushing past her into the woods, muttering some shielding enchantments along the way.

"No, not really," She whispered as she caught up with him, despite his long strides.

"Is this a good spot?" Ron demanded, eager to change the subject.

A gush of wind stirred the leaves beneath their feet, triggering a long-lost memory of them standing just outside the tent, the day before he left. Things were tense despite their breakthrough regarding the sword of Gryffindor and he was at a tipping point already. It was Hermione's turn to wear the locket, but he didn't want her to take over, feeling less than helpful just lingering about all day with his mangled arm. He had pushed her away, yelling his protest, misinterpreting her worry for him as exasperation. Only now did he remember the hurt mixed with unspilled tears in her eyes.

Ron shook the memory away, it was locked up for a reason and it seemed this place was developing a cruel habit of bringing out hurtful fragments from his past. He hadn't even noticed when this Hermione came to stand in front of him.

"Can I have your wand?" She asked in a soft voice, pulling him out of reverie.

"I, uhm, I'll do you one better with the hope it won't come back to bite me in the arse." He muttered, reaching inside his cloak.

"You can have one of the Tweedle's wands," Ron said with a cautious smile, presenting her with one of the wands he lifted.

"Seriously?"

"A token of trust."

Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, Hermione took the wand and examined it with such admiration that Ron couldn't help but wonder how much time had passed since she last used one.

"Alright... Just one more thing before we get there -"

"You want to go in and give everybody a heads-up that I'm not the massive fuckwit everyone thinks I am?"

"Uhm, yes," Hermione mumbled, slightly taken aback.

"Fun times," Ron sighed, "I still can't believe I'm a Death Eater in this - what are we calling it?"

"Dimension?"

"Yeah, why not? This fuckwit dimension," Ron grumbled, kicking a pile of leaves, "Bloody nightmare."

Without warning, Hermione firmly grabbed his arm and pulled him down. Stumbling, Ron held his breath as he met her frowning face.

"Are you done with the pity party? Get over yourself because the Death Eaters here are ruthless and currently hunting me. Rest assured, if they find you with me, they'll kill you and ask questions later. And if you die here, you'll never see your best friends again. I hate the man that used to go by your name here, so this is hard for me too," She recited in a single breath, her cheeks flushed with anger.

He pulled his hand free, a mean retort ready at the tip of his tongue, but her gaze was so intense that Ron instantly swallowed his pride and remained silent. Instead of instigating more hostility, he offered her his hand and an apologetic smile.

She scoffed dismissively, but took his hand and shook it.

A moment later the leaves rustled in the empty space where an unusual alliance was formed, the faint pop muffled by crackling tree branches and whispering wind, and the forest fell dormant again.