Carrying an unconscious body through the streets of nighttime London turned out to be far easier than Neville and Harry had anticipated.

The hard part was getting to London.

Since the Auror department kept a close eye on usual means of transport, including apparation, the men had to come up with a way to get there unnoticed. Much to Neville's chagrin, Harry decided that their best chance was to fly. He conjured a net that they strung between Ron and Harry's brooms and after casting a disillusionment charm on their cargo and themselves, the two Aurors set off to Grimmauld place.

It was an extremely unpleasant journey and both wizards were too focused on not freezing to death to even glance at each other. Once so often, Harry checked on the man in the net, hoping the warming charm did him more good than it did them.

The frigid air gnawed at their fingertips and every other bit of exposed skin it could find.

"Harry! I can't feel my arse, we need to go lower or we'll lose a limb to frostbite before London!" Neville shouted.

They had been flying at top speed for over an hour and by Harry's calculations, it was another thirty minutes to their destination.

"You're right! Let's go, nice and steady!"

The idea was to land in Grimaldi Park and walk, or rather carry, not-Ron for the rest of the distance. The less magic they used - the better. It was a short stroll from the park to the old Black family house, but all sorts of things could go wrong in those excruciating ten minutes they were exposed to Muggle London.

As luck would have it, the streets were deserted as they dragged the unconscious man through the dimly lit parts of borough of Islington and finally arrived at the infamous number twelve.

"That went well," Harry grunted as they heaved not-Ron up the stairs, past the still-sleeping portraits dangling in the hall. Over the years, Harry had done little to nothing around the house he inherited. Mrs. Black's portrait was still stuck on the wall and so was Harry - unable to decide whether he wanted to live there or not. Ginny said it had the potential to become a great home once it got "de-Blacked", and the pair even began refurbishing the kitchen together around a year ago. The idea of them living together was never openly addressed and remained in the realm of someday in Harry's mind while Ginny had other plans.

As it turned out, Harry was left with a half-baked undertaking that now only Kreacher cared about. He still visited the house-elf, who spent some of his time tending Grimmauld, while helping Mrs Weasley around the Burrow most of the days. It was Ron's idea, and he even offered the elf payment, which he of course refused. He also refused to even look at Ron for the following month and a half to Harry and Hermione's amusement.

Kreacher must have sensed Harry's presence as a faint pop announced his arrival just as Harry and Neville settled fake Ron in one of the sitting room's armchairs.

"Master is back," the elf grumbled, brushing past their feet to offer his assistance.

"Kreacher," Harry panted, leaning on his knees, "we'd love some water, please."

Neville restrained not-Ron with ropes from head to toe. For a moment, Harry thought it was a bit excessive, but then another coughing fit got hold of him and he changed his mind.

Kreacher was back with a jug of water and three glasses when Neville and Harry plopped down into opposite armchairs, completely exhausted.

"A straw for Mr Weasley, master?"

Harry almost spat out his water at the absurdity of the elf's question and the bewildered look on his face as he examined the tied-up imposter.

"That won't be necessary, Kreacher," Harry coughed, "I'll explain things later. For now, keep our presence here to yourself. Nobody can know we're here except for the people we invite."

"Very well, young master, Kreacher will keep prying eyes at bay. Kreacher will be in the kitchen if needed."

"Thank you."

The elf bowed, swiping the floor with his large ears, and wobbled away, closing the door behind him.

"You might need something stronger than water if you're going to call her now," Neville said, watching Harry gulp down a second glass of water.

Harry set down the empty glass and ran a hand over his face, sighing heavily for the umpth time that night. It had to be done. They were but four hours away from turning over their watch and needed solutions - fast. Harry's mind was blank and the only person who could make a coherent plan was the one who was going to freak out the most. Even though his body had calmed down from the night's exertion, his heart was pounding a hole into his chest.

"Just call her, Harry," Neville urged, sensing Harry's hesitancy.

"You're right," He huffed and conjured his patronus, conveying his short and urgent message.

"Harry," Neville said as he stood up, "I need to check on Hannah. She must be out of her mind by now, alone with Nina. I told her I'd be back soon and it's been hours."

"Of course… It might be even better for me to face Hermione alone," Harry muttered, standing up too and patting Neville on the shoulder, "I can't thank you enough, mate."

"I'll be back soon. We still need a plan for Ashwood and Kenneth."

Harry nodded and both men exited the living room, Neville heading for the front door and Harry for the piano room where he instructed Hermione to apparate.

Each passing minute was torture and Harry paced the room, rehearsing how he was going to approach his other best friend. He was about to resend the patronus when a loud pop made him turn his head and face not one, but two frowning women. The brunette stepped forward, while the redhead leaned against the wall, avoiding Harry.

