Archive of Our Own

It was always a delight to set up the Hogwarts stall in Hogsmeade, to see the eager anticipation of the people waiting to buy their products. Over the last couple of years, they'd really had to expand the size of the stall, and take up more room; which also meant more students being available to sell, though they kept the length of the shifts the same. It simply meant recruiting more students from outside of the craft and cooking groups. But as some of them might start their working lives in shops in Diagon Alley, the sales experience was good for them.

Hermione always volunteered for one of the least desirable shifts, either first, last, or lunch time, which continued to make her popular with the other students. She always had a friend willing to join her at the stall, and their other friends willing to bring them drinks and snacks from The Three Broomsticks. Lunch time was quieter for the people of Hogsmeade, but was often the time when people from the Ministry of Magic might visit during their break, if they were willing to Apparate or floo that far.

Mrs Norris would also visit, if it wasn't too cold, and bring a note from Mr Filch. Hermione still went to the shop herself, but passing notes like this was fun, and Mrs Norris – who had been a castle cat for so long – enjoyed the attention she received from the villagers as she pranced along with a piece of parchment stuck in her collar, being called a 'clever cat' by passersby.

“Wish we could sell our products like this, make some of our own money so we could get capital to start up the shop when we leave Hogwarts,” George said, blowing warmth into his hands after sending off one happy customer, with a paper bag full of handmade cards and crocheted gifts.

“I did say,” Hermione began.

“We're not taking your money,” Fred interrupted her. “You're our friend. It wouldn't be right.”

“Sirius and Remus would be happy to invest,” she suggested. “Think of all those Pureblood Black bigots rolling over in their graves, part of their fortune going towards a joke shop.”

“Yeah, but they're our mentors now,” George said. “It also feels wrong to take from them.”

“Well, you may have to do it the old-fashioned way, but I have faith that it will work,” she said.

“What's the old-fashioned way?” Fred asked. However, another customer came by, and since Dean was busy with someone else, Hermione took over selling some of Harry's ceramics and Angelina's toffees. Then she sat down again on one of the stools Hagrid had made to fit behind the stall.

“The old-fashioned way is taking out a bank loan and gradually paying it back as you make enough money to do so,” she said. “Muggles have done it for centuries, and still do. It's how people buy houses and run businesses without starting capital. If you show that you have a sound enough business model – that you're confident you'll make enough money to pay back the loan, that is – then the bank should loan you the money you need. Just work out how much you'll need for a shop front, if you intend to sell out of a bricks and mortar store; how much you'll need to pay staff; how much for bills, such as... whatever bills magical people pay, Mr Filch will know, ask your mother; as well as the costs for producing your stock. My parents started their own business, and bought their house, this way, and paid it all back. I can ask them to write you for tips on how to do it.”

“You'd really do that?” George asked, perking up.

“You're the best, Hermione,” Fred told her, and he hugged her. She blushed bright pink, and George grinned when he saw it.

“I can also put in a good word for you with Ragnok,” she offered. “But you'll have to show me your proposal first. I know your products are clever, and my mother still wants that chalk from the Malory Towers books. So do I.”

“We've already worked out the spells, we just need to work out how to make chalk itself,” Fred said. “We'll do a whole Enid Blyton line, dedicated to you and your mum.”

Back at Hogwarts later, Hermione wrote to her parents, then also to Sirius, asking whether there were any magical books on running a business. She hoped this wouldn't take up too much of her studying this year, since she had her OWLs to concentrate on. But she wanted to be there for the twins, since this was their last year at Hogwarts. It was already difficult when Penelope left; she didn't know how she'd cope without the twins, and they were in a different house! They were the first Hogwarts students she'd met, and she was going to miss them. Their support, by bombarding The Daily Prophet (now defunct) and Minister Fudge's offices with pranks during that difficult time in first year helped her morale.

They were going over a list of their product ideas. Sometimes she wished she was half so creative; but she knew she had her own strengths, and the world was made up of different people for a good reason. Still, she could come up with some ideas of her own to help them out.

“I... I had a thought,” she said, and Fred instantly looked up at her, blue eyes shining like sapphire... no, concentrate. George looked up more slowly, freckled face almost matching, and their patient smiles showed they were waiting. “It's something I think you'd find quite easy, and it's not really a prank product, but I thought you could make it anyway and stock it in your shop. Well, you could market it as a joke product anyway, you're clever and creative enough...”

“Stop, you'll make us blush,” George said, batting his eyelashes, and Fred poked him.

“What is it, our bookworm?” he asked.

“It's paper, or parchment, I suppose, which is enchanted so that only the sender and receiver can see what it actually says, but to anyone else it will look like an ordinary letter,” she said. “Maybe it's too much to work on soon, with your NEWTs this year, but I only thought of it the other day.”

“Ooh, I can see the potential,” Fred said, eyes lighting up. “We could've used something like that to pass notes in class.”

“Or even at home,” George added.

“We could've told Ginny all the things we were up to before she came to Hogwarts.”

“Mum would've just seen a letter saying we were doing our schoolwork and not getting into trouble, while we were telling Ginny about our best jokes.”

“And about meeting you,” Fred added gallantly, placing a swift kiss on Hermione's hand, which befuddled her completely for a few seconds. She shook her head to clear it.

“More than that, if you achieved it, I'm sure you'd have the DMLE wanting you to make a batch of stock just for them,” she said. “For undercover work. It's perfect for spies. If you have the DMLE on your good side, I'm sure they'll look the other way for some of your... other products. Just don't do anything which puts anyone in danger.”

“We'll thoroughly test our Skiving Snackboxes before unleashing them on the public, we promise,” George said.

“Brilliant idea, thanks, Hermione,” Fred said, beaming at her.

Hermione felt her cheeks heating up again and hurried away to join her study group, slipping onto the seat Susan had kept vacant for her.

“You alright, Hermione?” Neville asked.

“Fine, thanks,” she said. “What are we all studying at the moment?”

“History of Magic,” Millicent said. “Thank Merlin we no longer have Binns, or none of us would stand a chance in OWLs.”

“Nonsense, you'd still have me to make sure we learnt everything,” Hermione said. “More than that, I think it's worth our while to study the influence of the East India Company and its early trade negotiations. I read this article in Magical History Today and Yesterday, and the exams often draw on recent findings for some of their questions...”

Hermione's parents sent a short letter to her and a long letter for the Weasley twins, which she handed to them after breakfast. Sirius sent a parcel to the twins with a book, Hermione hoped, on business, and reassured her that he'd look out for them. He was still only lace-making as a hobby, entering county fairs and winning the occasional ribbon. They were taking up more and more space opposite his mother's portrait, and she was happy as a clam.

He still visited Hogwarts from time to time, teaching crochet and now leading a small contingent of tatters. But he mostly tried to be a respectable member of society, seeing a mind healer and doing his part in the Wizengamot, trying to bring about prison and justice reform. All the Dementors were gone now, thanks to Hermione's potion, though he still felt the Death Eaters deserved worse punishment. But he agreed that Dementors were not something to wish on anyone's worst enemy, and much too harsh for prisoners who had committed lesser misdemeanours than terrorism.

Hermione was working on combining runes from different languages, as a sort of side project, to see how effective they could be. Not really, as it turned out, but she wasn't giving up just yet; if fusion foods could work, why not fusion runes? If nothing else, it would be an amazing form of security, if you could ward in different languages.

