Chapter 1560 - Ch: 47-48

Chapter Forty Seven

Original Author Notes - A/N: Just a word of forewarning (well, several words, but I digress) about the next chapters of "Vox Corporis". While the story is finished, there's a bit of a lag in the beta'ing department, so the next updates might be held up a bit while they're being filtered for goofs.

In a testament to how utterly, completely, unspeakably dorky I am, I made a music video companion to "Vox Corporis". I thought it would be fun, or funny, and it ended up being both. Sierra and I decided we might as well give others the chance to laugh at my supreme geekiness, so here's a link to the page where you can download the video.

It was nearly midnight. The house had been quiet for hours, her parents and grandmother had gone to bed well over two hours ago, and Hermione had been lying in bed staring at the ceiling in restless anticipation since the moment her head hit the pillow. Harry's hushed words still rang in her ears, 'let's meet in Avalon'. It had raced right down her spinal column, paused a moment to pool achingly in the pit of her stomach, and made her toes curl.

He'd been a bit of the jaguar when he said it, Hermione could tell from his voice and his forwardness in public and the look on his face. It did dangerous, maddening things to her when her boyfriend was part wild animal. He was… sexier when he was touching the jaguar. It was silly, but true. And just then, Hermione wanted absolutely nothing more than to be the lioness to his black jaguar.

Soon, she would be.

It was making her heart race, waiting to meet him. But she couldn't sneak out just as soon as she went into her bedroom. What if her mother or father popped in for some reason? She had to give the others in the house time to fall asleep. So as she waited, she did what Hermione Granger did best. She thought.

Her hours of research into animagi were proving more useful than she'd expected. She wasn't worried about getting caught by the ministry for her and Harry turning into their animagus forms outside of Hogwarts grounds. When she was trying to find something they could do during the summer without using magic she'd been really intent on that aspect of the possible options. She became almost lawyer-like in examining the actual mechanics of how much magic would be used and how, and how it could circumvent ministry rules. The devil was in the details, as they said, but it made Hermione smarter on ministry standards of magical application than she'd been before. Ministry of Magic underage detection spells were triggered by the emission of magic by underage witches and wizards. Animagi transformations consisted completely of internally focused magic. Nothing was outwardly affected by the change, only the witch or wizard. If magic was not actually emitted, there was nothing for the ministry to detect. There were so few forms of magic that were entirely internal, and even fewer of them that underage witches and wizards were capable of performing, that the ministry had never bothered trying to set up any spells to catch them being done by children. That didn't worry her. Of course, Harry hadn't known that when he suggested it, but then the jaguar tended to make him braver, more the warrior inside than he usually let show.

The thought caught Hermione in the gut and made her squirm. She had always known the strength Harry hid behind that self-effacing, shy exterior of his, but to see it come out… quite frankly, it made her want him. It made her want to throw caution to the wind and be that cavalier with him. The two of them racing headlong and free. The demons of Harry's past could not catch them when they were beyond human. Hermione believed that in some animal part of her. The bad guys wouldn't know how to find them; they were looking for a fifteen-year-old boy with a scar and a wand.

Hermione turned on her side and looked at her clock. Midnight. She'd been waiting for the hour for the simple fact she did not think she could wait longer than that. Quietly she slipped out of bed in the dark and went to her closed door. She stood silently and listened. She wished she could touch the lioness and borrow her hearing. She would have turned, but it seemed too risky to be the lioness in her grandmother's house. Her entire life she'd been hiding her magic from her grandmother; old habits died hard.

Hermione scarcely breathed as she strained to hear any sounds of wakefulness outside her door. All was perfect quiet.

Had Harry already slipped the house? No doubt he would have used the backdoor. Was he waiting for her in Avalon, a regal black beast with blue eyes and searing intensity?

Only one way to find out.

Hermione dressed in the dark, shrugged into a jacket and slipped on her trainers, and crept to her bedroom window. Snow had rimmed the panes and frost glazed the glass. It promised to be cold outside. Hermione could have done without that; the lioness wasn't a winter animal. It liked the sun and dry grass underfoot. But neither was Harry's jaguar a snowbound creature; it was built for the jungle. They could both put up with the weather. Being the cats felt too good to be deterred by something as insignificant as snow.

Hermione carefully slid open the window. A gust of cold air, laced with swirling snowflakes, hit her in the face. Soldiering on, Hermione crawled out the window and dropped down to the ground. Wet snow soaked her trainers and the cold wrapped around her like an icy shawl. Hermione pulled her jacket tighter around her and looked around. Her eyes were adjusted to the dark already, and in truth her room had been even darker. The moon was full and cast plenty of light by which to see. The snow was spun silver and the sky black but for the faint shining rings of light that rippled out from the white moon. The stars were twinkling brilliantly, winter stars, the brightest of all. Hermione's breath made a cloud in front of her face. Her nose was already going numb.

But she moved on. She would know the way to Avalon in her sleep, though admittedly she knew it best when her starting point was the barn. But she knew Harry would not have gone that way. She would have to trust her intimate familiarity with her grandparents' farm to guide her; Harry would have touched the jaguar for his trek through the night. After what Harry had told her happened at the zoo with the lions, Harry would know better than to go near Tiggy when he was letting out part of the jaguar. The last thing they needed would be the mare screaming bloody murder and waking the entire house.

Hermione started forward through the snow, bound for the distant black trees of the forest. She wondered if Harry had already left or was he still waiting inside the house to make his own escape. Shortly, her question was answered. She found a path of footprints in the snow. With a smile, Hermione followed them. She placed her feet where he'd placed his. It would make covering their tracks easier to only brush away one set of tracks instead of two. She had to noticeably lengthen her stride to put each foot in the impression left by his.

It seemed she walked in the darkness alone for hours before she reached the trees. She glanced up and saw their ebony shadow blotting out the stars, branches outlined grey-green by the moon's glow. Hermione looked back down and continued to follow Harry's steps.

She stopped and smiled when his prints went from man to animal, footprints to paw prints. Hermione flipped her consciousness. Where Harry touched the jaguar, bled into the beast like he was a potion smoothly changing color, Hermione found herself likening her own change to a sock being turned inside-out. On one side witch, the other lioness. Hermione's center of gravity changed and pulled her down; she met the ground easily with a paw.

The night erupted around her in sounds and sights and smells. Hermione ruffled her mane and set off at a trot, still following Harry's tracks. She could smell the trace of his scent in them. He'd been here not long ago. That made her tail flick at the end and her ears perked alertly for early signs of him.

She had never seen Avalon before as she saw it now through lion eyes. It was crystallized wonder. The trees were naked and painted with icicles. The snow on the ground sparkled like some frolicking child had tossed glitter over it. The pond was iced over and palely reflected the moon. Hermione looked around. He was here, she knew it, sensed it, felt it.

A tiny noise behind her. Hermione's ears swiveled backward to catch the sound, but she had no time to turn and look before a large black cat had pounced on her. Hermione made a sound of greeting and glee and playfulness all in one as she was tackled into the snow. Harry was black as the night sky, eyes ice like the pond, scar white like the snow. He might not be a beast of the winterlands, but he looked well enough a part of them.

Harry tussled with Hermione on the ground. They tumbled a few times, paws swatting and bodies used as leverage, and within seconds they were both damp with snow. Hermione's mane was soggy with melted snow, which she didn't care for much, but when Harry's face came in close and she licked his muzzle she tasted snowflakes. That she did like.

Harry leapt off of her and stood back a pace, giving her a chance to regain her feet as he waiting eagerly, eyes intent and the tip of his tail twitching.

Hermione rose and feinted as though to try dodging him. Harry jumped to one side to block her then stopped and watched her closely. Hermione swatted a paw in his direction and sent a clump of snow flying at his face. Harry started, ears back and eyes closed, as the snow found its target.

Hermione mewled merrily and shook droplets of water from her mane. Harry peered at her through patches of stuck snow… then he charged. Hermione whirled and fled.

She led him once around the small pond before he caught her. He jumped and caught her around the hindquarters with his front legs and brought her to the ground. Hermione did not have time to react before he was straddling her and he'd taken the skin on the back of her neck between his teeth. A thrill of excitement coursed through her veins and she bared her teeth.

Then Harry was ripped off of her, twisting in the air and screaming in both surprise and fury as he was flung a short distance away. He landed with a solid 'thump' and sprang back to his feet, unhurt but spitting mad. Hermione jumped up and looked around for what had happened…

Only to see a diminutive house elf in thermal boxers standing in the trees and lowering her hand.

Hermione was indignant at first, senselessly frustrated and mad, but then the part of her mind forever witch snapped her back to reason. And to whom the intruder was.

Hermione hastily transformed back to human and squeaked, "Kimmy!"

Kimmy looked reproachfully at Hermione. "Just what does Miss Hermione and Mister Harry Potter thinks they are doing?"

Hermione glanced back at Harry. He was still the jaguar, feet braced apart as he leveled a glare at Kimmy. He tore his eyes from Kimmy to glance up at Hermione. "Harry…" she implored.

Harry started coming closer. Somewhere between where he'd been thrown and Hermione's side he became wizard again. His hair was drenched and an awful mess but he still looked rather peeved at Kimmy for tossing him like a rag doll.

Kimmy was unimpressed by Harry's displeasure. "Kimmy sees the animaguses have found you both."

"Uh… yeah…" Hermione stammered, "I'm so sorry, we should have told you…"

Kimmy huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Kimmy is not being mad about not being told. Whats were you thinkings?!"

"Why did you throw me?" Harry asked, annoyed. Hermione glanced at him, astounded he could still be upset when they quite likely had bigger problems on their hands.

