27

Ryan had showered and changed into clean clothes when he found Hermione on the pitch, and he'd used a Drying Charm on his hair, which meant it was blond. But she no longer saw the resemblance to Errol Reddington—she only saw the man who'd swept her off her feet in less than a week.

'Sorry that took so long,' he said. 'It was a while before Tuttle started her notes, but they were mercifully short.'

'It wasn't a problem—the sun is even peeking out a bit.'

'Perfect! Just in time for us to visit a dank pub. Are you sure you want to accompany me?' She assured him she did, and he led her to the fireplace in the arrival hall.

When they emerged at the Cracked Spyglass, the crowd was chanting Ryan's name and burst into loud cheers. 'It's Ryan fucking Bellamy!' cried a fan, and someone shoved a pint glass at him.

'And what do you want, love?' they asked Hermione, but before she could answer another fan handed her a pint glass as well. 'A beer, I suppose,' she said, and everyone laughed.

A tall black woman Hermione recognised as Ryan's teammate waved them to a table, and Ryan introduced her. 'Hermione, this is Renée Vickers. Renée, this is Hermione.'

'It's a pleasure to meet you, Renée. And congratulations—you were brilliant this afternoon. I'm sure it couldn't have been easy recovering from all those feints.'

'Not at first,' said Renée, 'but we eventually got the hang of it. Has Harry always been a lunatic or is this a new development?'

'No, he's always been like this,' said Hermione, taking a sip from her beer. 'But I'm not sure any of us could have been called level-headed—not consistently anyway.'

'It must be catching,' said Ryan, 'because I'm perfectly mad whenever I'm near you.' He put his arm around her shoulder, and she responded under the table by putting her hand on his thigh.

'Why Ryan, I've never seen you like this,' said Renée. 'Clearly it takes an Order of Merlin award to get your attention.'

'Or maybe just winning two matches in a row,' said another man at the table. He turned to Hermione and added, 'I'm Owen Barrowmaker, by the way. Reserve Seeker.'

'Of course!' said Hermione. 'Harry's told me so much about you, says you're absolutely brilliant.'

'That makes two of you,' said Ryan, before he was approached by a cluster of fans seeking autographs.

Owen chuckled. 'We won't hear from him for a while—they'll keep him busy, especially with all three Chasers here this afternoon.' He motioned towards Darren, who was at another table with Ron, Charlie, and Harry. 'But I'm glad for the opportunity to talk with you—it sounds like you're a big part of Harry's life.'

'Yes, we sort of adopted each other as siblings in our first year at Hogwarts, since we're both only children.'

'I can scarcely imagine the concept—my wife and I have four-year-old twin daughters, which means we skipped the only child phase. But I'm glad you and Harry had each other ... I suppose most of wizarding Britain is, in fact.'

He paused before continuing. 'I admit I find myself worrying about his lack of family—it must be the father in me. He's clearly turned out all right, but I don't get the sense he has a lot of adults looking out for him, or that he feels he does, anyway.'

'Actually, I think he feels that way about you. He refers to you as his mentor, and I've never heard him describe anyone that way, at least not in reference to himself.'

'That's surprising. I'd have thought Albus Dumbledore filled that role.'

'Not as much as you'd think,' said Hermione. 'Professor Dumbledore was very secretive, and although he loved Harry, I don't think he ever acted in his best interest. It was always about defeating Voldemort.'

Owen sighed. 'That must have been difficult for Harry. I'd certainly like for the Cannons to keep winning, but I can't see myself manipulating him to make that happen, even if it were possible.'

'No, certainly not. I think that's why joining the Cannons has been so beneficial for him—Quidditch is a good deal more straightforward than anything he's been asked to do previously. You either catch the Snitch or you don't.'

'It's not as simple as that,' said Owen. 'There are a lot of mind games as well. Has he told you about taunting?'

'Yes, he's mentioned it.'

'It's a surprisingly large part of a Seeker's job, probably more than for the other positions. And Harry's an enormous target—his life is full of trauma and he hasn't a shred of privacy.'

'No, he really hasn't,' said Hermione. 'And it's getting worse ... the lack of privacy, not the trauma, thank Merlin.'

'And he's not just on the receiving end—I've had to train him to deliver taunts. He seems to be handling it all right so far, but I should warn you as his friend that he might start saying some shocking things. I know I went through a similar phase.'

Hermione thought for a moment. 'Yes, he's been more sarcastic lately, now you mention it. Arrogant, even.' She was thinking of the way he'd interacted with Phineas Nigellus earlier that week.

'I'm afraid I'm to blame for that,' said Owen. 'It's the only way the other Seekers won't tear him to pieces.'

'It's funny ... people at Hogwarts used to accuse Harry of being arrogant—one of our professors in particular—but I could never see it. He always just seemed a bit lost to me, except when he was fighting Voldemort, of course. He was a completely different person whenever they faced each other.'

'Interesting,' said Owen. 'But getting back to the main topic—if he's anything like I was, his arrogance will get worse before it gets better.'

'Oh dear.'

'Yes, and we could be looking at uncharted territory. I was a good Seeker but nowhere near the flyer Harry is, and I was sidelined by injuries. And speaking frankly, Harry has considerably more cause for arrogance than I ever did. He was the master of the Elder Wand, for Merlin's sake, and about a thousand other things.'

Hermione was nodding. 'Yes, I can see that. And furthermore–' she hesitated. 'I probably shouldn't tell you this, but Dumbledore kept him down deliberately, for years.'

'I'm not surprised.'

'So that's an added reason why Harry might go too far in the opposite direction.' She looked at him and asked, 'Do you think there's any use trying to prevent it?'

'It's hard to say. On the one hand, I think it's beneficial to get those feelings out into the open, particularly if they've been suppressed. But on the other hand they're poisonous in large doses, and with Harry there's the added risk of publicity. If he says something particularly obnoxious at the wrong time, it could dog him for the rest of his life.'

'Do you think other Seekers would tell on him?'

'No, taunting is a proud Quidditch tradition. As long as he's not an arse when he sees them off the pitch, they'll respect his privacy.'

'What should I do then?' she asked.

'I'm sure my wife and some of my mates could offer suggestions, but the short answer is to call him on it. If he's an arse, you should say so. But even more importantly, you'll need to keep him grounded—you and all his old friends. He doesn't have family like I did. I'll try to help ground him as well, but I don't think it'll have the same impact.'