It wasn't as though she was trying to squish two different runes together and try to pronounce them at the same time. She was simply trying to put them into the same sequence. It ought to work, so why wasn't it? If Hercule Poirot could switch in and out of French and English – and Flemish too, if Agatha Christie had known any Flemish – then why couldn't a runes sequence switch between languages to make it more effective? There were some runes in Chinese which had no equivalent in Gobbledegook or Ancient Runes, and vice versa.

She sighed as class came to an end and put her work away. It was Herbology next. It would be good to get her hands dirty. Professor Sprout wouldn't have a word said against Neville or Hermione since their pamphlet on plants and planetary alignment was published, even though she'd rearranged her greenhouses to make the most of the space and ensure the plants grew their best; the plants did grow better, and the students made better potions, so everyone was happy in the end.

Now Neville was trying to cross-breed plants, and decided that Hermione was the best partner for it, even though she kept trying to press him to interest Hannah Abbot in the subject. Hannah may not be interested in plants, but she liked Neville. He took the hint one day and asked her to Hogsmeade, at least when they weren't manning the crafts stand.

Hermione rearranged the shifts so they'd have theirs together and the rest of the time off together, as well. With Professor Sprout in charge of the craft group, it was easy enough to organise, and they giggled together like old busybodies in the middle of a matchmaking scheme.

“Watch out, Hermione, don't add too much sulphur into the potting mix,” Neville said, and Hermione set down her scoop with a sigh.

“Sorry, Nev, my mind keeps drifting today,” she said. “I'll focus now, I promise.”

“What's got into you?” he asked. “Is it exam stress? You should go and see Madam Pomfrey. She wouldn't want you to crack. No one would.”

“No, I...” A pair of blue eyes reappeared in her mind. “It's not exams.”

“Maybe we've been stretching ourselves too far,” he said. “Here, can you hold this sapling still while I graft the sample onto it?”

Hermione held the small tree with gentle but firm hands. She kept calm; some magical plants could sense fear. Neville would give her more precise directions if she needed them, such as singing or reciting the alphabet backwards or tapping in Morse code on the trunk. But no, he made a small cut in the fork of the sapling, then carefully slid a cut from another plant into the fork; then he used Gardener's Special Spell-o-tape to adhere it in place. He nodded, and Hermione let go slowly.

“So, what did we just possibly create?” she asked warily. Sometimes, his experiments were more worrying than Hagrid's.

“Well, the tree's an alihotsy tree,” Neville said. “Since they're remarkably easy to grow, especially if you have a lot of owls, which we do at Hogwarts.”

“We do,” Hermione agreed, adding a larger concentration of owl droppings to the fertiliser from Neville's written instructions.

“And the leaf sample is dittany,” he said. “If we can make an easy-growing tree that grows leaves which don't make you laugh as much and have a healing effect...”

“Brilliant, Neville!” Hermione exclaimed. “They say that laughter is the best medicine, but you're actually trying to put that into practice botanically! Imagine breaking a leaf off an alihotsy-dittany hybrid if you feel ill, chewing on it, and not only feeling better physically but also mentally. What a clever idea! Much better than your mallowsweet-tentacula hybrid idea.”

“I still think there must be a way to change the venom in the venomous tentacula to something sweet instead,” he said, but he was smiling and a bit pink in the cheeks with pride. “I'll try that again someday. Maybe not mallowsweet. Vanilla instead?”

“Maybe you need to be NEWT level before trying to cross anything with venomous tentacula,” Hermione said. Really, and the others thought her ideas could be a menace? They had no idea what it was like to partner with Neville in Herbology. He was far more of a mad scientist than she was; the only reason he kept partnering with her was because of her note-taking skills. She was second only to Winky, according to Neville, who of course remained at home to take care of his plants during the school year.

“Well, time to start making notes about this,” he said. “Dittany likes sulphur, alihotsy likes owl dung. We'll see what kind of fertiliser works best.”

“I think that if you want to emphasise the healing factor, rather than the laughter, and cause the dittany to latch on properly, you'll need more owl droppings and less sulphur, as you said before,” Hermione said. “Will you keep trimming off alihotsy leaves until dittany leaves start growing?”

“Yes, which means testing them. I have a feeling my stomach and cheeks won't like it.”

“Oh, lots of people like a laugh. You don't have to be the only one testing them. Besides, you only need a small nibble. And when you think they might be making you laugh less, start taking them to the hospital wing, try them on Madam Pomfrey's patients.”

“Speaking of the hospital wing, sure you don't need to go there?”

“No, I don't think Madam Pomfrey can help me,” Hermione said, and she returned to making notes.

Exams came upon them, and the students not sitting OWLs or NEWTs were quieter than usual out of respect. The alihotsy-dittany hybrid turned out better than Neville's other experiments, but Hermione insisted that only he present it at the Herbology practical, since it was his idea. She knew her strengths, and plants weren't one of them. However, she would sometimes turn into her fox form to sniff out differences between plants, delicate scents not able to be picked up by the human nose, and made notes on these. She found that some plants reacted differently to each other depending on their proximity, which also had an impact on growing.

Of course, she had to credit some of these discoveries to ingredients collecting with Hagrid, since there was only so much room in the greenhouses; she couldn't admit to going into the Forbidden Forest with her friends, or by herself, when it was against school rules. Even if the centaurs were happy to act as guardians against potential acromantula attacks.

But yes, certainly plants could be afraid of or attracted to others, as it turned out, and the scents were key to identifying this. Hermione recommended hiring either a werewolf, if there were any left, or a dog or wolf Animagus, someone with a much better nose than a fox.

“Beagles and blood hounds would have the best sense of smell, I believe,” she told the examiners, “so you may wish to advertise. I know of a sheepdog, a bulldog, and... and a Grim, I'm not actually sure what Sirius Black's breed is supposed to be. Not furry enough to be a Newfoundland.”

“Thank you for your information, Miss Granger,” Madam Marchbanks said. “It's nice to see that you're still pursuing new knowledge, despite doing your OWLs this year.”

“Do you want me to try to break any more of Gamp's laws, Madam Marchbanks?”

“No!” snapped one of the other examiners, before the woman could reply. “That's not necessary, thank you, Miss Granger. You have impressed us enough.”

After the exams were over, they had a pool party as usual. The Purebloods were much better, and had even taken swimming lessons during the holiday breaks when possible. Hermione couldn't help noticing the Quidditch players' muscles, and ducked into the cold water of the pool to hide her burning cheeks. Luna gave her a knowing look, which didn't help at all.

“Don't think we've forgiven you for finding this room before us, bookworm,” George said, swimming backwards past her.

“I didn't find it, the house elves showed it to me,” she corrected him. “I'm not going to take credit for its discovery.”

“At least the Marauders never found it, either,” Fred said, swimming on her other side, doing a side stroke instead. Hermione bobbed in place, treading water.

“Have you found a shop front yet?” she asked.

“Sirius found a few places, he's whisking us off as soon as we get off the train at King's Cross,” Fred replied. “So I guess Harry will go with us.”

“That'll be nice for him,” Hermione said, trying not to feel jealous. She wasn't going to be like Leontes. She had no reason to. “I don't think he knows what he wants to do yet after Hogwarts, despite the career talks we had this year. It might give him a better idea, seeing you settle into something. Or at least give him something to add or cross off his list.”

