Author's note: "ponere laqueus" is Latin for "to set a trap."

"I'm beginning to think this wasn't such a good idea after all..."

Ron turned and gave Harry a sort of strangled grin, the kind that drove Hermione mad, because it was the one he pulled out of his arsenal whenever he knew the other person probably had a perfectly good point, even though he didn't want to admit it--agreeing would be tantamount to accepting defeat, after all.

"Well thanks for the vote of confidence, mate."

Ron's tone was a shade too flip for Hermione's liking. Was he really this intent on ignoring the obvious? She had held her tongue ever since he'd informed them of his plan--one she had to admit made a helluva lot of sense--but now she had to wonder if Harry's assessment of the situation was right after all. And she wasn't sure she could keep quiet much longer.

"No offense," Ron said, "but this is exactly why I didn't ask for your advice, Harry."

Typical, thought Hermione. Typical that Ron Weasley, who was always the first to worry about everyone else's safety, would be so cavalier about his own. Typical that he would be so willing to disregard any suggestions that someone else might have to offer now that his mind had already been made up.

Typical, and so infuriating.

Heaven forbid that Harry might actually be right in this case, that Ron might be walking into a raging fire that even he might not be able to fight off. It wasn't even any ordinary fire; a bloody inferno was more like it. Sometimes Ron was just too cocky for his own good.

But that was Ron, always had been: all bravery and gusto, with a heart that bled compassion, and eyes that just refused to recognize any danger that might otherwise be staring him in the face. As long as she had known him, he had been like this.

And of course, this was also why she loved the man so damn much.

"Ron, I'm serious," Harry said. "Do you really think you should go through with this?"

"Do you want to see more children be taken?" Ron volleyed back.

"No, of course not-"

"Because you've said it yourself, Harry. She will strike again. And your own daughter is a possible target."

Harry blanched, visibly shaken by what Ron had suggested. For his part, though, Ron seemed genuinely sorry by having used that to get his point across. He seemed as surprised as Harry had been that the words had come out of his mouth in that way.

"I... I know that," Harry said softly.

"Then let me do this," Ron said. "Harry, I don't want to see my niece--or any other child, for that matter--be taken away too." He sighed. "Believe me, I wouldn't wish this on anyone..."

Without any words, Hermione reached across to take hold of his hand; he threaded his fingers through hers after a while, a silent thank you for her reassuring touch.

Ginny came closer to her brother. "I think all Harry is trying to say is that... maybe you should rethink this," she said. "Maybe there's another way to prevent another kidnapping--another way that doesn't involve you making yourself a sitting duck..."

"And if you have a better idea, Gin, I'm all ears," Ron said.

But of course, she didn't. No one did.

"Look, I appreciate you worrying about me. I do. But you forget I've been at this for seventeen years. I've survived werewolves and vampires... hell, I even survived Gilderoy Lockhart in my second year at Hogwarts!"

Hermione chose to ignore that last comment in particular, though she wasn't sure whether it deserved a smile or a smirk.

"I'm not going to start playing scared now," Ron said. "Not when this much is at stake. Not when I'm this close."

Then he turned to Hermione, a gesture she wasn't quite expecting. She knew that this was his way of asking for approval, for a blessing of some sort. And as much as she hated the idea of her husband deliberately putting himself in a vulnerable situation, she also knew he was right. Blast it, he was right.

This person--if such a being could even be called a person--had to be stopped somehow. And their son had to come home.

"What do you reckon, love?" he finally said. "D'you think they're right? Am I barking mad?"

She felt her lips curve into a small smile.

"Well you are," she said, chuckling softly. "But that's beside the point."

Even Ron had to laugh.

"I can't really think of any other solution either..." She swallowed hard, but the lump remained in her throat, growing ever bigger and making her choke. "I guess you have to do this, don't you?"

He nodded, then kissed her on the forehead. It was a long time before he spoke, the words humming on her skin as he kept his lips on her.

"I made you a promise once, do you remember?" he murmured. "I made you a promise that I'd never leave you..."