'Don't be so sure of that. He already respects you tremendously, and he's lacking in male role models. He can't remember his father at all, and his godfather Sirius was a bit of a mixed bag. Probably the best role model he had was Remus Lupin—one of our Defence professors—but he died in the final battle.' She looked at him a moment and said, 'You remind me of him, actually. Not physically, but some of your mannerisms and, more importantly, the way you interact. I suspect Harry has noticed it as well, at least subconsciously.'

'I'll certainly be glad to help, if I'm able. It's the least I can do after unleashing the monster in the first place. And if he can get through it, I think he'll be better off in the long run. He's very mature in certain respects—wise, even—and that will make all the difference.'

Ryan had finished signing autographs and turned towards Hermione. 'I'd say we've been here long enough. We can leave anytime you like.'

She smiled before facing Owen again. 'Thanks so much for the warning. I suspect you're right that it'll be good for Harry, even if it's awkward at times. And I admit I'm curious what he might say—hopefully in private.'

'It'll be entertaining if nothing else,' said Owen. 'Harry has a way with words all right—today's statement in the Prophet was classic.'

'He changed it! We drafted it together, with one of our former professors even, and then Harry altered it at the last minute.'

'Let me guess ... "bollocks?"'

'Yes, and the last line as well.'

Owen smiled. 'He certainly got his point across. I'll enjoy seeing how it plays out.' He rose and said, 'It's been a pleasure meeting you. I should return to my family, and it looks like you and Ryan are ready to leave as well.'

'Will I see you at the party next weekend?'

'Yes, along with my wife and a few of our school chums. Amongst other things we're curious to see Harry's house.'

'Don't miss the tapestry,' said Renée.

Hermione and Ryan said their goodbyes and proceeded to the fireplace. She looked up at him and said, 'Where to?'

He beamed at her for a long moment. 'I don't care—wherever you're going.'

'Well, one of us has to decide. Your flat perhaps?'

'Or the ends of the earth … I'll follow you anywhere.'

'Your flat it is. Come on,' she said, reaching for the Floo powder.

Moments later they arrived, and as soon as they stepped from the fireplace she embraced him. 'You were brilliant today. I was so proud of you.'

'I think you brought it out in me,' he said before kissing her. 'You're very inspiring, you know.'

They were still standing, which was a little awkward due to his height. 'Do you want to sit down?' she asked. 'You must be completely knackered.'

'To be honest, I'm famished. Half a bag of crisps at the pub was nowhere near enough.'

'Do you want me to cook something? Have you anything in the house?'

'Nothing interesting,' he said. 'But we could get takeaway from the Thai restaurant, if you like.'

After she selected something from the menu, he rang the restaurant to place their order. 'It'll be ready in ten minutes. You can either wait here while I pick it up or accompany me.'

She looked out the window. 'It's nice out ... I'll go with you. But first let me put on something less shockingly orange; I've brought a change of clothes in my bag.' More than one, in fact.

After she changed, Ryan Apparated them to an alley near the city centre, and it was only a few blocks to the restaurant. They waited on a bench outside. 'What did you think of my parents?' he asked. 'Annie scolded me for springing them on you like that.'

'I liked them very much. And I don't think I've ever met anyone quite like your mother.'

'That's Lucinda Spoonwocket for you. I realised a long time ago that she's not like other mums—witch or Muggle.'

'And your father impressed me as well, particularly with his attitude towards the wizarding world. He seemed perfectly at home with magic, but not ... emasculated by it, for lack of a better word.'

Ryan laughed. 'It probably helps that he's an engineer. They have more swagger than you'd expect.'

'And clearly your mother admires him, which can't hurt either.'

'Yes, they're still very much in love, even without a marriage bond. I consider them good role models in that respect.'

'My parents as well,' she said.

'What did my parents think of the match? I'm told they're usually bored.'

'They were at first, I think, but as soon as Harry started feinting they seemed to enjoy it.'

'That's good. I suppose I'll read her best quotes in the next newsletter.'

'They'll have a lot to choose from,' said Hermione, laughing. 'I'd be hard pressed to name a favourite.'

Their food was ready, so Ryan paid for it and they Apparated back to the flat. 'I could be an adult and serve you at the table, but I usually just eat on the sofa with music playing. Is that all right?'

'I have fond memories of your sofa, so yes.'

They ate together and chatted about the match. She showed him the Harry Potter figurine she'd purchased, and he was impressed. 'Look at that!' he exclaimed. 'It has a little scar and everything.'

'I considered buying yours, but I decided it didn't hold a candle to the original.'

'I'm surprised they don't sell Hermione Granger figurines somewhere.'

'What, so kids could pretend to battle Voldemort in the back garden?'

'Of course. That's what my magical cousins and I did growing up. We made up stories about Harry Potter and the immortal warlocks, and so forth. It was great fun at the time, though it's rather ghoulish now that I look back on it. I seem to recall we borrowed my baby cousin to play Harry and reenacted his parents' murder. They had me play Voldemort because I was the tallest—we called him "You-Know-Who," of course. We even drew a scar on the baby's forehead … my aunt was furious.'

'Good lord, don't tell Harry about that. He knows people told stories about him, but the idea of kids reenacting his parents' murder is a bit much.'

'Actually, I probably should tell him. Better to hear it from me than to have a rival Seeker throw it at him.'

'That's a good point. Owen and I talked about taunting at the pub this afternoon, and how it might affect Harry. What was your experience of it?'

'I don't think it's as bad for Chasers as it is for Seekers, since we're moving more quickly, but I've certainly had my share. It's usually about my father, or maybe someone unearths a quote from my mother, but otherwise it's about the Cannons in general. My grandparents' murder isn't public knowledge, so that's never come up, thank heaven.'

'That's a relief.' She had a thought and added, 'Do you suppose they'll taunt you about me, once they hear about us? Harry said it's happened to him.'

'Oh dear, you're right. Almost certainly.'

'Don't be chivalrous on my behalf. I'm certain I've heard worse.'

'It's not the worse I'm worried about,' confessed Ryan.

Hermione felt her face redden. 'They're just words,' she said, even though she knew how damaging words could be.

They listened to music for a while after dinner, and eventually they began snogging. Their initial pace was leisurely, as they had just eaten, but it gradually became more urgent.

'Should we move into your bedroom?' asked Hermione breathlessly.

'Is that what you'd like? I don't want to pressure you.'

She answered him nonverbally before saying, 'Yes, definitely.' She giggled and added, 'Most decidedly.'

He smiled. 'I certainly won't stop you. Quite the opposite.' He lifted her over his shoulder and she laughed, kicking her legs. 'Watch your head on the door,' he said.