“Still think he should be a professional Quidditch player,” George said, swimming back past her, his arms cutting through the water. The pool was much bigger, allowing more of them room to swim, as they – and their friendship group – had grown over the years. They also had platters of food and drink, provided by the house elves, though a decent distance from the water. A beach ball fell into the water near them, and Hermione lobbed it back to Dennis, who threw it to Daphne.

“He can't play sport all his life,” she said. “No one does. It's not healthy for the body. Ask any professional sports player. My parents, especially my mother, have had to fix an awful lot of broken teeth for athletes. Then there's all the brain damage. Magic can't heal everything.”

“And yet you came up with a cure for dragon pox in third year,” Fred deadpanned. Hermione stuck her tongue out at him, and then had to duck under the water as the beach ball sailed over her head, allowing him to catch it and throw it back to the end where the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs were teaming up together against the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. “Looks like we'd better head to the side. Can't have you getting brained by an inflatable ball.”

“I'm fairly certain my hair will protect me,” Hermione said, equally deadpan. “Oh no, a plastic ball full of air, think of the damage it could do.” She glanced to the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw end. “I suppose you two should go and join your teammates, shouldn't you? Alicia and Angelina seem to be waiting.”

“Just because we took them to Hogsmeade a couple of times doesn't mean we're married to them, despite what our mother thinks,” George said, patting her on the shoulder. “Cripes, who invited Ginny? I think she wants to eat Harry. We should put her on a leash or something.”

“Yeah, pity Percy isn't here anymore to protect your best friend, you'll have to do it without us,” Fred said, patting Hermione's shoulder. It filled her with warmth. “We'll flank him, make sure he's okay, in case she gets too close. We'll drag her off to Pomfrey after the match. See you later, our bookworm.”

“Yeah, see you, Hermione,” George said, as they splashed off together.

Hermione decided it was time to eat some food and probably wash her hair. After all, she wasn't the sporty type, like the girls Fred – and George, of course – had dated before. She was just a nerdy bookworm to them. Good for coming up with ideas, but not fit to go to Hogsmeade with. Not someone they could play in the pool with.

Just Hermione.

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes opened in Diagon Alley over the summer, attended by two of the most notorious pranksters Hogwarts had ever known – Remus Lupin and Sirius Black – and founded by their proteges, Fred and George Weasley. Sirius had loaned them some of the money, since he hoped it would displease his more bigoted ancestors (and since he was related to the Weasleys and decided it was 'family money and should be shared, gents').

Gringotts had also loaned them money, thanks to their good business proposal, and also because Hermione Granger had helped them with some of their products. Though she tried to deny it, their Enid Blyton line was thanks to her, and she had certainly loaned them enough other books on potions ingredients, runes, and Muggle joke products to give them a leg up. They had also networked with other clever students through clubs like the cooking group, the craft group, and sports groups. Every push she had made for inter-house friendships benefited them, and they had a massive turnout on their opening day.

Hermione tried to keep a low profile, even going so far as to avoid Harry, Neville, and her usual friends on the opening day, just trying to look at the products she didn't have anything to do with, but Fred and George tracked her down anyway. They pounced on her, exclaiming her name, and she felt embarrassed by the attention.

“Hello, hello,” she said, greeting each of them. “How are you? It looks terribly busy. I should let you get back to your customers. I can come in another day, I just wanted to support you on your first day, I'm sure you'll make record sales, really, I can come back when it's quieter...”

“Nonsense, we wouldn't have achieved this without you,” Fred told her, arm around her shoulder, and her heart beat rapidly. “You helped us slog through all that bureaucracy when we just wanted to gouge our eyes out.”

“I hope Snape reads about this in Azkaban, especially about our range of potions,” George said gleefully, and Sirius – just within earshot – had to run over and high-five him for that. “Here, two packs of that special OI chalk, one for you and one for your mother. On the house.”

“No, no, I must pay. It wouldn't be right. Besides, it would be more special to pay.”

“Really, Granger, if you won't take these on the house, let us give you something else for free. We could take you out for lunch!”

“I don't think you'll have time for that,” she said.

“We could take it in turns,” he said. “Fred could take you out for a quick bite, then he can come and take over while I pop out for lunch.”

“I think someone will have to bring you both lunch,” she said. “Don't you have a flat upstairs to make food? I'm sure I saw your mother creeping upstairs to make a meal for you half an hour ago.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Mum,” Fred said, scratching the back of his neck as his cheeks turned pink.

“You trying to get an invitation to see our flat already, bookworm?” George asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I've already seen it, remember?” Hermione said drily, even as her blush deepened. “I was one of the army of volunteers helping you set up this place, and upstairs. I hope it hasn't been trashed already. It won't end up a disaster zone just because you work all day, will it? You have magic, it shouldn't be an excuse when you can wave your wand to tidy up. Or your mother might send Dobby to clean up after you.”

“Oh, I don't think I could stand his disappointed face, do you, Gred?”

“No, I don't think so, either, Forge.”

“Now return to your customers, I'll go and pay for these. Once I've finished looking around.”

“Alright, but we've told Verity that you get a discount. See you later, bookworm.”

“Yeah, thanks for coming, Hermione,” Fred said, smiling at her as his arm dropped from her shoulders, and she tried to swallow as she smiled back.

She told Verity not to worry about the discount, and when the poor girl insisted, Hermione dropped money in the tip jar to make up for it. She saw Remus's small grin and bared her teeth at him, even though she wasn't Thimbleweed at the moment. Then she disappeared from the shop before anyone else could make her feel sillier than she already did.

Occasionally the twins wrote to her during her sixth and seventh year. George wrote once asking for advice on mass-producing the letter-writing paper/parchment she had suggested; she considered it carefully, and told him that using a small printing press and a metal impression with the right runes sequence, and invisible ink, might do the trick. If it could be automated with magic, and the ink dried quickly as part of that automation process, then that could solve their problem. They would simply need a way to test that each piece worked without using the product, unless they could erase evidence of its testing afterwards. George wrote back and said that testing wouldn't be a problem, and that the printing press would be easy enough; now that Xenophilius Lovegood worked for News For You, his old printing press was going to waste, and they could buy it from him. He could even teach them how to use it.

They told her nothing of their private lives, which was how it ought to be. The twins were adults, had been for some time, and they were business men now. While they only needed to hire extra sales people during the holidays, when students would swarm their store, they still spent much of their time on the floor, when they weren't thinking of new products or creating more of their current stock. But they'd be under pressure from their mother to settle down, not simply live in the flat above their store forever. It would be a good place for Verity to live, but hardly appropriate if they wanted to marry and start popping out junior Weasleys, not that their older brothers had done any of that yet. Poor Percy was being pressured, and Penelope was bearing some of the brunt of it, according to her letters. They wanted to be established in their careers before marrying.

Her mother had been thrilled with the chalk, her father less so. He no longer found it relaxing to sit down, worried that he might stand up and find his rear end covered in pink chalk. Hermione's mother insisted she wouldn't use it on him, and hadn't yet. Mycroft, however, had found his trousers mysteriously covered in chalk once, and Hermione howled with laughter when she read about it at breakfast one day. A particularly annoying patient also walked off from the surgery with a bright pink backside, and couldn't account for it. There was no reason for a dentist's surgery to have chalk, and never associated it with Hermione's mother.

