1997 

Harry had been staring at the fireplace since he and his dad had returned from the staff dinner.

Granted, they’d only returned twenty minutes ago, but already the embers in the grate were beginning to take on blurry shapes that obviously couldn’t exist.

“Perhaps you should Floo one of them,” Severus suggested as he turned the page in his Potions journal.

“I’m afraid to,” Harry said with a sigh. At his father’s raised brow, he explained, “If Mrs. Weasley knows about it, she’s probably upset.”

“She will not be upset with you, however.”

Harry actually wasn’t so certain. At the very least, both Weasley parents would probably be watching him with a gimlet eye from now on.

“Would you like to finish preparing Levi’s cave?” Severus asked, setting his journal aside.

Harry glanced over at the hollowed out rock, which was sitting on the table next to the fireplace. Levi lifted his head from where it was resting on Harry’s shoulder and followed Harry’s gaze. The familiar made a noise—a bit like a yip. Harry smiled.

“I think he’s anxious to move in,” he said, holding out his palm so that Levi would jump into it.

His lip quirked in amusement, Severus followed Harry and his familiar to the table. Harry deposited Levi on the top of his ‘cave’, and the little kylaria immediately clamped his claws around the edge of the rock, and turned himself nearly upside down so that he could peer inside.

“Careful,” Harry said automatically; Levi raised his head a bit, he widened his eyes a little and then went back to peering inside. Harry chuckled as he picked up a clump of the moss that Hagrid had given to them. He applied a Sticking Spell so that it was affixed to the stone floor. Levi purred approvingly. “It’ll make a nice bed,” Harry told him. Levi took that in and then stepped back from the edge. He picked his way across the smooth rock face toward Severus.

Severus and Hagrid had carved the large rock, so that there was a lower level outside the hollowed portion. A crater had been carved into that lower portion so that Levi could have his lake.

Levi watched with interest as Severus filled the kylaria-sized lake with his wand tip.

“Is that really going to work?” Harry asked curiously as he bent his head beside his dad, once the lake was full.

“Would you like to do it yourself? It is not difficult.”

“Yeah?” Harry drew his wand at Severus’ nod.

“Place your wand tip against the top of the rock; at the edge of where it drops off and into the lake,” Severus directed. “The spell is Estus… it will melt the rock in whatever shape you define. An oblong will work best.”

“All right,” Harry acknowledged with a nod. “Step back, Levi.” Levi hopped backward. Harry pursed his lips and put the tip of his wand against the rock. “Estus,” he chanted, and drew an invisible oblong along the surface, about the same width as the lake.

With a sizzle, the rock face began to glow. Harry, Severus and Levi watched as the rock disappeared, layer by layer. Severus had already made a similar incision at the base of lake, and a bit of water drained into the newly created, vertical shaft.

Severus uttered a spell and Harry grinned as water burbled up the shaft, to spill over the edge of the rock face and splash down again in the lake.

“Brilliant.”

Levi seemed to concur. His wings flapping excitedly, he hopped into the lake, and began splashing happily under the waterfall, shaking his head and sending water spraying in every direction.

Harry’s chuckles were cut short by the Floo. Green flames roared, and two seconds later, Ginny’s head came through. Harry immediately frowned as he stepped over to the fireplace; her features were drawn—her eyes bloodshot.

“Ginny? Are you all right?” he asked as he dropped to his knees; out of the corner of his eye, he could see his father slipping into the corridor.

“I’m all right,” Ginny said; she sighed. “Hermione’s not pregnant-” Harry closed his eyes briefly and sighed gustily in relief. “-but she’s pretty upset. Do you think you could ask your dad to take you to see her tomorrow?”

“Yeah, of course…” He frowned. “Wouldn’t she rather Ron… or you-”

Ginny shook her head jerkily. “We can’t,” she said quickly. Harry leaned toward her, ignoring Levi as he flew over and perched on his shoulder; cold water seeped through Harry’s shirt. Ginny’s fiery brows scrunched together.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a long story,” Harry said, feeling impatient to get to whatever was bothering Ginny. “He’s a kylaria, and he chose me as his familiar. His name’s Levi.” Levi had craned his neck so that he was peering at Ginny, but he backed up swiftly as Harry made a move to jostle him down his arm. He made a soft hissing sound.