"Yous told Kimmy animaguses was for Mister Harry Potter's safety. Your animaguses are for a very serious purpose, not for play!"

"You helped Headmaster Dumbledore and his brother become animagi just for fun," Harry countered caustically.

"Harry," Hermione hissed, and she turned to Kimmy. The little elf looked betrayed. Hermione dropped to her knees in the snow and studied the house elf. "You're right, Kimmy, that's why we asked you to help us learn how to be animagi. That's why we became animagi. Harry and I were just… we spend time in our animagus forms learning how our cat bodies move, figuring out just what we can do in our animal forms. We need to know how far we can push our limits if we ever have to fight You Know Who."

"Kimmy's thinking you won't be doing that to You Know Who."

Hermione felt herself blush beet red. At least it warmed her face up a bit, to look on the bright side of things.

"Learning how it is being cats isn't bad," Kimmy said in a slightly calmer voice, "but it's very bad to sneak off and try to give Kimmy the slip! Kimmy's here to protect you, but she can't do that if yous are going to be running off. Bad people could find you, even here."

Hermione blanched. She hadn't even thought of that, but of course Kimmy was absolutely right. She didn't want to think it possible that Death Eaters or even Voldemort himself would show up at her grandmother's house, but there was always the chance, the very reason Kimmy was with them.

"Maybe we can take care of ourselves," Harry answered, though by the sound of his voice he'd calmed down somewhat.

Kimmy looked up at Harry, unruffled. "Kimmy knows how it is. The animal gets in your thinking, but what you think isn't really being true. Death Eaters can curse a cat just as they can curse a boy."

Hermione's heart went cold for a moment at the thought. How had she not even thought of that? She thought of everything. She should have seen the folly in trying to pull the wool over everyone's eyes, including Kimmy's. How foolish had they been to evade their own protector? Stupid. Stupid and reckless.

"We weren't thinking, and for that we're very sorry. We'll never leave without you again, Kimmy, we promise," Hermione said.

Kimmy turned her gaze back at Hermione, seemed to measure the sincerity of her words, then she glanced up at Harry. What she saw must have been convincing enough, because the house elf nodded. "That's good." Kimmy cocked her head at them both, "Yous two are being a real soggy mess," she said and she snapped her fingers. The water in their clothes and hair and on their skin evaporated away in a pleasant heating charm. In a matter of seconds they were dry. The winter night was much less biting when she wasn't sopping wet, Hermione noted gratefully. Kimmy cast a similar spell to melt away the cat prints in Avalon.

"We should be going back to the house now," Kimmy said, and without giving them a chance to argue she turned back into a dog and led the way into the surrounding trees, in the direction of the house.

Hermione glanced over at Harry. He met her eyes then surrendered with a half-shrug. He stepped forward, took her hand, and together they set off after the Chihuahua. Hermione sidled closer to Harry for the warmth and comfort his body provided as they left the moonlit sanctum of Avalon behind.

From the dubious safety of the kitchen, the adults peered out into the living room with worrisome looks on their faces. Miranda shook her head and whispered to her companions, "He'll never hold out. He's going to crack."

"Harry," Hermione said in a no-nonsense tone of voice, "put that wreath above the window. Make sure it's straight. The largest holly goes on the very bottom."

"All right." Harry grabbed the green and red wreath in question and dutifully took it to the window.

"He's been at it for five hours straight. That's inhuman," Jake remarked. When Hermione turned from her task of decorating the tree Jake ducked back, lest Hermione catch sight of him and snare him in a sudden moment of domineering, yuletide inspiration.

"The poor boy," Berti said somberly as she oversaw the baking of her holiday treats.

"How's that?" Harry asked as he inspected the hung wreath above the window.

"Tilt it just a tad to the left. No, not quite that far. Perfect! Now could you come help me with this string of lights? I'm afraid I'll cross the racers and that would just look all wrong; I need someone to hold it out from the next row of lights down while I find a branch that will do on the other side of the tree."

"Sure." Harry went over to Hermione and held the string of lights as instructed.

"No one can take this much at once," Jake bemoaned. "He's valiant to try, but this is our Hermione we're talking about. She can break the strongest of men without breaking a sweat."

"He's just a boy," Miranda breathed in horror. "Can you give me any more slack on your end?" "I'll see… how's that?"

"Great, hold it there."

"We should do something," Berti offered up in a hushed tone of voice.

Jake and Miranda looked miserably at one another, but in complete agreement.

"Go, Jake."

"Me?! But…" he looked at his wife and his shoulders sagged. "Yes… yes, you're right. Once more into the breech," Jake took a breath and moved toward the living room. It was bedecked in holiday splendor. The tree was decorated with lights and multi-colored glass balls and tinsel. Garland wrapped every conceivable target in sight. An elaborate, exquisitely detailed nativity scene was set up on the top of a china cabinet. Lights surrounded windows and doorways. The mantel sported three ceramic reindeer and a cherubic little elf with pointy ears and dressed in red and green. Jake thought 'if only they knew' as Kimmy, in Chihuahua form, circled the activities around the tree. Brightly wrapped presents were stacked off to one side near the couch, awaiting a completed tree to rest beneath. Open boxes of decorations were everywhere, half of them already empty. Harry and Hermione were adding the last string of twinkling lights to the tree. Any more lights and they would have airplanes landing in the pasture. Hermione was stretching to reach the branch she'd set her sights on; Harry was craning around the full limbs to watch her as he held the string in place as she requested.

With a hooking toss Hermione lassoed the branch she sought and the string held in place. She stepped back in satisfaction. "There! You can let go the string, Harry, I think that's going to do it." Hermione stepped back to inspect the tree, returned to grab Harry's arm and draw him back to stand a pace away with her, and asked, "What do you think?"

"I think it's really pretty."

"We won't really be able to tell if we're missing any spots until it gets dark, but if you squint your eyes you can get an idea what it will look like." Hermione squinted at the tree, looking like she was trying to win a grade- school scowling contest with it. Harry laughed then followed her example, making his eyes little more than slits as he looked at the Christmas tree.

Hermione's hands were still wrapped around Harry's arm, and she gave it a squeeze and pat of approval then opened her eyes back up. "Well, next comes the tree skirt… I'll go fetch it."

"Okay."

When Hermione left Harry's side Jake saw his chance. He darted in, came up behind Harry, and touched the younger man on the shoulder. When Harry turned his head Jake said in a quiet voice, "I can spell you if you want, son."

Harry looked up at him, puzzled. "Huh?"

He gave the boy a supportive squeeze on the shoulder, "Look, I know Hermione can get a bit… overbearing when it comes to this Christmas decorating business. We all know; no one's expecting you to keep this up like you have. You've done an impressive job already. Above and beyond, no question about that. But I can take over if you need to duck out for a while."

Harry frowned, uncomprehending.

Unbelievable though it was, Jake began to get the first niggling of a very impossible suspicion. "You must be getting a bit worn of all this, right?"

Harry's face was completely sincere as it went from confused to happy in the span of a second. He smiled. "No, this is great."

Jake gaped. "Honestly?"

Before Harry could reply Hermione was back with the snowy white and glittering gold tree skirt in hand. "Here, take this end, Harry, I'll do one side and you can do the other; we'll meet up in the back."

"All right."

Hermione looked up at Jake. "Dad? You want to help?"

'Danger, retreat, retreat,' his brain screamed. "Looks like you and Harry have everything pretty well in hand. Would you say so, Harry?" He'd give the teenager one more chance to wave the white flag and call in reinforcements.

"I think we have everything under control," Harry replied, and when he looked to Hermione for agreement she beamed and nodded.

Jake looked at Harry with a newfound sense of respect and awe. "Well, if you're sure you two have it taken care of, I'll just be in the kitchen helping Miranda and Berti." Before either of them could think of the folly in that remark, Jake high-tailed it back to the kitchen.

He was met with a disapproving, nearly aghast mother and daughter. Miranda spoke first, "You just left him?"

"I tried to pull him out, but he's enjoying himself," Jake answered defensively.

Miranda's mouth hung open. "He can't mean that; he just doesn't want to hurt Hermione's feelings… surely."

The kitchen conference was interrupted by laughter. In the living room, Harry and Hermione were both laughing. Harry was bent over on his knees struggling to disentangle himself from his jumper, which was snagged on a branch and had been pulled up over his head when he moved to back out from laying the skirt under the tree. Amid the jostling as Harry tried to gently wrest free, a blue orb dislodged from its appointed branch and fell to land with a 'clink' on Harry's covered head. Hermione was in stitches as she shuffled over to where he was blindly trying to find the branch that had snared him. She leaned over him and freed his jumper from the low-hanging limb. Harry reached down to brace one hand on the floor as he righted himself… only to place his hand on the ball that had beaned him. It rolled out from under him and Harry went down. Hermione, in the process of picking pine needles from his sweater, was caught off-guard by the sudden lurch and went down with him. She landed on top of him and Harry made an 'oof' sound before they were both laughing again. Kimmy yipped and barked and wagged her tail while Harry and Hermione got up and moved apart.

Harry at last put his jumper back to rights over his torso. His hair was more frightful than usual and Hermione began to brush at it with her fingers while Harry looked around for the guilty glass ball. Kimmy retrieved it and looked decidedly amused as she sat before the two teens with the hook for the orb between her teeth.

Miranda and Berti looked wonderingly at one another.

"I do think Jake's right; I really think he is having fun," Berti said, though it seemed just as stunning a revelation to her as it did to everyone in the kitchen.

"Well, I never thought I'd see the day," Miranda mused aloud in an amazed voice.

Berti smirked. "I'd say the girl's found her perfect match. Hermione had best hang on to that one."