A few Slytherins had fallen victim to it, and a couple of snooty Hufflepuffs like Ernie Macmillan; even Remus, just because Hermione wanted to see if she could prank him. She was so pleased with herself that she wrote to Sirius, who pledged his firstborn child to her for pulling that off. She refused the firstborn child, but did request a toy version of her fox form, which he set about crocheting with all due haste, and she secretly slept with when at home. He'd made it full-size and in exactly the right colours, too, bless him.

Seventh year began. NEWT year. Hermione was determined to sit all the exams, including Muggle studies, and pressed her parents to keep her up-to-date with everything in the news and popular media. She also pressed Quiston into her service, now that he was living with them and in on the secret. He offered to make her a laptop with a crystal battery that she could use to make notes, but she thought best writing by hand, and declined his kind offer. They kept up by mobile phone when it seemed like letters would take too long, however. She had taken him to Gringotts and made him a secondary account holder, so he could buy things for her that she may need for research.

She was not only going to sit every exam that she could, including Muggle Studies, she was going to earn extra credit.

Fred and George were happy to put her in touch with their brother Charlie. She had met Bill, but still hadn't met Charlie, and was excited to chat – by correspondence – with the one Weasley brother she didn't know. He was concerned about Ginny's behaviour as well. Hermione had already slipped the Norboot Tonic to her, via Madam Pomfrey, and it had done nothing, so she wasn't influenced by Dark magic; she was just an avid fan of Harry Potter and clearly didn't know him well enough to become disillusioned of the image she had in her head of him. Six years together at Hogwarts, albeit in different houses, hadn't done enough.

Well, that was life. It wasn't worth the risk to Harry to let her closer. Not without several Aurors around to intervene if necessary.

Hermione's patience with trying different runes together had eventually paid dividends. It was simply a matter of Fred Weasley not being in the same castle and being a distraction. Oh, she still thought about him, too often. After all, he had two siblings still at Hogwarts. But she could breathe easier without the possibility of his hand touching her without warning, or his voice suddenly sounding out of nowhere. And certainly without the danger of him missing a bludger and getting hit during a Quidditch game. Yes, that definitely made it easier to breathe.

Now she only had her other friends, like Harry, to worry about during matches.

So Charlie sent blood samples from the dragon reserve, and Hermione tried out her new runes sequence with dragon blood, using a quill made from the feather of a snallygaster. Due to their close kinship to dragons, Hermione felt it was the best kind of quill to use, despite how expensive and difficult it had been to obtain. Anthony's great-uncle Newt had known someone, however, and it was obtained without cruelty, which was a relief to Hermione. If this worked, she hoped to send these instructions to Newt Scamander; if anyone would like to be able to speak to all the animals in the world, he would. She would also make a present of it for Hagrid, who had finally been exonerated after Aunt Felicity's book came out, and would make the most of such a gift.

Crookshanks was sitting nearby, and turned up his nose at the vial of blood Hermione dipped her quill into. She wrote the runes more precisely than she ever had, only breathing when she remembered how important it was not to pass out, or to have her hand shake. Once the last rune was set, she tapped the rest of the blood back into the vial, stoppered it, then dried the end of the quill. She read the runes out loud in her small corner of the library, while the Slytherin versus Gryffindor match continued outside. Not many were around; she would be disturbing no one in particular.

The runes glowed on the paper, then faded to a dull, dried yellow-brown. They couldn't be read out loud again. She had wondered if this might be a one-time spell; dragon blood could be fickle, yet was powerful when used. She had known this; Charlie had warned her as well. Still, it was a chance she took with this project, and she had a few months before the NEWTS. Time to do another project if this one failed.

“Well, I suppose it's time to see if this worked, isn't it, Crookshanks?” she said, looking up from the parchment. “Or if I failed miserably.”

“You, fail? It's hardly likely,” he said, before going back to cleaning between his legs.

“Crooks... I understood you!” she exclaimed.

“Shh!” one of the students reprimanded, before he noticed it was Hermione and quickly lowered his head. Hermione apologised softly; this was hardly proper Head Girl behaviour. But she turned wide eyes on her cat.

“I understood what you said to me, just then, without being Thimbleweed,” she whispered. She looked at her parchment. It really had worked. “You won't mind coming to my Ancient Runes exam with me, will you? I'll need someone to talk with the examiners. Well, any who can say the runes sequence.”

“Very well, if it's necessary,” Crookshanks replied, then hopped down from the desk. “I'm off for a hunt. Will you be coming?”

“No, thank you. I'd better put this under the strictest wards I can, then start doing the patent paperwork. I'll come and find you later.”

It was hard to keep such a thing to herself, but at least the other students were full of talk of the Quidditch game. There was much bemoaning that Ginny Weasley would be a better seeker if she wasn't constantly trying to show off for Harry Potter, and that without the Weasley twins, and the old chaser line-up of Katie, Alicia, and Angelina, led by Oliver Wood, it just wasn't the same. But at least Headmistress Chesterton came down hard on any cheating from the Slytherins, making the games clean and safe. The Slytherin beaters who'd tried to harm Harry in his first year had never recovered after seeing that Hermione could slay a basilisk, and would come after them, not to mention all the pranks the Weasley twins had bombarded them with. They flinched every time they saw red or brown, bushy hair, or heard the term 'snake-slayer'.

Well, they'd been out of the school for a few years, but this followed them into their working lives, and they were stuck in Knockturn Alley, since Arthur Weasley was becoming so prominent in the Ministry of Magic without Lucius Malfoy to sabotage him at every turn. With Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes so loud and colourful in Diagon Alley now, they couldn't even do ordinary shopping without their eyes twitching from nerves.

The last Hogsmeade visit came and went. Thimbleweed went romping around the village with Mrs Norris and Mr Filch, the villagers now used to seeing a cat, bulldog and fox getting under people's feet and jumping out of bushes to startle unwary third year students. Then they'd retreat to the potions shop, where Mrs Weasley would scold them for leaving her for so long, and they'd accept a few treats, before Mr Filch and Hermione would turn back to their human forms, and Mrs Norris would curl up on a windowsill.

On this occasion, Hermione asked after the twins before she left.

“Oh, they brought that girl from the shop for dinner last Friday,” she said. “Nice girl, bit quiet, but I hope she'll do for one of them. I'd hoped they would already be considering one of the girls they used to play Quidditch with, but I've no idea what they've gone on to do. Three chasers, for my two boys and Lee Jordan. That would have been a nice set-up. As for Lee, he seems to be helping around the store. He came to dinner, too.”

“How is he?” Hermione asked, perking up. She hadn't heard about him much, but she'd enjoyed his commentary. Luna had taken over once, and it was the funniest thing. Not informative, but more worth listening to, in Hermione's opinion. Anthony had taken over for now, but someone else would have to take over at the end of the year.

“Doing well, helping on the weekends mostly, I believe he's at the Ministry of Magic, working in the Department of Magical Games and Sports,” Molly said. “I don't see why he needs to work with the boys when he has a good Ministry job. They could have worked at the Ministry with their marks, just like Percy. Well, at least he's setting a good example for Ron and Ginny. If only Ginny would... well, never mind. Things will come right one day.”

“Harry's close to Susan Bones, director of the DMLE,” Hermione cautioned. “You might want to remind your daughter of that. Well, Mr Filch, I'm heading back to school. If I don't see you before the summer holidays...”

“Have a good graduation,” he said, nodding, while Molly looked indignant at the thought that Ginny might cause more trouble for Harry. Each stern talk would cool her behaviour for a while, but she still hero-worshipped Harry, who just wanted to be seen as normal. Helping Hermione to catch Quirrell hadn't helped, nor was being an amazing Quidditch player, Ginny's favourite sport.