“Is he all right?” Ginny asked, looking confused.

“He’s wary of strangers. She’s my girlfriend, Levi,” he told his familiar, but Levi stayed put, close to Harry’s ear. Harry sighed and turned his attention back to Ginny. “Gin, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Harry,” she said, her voice wobbling just a little. She glanced behind her and bit her bottom lip. “Harry, I have to be quick, but when Ron and George came, everything sort of tumbled out, Ron was in such a state.” Harry grimaced at the thought of Ron’s dad and Hermione’s parents overhearing. “Dad and Mum are pretty upset, Mum especially, and she insisted that we go away for a little while.”

“Go away?” Harry echoed. “Why?”

Ginny shook her head. “Hermione’s father told Ron that he couldn’t see her again—he started yelling at Dad too, and well, Mum went a little mad when we got back. Ron was really rattled—just standing there staring at nothing and Dad was too quiet—Mr. Granger really lit into him and Ron. So Mum had the whole story out of them almost before Dad could sit down. She wants to take us somewhere quiet, so that Ron can separate himself from the situation, I guess…”

Ginny took a deep breath before she glanced down, while Harry tried to process all the information he had just heard. When Ginny looked at Harry again, her face was expressionless. “And she said she wants me to have some space from you as well.”

“Me?”

Fingers came through the fire and tapped Ginny’s shoulder. Ginny twisted around briefly. “I have to go,” she said when she turned back around.

“Wait!” Harry blurted. “Can’t you talk for just a few more minutes? When are you leaving… and why would your mum want you to-”

“She’s anxious, Harry,” Ginny interrupted him quietly--apologetically. “I don’t think she was expecting this. And she’s worried now—about you and me…”

Harry could feel his brow crumpling with confusion. “Can you just step through for a minute—my dad’s here if that will make your mum feel-”

“I can’t,” Ginny said quickly, shaking her head.

“Can I step through then?” Harry asked, inwardly wincing as his request came out with more desperation than he had intended. “Just for a minute, to speak with you… and Ron as well.”

Ginny didn’t immediately agree, and Harry couldn’t help but frown at her. What the hell was going on?

“I’ll ask,” Ginny finally said. She pulled her head back through the flames, leaving a very confused Harry staring at the green fire. When had Mrs. Weasley ever not welcomed him?

Ginny’s head popped back through a moment later. “Mum says you can step through, but just for a few minutes… we have a lot to do, she says, since we’re leaving in the morning.”

Harry nodded, starting to wish he hadn’t insisted on coming through. It seemed the Weasleys reaction was going to be worse than a simple wary eye.

After shooing a very disgruntled Levi away from the fireplace and calling out to his father that he was stepping through to the Weasleys, Harry ducked through the flames.

Ginny, with a solid wall of parents behind her, was waiting for him.

“Hi…” Harry said, feeling a nervousness he hadn’t experienced since the first time he’d visited the Weasleys.

“How are you, Harry?” Mrs. Weasley asked, a bit stiffly, as far as Harry could tell. And Mr. Weasley’s smile was strained—though that could have easily had more to do with Ron’s current predicament, than with him.

Unnerved though, Harry could only nod a greeting.

“Ron is upstairs,” Mrs. Weasley said, “with the twins.”

“Oh…” Harry cleared his throat. “Would it be all right if I spoke to Ginny for a few minutes first?”

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley glanced at one another.

“Of course, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley finally said. “We’ll be in the kitchen.”

Mr. Weasley hesitated, but after a few seconds he turned and followed his wife into the kitchen.

“Gin?” Harry prodded quietly, as soon as they were left alone; he wanted to reach out and hug her—at least hold her hand, but Harry had the impression that she would pull away. “Did I-” He’d never had to ask this particular question before.”-do something?”