Jake glanced in at the pair to see Harry helping Hermione to her feet… and the boy's hands lingered on her just long enough for anyone with eyes to see it plain as the sun in the sky (even someone who could be as dense at times to that kind of thing as Jake Granger). "I don't think that's really going to be a problem," he commented, and he was surprisingly okay with it now. Maybe it was the spirit of Christmas melting the last of his reservations. Or perhaps the discovery that Harry could survive a Hermione Granger Christmas with a smile and a laugh had done the trick. That was no commonplace deed, and not to be done by your average teenage boy.

"Oh!" Miranda suddenly said, "I can't believe I almost forgot. I'll be right back." With that, she crossed through the living room, giving the kids a cheerful wave as she passed before disappearing into the hall toward the bedrooms. Hermione broke from Harry's side to paw through one of the open boxes of remaining decorations while Harry took the blue ball from Kimmy and replaced it on the tree… mindful to put it in the spot from whence it had obviously come. The boy was smart, Jake credited him that.

Hermione would have noticed a misplaced ornament in a second.

Miranda came back to the living room a minute later with a cloth bundle in her hands. "Harry?"

The boy turned.

Miranda approached him with a gentle smile. "I know it's a bit early, but I wanted to go ahead and give you one of your presents now." She held the cloth package out to him. Harry, curious, took it and unfolded the material. He went completely still as he looked down at the Christmas stocking in his hands.

Hermione's furtive decorating energy vanished and Jake saw her become eerily like Miranda in the way her presence and smile turned serene as she left the box and joined Harry. He blinked up at her when she was at his side, then he looked up at Miranda.

"Hermione and I picked it up for you while we were out shopping in London. We took it to a seamstress and had it monogrammed. I hope you like it."

Harry was clearly stunned by the gift. He looked down at the stocking again and ran his fingers over the stitching that spelled out 'HARRY' as though it had been put there by a power more wondrous than the magic he knew so well. Jake didn't have to be a genius to recognize from the boy's reaction that he'd never had his own Christmas stocking before. That knowledge sat ill with Jake. He began to understand better the indignation Miranda felt toward the young man's childhood. Or maybe it was more accurate to say he'd come around to Harry enough for it to really bother him.

"I… I love it. Thank you, Miranda," Harry said in a tight voice.

"You're welcome, dear," she answered and stepped in to place a kiss on Harry's forehead, just as she'd done on several occasions before. Harry might even be almost used to it by now.

Harry surprised them all by moving in and wrapping his arms around Miranda. It was the first time he'd initiated a hug with anyone other than Hermione. He returned them when he found himself on the receiving end, but he didn't hug first. Miranda was surprised, but pleasantly so, and in as little as a second to allow herself to be startled by the unprecedented action she was hugging him back.

When Miranda and Harry parted Hermione touched his arm tenderly. "Let's put the stockings over the fireplace." At Harry's mute nod, Hermione scampered over to the boxes and dug around until she pulled out the rest of the family's stockings. Harry stood rooted in his spot still tracing the letters of his name in the top of the stocking Miranda had given him.

Miranda discreetly made her way back to the kitchen while Hermione hung the stockings. First 'BERTI', then 'MIRI', then 'JAKE', then 'HERMIONE', and then Hermione had Harry hand over the stocking in his hand. Hermione placed it on the nail next to her own stocking. When Hermione stepped back to stand abreast with Harry, 'BERTI', 'MIRI', 'JAKE', 'HERMIONE', and 'HARRY' lined the mantel beneath the elf forever tempting reindeer with treats.

Jake watched Hermione wordlessly reach down and take Harry's hand. Harry's reciprocating grip was telling in its fierceness, even from a room away.

"You'd think they might go on and kiss already," Berti mumbled, just loud enough for those in the kitchen to hear.

"Mum!" Miranda groaned. Jake rather agreed with his wife on that one. He might be fine with Harry dating his daughter, but that didn't mean he wanted to see them giving each other a dental exam with their tongues. That was almost too horrifying to imagine.

"Oh, please," Berti scoffed, "you think they aren't doing it when you're not around? Wouldn't surprise me to learn that the joke going around that private school of theirs is that there isn't a person who remembers what their faces look like, what with them being pressed together all the time."

Standing closely side by side as they were, it was no trouble for Hermione to cant her head and rest her temple against Harry's shoulder. If Berti's remarks were left out, it might have been sort of cute in an 'ah, young love' sort of way, but Berti's vivid commentary had well and fully ruined any 'awww' reaction Jake might have been even slightly inclined to have.

"Hmpf," Berti grunted at the sight of the pair. "Snogging like crazy, I'm telling you." While Jake cringed and hoped he didn't wake in a cold sweat because of a nightmare involving the ravaged virtue of his little girl, Berti pulled a batch of cookies from the oven and gave them an approving nod when she judged their goldenness.

Berti turned to look toward the living room again. "Hermione, Harry, you two take a break from decorating and come here and have some cookies; they're only fresh from the oven once."

Hermione took her head from Harry's shoulder and both teens turned to look toward the kitchen at their names being called. When Hermione caught on to the mention of Christmas cookies she beamed and started toward the kitchen, conveniently dragging Harry along as their hands were still entwined. Not that Harry was really planting his feet and digging his heels in to fight her.

"They smell wonderful," Hermione said with an appreciative deep inhale when she came into the kitchen. Harry's appreciation was in his eyes as he turned his gaze on Hermione's exultant expression.

"Well, while you're appreciating the ambiance mind setting out some plates, dear? We're all like to burn our fingers elsewise," Berti instructed as she dug through a drawer for a spatula.

Hermione let go of Harry's hand to see to the table arrangements.

Harry moved toward Berti at the oven. "Let me help you, Gram." He started to reach out with one hand for the pot holder on Berti's left hand.

Berti turned sharply from her hunt for a spatula to swat Harry on the hand. It wasn't a malicious strike, Jake had been swatted similarly by Berti before when his fingers were in bowls and dishes in which they didn't belong, but Harry didn't react quite the same as Jake always had to it. As though taken to with a belt, Harry jumped back and immediately withdrew his hand as he might from a viper. He looked up at Berti with surprised, wounded eyes that seemed to question how she could betray him so blithely. For a second, Jake felt really bad for Harry all over again.

Berti's next touch followed quickly on the first, and it was as different as night from day. She gently patted Harry on the shoulder. Harry was tensed, as though unable to formulate an appropriate reaction other than to freeze like an animal caught in the headlights of a car.

"After all the work you've done decorating today, I'll not have you lifting a finger in this kitchen," Berti said in a playfully stern voice. "Is that understood?"

Harry waited a beat. He gauged Berti for a weighty few seconds, then he allowed a wary smile and some of the rigidity left his stance. "Okay."

"Hey," Hermione squawked from the table. Jake glanced at his daughter. She bore the brunt of her weight on one leg, her hips canted, and one arm akimbo with hand on her waist. She had the look of affronted and ignorant to the undercurrents of the interaction between Harry and Berti, but her eyes told a different story. The same tale told in the line of her mouth and the knit of her brow. She'd seen Berti teasingly slap Harry on the hand, and she'd seen Harry's knee-jerk response. But she didn't put a spotlight on it. "I've been decorating and you're putting me to work," she complained for the sake of making things normal again.

"Yes, but you draw energy straight from garland and tinsel like some queer Christmas plant," was Berti's rejoinder. Miranda offered a chuckle to help set things back to right. Harry seemed to be winding back down about half as quickly as he'd been wound up. And since Jake knew Harry fairly well, he knew that was bouncing back fast. It was good to see the boy understand that Berti wasn't going to hurt him.

Berti took off her oven mitt and tousled Harry's hair…. and his smile stayed in place the entire time. It may have even been half sincere. "Go on and have a seat, Harry. I expect you to eat enough cookies to take you to the brink of illness."

Harry almost laughed as he broke from Berti's side to drift toward the table, much more relaxed than a mere minute ago. "Yes, Gram."

"That's terrible, Mum," Miranda quipped.

"That's what the holidays are all about, though the way you and Ben were always sneaking sweets you'd think I wouldn't need to tell you that."

Miranda feigned indignance. "I never… Ben and I were perfect angels."

"Don't get me wrong," Berti continued as she finally found the spatula, "I'm just tickled pink you two didn't go professional and turn out to be pick- pockets or burglars. You had the magic fingers for it, you know. Craftiest set of sneaks I've ever seen."

Jake joined Harry and Hermione at the table, anxiously awaiting a warm cookie. "Well now, how do you know she's hasn't made it a career? Maybe she just tells you she's a dentist."

Berti expertly filled a large plate with cookies. "Ha! Miranda was never good at lying to me; I saw right through her and Ben every time.

"Nothing flies by this old bird; I'm sharp as a tack."

Harry and Hermione, sitting next to one another, exchanged a look and a conspiratorial grin. Jake had to surpress the urge to smile himself.

It was just as well Berti continue to think so.

Chapter Forty Eight

Original Author Notes -

A/N: I've finally broken up the remainder of this fic into chapters for posting purposes, and since many have expressed curiosity as to the final count I can now tell you that "Vox Corporis" is 68 chapters long.

Sleeping on the couch at Berti's had a strange set of benefits the way Harry Potter saw it. The first would seem to disguise itself as a drawback to bedding down in the living room, and no doubt most people would see only the negative aspects of such an arrangement. He'd only had one morning to judge, but it had the essence of a pattern, something that could repeat day after day ad infinitum without deviating appreciably from a standard formula.