Well, a year without him around at Hogwarts would do her good. And Harry had been scouted by several professional teams already, so once he was on tour away from the UK, it would be even safer for him.

NEWTs came, and the seventh years were a bundle of nerves, even the ones who'd done all they could to prepare. Study groups became more popular than ever, but new admittance for late-comers was strictly prohibited, unless they could prove that they brought new and useful knowledge; but they couldn't ride off the back of those who'd been studying together for years. Hermione made good use of her Legillimancy weeding out the users, and their study group remained unsullied by leeches. Her own books, especially ones not on the reading list, made the rounds, and they often studied in areas where they could practise spells.

When her Ancient Runes practical came, she was quizzed on all the usual runes they had learnt in class, and asked if she had anything extra.

“It is known that you have been learning runes from other languages,” one examiner said.

“Yes, and I have come up with a sequence I'm particularly proud of,” Hermione said. “I have the patent paperwork already filled out. I've written the pronunciation below. The limitation is that it is a single-use sequence, and must be written in dragon's blood. I have spare blood here, and I used a snallygaster feather quill to write the sequence. If you wish to test it yourself, you are welcome to copy the sequence on any spare paper or parchment you have, using the quill and some of this blood,” she pulled out the vials from her satchel, “then read it aloud, using the guide I've written below the original. Then I'll need to fetch my assistant so that you can test its efficacy.”

“I'll test it,” Madam Marchbanks said.

“So will I,” Professor Babbling said. “After you, Griselda.”

“Thank you, Bathsheda.”

They both copied Hermione's sequence carefully, and Madam Marchbanks carefully sounded out the pronunciation of the runes – a mix of Gobbledegook, Japanese, and Nordic runes, primarily – and the parchment flashed. Hermione bounced as she clapped her hands.

“That means it worked,” she said. “Well done, Madam Marchbanks. I'll just fetch my assistant while you write, professor.”

The parchment flashed as Hermione returned with Crookshanks at her heels. The examiners who were unfamiliar with Hermione's cat looked perplexed at first, then smiled.

“Your assistant's Animagus form looks almost like a Kneazle,” one said.

“My pet cat is half-Kneazle, yes,” Hermione said. “This isn't an Animagus. Crooks, both Madam Marchbanks here, and Professor Babbling have successfully used the runes sequence I created. Be polite, if you please. I'd like a good mark for this.”

“As if I would ever be impolite to two such eminent and highly respected witches,” Crookshanks said, and the two women gasped. Hermione couldn't help thinking Crawler, but she appreciated his flattery. She smiled down at him, proud of her cat.

“Did... did we just... did he just...” Professor Babbling babbled.

“You can now understand any animal,” Hermione said. “I've tested it on owls, Hagrid's dog Fang, Mrs Norris in Hogsmeade, any animal I've come across. It even makes Parseltongue redundant. I suppose I ought to have warned you what it does, but it's quite harmless. Animal chatter still makes sound; you'll just recognise it as speech. Crookshanks, being half-Kneazle, is more eloquent than most species. But if you can tune out other human speech as background noise, you'll manage the same with animals.”

Then the rest of the examiners wanted to copy the sequence so they could speak with animals, too, which extended the time that Hermione was there, but by very little. Crookshanks remained polite, though he also suggested that they take a trip to the owlery later, and also to Hagrid's hut, to confirm what Hermione had told them. There was great excitement, and they also took her patent forms so they could be filed at the Ministry right away.

After graduation, Hermione mingled. She'd noticed Fred – and George, of course – but they were busy talking to Ron and their old team-mates, and she had to take charge of her family. She led them around the castle, showing them her favourite spots, especially the library and the Come and Go Room, as well as the kitchens to introduce them to the house elves. The elves cried over the 'great honour of being introduced to Missy Granger's family'. Since Pella would be joining the family, it was important for her to meet Hermione's parents and Quiston anyway, though Hermione planned to move to her own home soon after, taking Pella with her.

She showed them the greenhouses and Ravenclaw Tower, but then it was time to go. Then the next morning, she said goodbye to the castle, the staff, the house elves, dear Hagrid, the owls, the Giant Squid and anyone else who came to the surface to say goodbye, and caught the Hogwarts Express back to London. Once there, she found her parents and Quiz. The Weasleys made a huge crowd and even more noise. Hermione saw the twins looking around for their siblings, and managed to draw Ron's attention to it. He thanked her, in probably the politest conversation they'd ever had, and then he went to find Ginny, who was possibly still hiding from Daphne's Animagus.

It was still a long drive home, though the sun remained high in the sky for such a long time during the summer. Quiston was filling out the back seat more, with the Holmes height hitting him, but he was still apparently keyed up from seeing Hogwarts the night before, as well as meeting more of Hermione's magical friends. He asked about the return journey, and Hermione told him how well the animals had behaved. Crookshanks thanked her for the compliment, not that the others knew what he had said. So she told her family about her extra credit project for Ancient Runes, how she could now talk with animals. She had made each of them a piece of her runes sequence parchment, with the pronunciation guide, so they could talk to animals if they wanted to; well, so they could understand them.

Hermione had loved the Doctor Dolittle books as a child, and had named her invention the Lofting Runes Sequence after Hugo Lofting, the author of the series. One of these days, perhaps she would name one of her creations after herself; but it was unlikely.

The next day, after ensuring that they all activated their runes sequences, and were already out in the garden chatting to squirrels and birds and who-knows-what, Hermione Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron. She had an appointment at Gringotts with Ragnok to discuss setting up factories to manufacture technology, such as television sets and mobile phones, with the runes crystals she had been working on at Hogwarts. Those with low magic could work in such factories, without leaving the magic world. It was what she had in mind, and would have implemented, had the Death Eaters not admitted to such horrific crimes that they earned sentences in Azkaban.

“Your proposals are detailed and thorough, far more than those Weasley twins when you sent them to me,” Ragnok said.

“I did try to help them with their proposals,” she said. “But in the end, I felt it better to let their personalities show through instead, so you would be aware of the kind of people you were working with. That seems just as important as a detailed business proposal. Besides, they were starting up one small retail shop. I'm thinking on a much larger scale, and starting with far more capital. I'm not here for a loan either, Ragnok. I'm here because I think that Gringotts will give me the best advice and may also wish to invest as shareholders. I don't want to be the sole proprietor; I don't even necessarily want to run this. I know nothing about it. I want to keep on inventing new potions and the like. Find new technologies to adapt. But I do need to find someone trustworthy to run things, and I... I trust you, Ragnok. I trust Gringotts. This is a lot. It was intimidating to start News For You, but it had to be done, and we managed it together, didn't we? And Xenophilius Lovegood may have been a gamble, but he was a good gamble.”

“He was,” Ragnok agreed.

“I don't think such risks will always pay off. That's why I've come to you.”

“Gringotts is a bank, not a factory.”

“I know. But you'll know the right people. I don't want to exploit anyone. If there are house elves willing to work in a factory for pay and time off, I'll take them on. I'll hire any species, as long as they won't hurt anyone and we won't hurt them, knowingly or unknowingly. I don't care about blood status either, as you know. Or Hogwarts house affiliation. I just want to produce good, affordable products.”

“Why would you produce these television sets when there are no networks to access?” Ragnok asked, tapping the paperwork.