"What did you two do this time?" Hermione asked menacingly, crossing her arms, "I swear, if it means a stack of paperwork for me, I will hex your boll- Where's Ron?" Hermione's eyes went from agitated to concerned as they darted around the room in search of her future husband.

Harry's mind was still processing the redhead's presence, mouth slightly agape. Instead of answering Hermione he stupidly asked: "What the hell is she doing here?!"

Hermione blinked at him, then turned to look at Ginny who glared at Harry.

"The notch on your bedpost does have a name, you know," She sneered, turning her head theatrically, long hair sliding over her shoulder.

"Notch on my bedpost…" Harry repeated mockingly.

"Oi! She's only here because we had wine and I'm a lightweight, so I needed to side-apparate! Focus! Now, where is Ron?"

The mention of Ron's name knocked Harry back into the horrid reality he'd had to share with Ron's fiance and sister now.

"Hermione, maybe you better sit down," Harry began awkwardly, which only made Hermione's eyes widen with horror.

"I am definitely NOT sitting down. You tell me where he is, Potter."

Harry winced.

Sensing that things were escalating rather fast, Ginny hurried to Hermione and gently grabbed her shoulders from behind, grounding her as well as bracing herself. Harry shot her an appreciative look, but Ginny's face remained stone-cold as both women peered at him, awaiting an answer.

Harry groaned and adjusted his glasses, "There is no simple way for me to explain this, so here goes… I don't know where our Ron is, uhm, you see there is a man in the sitting room who looks like Ron, but… isn't…him? The smugglers had a fallout, I decided we should go in and something happened while we searched the castle and now this man…He…he attacked me and I don't know… We need to figure out what happened to Ron and…"

Hermione marched over to him and Harry took in a deep breath, closing his eyes, anticipating another outburst.

Slap!

He staggered and reached for his cheek, tears stinging his eyes.

"You,…" She howled, pointing a finger at his face, "This is on you! You think I don't know how Ron downplays your bullshit?! You had clear orders! You were not supposed to go in without backup! But he'd follow you to the depths of hell and now what?! What were you thinking?! You aren't seventeen anymore! You are meant to keep him safe!" She screamed, then brushed angry tears off her face, gripping Harry's collar before Ginny forcefully pulled her off Harry and into a hug.

Struggling to free herself, Hermione managed to find her wand, but Ginny snatched it from her with ease, throwing it overhead.

"Get off me!"

"Calm down, Hermione!"

Despite her slender physique, Ginny had the Quidditch muscle to wrestle her into submission. When Hermione finally broke down in tears, Ginny gently embraced her.

"I'm…sorry," Harry stood frozen in place.

It was his fault. He had tried to do better, but it was just plain easier to give in. It got worse when Ginny left, and Harry refused to see it for what it was - in his mind he was bold and fearless, when in fact he was impulsive and desperate for the adrenaline that made his mind go blissfully blank.

For the first time in months, Ginny glanced at him with something other than anger in her eyes - it was hurt and it was so much worse.

"Hermione… I am so sorry… You're right - it is my fault, but… But I cannot fix this without you. I cannot figure this out without you," Harry pleaded, "That's why I brought him here, why I called you."

Hermione gently pushed Ginny away, her cheeks red and eyes dark, while she steadied her breathing. Her breath hitched as she turned to face her best friend, wringing her hands.

"Harry…"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"

Hermione shook her head, wrapping her arms around his waist as she tilted her head, leaning her tear-ridden cheek against his bruised one and Harry reciprocated hesitantly.

"I -"

"It's alright."

"It's not your fault."

Harry's shoulders twitched and he squeezed her tighter. They shared this feeling before, only the two of them. Nobody could ever come close to understanding. Tent or Grimmauld, anger or accident - they were not complete without him.

Harry took a step back and sought her eyes, still holding her shoulders.

"This isn't like last time - you and I will bring him back."

Hermione took in a ragged breath and nodded when Ginny approached them holding Hermione's wand. The hurt was replaced by determination, and Harry's pulse spiked from the mere nearness of her.

"Tell us what the hell happened."

Neville paced the room anxiously as Harry recanted the night's events in detail.

After lying to Hannah for the first time in his life, Neville hurried back to Grimmauld and found Harry, Hermione, and to his surprise - Ginny - sitting in the piano room with an open bottle of Firewhiskey.

It took Hermione a while to collect herself and when Neville walked in she was staring at a spot on the carpeted floor, her knuckles white from gripping her glass with the amber liquid.