Ginny’s straight-backed posture relaxed somewhat and, thankfully, she smiled. “Of course not, Harry,” she said. But still, she made no move to come closer—to touch him in any way.

“Something’s bothering you… What is it, Gin?” Harry asked quietly, genuinely worried.

Ginny sighed. “I’m sorry, Harry. But Mum and Dad were so upset, and they were talking about me—and us—and I guess I’m feeling a little unsettled by everything.”

Harry could certainly understand that. He smiled at her and reached out for her hand; hers came forward automatically, but instead of her fingers coming to intertwine with his, they hung limply in his hand.

“My parents…” she murmured, glancing over Harry’s shoulder; Harry let her hand go, slowly.

“Did they… ask you about us?” he asked, grasping for something to fill the silence.

Ginny’s cheeks immediately pinked.

“They were concerned, as they put it,” she said softly. Harry watched her hands twisting the little Snitch nestled in the hollow of her throat. “Mum and I had a long talk,” she added with a grimace.

“And you told her that we hadn’t done anything yet?” Harry asked, suddenly really wanting Ginny’s parents to understand that much.

Ginny nodded. Her hand wrapped entirely around the little Snitch. “It was the ‘yet’ part that had she was concerned about…”

No longer able to stand not touching her, Harry brushed her hair back from her cheeks. Ginny smiled a little, and Harry was encouraged enough to say, “We don’t have to do anything, Ginny.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I tried to tell Mum that…”

“Tried?”

Ginny shrugged. “She said she thinks we’re too young to be so serious.”

That was news to Harry.

“It’s getting quite late, Ginny,” Mr. Weasley interrupted as he came back into the room. “If you would like to visit with Ron, Harry, you'd best go on up now.”

Harry nodded glumly. “Yes, sir.”

Mr. Weasley looked like he wanted to say something, but he only nodded and turned back to the kitchen.

“I’ll write you,” Ginny said. She reached up slowly and touched his cheek gently with her fingertips.

Harry chest constricted as her hand dropped back to her side.

“Where are you going?” The question came out gruffer than he’d intended.

“To visit Charlie… Fred and George are coming for a few days.”

Harry shifted in front of Ginny, wondering why he suddenly had no idea what to do with his hands.

“How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know. But Mum mentioned something about sending me to Beauxbatons Academy. Only girls, you know…” Ginny smile wavered.

That was singularly not funny, and Harry made no attempt to smile.

“Ginny, dear, it’s time to get ready for bed,” Mrs. Weasley called out.

“It’s not even ten o’clock, Mum.”

“It’s all right,” Harry said quickly, turning around so that neither one of Ginny’s parents would have any reason to rebuke Ginny. And since both of them were watching them—much too intently for Harry’s tastes, he had to settle for a simple goodbye.

Ginny didn’t seem to mind.

“Is it all right if I go upstairs?” Harry asked stiffly when he’d turned away.

“Of course, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said, nodding toward the stairs.

Harry thanked her and trudged up the steps. Ron’s door was closed, so he knocked lightly. The door swung open. Fred frowned down at him.

“Wotcher,” Harry said, without much enthusiasm.

“I thought Ginny was just going to speak with you through the Floo.”

“She did,” Harry said, hearing the edge in his voice, but not caring much about it. “I wanted to speak to Ron.”

“Just let him in, Fred,” Ron’s weary voice floated out from somewhere behind George. “I already told you he hasn’t done anything to Ginny.”

To her?

Harry scowled.

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a bit?” he asked sourly as Fred moved aside. “I’ve been dating Ginny for almost a year now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” demanded George.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Harry snapped. “We’ve been together this entire time, and nobody’s treated me like I’m some sort of pervert before.”

“We’re just looking out for our little sister,” Fred said, with a scowl to match Harry’s.

It took Harry a moment to respond; the unspoken accusation was more than a little painful. “I would never hurt Ginny.”