“If we can tune in to Muggle networks, we'll have to pay licence fees, I'm aware,” Hermione said, “but I don't think it would be hard to create our own networks. And Muggleborns would be used to licence fees anyway; we'd be happy to have access to the channels we're used to. As for magical people, we would need at least one news channel. Some of the people working for News For You could be persuaded to film perhaps half an hour a day, if they have nothing else to do. There are people who write for specialised magazines who could film documentaries. We have people who were part of the dramatics club at Hogwarts who could film plays, perhaps, for an entertainment network. I intend to research this. But I thought we could focus on producing mobile phones with crystal batteries first, which can tap into the existing mobile networks. My cousin, Quiston, only has one year of school left, but he would be able to work on the technical side of things. My phone already works; he could make it simpler, or work out how to duplicate the process. It's summer holidays now, so he has all the time in the world to work on this for me. I'll pay him, of course.”

“I should have known you'd put a great deal of thought into this,” Ragnok said, smiling as he looked through the paperwork again. “I'll read through this properly and begin asking around my contacts. Shall I also look into real estate?”

“If you would. If there are already places zoned for industrial use, that would be marvellous. I'll stay with my parents until they return to work, then I'm moving into my own house. It's a bit big for one person, but I needed somewhere with enough room for my books, and this one came with in-built shelving. When I'm ready to throw a house-warming party, I'll send you an invitation. Oh, and here's this. As a friend, I want you to have one.” She placed an envelope on the table. “Make sure you're the only one to read it aloud. It's single use.”

“What is it?” Ragnok asked, opening it.

“A runes sequence. I created it for my NEWT practical. Once you've read it aloud, you'll be able to understand any animal species. I'm hoping it works on magical creatures who can't speak English, but I won't know until I come across any. It was written in dragon's blood, so I've officially found the thirteenth use, I believe.”

“This... this is most valuable, Miss Granger,” Ragnok said, astounded.

“We're friends,” she said, shrugging. “I'd best let you get on. I'm sure you have other appointments today. As I said, don't let anyone else read that. The runes glow when it works correctly.”

Ragnok read it aloud right away, and the runes glowed. He smiled widely at her, and saw her to his office door.

“It's a wonder no one has snatched you up yet, Miss Granger,” he said. “If you were my daughter, though, I would be hard-pressed to find a goblin good enough for you.”

“That's kind of you to say, Chief Ragnok,” she said, curtsying. “Thank you.”

“Any wizard would be a fool to let her go,” he muttered to Snarltooth, who was passing his office with a trolley full of gems. Snarltooth glanced back to see Hermione heading for the floo, only reserved for trusted clients, and he nodded in agreement.

“Has no one courted her yet?” Snarltooth asked.

“She's never mentioned anyone,” Ragnok said. “Sirius Black would perhaps know. So might Amelia Bones. Bah. I have too much to do than to bother myself with the love lives of teenage witches barely out of Hogwarts.”

Snarltooth didn't mention that Ragnok brought it up first. He liked his head where it was.

“Two years that shop's been open, and you still haven't found a nice house, despite your expensive robes and these holidays you say you can take if you want.”

“Mum, we want you and Dad to be able to go on holiday, a treat from us,” George said.

“We'll take on more staff if we want a holiday, but we like working,” Fred added.

“When will either of you two marry?” she demanded.

“After Bill or Percy marries,” George said.

“Charlie doesn't seem like the marrying type,” Fred said.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked. “Everyone is the marrying type.”

“Dumbledore never married,” Fred reminded her.

“Dumbledore was very nearly ousted from Hogwarts in disgrace,” their father piped up from his end of the table. “The governors were close to sacking him when he had that heart attack.”

“I can't believe he was going to let Harry Potter die like that, just to save us all,” Ginny said, and she sighed dreamily, stars in her eyes, as her elbow sank into the butter dish. Ron scooped it out from under her and helped himself to more butter for his mashed potatoes.

“You don't have to say his whole name every time, we'll know who you're talking about if you just say 'Harry', you were at school with him for six years,” he said.

“And you never made friends with him like you said you were going to,” she grumbled, snapping out of her dream-like state.

“He got caught up being a swot like everyone else in Ravenclaw,” he said. “He should've been in Gryffindor like his parents.”

“Not everyone does the same thing as their parents, and it can be quite good for them,” his father said. “Look at how well Sirius Black turned out. He's even talking to his mother again... sort of.”

“I hardly think it counts when he's talking to a portrait of her,” his wife retorted.

“Better that they make up in this life than waiting until the next, dear. It's certainly been good for Sirius. It's extraordinary what he can create with those bobbins. Perhaps you could do what he's done and join a knitting group with some Muggles, when you're not at work. Once all the children have moved out, well...”

“Am I s'posed to move out?” Ron asked, his mouth full of mashed potato. “How? I haven't got a job yet!”

“No offers at all?” his father said, frowning. “Percy was already getting them before the end of the week. How many jobs have you applied for so far?”

“None.”

His father dropped his cutlery and began massaging the sides of his head. His mother closed her eyes and slowly counted to ten.

“People usually date before marrying anyway, and we hardly dated anyone at Hogwarts,” Fred continued, trying to steer the conversation to safer waters. He and his brother had been brow-beaten into coming to dinner, and neither wanted it to devolve into a shouting match. “We were busy creating our products.”

“What about those girls you played Quidditch with?”

“Yeah, we went with them as friends a couple of times, sort of a team outing,” George said. “But it was just for fun, nothing serious. It's good to get a group together and do stuff as friends while you're still young enough to enjoy it. Besides, Fred's serious about--”

“Oi, shut it,” Fred warned, elbowing George. But their mother had heard enough, and looked at them with sharp eyes.

“Serious? Who is Fred serious about? Is it Verity?” she asked.

“No, Mother, neither of us would be irresponsible enough to date an employee,” George said.

“Besides, it's a hopeless case,” Fred said. “I'm definitely not good enough for... look, just let it go, Mum, okay?”

“But maybe she cares for you, and thinks you don't care about her!” she said. “How will you know if you never ask? Oh, Fred, I expected better from you! You get into Gryffindor house, and you don't even use any of that courage?”

“Molly,” their father said, giving her a look. “Don't push it. I'm sure if things are meant to be, they'll happen naturally. The boys are still young. Let them establish themselves first. And she's just out of Hogwarts herself. Give it time.”

“You know who it is?” she half-shrieked.

“As if he hasn't talked about one girl more than any other in his letters home for years,” he said, and he winked at Fred, who blushed bright red.

Their mother took a moment to think, and then gasped. Then she smiled as though already picturing the wedding and clasped her hands together, looking at Fred, and possibly sizing him up for formal robes.

“Leave it, Mother,” he said warningly. “She won't see me that way. She's always been closest to Harry and Neville.”

“Of course she'd be close to those in her own year level, but she helped you get your paperwork together for the shop,” she said. “Oh, I know she's quite a serious girl, perhaps a bit too studious, I know Ron's complained about that before...”

“Yeah, and he only just passed his NEWTs, didn't get any higher marks than that,” George said, albeit quietly. Ron still glared at him across the table. “Can't believe we had to play alongside McClaggen, because he managed to be a better player than our own brother, for our last years at Hogwarts. So disappointing.”

“George,” his father said, nudging him with his foot under the table.

“McClaggen still didn't get any offers from any Quidditch teams, he's not that good,” Ron said.