Hermione nodded against his chest, letting her mind drift back to another place and time: when he held her in his arms after they'd first made love, after she had come so close to losing him and he had made this vow to her that she'd held him to ever since.

"Do you believe me, love?"

Yes, she thought instinctually.

"Do you believe me when I tell you I will come back to you? That I'll bring our son home?"

He raised her chin so that she looked him in the eye. She nodded, knowing he needed her answer to be yes. Behind him, she caught Harry's gaze. Worry lined his face, that much was for certain, but there was an unmistakable aura of calm about him as well.

Perhaps he knew, as she did, that this had to be done.

"Herr Weasley?"

The sound of a new voice cut through the silence. Hermione slowly eased herself off Ron and turned towards the door. The headmaster of Gr�nwald Academie had walked in, a stout and balding man (he looked entirely too young to be losing his hair) named Herr Ziegler, with cheeks were so red they reminded Hermione of polished apples. She noticed two others with him: a plump, older witch with violet-tinged hair and deep dimples that carved into her face when she smiled, and a scrawny whisper of a boy dwarfed by the two adults that stood on either side of him.

"Zis iz Frau Apfelbaum, our Potions Mistress. She haz brewed ze Polyjuice Potion for you."

Ron nodded towards her and smiled.

"It iz all ready now--ve just need to add a hair from Stefan here." Herr Ziegler placed his hands on the bony shoulders of the boy and gently pushed him forward for everyone to see. "And zis iz Stefan Kohl. He iz a first year here at Gr�nwald. He iz a little younger zan our ozer first yearz, only nine yearz old, but he vaz so exceptional zat ve had to bend ze rules and admit him." He smiled proudly at the boy. "Ist das nicht richtig, Stefan?"

The boy reddened noticeably. Herr Ziegler gave him another small nudge, and he came forward, albeit a little hesitantly, and said, "Hallo... It iz... very nice to meet you..."

Hermione was almost surprised to hear a voice come out of such a fragile looking child. He was small, even for a nine-year old. Hermione could have sworn that Madeline was at least an inch taller (of course, she was Ron's daughter; the Weasley genes might have had something to do with that), and probably more solid as well.

A cold, sick feeling settled in her stomach all of the sudden. This was the boy Ron would have to impersonate: this frail, delicate boy who looked as if he could easily fall to pieces without much effort.

Perhaps Harry had been right all along after all.

"Are you ready, Herr Weasley?" Frau Apfelbaum said.

Ron gave Hermione's hand a small squeeze before he slipped his out of hers and gave her a smile that was probably meant to put her at ease, but she very much doubted that was physically possible at this point.

"Ready," he said. He gave her one last look before he followed Herr Ziegler, Frau Apfelbaum, and Stefan out the door, and mouthed, it'll be all right.

She wished she could know that for sure.

Gr�nwald's grounds were more extensive than those of any other school she had ever seen. Hidden away by the tallest peak in the Alpine chain, the school stood just below the mountains, and its territory stretched out far as the naked eye could see, into the vast forest Hermione knew her husband would be entering tonight. She resisted a shudder as she stared at it, imagining it swallowing Ron whole and keeping him hidden deep within its dark belly.

Herr Ziegler had graciously allowed her, Harry, and Ginny to stay in one of the school's villas by the lake. "No sense in you traveling all zis vay and going back again after so brief a time here," he had said. Hermione guessed it was all in an effort to make the situation as bearable as possible, and she appreciated his attempts.

The sun had set hours ago. Hermione had watched it sink into the horizon and stared at the dusk sky as the brilliant reds and oranges and violets darkened to gray, then to a deep blue. She wasn't sure what time it was anymore, except that it was probably almost time for Ron to take the potion and go into the forest. Frau Apfelbaum's potion was a stronger one than the one she, Ron, and Harry had attempted so long ago; it would last a bit longer than the normal brew, but nevertheless, Ron would probably not have nearly as much time as he needed.