It was the first time she'd seen his bedroom, which was masculine and tidy, with a smaller stereo atop the dresser. 'Hang on, I'll move the music into here.' He turned off the music in the lounge and returned to the bedroom with a cassette tape, which he popped into the player.

'I made a mix tape,' he confessed. 'Sorry, I couldn't help myself.'

'Is it labelled "Hermione Sex Mix?"'

'Should it be? I don't want to presume.'

'Yes,' she said, and they picked up where they'd left off.

It was still light out and they took things slowly. 'Oh my god,' he said, when he saw her scars.

She was embarrassed. 'I'm sorry, I know they're ghastly, but they're curse scars and there's nothing to be done.'

'That's not what I meant. You're beautiful ... all of you. But it's awful to see what you've endured.' He kissed her tenderly and asked, 'Are they sensitive? I don't want to hurt you.'

'No, thank Merlin. They just look horrid.'

He ran his finger over the word Bellatrix Lestrange had carved into her arm: Mudblood. 'My god, Hermione. I'm so sorry you had to experience all that. The idea of someone hurting you ...'

'It's over now. And the person who did it is dead.'

'And you're alive,' murmured Ryan.

'Yes,' she said, 'I'm alive.' After a long silence she gave him a saucy look and added, 'Now prove it to me.'

It was dark by the time they finished, and they lay in each other's arms. 'You must be knackered,' she said. 'First a three-hour match, and now this.'

'I reckon I'll sleep well. You'll stay the night, I hope?'

'I'd love to. Can I bring you a glass of water or something?'

He sat up. 'I'm the host, surely that's my responsibility.'

'I'd say you've been more than hospitable.'

'So have you,' he said, brushing a ringlet from her forehead. He rose and left the room, returning soon after with two glasses of water. 'I apologise for not having champagne and strawberries or something suitably romantic.'

'I'm glad you don't—it seems rather smarmy.'

He laughed and said, 'Thank you for turning my lack of preparation into a virtue.'

They murmured contentedly to one another for a while before finally falling asleep. Hermione awoke several times during the night due to the unfamiliar surroundings, but she smiled when she remembered where she was. Ryan's warmth and solidity made her feel safe down to her very core.

She fell asleep again and eventually awoke to daylight. Ryan was still in bed, and he was looking at her tenderly. 'Good morning,' he said, with a smile that made her insides melt.

'Good morning. Did you sleep all right?'

'Magnificently. But waking up has been even better. I can't believe you're real.'

'I feel the same way about you. Have you been awake long?'

'Not long, maybe half an hour.'

'Half an hour? You were allowed to get out of bed if you wanted.'

'I didn't want to. I was savouring the moment. And also trying to decide whether or not yesterday was the best day of my life.'

'Did you reach a conclusion?' she asked.

'I decided it was ... so far. But I'm hoping to surpass it. Today perhaps.'

She snuggled into the crook of his arm and they lay together for a while without saying anything.

'I didn't expect this to happen nearly so soon,' he admitted.

Hermione felt embarrassed. Had she been too forward? 'I suppose it was sooner than I expected as well, but ...' She trailed off, not knowing how to complete the sentence.

'No, I didn't mean it like that. I meant that I'm not someone who can have sex casually.'

'Casually?' she repeated, alarmed.

'I'm sorry, I'm expressing this all wrong. It's just ... I have a bad history with women, and it's made things difficult for me.'

A bad history with women? Had Harry missed something? She remained silent, hoping he'd say more but also fearing it.

'When I was fifteen, one of my classmates gave me a Love Potion,' he said. 'Served it to me, that is—after a Quidditch match.'

She inhaled sharply. Her own fears vanished but were replaced by horror and compassion. 'Oh, Ryan,' she said, turning towards him.

He was lying on his back and looking up at the ceiling. 'She handed me what I thought was a glass of juice. It was a hot day and I would have drunk anything. It wasn't juice, but it was impossibly delicious so I didn't care.

'The potion kicked in fast, and suddenly she was the most perfect person I'd ever seen. And it was retroactive, affecting my memories of her. As far as I knew, I'd always been madly in love with her.'

'Was this a friend of yours?' asked Hermione, momentarily suspecting Annie.

'Not particularly. We had some classes together, and I'd been told she fancied me, but I don't think I'd encouraged her.'

Not Annie, thank goodness, thought Hermione.

Ryan continued. 'She led me away from the pitch and I eagerly followed her. I would have followed her anywhere. I had just played a match and wanted to shower, but I couldn't bear to be apart from her. So we Flooed to her parents' house—they were conveniently away—and she joined me in the shower.

'It was hard enough being around her when she was dressed, but undressed she was irresistible. I'd barely rinsed off all the soap before I carried her to the bedroom. Fortunately she cast a Contraception Charm ... I wouldn't have known which end of the wand to hold.

'It was my first time. I can't say it was my best performance ... I nearly burst at first touch. But within minutes I was ready for more. And again after that, and so on. Just one look at her was enough to get me started again.'

He was still looking at the ceiling, and Hermione nestled closer to him to provide comfort.

'We must have gone for hours. Eventually I was too raw for intercourse, so I exhausted my creativity finding other ways to please her. She brought me some food, which I devoured—I insisted on eating it off her body, because I couldn't bear not to be in contact with her.

'And then the potion began to wear off. I didn't immediately realise what had happened—I just knew I was mortified and hurried home. And then I could hardly look at her afterwards.'

'Did you tell anyone?' asked Hermione. 'Surely there were rules at Widgington about conduct.'

'No, I didn't tell anyone at the time—I didn't want to think about it. I made noises to my parents about wanting to switch schools, but I wouldn't say why, so nothing came of it.'

'What about your friends? Did you tell any of them?'

'I didn't tell Annie if that's what you're asking. Our relationship was a little complicated back then, and I think it would have upset her. But I told one of my mates, and he didn't see what the big deal was. The girl was pretty enough, just not my type. He actually congratulated me on popping my cherry—said it was about time.'

'Oh, Ryan. I'm so sorry.'

'I think I decided to see it from his perspective, since it was easier that way. Easier than acknowledging what it really was.'

'Rape, you mean?'

'Yeah. It took me a long time to come around to that. I didn't feel I matched the profile—I was already six feet tall, and nearly thirteen stone. But of course with a Love Potion that makes no difference.

'A few years later I told Annie, and she urged me to talk to a Mind Healer. Fortunately I'd started earning a salary by then, so I was able to pay for it. I'd never told my parents—I was too ashamed.'

'Did you tell them eventually?'

'Yes, I asked them to come to a session with me. The Healer told them it was more common than you'd think, and that she'd counselled a number of witches and wizards.'