“Yeah, and Slytherin beat us, even Hufflepuff beat us, without Diggory,” George whined. “How did that happen? At least Ravenclaw had Harry.”

“Yeah,” Ginny said with a heavy sigh, forgetting to eat again. “I'll miss him.”

“You didn't even know him,” Fred said dismissively, and she scowled. “At least we were friends with Hermione. She's already out of Hogwarts and hasn't been to the shop to see us.”

“She's probably busy establishing herself at the Ministry,” their mother said.

“Oh no, she's not accepted any offers from the Ministry of Magic,” their father said, “though she's willing to work with any department on a consultancy basis. The DMLE is trying to snap her up, and even Accounting disclosed that the Department of Mysteries has allowed more in their budget to make her an offer she can't refuse. The patent department is always willing to grant anything she comes up with; her latest is a doozy, I've heard. Griselda Marchbanks has been forbidden from having a private meeting with Miss Granger ever since she broke one of Gamp's laws on a dare.”

“She won't accept regular work at the Ministry?” his wife said, looking shocked, a hand on her chest. “But... that's terribly risky.”

“She could have her pick of any department and they're all willing to wait for her, Molly,” he said gently. “She's keeping her options open because she can. And Bill told me she's the most respected client at Gringotts, with possibly the largest vault, due to slaying that basilisk.”

Fred groaned and dropped his head into his hands.

“You see?” he said, his voice muffled. “It's hopeless.”

“Oh, I wouldn't quite say that,” his mother said, primly cutting her steak with a secretive smile.

“Why not?” George asked, shovelling mushy peas onto his fork with half an eye on her.

“She did make a point about asking after the two of you when she came into the shop during the last Hogsmeade weekend,” she said.

Fred looked up so fast the small bones in his neck crackled.

“She did?” he asked hopefully.

“She did.”

The Ministry of Magic had a magnificent library, with books Hermione had never come across in any bibliography. She knew these department heads were trying to lure her in by pointing out that by working for any of them, she could have access to the library for research.

“In between doing the usual, more boring everyday work of the department that anyone with half a brain could do,” she pointed out. “Look, I understand that everyone needs to start at the bottom and work their way up, and it wouldn't be fair to jump the queue in the way you're offering. You see the difficulty of my position. Either I start at the bottom, stay there longer than necessary because I'm young and Muggleborn and have to 'do my time'; or I'm promoted quickly because I put in the work and have the talent and intelligence, but create resentment because I haven't 'done my time'; or I jump into a post that I'm ready for, and come into a department with people who resent me for being in that post right off the mark and haven't 'done my time', and I'm young and Muggleborn. There's still blood prejudice. People who didn't learn from Aunt Felicity's book on Tom Riddle. There will be people who look at me and think 'Mudblood'.” There were a few gasps. “There will also be people who look at me knowing that I'm descended from the Ravenclaw family, and others who remember the Granger family. I don't care about any of that, but there are people who do.”

“Hermione,” Madam Bones said gently.

“No, please, Director Bones,” Hermione said. “I would love access to this library, but it comes with strings attached, and it shouldn't. I wouldn't misuse knowledge the way that Riddle did, or withhold important knowledge like Albus Dumbledore did. Perhaps I wouldn't share the most dangerous knowledge, like how to steal another person's magic, or how Riddle could have returned. But you see, people should only be judged by their capabilities and character, yet I know there are people in probably every department – yes, even the Department of Mysteries – who will hate me if I'm promoted quickly or jump the queue, and refuse to 'do my time' merely to appease others who don't appreciate that promotion should go to the best person for the job, regardless of how long they've been there. I refuse to stagnate for such stupid reasons, or work alongside such people.”

“It's understandable,” Mr Weasley said. “But you would be a great loss to the Ministry of Magic.”

“I'm still willing to work on a consultancy basis,” Hermione said. “But if access to this library only comes with a permanent contract, then I must decline such obvious bribery. I have my own books, and ways of getting more. I have contacts of my own, including through Gringotts. There are translation spells. I don't need the Ministry of Magic library. But I would have credited the Ministry's help, had it been extended to me.”

Mycroft would be so proud of her for that bit of manipulation.

“I'm sure something could be arranged,” Ludo Bagman said, wringing his hands; Hermione wasn't even sure what she could do for his department, aside from injury healing potions. “Couldn't it? If we spoke to the Minister... he likes her, doesn't he?”

“We'll get back to you, Hermione,” Madam Bones said. “In the meantime, we have a cafeteria on level eight. You can follow the signs in the atrium. If you want something smaller, we now have a cafe on level four, where the Werewolf Registry and Capture Unit... used to be.”

“I think I'll go to the cafeteria, thank you, Madam Bones.” Hermione nodded to the others and headed for the lifts. She caught one with some other workers, including Percy, and got chatting to him, asking after Penelope. He was headed for the Minister's office, so he was going further than her, but told her to keep the weekend after Penelope's birthday free, if possible, since he was hoping to throw a surprise party. Hermione promised to check her calendar, but she knew she was likely to be free. It wasn't as though she had many social activities lined up, now she was out of school.

Without seeing her friends every day, she was beginning to feel almost... lonely.

To celebrate her shiny new Ministry of Magic library card – granting all areas access, and without having to sign a single work contract – Hermione headed to Diagon Alley for a spot of shopping and a sorbet at Florean Fortescue's. She had her sorbet first, grateful that there was a less sugary alternative her parents could approve of, lapping up the sweet strawberry goodness while she watched people familiar and unfamiliar pass by. She saw Neville and his grandmother taking his little sister for a walk, her tiny hands enclosed in theirs as she tottered between them. It was less of a stretch for her to reach her grandmother's hand, but Neville had grown almost too tall for her to reach him. Hannah was on Neville's other side, and spotted Hermione first. She hurried over to say hello, and the rest followed, while Hermione shoved her last spoonful of sorbet into her mouth and then threw the rubbish away. She wiped away the traces of sorbet and then bent over to scoop up five-year-old Florence.

“How's my favourite little girl?” she asked, hugging her tight, then putting her back down.

“Miney, Miney!” Florence said, bouncing up and down. “Did you have icey cream?”

“I had a fancy sort of ice cream called sorbet,” Hermione said. “I'm just about to go shopping for books. Where are you going?”

“Going...” Florence's eyes nearly crossed as she tried to remember, and Hermione waited patiently while the rest smiled at the child. “Going... to the gobbins!”

“Oh, you're going to the bank, to see the goblins at Gringotts? That sounds like fun! Are you going to be polite?”

“Yes, Miney.”

“Good girl, Florence.”

“Then we going to see Wheezes.”

“You'll visit the Weasley twins? How lovely. Perhaps I'll come and visit there after I've been shopping for books, and you can help me find something for my dad's birthday. Would you like to help me with that?”

“Ooh, yes!” Florence said, clapping her hands, eyes shining with fervour.

“Make sure you're on your best behaviour then, your grandmother and your brother and Hannah will tell me all about it when I see you later,” Hermione said, and she patted Florence's soft, dark hair, before she winked at the others and saw them off. Then she headed down to Flourish and Blotts, mentally going over the list of subjects she wanted to check for new stock.

As one of Flourish and Blotts' best customers in her age group, and promising to become potentially their best private customer, Hermione could always rely on good service. While she preferred to browse on her own, she was also happy to know about recent publications. There were always reviews in News For You, which she was subscribed to (naturally), but they didn't cover every book, nor did every book reviewed interest her.