“You wouldn’t mean to,” George said, leaning forward. “And I know you’re a good sort, but Ron’s not so bad himself, and he came very close to hurting Hermione.”

Ron groaned; he was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. George glanced back at him, and fell silent.

Since Ron didn’t seem particularly angry with him about Ginny, Harry stepped toward the bed.

“What happened, mate?” he asked quietly. “How did everyone find out?”

Ron continued to stare at the ceiling. “Hermione’s parents were a bit confused when George and I just arrived so suddenly.”

“And even more so when you kept apologizing,” George interjected; Ron shrugged.

“Hermione told me that everything was fine, and I was a bit stunned…”

“Stared at her for almost a full minute,” George clarified.

“Hermione’s dad asked what was going on, and it turns out that Hermione can’t lie very well to her father.”

“It didn’t help that you kept asking her if she was certain-”

“Shut it, George,” Ron muttered without heat; George complied.

Nobody spoke.

“Ginny asked me to visit Hermione tomorrow,” Harry finally said. Ron’s gaze found his.

“Are you going to?”

Did Ron really have to ask?

“Yeah.”

Ron swallowed. “Make sure she’s all right for me, would you?”

Harry nodded.

Ron’s eyes went back to the ceiling.

Again, there was silence, and once it began to eat at him, Harry turned away.

“Harry?” Ron called out quietly as Harry reached the door.

Harry turned, his hand on the door; looking at Ron expectantly.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah,” was all Harry could find to say. Three Weasley brothers gazed back at him, and Harry let himself out.

Harry went slowly back down the stairs, his eyes flicking to Ginny’s closed door as he passed it. His footsteps heavy, he finished treading down the creaky stairs; he froze on the last step, his insides twisting.

His father was sitting stiffly in one of the chairs surrounding the table. Mrs. Weasley was pouring him a cup of tea.

The three adults looked up as Harry stepped into the room.

Remain calm, Severus’ flame abruptly warned, and Harry wanted to make a mad dash for the Floo.

“Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said, gesturing him forward, “won’t you sit down? We’d like to speak with you for a few moments.”

Harry sat beside his father; he did his best not to fidget.

“Would you like some tea?”

“No, thank you,” Harry murmured.

Mrs. Weasley set the tea kettle down and sat beside her husband.

“We thought,” she began in a brisk sort of voice, “that since you were here, Harry, we would invite your father as well. To discuss you and Ginny.”

Harry nodded. What else could he do? He certainly couldn’t tell Mrs. Weasley that he’d heard quite enough silent threats and insinuations for one night, thank you very much. Mrs. Weasley smiled at him.

“Perhaps, if you wish to speak about Harry’s relationship with Ginny, she should be present as well,” Severus said, and Harry could tell by both his posture and his tone that he was considerably displeased to be here.

“Ginny and I have spoken extensively this evening,” Mrs. Weasley assured him. “Arthur and I,” she continued, glancing at her husband, “are concerned that Harry and Ginny have become a little too serious…”

“…for ones their age,” Mr. Weasley murmured.

“Yes, and as I’m certain you realize,” Mrs. Weasley addressed Severus, “Ginny is only fifteen-”

“I am well aware of Ginny’s age, yes.”

“Then you’ll agree,” Mrs. Weasley said smoothly, seemingly unruffled by Severus’ curt tone, “that the children are much too young to be exclusive with one another.”

Harry’s insides jumped.

“Harry has always been a complete gentleman toward your daughter,” Severus said. “I have no doubt that he will continue to do so.”

Mrs. Weasley’s eyebrows climbed toward her sweep of red fringe. “Why then, if I may ask, did you teach him how to perform a Contraceptive Charm?”

“I do believe,” Severus retorted quietly, “that Arthur taught the same charm to your sons, has he not?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Weasley said stoutly, “and do you see where that’s led us today? Hermione and Ron nearly ruining their lives.”

“And you believe they would have practiced abstinence had Arthur withheld information from Ron?” Severus asked, and Harry knew neither of the Weasleys could miss the scorn in the question.