'How did they react? If you don't mind my asking, of course.'

'My father was devastated. He'd never dreamt he'd have to worry about me that way. He'd given me a stern lecture when I was sixteen—several months after the incident—in which he told me how to behave with women, never pressure them to do anything, and so forth. It hadn't occurred to him I'd already experienced it myself, and of course I didn't say anything at the time.

'I expected my mother to be furious, and of course she was. With my classmate, that is, not with me. But she was also upset I'd never said anything—upset with herself. She felt she'd failed as a mother for not realising what had happened, for not reading between the lines when I wanted to change schools. She'd assumed I was just whinging.'

Ryan was no longer looking at the ceiling. He was facing Hermione and his downcast eyes broke her heart.

'As part of my healing process, I confronted my former classmate. That's not necessarily what a Muggle counsellor would recommend, but my situation wasn't fully analogous.'

'How did she react?'

'She'd actually come to feel remorse about it. It seems she subsequently had an admirer whose affections she didn't return, and even though he never gave her a Love Potion, she realised how awful it would have been if he had done.'

'She ought to have apologised on her own initiative, instead of waiting for you to confront her,' scowled Hermione.

'I don't know if I'd have wanted that,' he said. 'It might have just reopened the wound prematurely.'

'How does it affect you now?' she asked. 'Do you think the Mind Healer was helpful?'

'Yes, immensely. Just to be able to talk about it without shame was a huge shift. To know I hadn't done anything wrong.'

'Why would you think you'd done anything wrong?'

'That's the insidious thing about Love Potions: the fact that I enjoyed it so much at the time. The ecstasy and the sense of fulfilment were unbelievable. In fact, I think it ruined me for normal relationships for several years ... they just couldn't compare.'

Hermione felt a little disheartened. How could a night with me measure up to what he experienced when he was fifteen?

'For several years?' she asked. 'Has that part improved?'

'Over time, yes. One thing I've learnt is that I can't do casual sex. My teammates invited me out a few times when I first joined the Cannons, and I'm certain they thought I was hopeless. The fact is, I need a strong emotional connection with a partner. Love, ideally.'

He looked at her meaningfully, and her heart fluttered. 'I know we've only known each other a short while,' he said. 'So perhaps it's only infatuation. But Hermione, I can't believe how ... infatuated I am with you already. And I'm only using that word as a placeholder, because I don't want to spoil anything by using the other word too soon.'

'I'm very ... infatuated with you too, Ryan.'

'I hope I haven't made you uncomfortable,' he said. 'It's not exactly light conversation.'

'No, I'm glad you told me. You're such a remarkable person, Ryan, and I'm ashamed at how much I underestimated you. Initially, that is.'

'For being an athlete?' he asked, smiling.

'More than that. I had the idea that things came to you easily, and so you probably hadn't much character.'

'Because I'm good looking, you mean.'

She was surprised he'd said it. 'Yes.'

He frowned. 'I'm certain I've had unfair advantages—there's been research on that sort of thing. When I was promoted to starter in my first year, for example, there were rumblings that it was to draw more witches to the stadium. I've heard taunts to that effect as well.'

'But that's ridiculous,' said Hermione. 'You're the leading scorer by far.'

'I wasn't initially. Furthermore, my merchandise has always outsold the others' by a fair margin, although Harry's about to annihilate me.'

'That's true,' she said. 'Probably a quarter of the spectators were wearing his number yesterday. Though I saw a girl purchasing your poster over Harry's because he appears in the Prophet so often.'

'I'm relieved to hear it—apparently there's still hope for my mad scientist fund. But Hermione, you of all people should know that being attractive doesn't solve everything.'

'That's the thing, Ryan. I feel like a fraud. My hair isn't naturally like this, you know. It's just from a charm I found in an old spellbook.'

'I know that. I've seen your photographs after all. You always used to tie it back.'

'Yes, because otherwise it's a fright—I'll show you.' She used her wand to remove the charm from her somewhat rumpled curls.

He laughed when he saw her hair in its enormous glory, but then he smiled lasciviously at her. 'Hermione, do you have any idea how sexy you look? Don't take this the wrong way, but you have seventies glamour model hair.'

She was simultaneously mortified and amused. 'I didn't realise you were that familiar with seventies glamour models.'

'I grew up before the Internet, remember? My football mates used to pass around old magazines like contraband. The publication date didn't matter—we weren't looking at them for the fashions. Believe me, Hermione, your hair is fantastic.'

'Right, but that's not all of it. My front teeth used to be enormous as well, until the Hogwarts matron finally fixed them. All the boys used to make fun of me.'

'They probably had crushes on you.'

'No, I'm certain they didn't. All through primary school I was an outcast, and same with my first two months at Hogwarts. The reason I was nearly killed by a troll was because I was hiding in a toilet crying.'

'That hardly seems like a reason to send a troll after you.'

She scowled at him. 'I don't think you get it, Ryan. Nobody thought I had sexy hair as a child—and thank heaven for that, I suppose. They just thought it was ugly, that I was ugly. And they told me so.'

'I'm so sorry you went through that. Children can be so cruel.'

'That's another thing I held against you,' she admitted. 'You reminded me of one of the bullies I knew in primary school. Your appearance, that is.'

'That's unfortunate—I'm glad you were able to overlook it. I should confess that you're a dead ringer for the mad cute witch who saved Britain.'

'Have you been able to overlook it?' she asked, smiling.

'I could overlook it all day,' he said, pulling back the bedsheet.

They eventually got out of bed, and he prepared breakfast for them. 'What time are your parents expecting us?' she asked.

'Before noon. I figure it will take under two hours each way to get to Harry's house in London.'

'And you're certain we can't use magical transport?'

'Yes, unfortunately I've ruined stereo equipment in the past. It has to be analogue all the way.'

She frowned. 'That could be tricky. The house is hidden from Muggles. If we're entering through the front door, Harry and I normally Disillusion ourselves first.'

'You're right, that is a problem. Is there a way in through the back garden?'

'No, there's no entry through the garden wall.'

'How busy a street is it? Is there a chance nobody would see us?'

'Two years ago, yes, but the neighbourhood has improved since then, probably because Kreacher and Bill Weasley removed all the Dark magic from the house.' She was quiet a moment before her eyes lit up. 'But of course, we can use Harry's Invisibility Cloak. Would that harm the equipment?'

'I don't see why it would. It's only the Cloak that's charmed, not the contents. And they wouldn't be shrunk like the items in your handbag. How will you get it from him?'