The wind blew again, a breeze that she normally would never have given a second thought, but tonight brought a chill to her bones. She gathered up the folds of her cloak and gasped when she felt someone's hand touch her arm.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you, Hermione..."

Hermione let out a breath and laughed sheepishly.

"No, I'm sorry, Ginny," she said. "Reckon I'm a bit too jumpy tonight."

Softly, Ginny said, "I don't blame you."

Guilt washed over Hermione as soon as heard those words. All this time she had been so focused on her own worry--and she hadn't even once stopped to think of how hard this must have been on Ginny as well.

"He'll be just fine, you know," Ginny said. "He's gone through tough scrapes before, and he's always managed to pull through."

Hermione nodded, afraid that if she opened her mouth and let the words escape, that the tears might make their escape as well.

"Did I tell you... that Harry and I have been talking about having another baby?"

Hermione turned to look at her. It seemed such an out-of-place thing to say, and yet somehow, it seemed incredibly appropriate that moment as well. She gave her sister-in-law a smile.

"Well it was about time you gave Emily a little brother or sister," she said.

Ginny laughed. "I don't know that we'll ever catch up to your brood, but it's worth a shot, isn't it?"

It felt good to laugh. It felt good to numb herself from the gripping fear of what was to come, and what might come to be: of Ron going into the dragon's lair, of something going wrong and never being able to see him or their son again.

Once more, she forced the thoughts into the darkest corners of her mind.

Ginny had grown silent once again. Then she said, "I'm so worried about him, Hermione..."

"Me too, Ginny."

They stared out into the distance for some time after that, until Hermione finally tore herself away from the view and turned to Ginny.

"Come on," she said, taking Ginny's hand and pulling her back into the villa. "I've just had an idea..."

It wasn't particularly cold, but the ten degree drop in temperature felt like a hundred to Ron. Perhaps it was because he was in an unfamiliar body, or perhaps, despite all his bravado and insistence to Hermione that this would be business as usual for him, he knew deep down inside it would not be.

How could it be, when failure meant not being able to save their son.

Wind whistled past his ears, and he felt pricks of awareness travel up his spine as the hairs on the base of his neck--of Stefan's neck--stood on end. There was a rustle of leaves on the ground, a muffled snap of a twig. His breath seemed to have grown louder by several thousand decibels.

Someone was behind him.

He turned around, but saw nothing but air and darkness. He squinted, holding up his wand and whispering, "Lumos..." Light shot out from it, revealing his immediate surroundings, but to his surprise, he was all alone. Or at least, he appeared to be.

"I knew you would come..."

A gasp tore out of his throat. He spun around, not expecting to be this surprised when he saw a figure standing before him, cloaked in black--at least he thought it was black, though it was so dark that it was hard to tell.

"You couldn't stay away, could you?"

Suddenly, Ron felt the heat of blood rushing to his head. There she was, the woman who had taken his son, the woman who had taken all those other children without any kind of remorse. And here she was, about to take him too.

Not without a fight.

"Who are you??"

He couldn't see it, but he was sure she was smiling. "I'm the one who will succeed where Drucilla failed..."

Before Ron had a chance to react, she lunged at him, clamping her hands around his wrists. She was strong, much stronger than he expected her to be. His blood boiled even more. She was this strong because she had stolen the children's magic.

Damn her. Damn her for all eternity.

He struggled, forgetting that he was in someone else's body, that all the strength he'd built up over years of arduous Auror training was not at his disposal. Trying to adjust to these new muscles and tendons and ligaments, he shifted, barely moving an inch, his ears burning as she laughed at his vain attempts.

"Give up, boy," she said. "You're no match for me..."

Suddenly, she seemed to have lost her balance. Gasping for air, she released one of his hands and clutched at her throat, where Ron saw the necklace that Helene must have been talking about. With one hand free, he wasted no time: he pulled down her hood and felt his heart leap out of his chest when he saw her face.

"You..."

He never should have let his guard down. Quick as lightning, she grabbed him again and waved her wand, muttering some spell he had never heard before. He felt her sway and struggle to keep upright before light flashed in his eyes and they both vanished into the night.