“If they hadn’t had such easy access-”

“They would have found the information elsewhere,” Severus cut Mrs. Weasley off.

That seemed to take Mrs. Weasley off her course a bit, but then she shook her head firmly. “By teaching Harry that charm, it’s as if you’ve given your assent, and I wonder, Severus, if that was your intent?”

Severus gazed at Mrs. Weasley, his eyes narrowed, for a moment before turning his head abruptly to Mr. Weasley.

“Tell me, Arthur, why did you teach your sons the Contraceptive Charm?”

Mr. Weasley glanced at his wife, who pursed her lips at him.

“That is not the point, Severus,” she stressed. “Harry and Ginny are entirely too young to be so focused on each other. They are only children still, and both have so much growing up to do.”

Harry’s couldn’t seem to stop his teeth from grinding together.

“I will not deny that liaisons between teenagers are generally not a wise idea,” Severus said, a definite edge to his voice this time. “However,” he added when Mrs. Weasley nodded crisply, “I will not agree that it is impossible for teenagers to find a mate while still young.”

“Harry will only be seventeen next month.”

“I am also well aware of my son’s birthday, Molly,” Severus said tightly.

“And have you no concerns at all with his dating Ginny at such a young age?”

“No.”

Severus’ jaw was clenched as tightly as Harry’s now. Harry, though his anxiety about Mrs. Weasley’s comments was soaring, said quietly, “He and my mum were married right after they graduated,” he said quietly.

Mrs. Weasley nodded, her eyes still on Severus. “But surely you wouldn’t want that for Harry?”

“And why would I not?” Severus inquired coldly. Mrs. Weasley fell silent; Mr. Weasley had placed a hand over hers. “Are you implying that had I not been so young, I might not have been so irresponsible as to leave my family?”

Mrs. Weasley swallowed, and Harry wondered, for the first time, how many people really believed that his parents could not have loved each other.

“Severus,” Mr. Weasley began.

“You are entitled to your opinion,” Severus interrupted brusquely. Neither of Ginny’s parents replied. “Is it your intention to forbid your daughter from seeing Harry?” Severus asked bluntly.

“Of course not, Severus,” Mr. Weasley said quickly as Harry sucked in a breath; Severus narrowed his eyes at the other man.

“Then what, precisely, is your intention?”

Mrs. Weasley found her voice again. “We’ve made it perfectly plain to Ginny that if we feel things are progressing too quickly in her relationship with Harry, we will intervene.” She turned to Harry, and her expression softened. “We wanted you to understand Harry, that we don’t say that out of anything but concern—for both of you.  And we thought that if you understood how we feel, that you would take more care with Ginny.”

How much more care could he take?

“Yes, ma’am,” was the only appropriate response.

Mrs. Weasley reached out and patted Harry’s hand. “That’s a good boy,” she encouraged with a smile, but Harry couldn’t find it in himself to smile back.

Mrs. Weasley looked uncertain, but that was cut short as Severus pushed back his chair. “Thank you for the tea,” he said, his tone making it clear that that was all he was thanking them for. Harry stood up, the feeling of numbness that had been spreading through him since Ginny had first put her head through the Floo only worsening as his dad stepped away from the table so that Harry could go into the parlor first.

Harry did, after a quiet farewell to Ginny’s parents. Severus said nothing as he turned to follow Harry into the Floo.

“Snape Quarters—Hogwarts!” he said sharply as he flung the powder down. The Floo spun them away, with more force than it seemed to usually entail, and Harry stumbled over the hearth rug and nearly lost his balance.

His father’s fingers grasped his wrist before he landed face first onto the hard stones.

“Damn it,” Harry muttered. As soon as he was upright again, he sank into one of the chairs. Only then did he notice that Levi had obviously been waiting for them. He soared from his cave to land gracefully in Harry’s hand. Harry brought the little kylaria to his chest; his purring was soothing.

“I assume Hermione does not find herself with child?”