'I daren't try now—he almost certainly has company. But perhaps I could send him a Patronus from your parents' house and ask him to leave it in the entrance hall.'

'Under that awful portrait, you mean?'

'No, Harry managed to get rid of her at last. She's been replaced by his godfather.'

'Sirius Black?'

'Not exactly—his Animagus form, Padfoot.' She told him the story, and Ryan was suitably amused.

'Harry really has the strangest life of anyone I've ever met, by a wide margin,' said Ryan.

'You may be right. At least it's finally taken a turn for the better. But I think people are starting to forget just how tragic it's been, now that he's a war hero and a Quidditch star, not to mention a so-called lord.'

'Perhaps. Should we see what the Prophet has to say this morning?' he asked, fetching it from the fireplace. 'For some reason I completely forgot about it until now.'

'Yes, why not,' she replied, bracing herself as usual.

He unrolled it on the kitchen table. For a change, Harry wasn't on the front page, except for a small headline in the box leading to the sports news: 'Potter, Cannons Crush Arrows, 310-70.'

'That's not bad,' said Ryan. 'I suppose the wizarding lords haven't had time to mount their defence yet. Perhaps their house-elves are still working on it.'

Ryan took the sport section, which exuberantly praised Harry's performance and featured large photographs of his more spectacular feints, including the one that resulted in Ryan's Sloth Grip Roll. 'Now that's a good photo,' he said. 'My parents might actually clip that one—they're rather choosy.'

'It's unfortunate they can't display it on the refrigerator, because of your Muggle relations.'

'No, but they've managed some workarounds. You'll see when I bring you to the house.'

Hermione was partway through the main section of the paper when she let out a gasp. 'Ryan, there's a photo of us, in the gossip column.'

The photograph depicted Hermione and Ryan kissing after the match. They were both disheveled from the rain, and Hermione's hands were roving eagerly. The accompanying item read:

This just in! Hermione Granger, 19, has apparently thrown over longtime beau Ronald Weasley, 19, for Chudley Cannons heartthrob Ryan Bellamy, 22. The two were captured snogging in broad daylight after the Cannons' big win over Appleby, in which the hunky Chaser scored nine goals. The Prophet expresses its sympathy to the many witches in Bellamy's fan club, with the suggestion that a certain ginger-haired Order of Merlin recipient might need consoling.

'Oh, for heaven's sake!' she exclaimed. 'I didn't throw Ron over.'

'Of course not,' said Ryan. 'You broke up with him before we started dating. But the Prophet has no way of knowing that.'

Hermione reddened and said, 'That's not true. Ron broke up with me.'

Ryan's eyes widened. 'Are you serious? What on earth is wrong with him?'

'Nothing's wrong with him. We just weren't suited to each other, and he was the first to realise it. I'll admit it came as a shock, but obviously I'm pleased with how things have turned out.'

'As am I,' he said. 'I suppose I should send him a thank-you card.'

'He'd probably rather you sent a correction to the Prophet. I'm sure he'll be livid to be depicted as having been thrown over.'

'I daresay Janet is consoling him well enough.'

'Are they seeing each other?' asked Hermione, surprised.

'Yes, since last weekend, same as us. I'm sorry—I thought you already knew.'

Hermione sighed. 'That's all right. I'm certainly in no position to cast judgment for moving on so quickly.' She had other opinions about Janet but kept them to herself.

After eating they showered—separately. Hermione was tempted to invite him to join her, but she didn't know whether that would remind him too much of his Love Potion experience.

'How will we get to your parents' house?' she asked after they'd dressed.

'Apparition,' he said, 'but there's a system to it. My parents devised it together.'

'That's right, I meant to ask what your mother does for a career.'

'She doesn't strictly have one.'

'Really? That's a surprise. She didn't strike me as a stay-at-home witch, particularly with only one child.'

'Actually, I was a bigger handful than you'd think. In addition to my accidental magic, I was rather energetic. Stereotypical boy, apparently.'

'Yes, but after you started school?'

'She completed a Charms mastery before I was born, and I think she intended to teach, but I'm told she didn't last long at her first job because she didn't get on with the headmistress. And then she had me, and I required all her attention—she couldn't just send me to a day nursery.'

'Yes, my parents were reluctant as well,' said Hermione. 'My mother had to take several years off work to look after me.'

'By the time I started school, I think she'd settled into a rhythm. My father earns a decent salary, and my mother is able to economise in all sorts of ways using magic. She's also very handy—Muggle carpentry, for example—so the house is a bit of a marvel.'

'I'm curious to see it. Shall we go?'

'Yes,' he said, taking her outstretched hand. 'We're going to Apparate into the garden shed, and you'll see what happens from there.'

Ryan turned on his heel, and true to his word they arrived in what appeared to be a largish garden shed. There was a window looking out onto some shrubbery, so it wasn't dark inside.

'See this green flame?' he said, indicating a small flame inside a glass bell. 'That tells us the coast is clear, and that there aren't any Muggles in the house besides my father. If there were someone present, the flame would be red and I'd have to proceed with caution.'

'You're not worried about an accidental fire, with a flame burning out here all the time?' asked Hermione.

'No, it's a magical flame and won't consume anything. I could pour petrol on it and nothing would happen.'

Hermione was fascinated. 'That's amazing. What next?'

He opened the door and led her into the garden. Hermione's eyes widened as she looked around—it was a veritable fairyland, made up primarily of Muggle plants and flowers, but she could see patches of magical plants and herbs tucked discreetly here and there. There was also a large vegetable garden, and it looked like the first tomatoes were beginning to ripen.

'Oh, Ryan, this is marvellous! I'd love to show it to my friend Neville—he's pursuing a mastery in Herbology.'

'I assume you mean Neville Longbottom, one of the heroes of Hogwarts?'

'Yes, and I'm still livid they didn't award him the Order of Merlin. After all he did in the fight against Voldemort and to protect Hogwarts students, he more than earned it.'

'Save your ire for my mother. She enjoys that sort of thing, particularly when the Ministry is at fault.'

'I noticed that yesterday. I suddenly understood why you weren't shocked when I sent Harry a Howler on our first date.'

'Lucinda doesn't bother with Howlers,' he said. 'The problem, to her mind, is that they crumble into ashes afterwards, and she'd rather leave a permanent record. She once tried reverse engineering Howler stationery to see if she could remove that step, but it was arithmantically impossible. Something about conservation of magical energy, as absurd as that sounds.'

'Fantastic,' said Hermione. 'There are probably a million things I'd love to pick her brain about.'