She didn't bother raising her head when he greeted them and kept her focus on the floor as Harry told them everything he knew about the unconscious man in the sitting room. She did, however, interrupt Harry ever so often with questions and Neville noticed her eyes darting from side to side as if she was reading really fast.

Ginny sat by her side, tapping the glass with her fingers, seemingly mesmerized by its content. Despite being the only person speaking in the room, it seemed that both women had their reasons to not look at Harry.

When all was asked and answered, Hermione stood up and downed a full glass of Firewhiskey.

"This is the plan," she began in her signature bossy voice, "Harry and Neville are going back to the castle to look for clues, dark objects or anything else that might have played a part in whatever happened to Ron. You will photograph everything for me. Next, you'll report to Ashwood, tell him you were attacked by the smugglers and Ron was taken. Neville, you need to rough him up a bit to make it believable."

"I volunteer to do it."

"Gin, honestly…"

"Just saying…" Ginny shrugged, stirring her glass. Harry sat opposite her and frowned.

"As I was saying," Hermione glared at them both, "The Auror department needs to go on a wild goose chase, they cannot be involved because -"

"Delilah," Harry and Neville said simultaneously and Hermione nodded.

"Right… I'll play frantic fiancé and take unpaid leave and Harry will take sick leave so we can keep working on this without raising suspicion. Neville will have eyes on Ashwood. We all need to become secret keepers to this place, nobody and I mean nobody else can know. I… We cannot risk losing Ron, our jobs or heads over this."

"Priorities sorted…"

"What was that, Harry?"

"Nothing, sorry."

"Ok…Everybody knows what to do for now and - "

"I don't," Ginny interrupted.

"I don't want her involved in this," Harry crossed his arms looking disgruntled.

"I am sitting, right here, you git!" Ginny jumped to her feet, fist clenched at her sides, "and he is my brother!"

"As well as mine!" Harry countered, standing up, mimicking her stance.

"I have had it with you two! Either you'll be civil while we sort this out or neither will be involved! Ginny is part of it now, whether you like it or not, Harry. Now, stop your bickering and act like bloody adults!" Hermione stood up too, pulling out her wand and both Harry and Ginny flinched.

Neville, who was sitting in one of the armchairs nervously downed his glass.

"Now, if you two don't mind, I am going to wake this so-called not-Ron."

Harry took a step towards her but was stopped by her raised hand, "Alone."

It was not a request.

"Can you hear anything?" Ginny repeated anxiously, tapping her side with a clenched fist as she peered at the black mop of hair she once loved having tangled around her fingers, but would now enjoy pulling out instead. She could barely stand his presence and hated that certain feelings failed to stay contained whenever he was close. Her fuse was quite short, even by Weasley standards, and Harry was the damn match.

"Not with you talking, I don't," Harry huffed with annoyance.

The urge to strangle him was strong.

"This is ridiculous. She's been in there for thirty minutes."

"Shhhh!"

"Don't shush me, Potter!"

"Alright, you try then!" Harry spat.

"I will," she sneered and pulled the door wide open, hitting Harry squarely in the face.

"Ginny!" He hissed, rubbing his nose, but she was already inside.

Not really knowing what to expect and rather worried about Hermione, Ginny barged into the room and took a good look around when she spotted Hermione's bushy hair blocking the view of the mystery man.

Startled by the intrusion, Hermione turned around from her armchair, and then quickly rose to her feet.

And that was when Ginny saw him.

Her hands shot up to prevent the gasp that was close to turning into a surprised yelp. Hesitating a bit, Hermione walked to Ginny as Harry finally entered the room.

However, an unnerving scraping sound made Hermione look back at the restrained wizard whose face turned a paler shade of gray, eyes wide with shock as he dug his nails into the armrests.

"You…" he muttered, eyes glued on Ginny.

"So, he does speak," Hermione rebutted in a mock-cheerful tone.

"Shut your filthy mudblood mouth," Not-Ron snapped in an unnaturally calm voice and Harry pushed forward, but was again stopped by Hermione's hand and a poignant look.

With a calculating nod, Hermione encouraged Ginny to continue the conversation.

"What about me?" Ginny asked tentatively and Hermione squeezed her hand.

"You cannot possibly be here," His tone was almost derisive and did not match the distress his body was showing.

"And why not?" Ginny continued as her hands began to tremble, and Harry gently placed his palms on her shoulders. Instead of brushing him off, Ginny welcomed the comforting gesture.

"Why not?" She repeated in a much firmer voice and all three peered at the disturbing version of Ron sitting opposite them.

He tilted his head, looking up at the ceiling, but they could clearly see a satisfied grin spread across his scarred face as he relaxed his grip on the armchair.

"Because I killed you."