Harry shook his head.

“And Ron was feeling better?”

“Not really. And I think George and Fred would like to use me to test new products—volatile ones.”

Severus scowled.

“Ginny received you?”

Harry tilted his head, wondering at his father’s interrogation. “She was upset.” And didn’t even hug me, he didn’t add.

Severus nodded curtly. He sat opposite Harry. “I was perfectly clear, was I not, when I expressed a desire for you to wait until you are ready, to become intimate with Ginny?”

Harry frowned. “Yes.”

Severus nodded, still scowling.

“Mrs. Weasley shouldn’t have said that about you and mum,” Harry said after a minute.

“Molly Weasley has never been one to keep her opinions to herself.”

“But she had no right to-”

“Do not worry yourself over it,” Severus broke in wearily. “Her opinion is shared by most of wizarding Britain, I quite assure you.”

Harry bit his lip, the confirmation of his earlier ponderings making him angry despite his best effort. But since his father clearly didn’t want to talk about it…

“Ginny’s parents—as well as her brother—may well have calmed down by the time they return,” Severus went on, perhaps misreading Harry’s silence.

“I hope so,” Harry said as Levi’s nuzzled against his shirt. And he hoped Ginny would be feeling better as well, once she returned. She’d been much more rattled than Harry had expected, though after listening to Mrs. Weasley, he supposed he shouldn't be so surprised that she hadn’t hugged him.

--

As he and his dad—and Levi in Harry’s windbreaker again—walked down the unfamiliar, tree-lined street to Hermione’s house the next morning, Harry hoped Hermione wouldn’t mind the visit. But that worry heightened as soon as Hermione answered Harry’s tentative knock.

“Harry?”

“Hi,” Harry said. “I would have sent an owl, but even Hedwig would have taken too long. I hope it’s all right?”

“Oh… of course,” Hermione told him; she glanced at Severus. “Good morning, Professor.”

“Good morning.”

“Come in,” Hermione said as she gestured toward the sitting room that Harry could see just inside.

“How did you get here?” she asked after they’d crossed the threshold. Crookshanks was sitting near the fireplace, watching Harry with a carefully twitching tail.

“My dad used to be apprenticed to a man who lives about a mile away,” Harry said. Though Daniel had already been at his shop when Severus had contacted him that morning, he had urged them to use the Floo whenever they had need.

“Oh,” Hermione said again. When she didn’t add anything further, not even to ask a question or express any curiosity, Harry glanced at his dad. They communicated silently for a moment, his father urging him to go ahead.

“Hermione, is it all right if we talk for a minute?” Harry looked around, not sure where the kitchen might be—he could see only a staircase to his right. “In the kitchen?”

Hermione nodded and turned, but then she turned around so quickly that Harry nearly crashed into her. Leaning around Harry, she said to Severus, “May I get you anything, sir? Some tea or biscuits?”

“No, thank you.”

Hermione bit her lip, but nodded. She gave Harry an uncertain look. He smiled reassuringly at her, and she turned again. She led Harry through a door and into a sunny kitchen. Before the door had closed behind them, Hermione spun around and threw her arms around Harry.

“Oh, Harry,” she breathed into his neck.

It took Harry a few seconds to return the hug, and was surprised to find her shaking. “Hermione…”

“Ron told you then?”

“He didn’t mean to.”

Hermione shook her head; her curly hair tickled his nose. “It’s all right.” She dragged in a deep shuddery breath. Harry wasn’t sure what to do, so he patted her back a few times.

“Are you all right?”

Hermione nodded as she pulled away. She took a handkerchief from her pocket. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she wiped her eyes. “It’s just been so horrible... Oh! You’re shirt!”

“What?”

Hermione halted in mid-reach toward her wand. “Oh… I always forget.”

Harry smiled at that; he had often found himself doing the exact same thing during his summers with the Dursleys. Hermione’s features brightened with a grin briefly, but then her face crumpled.

“Professor Snape knows too, doesn’t he?” She sank onto one of four chairs around the table when Harry nodded.