They entered through a sliding glass door into a sort of dining room, though it clearly served other functions as well. There was an upright piano, which was playing jazz music unassisted.

'That's actually rather good,' said Hermione, 'though obviously I'm no expert. But it doesn't have that mechanical sound I associate with player pianos.'

'Definitely not,' said Ryan. 'My father wouldn't have tolerated it. I get my music snobbery from him, although our tastes differ.'

The dining table was large and mostly covered with craft materials, though there was room at one end for several place settings. Hermione noticed a lot of moving photographs on the walls, including Quidditch shots of Ryan, presumably taken at school.

'It's strange seeing you fly wearing colours other than Cannons orange,' she said.

'Yes, Widgington failed to prepare me for that aspect of my professional career. Red and black are tame by comparison.'

'But they look a bit like Gryffindor robes, which I quite like.'

'Oh right, that's the Hogwarts house for the brave and bold, isn't it. Were you surprised not to be placed in the brainiac house? Ravenhurst, I think?'

'Ravenclaw, and yes, I was a bit surprised. But for some reason I wanted to be Sorted into Gryffindor—destiny I suppose—and so that's what happened.'

'Do you suppose it was destiny Harry joined the Cannons, just so you and I could meet?' he asked in a low voice.

She blushed. 'I don't know ... you'd have to ask the Department of Mysteries. Your mother told me about that yesterday, by the way. I'd never previously heard that they assign schools for Muggle-borns.'

'Oh dear, how did you take it? Harry was shocked into silence when I broke the news last week.'

'About the same way, I suspect. I assume you've heard the rumour that Harry was the subject of prophecy.'

He nodded. 'Yes, and it's always seemed fairly plausible, compared to the other rumours about him. Otherwise why would Voldemort try to kill him as a baby?'

'Exactly. I couldn't help wondering if I was ... meant to help him.'

'It stands to reason, as much as anything relating to Divination does, which usually isn't much. Normally it's a load of rubbish, but occasionally it's spot on.'

'Thank you! I actually stormed out of my second term of Divination, never to return. Professor Trelawney—and I'm using the word "professor" loosely—kept predicting Harry's death, which got old after a while. That was the year we thought Sirius Black was coming to kill him, and Trelawney kept seeing a Grim in Harry's future. Turned out it was just Sirius's Animagus form.'

'So she was right after all?' smirked Ryan.

'Right like a broken clock. But why am I grousing about Trelawney when there's a magical house to explore?' She looked at the photographs and asked, 'What happens when a Muggle comes over? You can't just freeze the Quidditch shots, for example.'

'No, but watch this.' He discreetly touched the handle of his wand, which was tucked into a pocket, and muttered an incantation. The piano immediately stopped playing and the cover lowered smoothly over the keys. The photographs stopped moving, and Ryan's Quidditch photos were replaced with pictures of him playing football. And the unmistakably magical craft supplies, including a shimmering skein of demiguise yarn, simply disappeared from view.

'Brilliant!' cried Hermione. 'And you did that all with a single incantation? How is that even possible?'

Before he could answer they heard a shout from the kitchen. 'Ryan, are you fiddling with the wards? I'm trying to brew in here.'

'Sorry, Mum. I was just showing Hermione around.'

They entered the kitchen to find Lucinda standing at the counter and Walter at the table reading the Guardian. The kitchen was roomy, with unpretentious wood counters and numerous cabinets and cupboards sized perfectly for the irregular space. Hermione was impressed by the AGA cooker, though it was considerably more weathered than the ones normally appearing in Ideal Home magazine.

'This is Muggle mode,' explained Ryan, opening a large cupboard to reveal food products one might find at an ordinary supermarket. 'And this is wizarding mode,' he said, touching his wand again and mumbling another incantation.

The room contents transfigured, and what had been a somewhat quirky but otherwise normal Muggle kitchen turned into a full Potions laboratory rivalling the one at Hogwarts, only smaller. Two of the burners on the cooker had resized to better accommodate cauldrons, and bowls of prepared ingredients were on the counter where Lucinda was standing.

'Oh no, did we interrupt your brewing?' asked Hermione.

'No, not to worry,' said Lucinda. 'When the wards get altered like that, it automatically casts a Stasis Charm, which means I could come back to it in three days if I needed to. In fact it's still in stasis right now—I'll lift it manually once Ryan's finished showing you around.'

Hermione was awestruck. Ryan opened the cupboard he'd shown her previously, but this time it was filled with a vast array of potions supplies. Hermione read some of the labels and saw a number of surprisingly obscure ingredients. Each label had a neatly written date at the bottom, and nearly all of them were recent.

'Are you a brewer, then?' asked Hermione. 'Ryan told me your mastery is in Charms, but clearly you're more than just a Potions hobbyist.'

'I haven't formally studied brewing beyond what I learnt at Widgington, but I've made a serious hobby of it these last few years.'

'I can see that,' said Hermione. 'A very serious hobby. Do you have a particular goal in mind, or are you experimenting across the board?'

Ryan shot a questioning look at his mother, and she nodded. 'My mother's teaching herself to become a Healer.'

Hermione was quick to grasp the implication. 'You mean without official Healer training?'

'Yes, and the attendant restrictions,' replied Lucinda.

Healer training was offered only through apprenticeships, Hermione knew, and one of the requirements was that the apprentice swear upon their magic never to magically heal a Muggle, except for first aid not surpassing what a paramedic could perform. It would therefore be forbidden to heal a Muggle broken arm any faster than a non-magical physician could.

'Thank you for trusting me,' said Hermione, knowing Lucinda would understand her meaning. As a Ministry employee, Hermione was honour-bound to report violations of the law, particularly where the Statute of Secrecy was concerned.

Lucinda nodded. 'I think you've proven you don't slavishly follow inhumane laws. Obviously I'm not going to violate the Statute of Secrecy, but I can't just sit idle and watch our friends and family suffer needlessly—to say nothing of Walter.'

'How will you get around the Secrecy concern?' asked Hermione, although she knew what the answer would be.

'Memory charms. I abhor them, of course, but in this case they're the lesser of two evils.' She busied herself with some ingredients for a moment before adding, 'People are cured spontaneously all the time—Muggles that is. Medical researchers don't really understand how disease works, otherwise they'd be able to cure things consistently. The worst harm I'm likely to do is create a cluster of spontaneous remissions, which might puzzle a number-crunching epidemiologist somewhere, but that's hardly going to bring the Statute of Secrecy crashing down.'

'What about lifespan?' asked Hermione.

