They took a rented van on trip day — Mr. Granger driving, enough room for everyone and the gear.
Off-season. The mountain was empty. Their own private stretch of forest and creek.
The moment they were away from anyone who might see, Kevin stopped pretending and unpacked everything from his extension bag with three careful spells. Tents up, campfire laid, equipment sorted — done in minutes. He saved himself a full hour of manual labour.
Magic was remarkable.
The Grangers settled their tent ten metres away and firmly told the children not to bother them unless something was on fire. The children agreed and dispersed at once.
"I'm going for firewood," Kevin announced. "I'll call you when lunch is ready."
The four younger ones ran straight for the creek. Hermione fell into step beside Kevin.
"I'll come with you." It wasn't a request.
Kevin nodded. They headed into the trees.
He tapped them both with an insect-repelling charm, a scent-blocker, and an armour charm — just in case a boar or something equally determined came out of the undergrowth.
"Kevin, look — up there." Hermione pointed up into a tree. A small squirrel was darting between branches, quick and bright-eyed.
"Tiny thing. There are probably burrows nearby. Full of winter nuts, I'd imagine." Her eyes had gone sharp with curiosity.
"Are you robbing a squirrel?"
"I just want to look." She kicked his ankle. "I'm not as morally bankrupt as you."
"How am I morally bankrupt —"
They found the tree hole quickly. Low enough to reach. Kevin scooped Hermione up by the waist and set her on a broad branch, bracing her leg on his arm so she was steady.
She made a small startled sound but was immediately distracted by the hole.
The squirrel inside was not distracted. It chattered furiously and bared its teeth.
"Squirrels can't bite through the armour charm," Kevin said from below. "Stick your hand in."
"You're heartless," Hermione said. "That poor thing worked hard for those."
"We're just looking. We'll put them back."
"...Fair." She reached in with rather more confidence than Kevin had expected.
The squirrel said several things in rapid succession, grabbed her hand, and gnawed with great dedication. Nothing happened.
Hermione pulled out a handful of berries and odds and ends. Not especially interesting.
The squirrel made a decision. It launched itself from the hole and landed directly on her face.
"Oh!" The armour charm held, but the leap caught her completely off guard. She flailed, tipped backward on the branch.
Kevin had her, but momentum carried them both. He brought her down fast, took the impact himself, and she landed safely in his arms on the ground.
The squirrel was still on her head.
"Kevin, are you all right?" All concern, she forgot the squirrel entirely, scanning his face.
"Fine. But there's a squirrel destroying your hair," he said, deadpan.
She grabbed it. It climbed straight back. She grabbed it again. It tried again.
"Hey. Your food. Take it." Kevin held the squirrel gently and deposited it next to the scattered berries.
The squirrel was intelligent enough to recognise a good outcome. It began hauling the berries back immediately.
Kevin steered Hermione away.
"Your hair is a disaster," he said, once they were at a safe distance.
"Fix it, then." She pinched his waist.
"Ow — all right —"
He fixed it slowly. She stood very still while he worked. Around them, the forest was quiet and cold and smelled of pine and damp earth. They'd still collected zero firewood.
He finished. A branch snapped somewhere behind them.
They turned.
A rabbit sat in the clearing, regarding them with mild suspicion.
Hermione: adorable.
Kevin: dinner.
He reached for his crowbar.
Hermione seized his arm with both hands. "Don't you dare."
"Hermione, it would taste excellent."
"No." She wrapped herself around his arm, full dead-weight. "Not happening."
"The chicken you eat was also once small and cute —"
"Kevin!"
She bit him on the arm.
He yelped and dropped the crowbar.
"Ow — fine, I take it back, let go —"
She let go. He landed flat on his back. She sat on him, which neither of them remarked on, and pinched both his cheeks with fierce, deliberate thoroughness.
"You are a terrible person," she informed him.
"I'm sorry. I'm very sorry. Hermione." He surrendered entirely. One should never argue with a girl. History bore this out.
She finally relented, smug and satisfied, and started to push herself upright.
The rabbit, which had been observing this with apparent philosophical calm, hopped directly onto Kevin's face.
Hermione reached for it, lost her balance, and her chest hit his face on the way down.
Kevin, lying flat on his back, processed the situation. She was twelve. These things took time.
Hermione felt the shift and shot upright. She was astride him now, looking straight down at him.
Her face went scarlet.
She tried to stand, looked at him, and froze.
Kevin looked up at her. His heart did something inconvenient.
"Hermione."
His hand settled light on her waist. Not pulling her in, exactly. Just — there.
She understood. Her eyes went soft and unfocused. She leaned forward, inch by inch.
Close enough that he could feel the warmth of her breath. Her hands cupped his face, gentle.
Her lips were a hair's width away.
"Kevin! Hermione! Where are you?!"
Harry's voice rang through the trees.
She bolted upright. Both of them frozen for a half-second.
Hermione spun away, hands pressed over her face. She wasn't going to look at him.
Kevin lay there for a moment. Then he sat up, turned toward the source of the shouting, and very slowly let his expression settle into something that resembled pleasantness.
Harry emerged from the trees, grinning with the bright uncomplicated happiness of someone who had absolutely no idea what he'd just interrupted.
He saw Kevin's face.
The grin began to falter.
Kevin beckoned him closer, expression perfectly friendly.
Harry came closer.
Every instinct he had screamed at him.
He had read enough — or heard enough from Ron — to do rapid threat assessment.
Kevin. Hermione off to the side, ears flaming. The particular quality of the silence.
Oh.
Oh no.
"Kevin — I just remembered — I left something in the tent —"
Harry turned and fled at full sprint.
Kevin watched him go. He could have caught him easily. He didn't, because Hermione was still standing three feet away with her back to him.
"..."
"..."
Neither of them said anything for a moment.
"We should head back," Kevin said.
"Mm."
He reached for her hand as they walked. She didn't pull away. She was looking at the ground, ears still pink, but her fingers closed around his.
He didn't push. School started in September. She'd be fourteen. There was time.
After a few steps she moved closer and tucked herself into a hug, face pressed against his chest.
He held her there, one arm around her shoulders, not moving.
Her breathing steadied. Her hands found the edges of his cloak.
He'll wait, she thought. He's always been patient with me.
She nuzzled his chest like a cat settling into warmth.
When they finally walked back to camp, he was still carrying all the firewood he'd collected — which was, to be honest, one branch he'd snapped five minutes ago. But no one needed to know that.
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