“I didn’t tell him,” Harry quickly assured her; he sat next to her.

Hermione nodded. “I know. Madame Pomfrey paid a visit last night.” Her cheeks had flushed a faint rose. “She said she had only hoped to speak with me alone. But my parents already knew-” Her voice lowered. “-everything by the time she got here.”

Hermione folded her hands on the tabletop. She was staring at them intently, and Harry didn’t want to interrupt her concentration. Besides he couldn’t think what to add.

“The entire staff knows,” she whispered. “Dumbledore and McGonagall… Hagrid. And even though I’m not pregnant, they all know.” Tears had gathered in her eyes again. She brushed at her eyes. “It was so humiliating, Harry. And my parents were so disappointed—my dad, especially.”

Knowing just how much that could hurt, Harry nodded sympathetically, but still he didn’t interrupt.

“And my dad told Ron he could never see me again.” To Harry, that seemed a bit of an extreme reaction—after all, Ron cared very much about Hermione, and he wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. “My dad is usually so level-headed and fair about things.”

Like you, Harry could have added, but didn’t.

“My mum understood—at least I think she did, but she kept reminding me last night, about all the plans I have after graduation. And how I can’t accomplish everything I want to with a baby.” Hermione hands twisted together. “And she’s right, Harry. What was I thinking?”

“You couldn’t have counted on this happening,” Harry tried to soothe her, but Hermione shook her head.

“Of course I knew it could happen, Harry. And I was really careful. Really I was. I’ve known since I was a little girl that Muggle medicines won't work when a witch or wizard takes them. And I asked one of the seventh year girls to teach me a Contraceptive spell, but all of them use potions, and I couldn’t find any information on the spell in the library, not even when I tried an Accio for a book on sexual reproduction.”

Harry hoped his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt, but even if they were, it didn’t detract Hermione.

“Mary gave me a vial of potion. And I followed all her instructions exactly, and I even performed Ron’s charm for him…”

“Hermione!”

Hermione abruptly stopped speaking, maybe because even Harry’s ears were on fire by then.

“Oh…” Hermione put her fingers over her lips; she flushed.

“Blimey, Hermione,” Harry breathed, shaking his head to dispel the images, which he decidedly did not want, of Ron starkers-

“Don’t tell Ron I told you that!”

“I won’t,” Harry assured her quickly.

Hermione pressed her lips together as they tried to twitch, but a few breaths of laughter escaped anyway; it died away quickly, and the two of them sat in contented silence for several long minutes as the sun warmed them.

“Ron was pretty upset,” Harry thought to mention, hoping it wouldn’t make Hermione cry again, but he owed it to his friend.

“I know,” Hermione said softly. “We didn’t leave on very good terms. And my dad said he could never see me again…”

“But he’ll cool down, right?” Harry said reasonably, thinking back to his conversation with his father last night.

Hermione shrugged. “I suppose so…”

Before Harry could ask if she intended to contact Ron—by owl, at least, Hermione reached over and squeezed Harry’s hand.

“I really am glad you came.” Her brown eyes were bright.

Harry shrugged off her gratitude. “I wanted to make sure you were all right, since Ron and Ginny are leaving.”

Hermione smiled, and Harry knew she understood that it was more than that.

“Oh!” Hermione cried softly as Levi backed out of Harry’s pocket and hopped onto the table. “A kylaria?”

Harry grinned, not at all surprised that she had known that.

“Where did you get him?”

“From the man my dad mentioned earlier. He owns a potions shop in Knockturn Alley. He intended to give Levi—that’s his name—to my dad but Levi chose me.”

“He’s adorable, Harry.”

Levi‘s leathery wings fluttered at the praise, and he took a few steps toward Hermione. Hermione held out her hand, and without hesitation, he hopped into her palm. Hermione stroked Levi’s head, down his spiny neck and Levi purred, the sound filling the room.

Hermione’s eyes came up, locking with Harry’s and at the same time, they smiled.