'I figure I can keep Walter around until he's maybe 105, and hopefully in good condition. After that we'll have to see. There's not much research on far we can extend Muggle lifespans using magic, so I suppose he'll be the test case, God willing.'

'I hope you're planning to keep notes, even if you can't publish them.'

'Yes, I intend to. I haven't yet devised a way to release them when the time comes, after Walter and I are both gone of course. We don't want Ryan or anyone else to get in trouble for abetting me. But I'm sure we'll think of something.'

'I'm certain you will,' said Hermione, looking around the kitchen again. 'This really is remarkable. May I ask how you're doing it?'

'It's rather complicated, as I'm sure you can imagine. The incantations you saw Ryan performing are just a trigger, unleashing a series of switches in the wards. They're also triggered if a Muggle other than Walter enters the house. And if we were to invite your parents over, I could override it for them as well.'

'That would be wonderful—I'd love to show this to them. I'm envious of your Potions lab, since there's nowhere I can brew at my parents' house. Fortunately Harry has a lab I can use whenever I like.'

'I'm impressed you can even brew a Hiccoughing Potion with the instruction you received at Hogwarts. I know Severus Snape is a hero, but it's scandalous how poorly he taught anyone but his favourites.'

Ryan said, 'Hermione brewed Polyjuice Potion in her second year.' He turned to her and added, 'In a disused toilet, right?'

'Yes. We were trying to determine who was behind the Basilisk attacks. People were blaming Harry.'

'Oh right,' said Lucinda. 'He's a Parselmouth as well. Unbelievable.'

'Not anymore,' said Hermione. 'The details are confidential, but the short version is that Harry lost the ability when Voldemort died. Now he can't talk to snakes any better than you or I can.'

'That's a shame—I would have loved a pet snake I could talk to,' confessed Lucinda, prompting a chuckle from Walter.

'Of course you would, dear. You could craft an entire crown of them and frighten the neighbours at Hallowe'en.'

'For example,' said Lucinda. 'Ryan, forgive me for not congratulating you on the match yesterday. That was well done.'

'Yes, it was downright entertaining,' said Walter. 'Your mother only grumbled once about wanting a clock.'

'During a three-hour match?' exclaimed Ryan. 'That might be a new record. Did you see the photograph in the Prophet?'

'No, not yet,' answered Lucinda. 'Was there a good one?'

'I thought so,' said Ryan, digging for the Prophet underneath the various sections of the Sunday Guardian. He opened to the page depicting his Sloth Grip Roll.

'That is good,' said Lucinda with a hint of surprise. 'That belongs in the scrapbook for sure.'

'There's another one as well,' said Ryan. 'Of Hermione and me, in the gossip column.' He flipped to the appropriate page.

Lucinda raised her eyebrows when she saw it. 'That probably explains the owl I received this morning, presumably from someone in the family.' She indicated an unopened envelope on the counter.

Hermione was curious about the letter, but of course it was none of her business. 'Shall I open it?' asked Ryan.

'Suit yourself.'

Ryan opened and scanned the letter. 'It's from Bernard,' he said. 'Wants to have us all to dinner, Hermione included.'

'Bernard can stuff it, as far as I'm concerned,' replied Lucinda. She turned to Hermione and added, 'He's one of the pure-bloods, and he was notably silent during the war. Not a Death Eater, mind you, and probably not even a sympathiser. More of the passively compliant type, which is the worst of all if you think about it. No convictions other than protecting his own hide. He probably would have reported you to the Ministry if he'd seen you when there was a price on your head. Which number Undesirable were you anyway? It was hard to keep straight.'

'I was number two,' said Hermione. 'Mudblood outranks pure-blood.'

'Yes, quite right,' said Lucinda. 'That's a handy mnemonic. If you and Ryan are still together at Christmas, perhaps we can use that photo on our annual letter. You don't have a Chocolate Frog Card, do you?'

'No, but Harry does.'

'You'll have one soon enough,' said Lucinda casually. 'Ryan, when do you need to leave with the car? It's a long drive to London and back.'

'We should probably leave now, actually.'

'Do you need sandwiches for the ride? I was just at Waitrose yesterday after the match, so we're fully stocked.'

'That would be great, thanks,' replied Ryan.

Hermione offered to help but Lucinda waved her away. 'I've made thousands of sandwiches for the boy—a few more won't make a difference. Hula Hoops?'

'Yes, please,' said Ryan, and Hermione had to stifle a grin. Between Lucinda referring to the Cannons' star Chaser as 'the boy' and offering him Hula Hoops, possibly the quintessential Muggle snack, Hermione was thoroughly charmed.

'Hermione, shouldn't you contact Harry about the Invisibility Cloak?' asked Ryan.

'Yes, thanks for reminding me.' She turned to Lucinda and Walter and asked, 'Is it all right if I cast a Patronus in the kitchen?'

'I'm not sure,' said Lucinda. 'Walter, could you consult the etiquette book? I can't remember if Patronuses are more appropriately cast in the kitchen or the drawing room.'

'Go right ahead,' laughed Walter. 'I'll enjoy watching it.'

Hermione used one of her most recent memories with Ryan to cast an unusually bright otter Patronus, which she sent with a message for Harry. Several minutes later, Prongs returned with Harry's reply.

'Of course, I'll leave it in the entrance hall under Padfoot. See you soon, and please thank Ryan and his parents for me,' said Harry's voice.

'What a well-brought up young stag,' said Lucinda. 'Please commend Potter on his manners.'

'I must say, that's even more convincing than seeing him flying over the pitch yesterday,' said Walter. 'That Seeker could have been any black-haired kid, but as far as I know you can't fake a Patronus.'

Lucinda finished packing their lunches, and Hermione was delighted to see her include a half-dozen Hobnobs, wrapped in waxed paper. Ryan was thoroughly adult and manly from Hermione's perspective, and seeing his boyish side tickled her to pieces.

'We're off,' said Ryan. They said their goodbyes and Ryan led Hermione out front to where his parents' Renault was parked.

'Are there any charms on it?' she asked, anticipating the answer.

'Yes, heaps of them. Mostly for safety, of course, but there are some self-driving ones as well. It should be a fairly leisurely drive, except for the last bit when we're navigating London.'

It was a short drive from the village where Ryan's parents lived to Ryan's flat in Cambridge, and they soon loaded the stereo and speakers into the car. Naturally Ryan had a stack of CDs to listen to as they drove.

'I can't get over your parents' house,' said Hermione. 'I assume your mother did all that?'

'Yes, although my father helped more than you might expect. The charms are rather complicated and require a fair bit of logic, so they worked it out together. And as you know, Arithmancy involves a lot of calculations that don't require magic, so he helped with that as well.'