Berti was an early riser; Harry was a light sleeper. Though he did relish indulging in the opportunity to sleep in, he didn't mind being woken early in the morning by Berti meandering her way into her own kitchen. She was quiet in considerate efforts not to wake him; Harry just wasn't able to sleep through her added presence in the common areas of the house. Not that such a tendency toward awareness of his surroundings surprised him. It had taken him most of first year at Hogwarts to actually start sleeping soundly while sharing a room with four other boys. It required some readjusting of his 'programming'. At the Dursleys' the rest of the house waking usually meant the start of his daily ordeal of being the unwanted, mistreated freak.

Vernon dragging him out by his hair or shirt collar, Petunia slamming on the cupboard door and demanding he start breakfast, Dudley pounding on the stairs overhead to rain dust upon him. That alertness to change seemed to reset at Berti's just as it did in every new place he happened to seek sleep. It meant when she woke so did he. But Harry didn't get up then. Not just then. He'd lie bundled up in his blankets on the couch, eyes closed and in a light doze, and listen to Berti move around the kitchen. When she thought he was sleeping and wasn't apt to ask him weird questions or make embarrassing comments, Harry didn't mind Hermione's grandmother that much. And she did make fantastic cookies.

Miranda and Jake would rise an hour or two after Berti. Harry especially liked listening to them. He'd grown undeniably comfortable around, and even attached to, Hermione's mother and father, more than he would have thought possible. Miranda's voice was soothing and comforting, Jake's reassuring and pleasant. Sometimes, once they were up and milling around, Harry would slip back into sleep to the sound of their voices. He felt safer with them on the watch. Apparently he faked sleep well, because Miranda never caught on to the fact he was conscious when she'd pad over to readjust his blankets or carefully brush aside a wild lock of hair on his brow.

It was a battle not to smile a little when she did that, though. He'd come to accept that Miranda really did care about him, and that was unfathomably peaceful.

Then Hermione would wake up and come into the living room. That was when the morning was perfect. Harry could fairly wallow in lying in the middle of the happy family, eyes still resolutely closed, listening to their voices and tracking their quiet movement through the house. He could not imagine ever tiring of that. It was what he knew he'd been missing all his life. This might not be his family, but he'd take their sounds and mornings as his own while he lay with eyes shut on the living room couch. He doubted any of them would mind if he asked for that much. It was a small, trite luxury to them. To him, it was precious and absolutely priceless.

Christmas Eve morning unfolded like the morning before had. Berti was up early and making coffee in the kitchen while Harry listened with half an ear as he still lingered in the place between sleep and wakefulness. She puttered around in the kitchen alone for around an hour when Miranda woke and joined her. Harry heard Miranda shuffle into the kitchen from the hallway and whisper, "Morning, Mum."

"Morning, Miri. Would you like a cup of coffee?" "Sure, but I'll get it, don't get up."

The opening and closing of the cabinets and the clink of glass on glass followed.

"Shall we go ahead and start on some of the pies for tomorrow? Best to not save everything to be done at the last moment, you know."

"Let's wait a bit longer," Miranda answered softly, "I wouldn't want to accidentally wake Harry with our ruckus."

A silence befell the mother and daughter.

"He's been mistreated, hasn't he?" Berti asked pointedly.

Harry resisted frowning as he feigned sleep. He cared for this idle morning chit-chat less than the other topics they'd taken up yesterday.

"Yes," Miranda answered sadly. "I don't know how badly; I've never asked him. I don't think he'd care to talk about it, to be honest, Harry doesn't seem the type. I'm waiting for him to broach it first. And if he never does, then that's fine."

"His parents?"

A disquiet surged through Harry and he just barely stopped himself from rising to defend his mother and father. They would never have treated him as horribly as the Dursleys did. No. They'd died for him. They'd loved him.

"No. His parents died when he was a baby. He was taken in by his aunt and uncle."

"Some caretakers," Berti grunted grumpily. "I thought something was amiss when I was funning with him yesterday. Jumped like a skittish colt when I swatted him."

He hadn't meant to do that. Really, he hadn't, it just happened. A reflex. He couldn't help it.

"He has scars…" Miranda trailed off sorrowfully.

A scar from Wormtail's knife, from a dragon's spiked tail, from Quidditch falls and scrapes with Dementors and a scar from surviving the killing curse. He could never explain those rightfully to Berti, and he questioned whether he had the will to explain them fully to Miranda. But he also had scars from the Dursleys.

"Would that he'd gone to a loving home," Miranda finished with a sigh.

"Oh, I think he finally has."

Harry's heart was in his throat. If his eyes were open, he was stricken to think that they might be prickling with moisture. He would not cry. He wouldn't permit it. He'd faced Voldemort and he'd stayed strong. He wouldn't be brought to tears by simple conversation. He swallowed thickly to banish his emotions.

He was spared having to hear any more about his unfortunate upbringing being discussed between Hermione's mother and grandmother when Jake joined them. Talk turned to the mundane. Shop talk from Miranda and Jake's orthodontists' business back home, the state of the farm left to Berti to tend, the weather, then a collective perusal of the newspaper. Harry dozed and listened, sliding back into a state of contentment.

Closer to the noon hour than that of early morning, Miranda and Berti began to set about arrangements for cooking the Christmas day pies (the ones that could be tucked away in the refrigerator, anyway). They were quiet, but it made no matter as Harry was already awake. Even still, he continued to fake sleep to be a fly on the wall to a portrait of normalcy that he'd been so long denied.

All of Harry's earlier unease melted away when Hermione came out of the hallway.

"Morning, everybody," Hermione collectively greeted her family, in a far merrier mood than she tended to be just after waking up. Might have been fair to say the fact it was Christmas Eve day had a great deal to do with her disposition. Harry almost smiled into his pillow to hear the happiness in her voice.

"Good morning, sweetie," Miranda replied on the adults' behalf.

"Well, now," Jake said in an only slightly hushed tone of voice, "if we could roust Harry off the couch we might be able to make a proper start of the day here. I swear, that boy sleeps like he's taken a hit of the happy gas."

Harry could almost hear Hermione roll her eyes. "I'll go wake him."

In a matter of moments, Hermione's voice issued forth again, gentle and insanely close, right above Harry. "I know you're awake," she whispered so that the adults in the kitchen wouldn't hear.

Harry smiled and opened his eyes. Though she was blurry, he could see Hermione leaning over the back of the couch, her arms crossed on the cushion and her chin atop her folded arms. She was smiling down at him, clad in her pajamas, her hair pulled back in a sloppy ponytail.

Harry reached over his head to grope on the end table for his glasses. Once he put them on Hermione jumped into focus and he could make out the glimmer of amusement dancing in her eyes. "You know, you keep doing that and sooner or later you'll hear something you really rather wouldn't," she teased softly.

He wasn't the least bit surprised that Hermione would see through his ruse. "I can't really imagine Gram's going to say anything when she thinks I'm asleep that's worse than the stuff she says when I'm awake," he replied.

"Well, if you're proven wrong don't come crying to me about being traumatized, and don't say I didn't warn you," Hermione said, reached down to jostle his shoulder, and stood. "Come on, then."

Harry tossed off the covers and got up off the couch while Hermione ambled back into the kitchen. Harry folded the blanket he'd used, laid it over the back of the couch, crammed his pillow in a corner, then went down the hall to use the bathroom and brush his teeth. When he came back to the kitchen everyone was sitting at the table munching on muffins. Crookshanks was crunching contently on his cat food in a bowl on the floor off to one side of the kitchen. Kimmy, posing as Harry's faithful pet Chihuahua, was sitting on Hermione's lap as Hermione fed the dog by hand a muffin from her plate.

The seat beside Hermione had been left open and Harry made a beeline.

Just as Harry was heading toward the empty seat Berti looked up at him and said, "Harry, Hermione's going to spoil your dog rotten."

Harry glanced over at Hermione, who returned his look and smiled in their shared secret about Kimmy's true nature. Spoiled dog, indeed. Kimmy licked her lips and pawed at Hermione to give her another bite of muffin.

Harry sat down and smirked. "Kimmy likes being spoiled. 'Fraid to say I'm not any better about telling her she can't have what she wants." Kimmy looked toward Harry and her lips appeared to pull back and imitate a smile as best she could manage while still in dog form.

Jake and Miranda were hiding smiles, but Berti merely grunted.

Kimmy finished off the last of her muffin and jumped down off Hermione's lap. She left the kitchen at a trot, perhaps to duck into her own abode (which Harry felt certain she'd conjured in one of the house's many closets; he suspected the closet in Hermione's bedroom). Harry didn't ask. He respected Kimmy's right to come and go as she pleased. She was a free elf, after all.

Berti looked toward the wall clock and said suddenly, "Oh, gracious, look at the time. The McCormicks will be expecting us in an hour and a half."

"Who?" Harry asked and glanced toward Hermione. She looked beleaguered as she explained, "The McCormicks are old friends of Gram and Gramp.

Every year we go to their house Christmas Eve day for a late lunch."

"Oh." Sounded innocuous enough. Harry studied Hermione a moment. She looked harried and worn by the prospect of visiting the McCormicks.

Confused, he looked to Miranda and Jake. Miranda was the one to offer a smile and an explanation for Hermione's apparent distaste for this particular family tradition. "Mister and Missus McCormick are a dreadfully sweet old couple, wonderful people, but at Christmastime their rather impressive collection of grandchildren are about, and… well, Hermione's never cared much for their company."

"They're brutish, ignorant buffoons," Hermione mumbled sourly. Berti harrumphed.

Jake chuckled. "I have to side with my daughter there, I'm afraid. There's not any of those grandkids much brighter than a potato. The lot of the McCormick kids tended toward marrying the… less intellectually inclined, shall we say, as it is the season of giving and kindness."

"Their idea of fun is goading the dogs to fighting… or doing other things, and every year I'm expected to spend the afternoon with them."

"Be that as it may," Berti conceded, "Mildred and Anthony are dear friends and they'd be terribly disappointed if we didn't come over. I know their brood is a bit uncouth, but it's only for one afternoon."

"I know," Hermione said in a dejected voice as she literally seemed to sag in her chair. Harry considered Hermione and found himself fixated on the difference between the Hermione in front of him now and the smiling Hermione who'd woken him only moments ago. He didn't like the change, and set about as best he could think to rectify it.

"Gram? Couldn't Hermione and I stay here while you three went to visit the McCormicks?" Harry asked. "They don't even know me, so it's not as though they'll be sorry I didn't show. And if these grandkids are that awful, how much can they miss Hermione? I mean, they're not exactly in her league.

She probably just spoils their fun with the dogs."

"I really do, they always tell me what a sore bear I am," Hermione put in hopefully, though she looked doubtful of the potential success of Harry's intentions. Harry suspected she'd tried begging off going to the McCormicks in years past and been rebuffed. But if she didn't want to go, then he'd try to get her out of it.

Berti eyed the pair. "Hmmm… I don't know…"

It was Jake who spoke up to champion their cause. "Well, you know, they're not exactly children anymore."

"Well, that's true…" Berti mused aloud, "halfway to sixteen, the both of you, isn't that right?"

Harry and Hermione nodded.

Miranda turned to her mother to plead their case. "They were home alone a lot during the summer and there was never any trouble with it. I don't see why they can't stay behind if they really don't want to go."

Berti narrowed her eyes at the both of them before making her decision.

"Yes, I guess that would be all right."

Hermione brightened at once. "Thanks, Gram!"

"Oh, dear, I never envied you stuck with that pack of hooligans that Mildred and Anthony call their grandchildren. I know they're wretched, but that's the way of things, isn't it?

"But if you and Harry are going to be here alone for the better part of the day I'll have you know that there'll be no fooling around in our absence."

Harry instantly felt his face burn red. Hermione's was a flushed shade to match. "Gram!" she yelped.

Berti was undeterred. "We've put out the nativity set, and it's just not right to have carnal knowledge in front of the son of god, even if he is plaster and paint."

Hermione groaned, put her elbows on the table, and covered her scarlet face with her hands in mortification. Harry was wondering how strange it would look if he just jumped up and ran from the room. He could try to find Kimmy's hidden home and barge in for asylum. She'd harbor him, he was fairly certain.

"Mum, please," Miranda sounded just as put out as her daughter. "I'm sure we don't have to worry."

"Oh, you think not?" Berti lifted an eyebrow and that wicked playfulness was in her tone and eyes. That was never a good sign. Harry was eyeing the exits.

"Kimmy will be here to keep an eye on them," Miranda stated with confidence.

"Hmph! Harry's dog? Honey, a dog's the coconspirator of its master nine times out of ten. That's what makes dogs so great."

"We trust this dog," Jake tossed in. When Berti glanced his way, Jake shrugged. "Call it a gut feeling."

Berti held up her hands in surrender… and also as though to wipe her hands of the consequences. Hermione peeked around her hand toward Harry and offered a sincere expression of profuse apology. Harry gave a wan smile to let her know he didn't hold her responsible for her grandmother's tongue.

With that, Berti, Miranda, and Jake rose from the table to get ready for the yearly visit to the McCormicks. Within twenty minutes, Harry and Hermione saw them out at the door. At the foot of the porch steps Berti turned back to them, and Harry braced for something terribly embarrassing, but all she said was, "Don't forget to feed Tiggy."

Harry was relieved it was something so tame from Hermione's grandmother. "I won't." He'd fed the horse yesterday (a chore that was usually Jake's during the Christmas visit, but since he'd been deemed no longer among the 'young people' crowd he abdicated the duty to Harry), so he'd already been instructed on where to find the hay and grain and how much to give of each.

"Have a good time," Miranda said in parting as the three-person party headed toward the car.

"But not too good a time!" Berti called back without turning to look in their direction. Jake, Miranda, and Berti piled into the car and were gone.

As soon as Harry and Hermione were back inside the house and the front

door was closed Harry turned to Hermione and said what had been on his mind since he sat down with the family at the kitchen table. "Your grandmother is something else."

Hermione winced."I'm so sorry about that. Mum always said Gram gave Dad a right awful teasing when they were dating, but I didn't really understand how bad it must have been until now."

Harry reflected on the relationship he'd seen between Jake and Berti since they'd arrived at the farm. It could hardly be categorized as the same level of uncomfortable that his own interactions with Berti rated. "She's pretty good with Jake now. Maybe I just need to soldier through for a while then she'll ease up on me."

"Oh, I'm sure she will. She does like you, Harry; she wouldn't keep it to herself if she didn't. I think she's testing you or something, though there's really no need." Hermione turned and headed toward the kitchen and Harry followed a step behind. Suddenly Hermione stopped in her tracks. Harry nearly ran into her before he came to a halt. "I almost forgot," Hermione said before Harry could ask what was up, then she turned to face Harry and put her arms around his neck and gave him a hug. "Thank you for getting me out of that dreadful lunch! You're the best boyfriend in the world."

Harry was rather bashful at that, there were a lot of boyfriends in the entire world, after all. It didn't stop him from returning the hug, though. "Umm… you're welcome. Must be pretty awful, those McCormick kids."

Hermione stepped away. "You cannot begin to imagine. It's like having fifteen Crabbes and Goyles for company."

"Ouch. Well, in that case, I figure I rate a kiss for rescuing you." Hermione's eyes glittered brightly. "Do you now?"

Harry grinned. "Yeah, I think so."

"Well, I think that can be arranged." Hermione rose to her tiptoes and touched her lips to his. Harry just started to put his arm around her to tug her closer when Hermione pulled away. Harry blinked, bewildered."Wha… that's it?" He pouted.

Hermione laughed. It was such a wonderful sound. She jerked a thumb over her shoulder and Harry followed it to rest his eyes on the nativity scene on the china cabinet. Harry frowned. "You're kidding. It's not like he's going to tell on us."

Hermione danced her fingertips absently over Harry's neck, which was really not kind considering she'd nixed the idea of snogging. Why wind him up if they couldn't do anything about it? Hermione looked up into his eyes and smiled rather mysteriously. "You're a wizard and I'm a witch, we of all people should know anything's possible."

That was true enough. "But for kissing?"

"Better safe than sorry." Hermione returned casually and started back toward the kitchen.

"You know," Harry said as he followed after her, "I don't know that I've ever held to that notion."

"Ha! I know you don't. You're more of the 'let's jump in headfirst and do some fast thinking on the way down' sort."

"Well, I don't know that I'm quite that rash."

"Sometimes you are. Don't worry, it's part of your allure." "It is?"

"So long as I'm there to help pull you out of any mess you fall into, it is."

Which had to be nearly every time, because Hermione was always there.

When they came into the kitchen they found Kimmy, changed back to her house elf form, sitting on the counter top wearing a pair of boxer shorts with a sleigh pulled by tiny reindeer flying around the midnight sky fashioned underwear. She was nibbling on a Christmas cookie cheerfully and grinned when Harry and Hermione came into the room."Cares for a cookie, Miss Hermione and Mister Harry Potter?"

Hermione smiled. "No thanks, Kimmy. Sorry about my grandmum earlier being a bit rude to you."

"Oh no, not rude, just muggle. Kimmy doesn't mind the muggles."

Harry ran an errant hand over the clean countertop before he leaned back against it and rested the heels of his hands on the edge. "So… what shall we do while everyone's away?"

Hermione opened her mouth to make a suggestion, but Kimmy beat her to it. The house elf put aside her half-eaten cookie and said, "Kimmy thinks

Miss Hermione and Mister Harry Potter should be telling Kimmy about being animagi."

They hadn't had the opportunity to give Kimmy any details the night that she followed them to Avalon and read them the riot act for sneaking off without her supervision.

Hermione looked abashed all over again to be reminded of their faux pas. She walked over to one of the kitchen chairs and sat down in it sideways so she could face Harry and Kimmy at the counter. "Oh, yes, I suppose we really should. We're very sorry for not telling you that we'd done it. We should have. It was wrong of us."

Kimmy gave a dismissive shrug. "Lovie dovies have lovies' secrets, Kimmy knows that. Kimmy's not being mad about that."

Harry thought the description 'lovie dovies' was a bit much, but he didn't say anything. It was better than some of the things Berti would have come up with to call them.

Hermione gave a tiny smile. "Well, we first changed a few weeks after term began, at the first full moon once we were back at Hogwarts."

Kimmy's eyes widened slightly in astonishment. "Miss Hermione and Mister Harry Potter are changing on the first try?"

Hermione nodded.

Harry glanced at the elf. "Headmaster Dumbledore and his brother didn't change the first time?" It sounded far-fetched to think anything would take more than one attempt with someone like Albus Dumbledore.

"Oh, no," Kimmy said matter-of-factly, "they changed first try, but Masters Albus and Aberforth are being very powerful wizards."

Hermione's mouth ticked upward at the corners. Apparently, she'd expected no less of their headmaster, as well. "Well, Harry is a rather powerful wizard in his own right."

"And Hermione's ruddy brilliant," Harry added. Hermione blushed faintly at the compliment.

Kimmy looked back and forth between the two. Then she nodded. "There is being very strong magic in Miss Hermione and Mister Harry Potter. It's being a good match."