'That's wonderful. I love how collaborative their marriage appears to be.'

'Yes, they've set a high bar.'

They made good time getting to London and managed not to get too lost finding Grimmauld Place. Ryan was unimpressed by the neighbourhood. 'This is the improved version?' he said, and Hermione looked at it with fresh eyes. Admittedly, the heaps of trash were gone, and all but one of the broken windows had been repaired, but it still wasn't particularly nice.

'Sad to say, yes. There literally used to be trash lying around, and a foul odour. It'll be interesting to see whether it continues improving steadily or if it eventually levels off.'

Ryan shook his head. 'Dark magic is simply the worst. How anyone can abide it is beyond me.'

Hermione Disillusioned herself and entered through the front door to collect the Invisibility Cloak. Padfoot promptly began barking, and Harry poked his head up a moment later. 'Do you and Ryan need a hand?' he asked.

'Actually, that might be useful,' replied Hermione. 'Not with the carrying, but we could use another decoy.' The plan was to Disillusion Ryan inside the car, throw the Invisibility Cloak over the boxes containing the stereo components and speakers, and then have Hermione and Harry exit the car in plain sight. They would make a show of chatting in front of the open hatch whilst Ryan carried the boxes into the house. Fortunately it was still drizzling, so there weren't as many people outside as there might otherwise have been.

The plan went off without a hitch, and once everything was inside the three of them gathered to discuss the party. 'Have you received many replies yet?' asked Hermione.

'Yes, I stopped by Gringotts about an hour ago and they gave me a huge pile of them. So far everyone has said yes, except for two of our classmates.'

'Which ones?' asked Hermione.

'Er, Sally-Ann Perks and Lily Moon. I can't even remember them, to be honest.'

'That's because we practically never heard from them after the Sorting. They were both in Hufflepuff and joined at the hip, but they literally never interacted with anyone else. I'm not surprised they turned you down. But everyone else so far has accepted?'

'Yes.'

'That doesn't surprise me either,' she said. 'It's probably the social event of the decade, for people our age anyway.'

Harry shook his head in disbelief. 'It occurs to me this will be my first proper birthday party, without having a war hanging over us or someone recently dead, touch wood.'

'I didn't realise it was your birthday as well,' said Ryan. 'The invitation didn't mention it.'

'Harry doesn't want presents,' explained Hermione. 'But I think it's a lost cause ... your birthday is practically a national holiday.'

'Honestly, I'm just grateful to be alive. Until last year, nearly all my birthdays felt like they might be my last. And the party last year was fairly subdued.'

Ginny and Hermione had insisted on throwing a party for Harry at Grimmauld Place, but the house wasn't entirely clear of Dark magic yet, so the atmosphere was less than cheerful. They'd persuaded George to join them, but he was still grieving heavily and managed to suck a lot of air from the room. And of course Fred's absence still smarted terribly.

'Yes, it was rather subdued,' said Hermione. 'But this year should be great fun, particularly with so many new people.'

'That's my hope,' said Harry.

Hermione looked at her wristwatch. 'Ryan and I should probably head back to Cambridge. Congratulations again on the match—I hope you had a good time celebrating afterwards.'

'I did, thanks. You'll actually meet her at the party,' replied Harry before realising he'd inadvertently connected the dots between 'celebrating' and 'Helena.'

'You said it, I didn't,' said Hermione, laughing. 'But I look forward to meeting her. Is this the witch from the Prophet photograph?'

'Yes, her name is Helena. She's our age and went to a school called West Chipworth.'

'She gets a name and everything?' asked Hermione. 'It sounds serious.'

'I don't think it is serious,' said Harry, 'but I quite like her. She's a lot of fun. Not very fond of publicity, though.'

'I can see why that would be a non-starter,' said Hermione, feeling fortunate that she and Ryan wouldn't have that problem.

'Nice picture in the Prophet, by the way,' smirked Harry.

'Oh dear. Did you hear from Ron about it?'

'What, about how you threw him over for Ryan?'

'Exactly. And Ryan knows the full story, so you don't need to dance around anything.'

Harry nodded. 'He'll cope. I'm certain Janet is preparing to shag him in public somewhere to scare off all the circling witches.' He paused and added, 'Er, you knew about him and Janet, right?'

'Yes, Ryan told me. But I'm fine, obviously. Ron was right—we weren't a good match. He was just the first to notice it.'

She and Ryan drove back to Cambridge and returned the car to his parents' house. Hermione would have loved to spend the evening with Ryan again, but she didn't want to put off her parents any longer.

When Hermione returned home, her father was kind enough to pretend she hadn't been gone overnight. 'Hi there, bookmuffin, how are you doing?' he asked.

'Really well, thanks. The Cannons won.'

'Yes, I had a peek at the Prophet this morning. It looks like both Harry and Ryan did a great job.'

'They did,' she beamed. 'And Ryan and I just got back from driving his stereo to Harry's house for the party.'

'In a car? With a boy?' began Daniel, and Emily swatted him.

'Daniel, you promised! Welcome back, Hermione,' said her mother. 'That was quite a photo of Ryan in the paper this morning.'

'Yes, and he scored right afterwards,' she said.

Her parents stared at her, and Hermione realised her mother was referring to the gossip column photo of them kissing, and not the photo of Ryan's Sloth Roll Grip.

'Oh dear,' said Hermione. 'I meant the photo in the sport pages.'

Emily and Daniel burst into hysterics, and once Hermione overcame her mortification she did the same.

'I'll just go upstairs now and pretend I never said that.'

'Yes, carry on,' said Daniel. 'Cheerio.'

Emily followed Hermione upstairs into her room, still smirking. 'Are you doing all right, dear?'

'Oh, Mum, I'm so happy. Ryan's wonderful, and I met his parents and they're wonderful too. His mother is terrifying but in the best possible way, and you and Dad are going to love them.' She didn't mention the part about Lucinda learning to become a Healer, but she'd been thinking about it all afternoon, and how it might affect her own parents.

'I'm glad it's working out so well. I look forward to getting to know Ryan better and meeting his parents. Soon I hope?'

'Yes, I imagine so.'

Her mother returned downstairs, leaving Hermione to contemplate the previous day and a half. Her mind was buzzing with everything she'd seen and learnt, and her body was still vibrating from her night and morning with Ryan. But instead of analysing it, as she might normally have done, she simply allowed all the mental and physical sensations to flow through her without attaching a narrative.

I'm alive, she thought, and her heart swelled with joy.