Somehow, that manner of observation coming from their friendly little house elf made Harry feel a bit goofy with the warm fuzzy feelings that bloomed in his chest. He glanced at Hermione and her eyes were lowered and a tiny smile was fixed on her down-turned face. She was really very beautiful, Harry noted.

"Have Miss Hermione and Mister Harry Potter told Master Albus about the cats?"

Hermione shook her head at once and looked back up. "We haven't told anyone except our good friend, Ron."

"We haven't exactly reported ourselves to the Animagus Registry," Harry provided as he leaned in slightly toward the elf.

Kimmy mulled that over. "It's being big trouble to be rogue animagi," she mused aloud.

"We know it is, but if we really hope for it to be of any advantage to Harry against You Know Who, it must remain a closely guarded secret, even from Headmaster Dumbledore."

"Kimmy can see how that is true.

"Miss Hermione told Kimmy that she and Mister Harry Potter are being cats often to practice. How are yous doing this and keeping it a secret?"

Hermione looked to Harry and winced. He, too, had a fair idea how their little escapades would go over with Kimmy.

"Oh, well… we've been… kipping off into the Forbidden Forest in the mornings when everyone else in the castle is still asleep." Hermione's shoulders tensed as she braced for the fall-out.

As anticipated, Kimmy's face screwed unhappily. "That is being very bad, Miss Hermione and Mister Harry Potter! The Forbidden Forest is very dangerous! It is forbidden for good reason. That's very bad cat thinking of you."

Curiosity overwhelmed guilt for Hermione just then and she sat up straighter. "What do you mean by that, Kimmy? You said something about the cat's thinking affecting us in the woods the other night. What does that mean?"

Kimmy leveled a patient look at Hermione, as though astounded that it wouldn't be perfectly obvious to the ever-observant Hermione Granger. "When yous be changing into animal, the animal thinking stays with the animagus even in people form. When your inner animal is being woke up it won't be dead until you change again. It is being in you, always it is there, and it can make you different. It makes a wizard or witch different."

Hermione frowned in thought. "You mean we've been thinking and behaving differently because of our animagus forms?"

"Would Miss Hermione and Mister Harry Potter have been sneaking off into the Forbidden Forest before you changed?" Kimmy countered.

Harry blinked. Could that be true? He knew physically there was a difference in him, he could feel his jaguar every moment in the sense of knowing it was lying in wait for him to rouse it, but he'd never stopped to wonder if he'd been acting differently as Harry for its awakened presence. But Kimmy was right. Routine morning excursions into the Forbidden Forest was not something that had ever occurred to him before he and Hermione had changed. And it certainly would not have been something to which the Hermione from before the change would have consented. In fact, sneaking off into the Forbidden Forest for their practice had been her idea. If he'd stopped to think about it, he would have seen how very un-Hermione-like that was. But it hadn't occurred to him to find it at all peculiar. And then there was the incident at Hogsmeade that got them in hot water with Dumbledore…

Shocking though it sounded, maybe Kimmy was right.

Harry looked to Hermione to find her with a stunned, furiously thinking look on her face. She glanced at him and he could see that she had gone over all the evidence that he had in her own mind. And it seemed to point to the same conclusion.

"I never knew that becoming an animal would make us different people,"

Hermione remarked, and she sounded almost vaguely troubled by the notion.

Kimmy shook her head. "Not different. In truth, closer to your true selves than ever before. These animals were being in you always, a part of you never come out before. When the animal is bound to you it is making you more the real you than you were before. But the real you is being different from the you free of the animal before the change." Kimmy pursed her lips in thought. "But the animal is needing to be free to make you different.

Master Albus was never changing after the first time and the goat went

mostly away. Mostly. Master Aberforth was being the eagle all the time, and even when he's being a wizard he is… flighty."

Hermione smirked. "His constant 'vacations', you mean?" "Yes, and in thinking. He is being sharp but… bird-brained."

Harry couldn't help but laugh. Kimmy cast him a sidelong look, but her expression tempered when she recognized that Harry wasn't laughing at Aberforth so much as the chosen description.

"I wonder how we're different now," Hermione asked herself aloud.

"It will be very hard to say, Miss Hermione. Where to say where you are different from you?"

Hermione gave a strange smile then."Best to not obsess over that?"

Harry hadn't noticed a veiled recommendation in Kimmy's words, but he wasn't about to discount the fact that there may have been; Hermione was quicker to catch on to those kinds of things than he was.

Kimmy smiled sagaciously. "Kimmy would think so. But it would be smart to think more careful on your actions, because the cats could think a bad idea a good one. The cats won't have the same sense that Miss Hermione and Mister Harry Potter do. Or should have."

Hermione chuckled. "We got the message; no more jaunts in the Forbidden Forest."

"There's the witch thinking," Kimmy said happily and picked back up her cookie to continue munching on it.

Harry smirked, albeit a tad forlornly. He folded his arms casually over his chest and crossed one leg over the other as he put the brunt of his weight against the counter. He looked toward Hermione and saw her resigned to, but at the same time accepting of, Kimmy's recommendation. So it seemed their Forbidden Forest run routine was at its end. He'd miss his mornings in the forest with Hermione, but there was undeniable sense in Kimmy's objections to their forays. He still felt like he and Hermione could take care of themselves out there and handle any threats that might crop up, especially as the jaguar and lioness. But then, that seemed to be the point of Kimmy's lecture about cat thinking to begin with (and perhaps in as such it proved itself accurate). They'd have to think of some other way to meet together as the cats; Harry was willing to make adjustments to their existing routine, but

giving up the experience altogether was not an option as far as he was concerned. Those times with Hermione meant too much to him. Maybe Hermione would already have some ideas of what they could do in place of Forbidden Forest treks.

"Oh!" Hermione suddenly exclaimed and sat upright in her chair. Harry lifted his eyebrows in wait to hear what thought had set her off; he knew the look of Hermione when an idea suddenly came upon her. It might even be an idea about their new cat dilemma. Kimmy paused, cookie halfway to her mouth, and looked expectantly toward Hermione at her outburst.

Hermione moved her eyes from Kimmy to Harry. "While everyone's gone we should probably give Kimmy her presents."

"Kimmy has presents?" the house elf asked, happily surprised.

"Of course you do, and I think you should go ahead and open them early while it's just us in the house. Might be a bit difficult to explain to Gram tomorrow morning why Harry and I would both get a dog gifts," Hermione said as she stood to head toward the adjoining living room.

"Well, she thinks I spoil Kimmy rotten as my pet as it is, so maybe not so hard to explain," Harry quipped but he pushed off the counter to accompany Hermione into the living room and the stacks of Christmas presents found therein.

Kimmy clapped excitedly, crammed the last bit of cookie in her mouth, and jumped down to the floor.

The house elf's presents had been pushed to the back of the amassed packages, very nearly behind the tree, and Hermione got down on the floor to dig them out. Crookshanks, curled up on the brick of the fireplace, watched the goings on with little more than vague interest. When Harry plopped down on the couch facing the tree, the long-haired cat rose, left the fireplace, and padded over to where the young wizard was lounging.

Crookshanks leapt up on to the couch, climbed on Harry's lap, and lay down, fully expecting some attention. Harry absently began to pet the cat while he watched Hermione bring out the wrapped gifts for Kimmy, three in total.

Kimmy bounced on the balls of her feet then sat down on the floor, legs splayed like a child's. "Oh, Kimmy is so very excited."

"Well, don't get too excited, it's not much," Harry commented from his position on the couch before Kimmy got her hopes up too high.

Hermione nodded and continued Harry's train of thought. "No, it isn't much,

but we did want to get you something for Christmas. We really do consider you a friend." Hermione turned to sit on the floor facing the house elf, her legs crossed and the stacked gifts on her lap.

Kimmy looked up at Hermione with bright, shining eyes."Kimmy is thinking of the Grangers and Mister Harry Potter as friends, too."

Hermione smiled then turned her attention to the presents on her lap. She picked up the first one, topped with a blue bow. "This one's from Harry."

Kimmy turned a beaming smile on Harry, accepting the gift box, and began to hum a Christmas tune to herself as she started to tear off the paper. She bobbed her head from side to side and seemed to enjoy the process of unwrapping as much as the idea of the present itself. When she was down to the box Kimmy pried open the lid and looked inside.

"Like I said," Harry cautioned, "not much, but I thought you might think it was—"

A peal of uproarious laughter interrupted Harry's sentence, and he finished awkwardly, "funny."

Kimmy pulled out a pair of boxer shorts from the box and held them up to fully appreciate the scene playing out upon them. They sported enchanted figures that moved around the material; Harry had gotten them in a shop at Diagon Alley that could take 'special orders' as to what a person wanted on their article of clothing. On Kimmy's pair of boxers, a golden eagle soared majestically around the upper half of the shorts, while on the bottom half a grey-bearded goat chased along after the bird, bleating and wiggling its stubby little tail.

Kimmy wiggled and giggled on the floor. "Oh! That is being very funny!"

Hermione couldn't help her own laugh at the figures on the shorts. "It is funny, but perhaps you shouldn't tell the headmaster or his brother where you got them."

Harry had worried about that, too, when he came up with the idea. He banked on Dumbledore being agreeable enough to not take offense. As to Aberforth… Harry didn't know the wizard personally, so it was easier to put the other Dumbledore's reaction to the gift out of his mind. But he wouldn't be opposed to Kimmy's sworn secrecy as to where she obtained the boxer shorts.

Kimmy hugged the boxer shorts to her and made a strange trilling noise in

the back of her throat, enough to make Harry think maybe house elves had some form of purring. "Oh, Masters Albus and Aberforth would not be mad about the shorts. Master Aberforth would think them very funny, Kimmy thinks."

"Well, as Albus Dumbledore is our headmaster, he's the one we were rather more concerned about," Hermione said.

Kimmy touched her finger to the boxers, in the goat's path, and the animal stopped, studied the impediment to his pursuit of the eagle, then proceeded to butt at Kimmy's fingertip with its horns. Kimmy made the trilling sound again and took her finger away to watch the goat bound off on its way. "Master Albus would not be angry. Kimmy is liking this present very much for the love she has for Masters Albus and Aberforth both. But it can be all ours secret if Mister Harry Potter and Miss Hermione wishes."

"Better safe than sorry," Harry said with a grin in Hermione's direction, and when she shot a fleeting glance his way for turning her own words back on her he winked.

"Thank you very much for the boxers, Mister Harry Potter," Kimmy said as she admiringly smoothed her hands over the silky soft fabric. The eagle twisted to avoid her touch and the goat had to hurdle Kimmy's pinky finger.

"You're welcome, Kimmy. I'm glad you like them." "Very, very much," she replied with a vigorous nod.

Hermione picked up the second present in her lap."This one's from me. I'm afraid it won't be as good as Harry's."

Kimmy set aside the eagle and goat boxers, took the proffered box from Hermione, and opened it merrily. When the box laid bare its contents, Kimmy reached inside and came out with handfuls of dangling straps.

"They're suspenders," Hermione explained. "I noticed most of your shorts have a bit of cord tied on the waistband to keep them in place. You can just clip these on to the shorts and hook them around your shoulders. They're magic, so they'll change color to match whatever shorts you're wearing." Hermione smiled thinly. "I know they're not really fun so much as practical, but…"

"They are perfect, Miss Hermione," Kimmy said at once and shook her hands to send the straps swaying like fistfuls of snakes. "Fun must needs have practical to keep it fun, and practical must needs fun to keep it practical."

Hermione laughed."Well, I never looked at it that way, but I guess it makes sense."

"And you know, you'll probably get a lot more use out of Hermione's gift than mine," Harry pointed out. "You can wear those a lot. More than you can wear just a pair of boxer shorts."

"True, true," Kimmy nodded. "It's well met that Miss Hermione and Mister Harry Potter cover everything. It's well matched indeed."

"Here's the last one. It's from my mum and dad."

Kimmy took the last box, ripped off the paper, and pried open the box. Inside she pulled out two sets of boxer shorts, one in each hand. A note fluttered to the floor and Hermione fetched it since Kimmy had her hands full. She read aloud, "Kimmy, the pink ones are Jake's doing. He has a strange sense of humor, but he means well. Undergarments seem a small way to thank you for all you've done for our Hermione and Harry, but you've been a delightful presence in our home and we've enjoyed your company.

Happy Christmas."

Kimmy sniffled. "Aww, Kimmy's going to get teary." She turned to the shorts she held in hand. The pair in her right hand were bumblegum pink and when Kimmy rotated them she gave a bark/chirrup of laughter. Written on the backside of the shorts, in baby blue, was the word 'ATTITUDE'. In Kimmy's left hand were a pair of marble-patterned green boxers, the lighter green shades matching Kimmy's eyes almost perfectly.

Kimmy set down the last of her gifts in her pile of goodies and seemed to contemplate something very seriously.

"Is something wrong?" Hermione asked when she noted the intensity that had come over the little elf.

Kimmy looked up. "No. Kimmy has somethings for Miss Hermione and Mister Harry Potter." With that she jumped up to her feet and dashed out of the room. Harry and Hermione exchanged baffled glances.

In a moment Kimmy came back into the living room with something held in each hand. She moved to Hermione first and gave her the item in her right hand, then approached Harry and held out her left hand to him. Harry took the object and brought it closer for inspection. It looked like an oversized marble or perhaps a miniature crystal ball from one of Trelawney's classes. It was milky colored inside and as far as Harry could see there was nothing

beyond the white haze.

Harry looked toward Hermione to see she'd received an identical milky ball. She brought up her eyes to give Harry a perplexed look. That cinched it; Harry had no chance of knowing what Kimmy had given them if Hermione was puzzled. "They're lovely, Kimmy… what are they?"

The second Hermione said Kimmy's name, Harry saw a flash of tan and green in the white of the orb in his hand. His eyes flicked down swiftly just in time to see what looked like Kimmy's visage appear then vanish in the span of a few seconds.

"They are summoning spheres," Kimmy explained. "Masters Albus and Aberforth are always being able to summon Kimmy whenever they want her because she was once a Dumbledore house elf. Members of the house elf's family are always being able to call upon them, but being free Kimmy answers because she chooses to. With these, Miss Hermione and Mister Harry Potter need only hold them and say Kimmy's name and she will hear, and whenever you need her she will come."

Harry was duly moved by the gesture, but Hermione's mouth dropped open. Apparently, there was a bit more to this than he thought.

"Kimmy…" Hermione breathed, "that's… we can't accept these. House elves dispose themselves like that only to their families. We don't deserve these."

"Kimmy gave them to yous. She likes Miss Hermione and Mister Harry Potter very much. She is willing to be at their disposal, too. Masters Albus and Aberforth won't mind sharing."

Hermione stared in amazement at the boxer-wearing house elf. Finally, she said in a very serious tone, "Thank you, Kimmy. We're honored."

"Happy Christmases to both Miss Hermione and Mister Harry Potter."

Crookshanks, from his perch in Harry's lap, batted at the summoning sphere in Harry's hand as the milky white innards churned. He glanced up from Hermione's familiar to the wall clock and noted the time. "Oh, I should probably go feed Tiggy."

Hermione looked up from her summoning sphere as Harry was moving Crookshanks out of his lap. "Want some company?"

As he stood he shook his head. "No, don't trouble to get out of your pajamas; I know where everything is. I won't be long." Besides, he liked the

sight of Hermione lounging around the house in her pajamas. There was something at once criminally sensual and inordinately peaceful about it. Harry wasn't sure why or how that was the case, but he knew he liked it, and that was enough.

With the gift from Kimmy in hand, he went down the house hallway and into the bedroom Hermione was using for their stay. They'd stowed his luggage, pithy though it was, in her room for the simple fact that with the Christmas bonanza in the living room there wasn't really room for his things to be in the same room that he slept in. It hadn't proved to be a problem; he and Hermione took turns in the bedroom to change or Harry took his clothes to the bathroom.

He fetched a pair of jeans, a jumper, socks, trainers, and his jacket from his things while carefully putting away the sphere in his bag. He dressed and headed back out into the hall and toward the living room, where Hermione was clearing up the empty boxes and torn paper from Kimmy's presents.

Kimmy, changed back to dog form, was waiting for him at the front door, ready as ever to take up her charge as protector to the young wizard. When he opened the door she preceded him out into the cold afternoon.

A light snow had begun falling since Jake, Miranda, and Berti left. It drifted down to melt in Harry's hair and dust his clothes with flakes as he headed across the yard to the barn.

An enclosed paddock contained the barn and a portion of acreage for Tiggy to graze on. Hermione had said that when there had been more horses at Agincourt than just Tiggy her grandfather had turned them out on the pastures for grazing, but pared down to just a single horse the paddock surrounding the barn was well enough to serve. Berti wasn't one much for bringing Tiggy in every night as Hermione's grandfather used to; she preferred keeping the mare in the barn paddock all the time and simply going out to feed her twice a day.

When Harry opened the gate to enter the paddock the hinge squeaked and from inside the barn came a nicker. From the shadows of the open barn door, Tiggy stuck her head out to look toward him, ears perked. She had enough of a sense of time to know that someone coming out to see her at this time of day usually meant she would get fed, and she was attentive for that very reason.

Harry crossed the short distance to the structure and stepped into the open barn. The entrance of the building opened to a dirt floor corridor that

separated four stalls, two on either side of the central walkway. The first stall on the right was kept open and the floor lined with straw. Tiggy was inside that stall, comfortably sheltered from the winter weather. When Harry came into the barn she stretched her neck and extended her nose toward him.

"Hi, Tiggy," Harry greeted and brought up his hand to touch the mare's velvet-soft nose. Tiggy blew hot breath on his palm and worried her upper lip over his fingers. She'd become much more affectionate toward him once he'd taken to being the one to feed her.

Tiggy's burnished coat that had shone like copper in the summer was fuzzy with added thickness for winter. It made her look more pony than horse, closer to cute than majestic. Harry reached up to gently pat the horse on the forehead then headed to the next stall on the right. That stall was filled wall to wall with bales of hay. At the start of winter, Berti would hire some 'strapping young man', as she called it, to haul out a hefty supply to last the winter and stow it all in the second stall. Of the two stalls on the other side of the barn, one had actually been converted into an office for Henry Richardson, but following his death it was converted again into a feed room.

Bins for grain had been moved inside where once a desk had obviously been, for there were still the trappings around the cubicle of a horseman's retreat. There were pictures hung on the wall of a younger version of the family Harry had come to know. Miranda as a young woman, Berti no older than Miranda was now, a man with Hermione's smile, and one picture Harry particularly liked of a three-year-old Hermione sitting atop Tiggy and beaming at the camera. It was mind-boggling to think that at the same moment she was astride her grandfather's trusted mount and smiling like sunshine, Harry was tucked away in a cupboard under his aunt and uncle's stairwell. There was a dusty filing cabinet in one corner of the office that Harry had never cracked open, and an engraving above the door with the beveled words 'thou fliest without wings' and the likeness of a horse's head on either side of the proverb. It was all so simple but at the same time personal, and though it may have been unreasonable to do so, Harry got the feeling he could glean a good sense of the kind of man Henry Richardson had been from the things that he'd left behind. The last stall in the barn, the one adjoining the office, had stood unused for a long time, possibly since Hermione's grandfather died. Cobwebs framed the doorway and a musty smell of abandonment assaulted the nose if one stuck their head inside the dark enclosure.

Harry pulled open the sliding door to the hay stall and here a sweet smell greeted him, new to him who had grown up in the suburbs but somehow innately pleasant to his senses. Tiggy walked up after him and watched with keen interest as Harry fetched a pair of wire-cutters from a hook on the

inside wall of the stall and walked over fallen clumps of loose hay to work on the closest bale. He worked his fingers underneath the binding wire, wedged the wire-cutters in place, and snipped. When he cut the second wire the bale seemed to almost spring free as the sections fanned out from their tightly packed shape. Harry tucked the wire-cutters into his back pocket.

Tiggy nickered hungrily behind him.

"I'm working on it, Tiggy, hold your… self," Harry said, as though the horse would understand a word he spoke. The mare snorted and for half a heartbeat Harry wondered. He grabbed up two sections of hay from the bale and pushed past a suddenly obstructive Tiggy to make his way to her stall.

Harry went inside, Tiggy close behind him, and dumped the hay in the rack. Tiggy set immediately to eating, her human visitor forgotten. Harry wiped his hands together to brush off stray bits of hay and gave the horse a pat on the neck.

"You've seen quite a lot of this family, haven't you, girl?" Harry found himself talking to the horse the way he'd seen Hermione talk to her. The way he usually talked to Hedwig, but Hedwig was a wizard familiar and more likely than not to actually understand him. He hadn't really understood why Hermione would talk to an animal that clearly didn't understand what she was saying. But now he thought maybe he got it. It was peaceful to have such an unfailing confidant, such an unerringly safe place to leave his thoughts. How many of Hermione's girlhood fears and secrets had the horse been told? How many of her tears had been pressed into the smooth copper coat, how many smiles buried in the coarse hair of her mane? In his own life that had been full of so many impermanent figures, loved ones made of only photographs and others' memories, it seemed queer to think that this horse had known three generations of this family that he'd come to cherish.

It was worlds away from the life he knew, magic or muggle, but he thought he might like to have a life like this one. In a different life, he could have been close to happy with this. A barn to keep the memories and a horse to keep the secrets seemed simplistically perfect in its own way.

And he knew without the need to ask that Hermione found some appeal in the lifestyle of her grandparents; it read in the smiles on the face of the little girl in the pictures on Henry's office walls.

Harry went through the remainder of the chores in content quiet, the winter kept at bay by the barn's roof and walls. When he fetched a portion of grain and took it to Tiggy's feed bucket she left the hay in favor of oats and sweet feed. He topped off the mare's water trough and mucked out the stall,

though given leave to come and go as she pleased Tiggy didn't make much of a mess in her 'bedroom'. By then Harry was hot under his layers of clothes and cast off his jacket, setting it aside on top of a bale of hay while he laid out fresh straw on the stall floor. Kimmy dropped in, reappearing after her patrol to look for any signs of trouble, and sat outside and out of the way in the corridor while Harry went about the chores.

When he was finished he retrieved his jacket, shook off the hay, and said to Kimmy, "That should do it. Let's head back in."

Kimmy's tail wagged once and she jumped up to lead the way back to the house.

Once inside, Harry hung his jacket on one of the coat hooks in the informal foyer and shook his hands through his hair to banish some of the water that had soaked in from the melting snow. Kimmy darted off but Harry tended not to concern himself with Kimmy's whereabouts.

From the front door he could see Hermione clearly in the living room, standing in front of the tree and fussing with it. When he first came in she cast him a look and a smile over her shoulder, then turned back to her task. What she could be doing he didn't know, they'd decorated the tree to perfection yesterday, but it didn't really matter. Hermione found a flaw and was dead-set on correcting it. Not that he expected less from her.

He walked toward her, intent on asking what imperfection on the tree she'd seen that demanded righting. As he drew near her, he could hear that she was humming to herself. At first he naturally assumed it was a Christmas carol and it only brightened his holiday.

When he got closer he stopped dead in his tracks and his heart seemed to slam into his ribcage. It felt like vertigo, like stepping into the very scene of a dream, as he recognized the chorus of 'Give Our Magic Time'. He stared openly at Hermione before him in Berti's living room, mentally lost in the vision he'd had in Divination that had precipitated the greatest days of Harry's life.

Hermione turned to glance at him, a dreamy, content look on her face, but it vanished when she saw his face. He must have looked rather peaky as he gaped at her. "Harry? What's wrong?"

"That song you were humming…"

"One of my favorites," Hermione admitted with a small smile. "Don't tell Ron, though; he'd never let me live it down. It's a really mushy song."

He was too tangled in the images within his mind's eye to even think of snitching to Ron about Hermione's choice of song. "I won't tell him." He managed to get some grip on himself once more. "What are you doing?"

"Oh," she glanced over her shoulder at the tree, "tinsel rearranging. I noticed some uneven distribution on one side. But never mind that," she turned her back on the tree purposefully, no doubt a grand gesture in Hermione's inner world to so completely dismiss an imperfect Christmas tree to attend to Harry. "There's a Christmas special coming on the telly. Would you care to watch it?"

"Sure."

Together they curled up on the couch to watch the television. Hermione snuggled up very nearly in Harry's lap, and as far as Harry was concerned they could have been watching a nature special on the lifecycle of honey bees and been just as happy. It was really a bonus that the program was festive and entertaining. At one point in the movie, Kimmy joined them carrying a plate of cookies that they all shared. Harry had the best Christmas Eve day of his life watching a Christmas movie on the couch of Hermione's grandmother, sanwhiched between Hermione on his left and Kimmy on his right, with cookies in plentiful supply.

When the movie was over Hermione pulled free from Harry's arms, to his chagrin. "I should take a bath before I start to smell," she commented with a self-deprecating laugh.

"You smell nice," Harry countered guilelessly, being entirely honest. Her smell had been part of what had been so perfect about curling up on the couch watching a movie with her. Part of what made it perfect because it was part of her.

Hermione grinned and swept in to kiss him on the lips. "You're sweet, but I want to be fresh and clean for Christmas morning." With that she got off the couch and disappeared down the hallway. Harry lingered on the notion that she'd be wet and naked for a sinful second, then began to flip the channels on the television looking for something to watch.

He'd just stopped on a rugby match when the telephone rang. Harry looked around a moment, debated answering for all of a second, then reached over to pick up the cordless handset off the end table and bring it to his ear. "Hello?"

There was a pause on the other end, then a man's voice issued forth, "Hello?

I'm sorry, I think I may have gotten the wrong number. I was trying to reach Roberta Richardson."

"You have the right place; she's over at the McCormicks at the moment." "I see." Another pause. "Who is this?"

"My name's Harry Potter." "Harry who?"

Harry almost laughed for the humor in running across someone who didn't know right off who Harry Potter was. It was refreshing. "Potter. May I ask who this is?"

"This is Ben. Ben Richardson. I'm Roberta's son." "Oh, right, the one in the states."

That seemed to set the man on the other end to really puzzling over the stranger answering his mother's phone. "Since you're a tad too personable to be a burglar hitting my mum's while she's away, what exactly are you doing in my mother's house, Harry Potter?"

"I'm staying over for the Christmas holiday; I came with the Grangers." "Are you there alone?"

"No, Hermione's here. She's in the bath."

"Ah… and who are you exactly? Some friend of Hermione's I expect?"

"Sort of. I'm her boyfriend." It felt good to just say it like that. Some strange facsimile of pride swelled inside him.

"Boyfriend?!" the man yipped, unexpectedly enough for Harry to flinch. "But she's, like, twelve!"

"Uhh… closer to sixteen, actually," Harry answered, a bit perplexed himself now.

"Damn… has it been that many years? Guess it has. Well, I'll be. Her boyfriend, huh? That's going to take a bit of acclimating to."

Just then, the front door opened as Jake, Miranda, and Berti returned from their lunch with the McCormicks. "One second," Harry said into the phone,

then raised his voice to say, "Gram, Ben's on the phone." He held out the phone to her.

"Thank you, dear," Berti said and took the phone. "Ben. How are you, sweetie?... You're telling me, you ought to see the girl, before you know it she'll be twenty. What has you ringing me? You've already called to say happy holidays; I hope nothing's wrong… Really? Oh, Ben, that's wonderful news! Congratulations! How's Rachel doing?... Well, I couldn't be happier for you… Of course… I'll tell everyone the good news. Have a happy Christmas, Ben, and give Rachel my best wishes… I love you. Goodbye." Berti hung up the phone and turned to Jake, Miranda, and Harry, all watching her curiously.

"That was Ben; he just called to say that he and Rachel are expecting another baby."

"Another baby? That's wonderful!" Miranda said with a bright smile for her brother's good fortune.

"Fourth on the way?" Jake mused, "Those two are certainly aiming for the full house."

"I think it's positively delightful," Berti remarked confidently. "What cheery news to receive on Christmas Eve! Where's Hermione? She'll want to hear about her new cousin in the oven."

"In the bath," Harry said with a nod toward the hallway.

"Well, I'll just have to shout in at her then. Hope her head's not underwater." Berti left while Miranda and Jake began to talk about Ben's big news.

Harry sat back and basked in the domestic bliss of learning of the addition of a new member to a happy family. This, he knew, was how a baby should be perceived, a joy, not the bane his arrival had been to Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. He envied this child not yet born having a place awaiting him or her in such a wonderful family. But strangely, he didn't feel as potent an envy as he would have a year ago.