Hermione left with a large book on household spells, one on potions using cheese, one on crystals and gemstones, and a book on child safety magic. She knew several of her friends wanted to have children one day, and she still planned to have a horse and cart at her property, so she would need to ensure her home would be safe. Then she headed back up the road.

Inside Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, she saw Augusta Longbottom's hat before she saw the rest of their party. It made it easier to track them down, and she waited until Florence noticed her, then scooped up the little girl, who squealed in delight. She placed a big, wet kiss on Hermione's cheek, and Hermione cuddled her close.

“Did you have a good time at Gringotts, Florence?” she asked.

“Yes, Miney. We went zooming in te carts, and saw a big ol' draggy, and Neville spokes to it, and ten we came here, and I was ever so good, Miney!”

“I'm sure you were,” Hermione said, and she put Florence back on the floor as Fred joined them, and helped Florence smooth her frock down. “Now, are you going to help me shop?”

“Yes please, Miney! Mr Wheezy, Miney needs somefing for her daddy's birfday.”

“Does your 'daddy' like pranks, Hermione?” Fred asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It's more to even the playing field with my mother,” Hermione said. “Nothing that could get him into trouble for using it on Muggles, especially any patients he doesn't like.”

“Ah,” he brightened. “Well, I'm sure we can oblige. Come along, Miss Florence. I'm sure we can find something for the eminent Miss Granger's father.”

Florence giggled and held his hand, but she also held Hermione's hand to drag her along. Hermione glanced back at Neville, but he was no help, just smiling – almost smirking – and waving them on, then turning to look at the merchandise with Hannah and his grandmother. Florence kept on chatting, unsure which of the twins she was talking to and unbothered as well. Verity cooed when she saw Florence, and waved at Hermione, who unfortunately didn't have a spare hand, still holding her shopping. She could only nod and mouth 'Hello'.

“I think there are a few things which could interest your father,” Fred said. “We have a range of Muggle tricks, of course, and the whole Enid Blyton range. Does he have the chance to rub cream on anyone?”

“On his patients? No,” Hermione said.

“So the Out to Lunch Fake Moustache is out,” he said.

“Ooh, can I get a wand?” Florence asked, letting go of Fred's hand to point to the trick wands.

“You'll get your very own real wand when you're eleven, which is better,” Hermione said. “Those ones don't do magic.”

“What Miss Granger means is that they can't cast spells, but they're still magical,” Fred corrected, squatting down to show Florence the display wand. “If you try to cast a spell with one of these, it might turn into a rubber chicken or a feather duster.”

“Tat's silly,” Florence said, giggling.

“It's very silly,” Fred agreed. “That's why this is a joke shop, not a wand shop.”

“I've bought one so that if anyone tries to steal my wand, they'll only get the trick wand instead, and they won't be able to do anything with it,” Hermione said. “Because stealing is bad.”

“Yes, it is, Daddy and Mummy told me,” Florence said, nodding seriously. “We have to find your daddy somefing, Miney.”

“What else do you have, Fred?” Hermione asked.

“We do have the Magical Moustache Miracle Stub Grow,” he said, stroking his chin.

“Do you think my father needs a moustache? You seem fixated on them.”

“They're popular with men our parents' age who want to try new looks,” he replied with a shrug, “and so is this, the Comb-a-Chameleon.”

“Ah yes, I've been tempted by that before, but since Sleekeazy's fixes my hair I don't feel the need to change it anymore. My father might enjoy playing with it, though. What's the turnaround time on it? Could he change his hair and then turn it back to normal again within a minute, to use it to play a trick on someone? Or would I have to do that for him?”

“No, the settings are on the brush itself, a Muggle should be able to do it,” Fred told her, grinning as he plucked a packaged brush off the shelf. “Let him try it out first, and if you're not satisfied, you may return it for a full refund.”

“Thank you, Fred. I'm sure he'll be delighted. Mum's been happy with the chalk. We don't need to restock yet. I might have to bring them here sometime, but I'll wait until after my father's birthday in case he gets any ideas of his own.”

“Here, I'll lead you to the counter, it's getting crowded in here, we wouldn't want Florence to get squashed, would we?” he said, picking Florence up and then guiding Hermione with a hand in the small of her back.

Merlin damn it, the butterflies were back in her stomach. She paid for the comb, not even noticing that she'd been given a discount, and returned to the Longbottom-Abbott group with Fred still toting Florence. Hermione said goodbye to the others hastily, thanking Florence for her help, and gave her a kiss on the forehead. Florence made Hermione promise to come and visit soon, so Florence could show her how well her reading was coming along.

“Would you like me to bring one of my own books from home, so you have something new to read?” Hermione asked. Florence nodded her head so hard she almost made herself dizzy, and Neville promised to owl Hermione soon, before he left for Japan. Then Fred saw her to the shop's door.

“Maybe, after the shop closes on Friday,” he began, then stopped. Hermione watched him.

“Do you need my help with something?” she asked. He opened and shut his mouth.

“I'd like to talk, yeah, could you meet here? We could have dinner at the Leaky.”

“Okay, Friday, after the shop closes,” she said, and she turned on her heel and left, Apparating after a few steps.

“It's a date,” Fred said softly. But she was already gone.

On Friday morning, Hermione and Pella – with Crookshanks along to give his opinion – went to the house she had bought. It was somewhere between a cottage and a mansion, and she thought of it as the sort of house the Dashwood family had likely moved into. She had been tempted to rename it Barton Cottage, but she intended to live in better circumstances than they had, and would certainly have never complained of being 'reduced' to 'only a few servants'.

She had chosen to name it The Crook'd Dwelling, and had a sign with that name over the door. It was named after Crookshanks and dwelling elves, so it honoured both of her housemates. She could hardly name the place Thimbleweed's House after herself, could she?

She had already inscribed various runes sequences into the frame of the front door, using a hammer and chisel, then protected them with magic so they wouldn't be seen and couldn't be altered; one was an invitation for house elves in need, and based on the one at Hogwarts, so house elves could find The Crook'd Dwelling if they were cruelly thrown out and needed refuge, and her home was closer to them than Hogwarts. Their magic would bring them to whichever place was closer. More runes added safety, such as identifying a Dark Mark or ill intentions, others would protect against fire, flood, and strong winds, including the highest category hurricanes, plus electrical surges.

Fortunately, it was a large enough doorway and Hermione could do very small runes.

Hermione was Muggle enough to intend to use Blu Tack to affix signs indicating subjects in her library, and author surname initials for the bookshelves she would have in her bedroom. It would make it easier to move them if needed as her collection expanded, though she would leave room for more books at the end of each section. For now, however, she had to implement her specialised Dewey system. Oh, it was marvellous to have her own home with in-built shelves, just like she'd always dreamed of. With Pella's help, and Crookshanks's commentary, they began at the beginning, with Hermione's few books on tech and libraries, and her general knowledge books, through the much busier 'new age' and 'paranormal phenomena' section, the smaller religion section; all the way to the end of Dewey with her few geography and numerous history books, going by region first, then narrowing down by author surname.

“Mum and Dad won't know their library once I've removed my books from there,” Hermione said, pleased with the amount of room their tags had left.

“What if we runs out of room in here, Missy Granger?” Pella asked, wringing her hands.

“Uh...” Hermione considered the varying heights of the books, that they couldn't adjust the shelves, that they might genuinely have a problem on their hands. “Well... there's lots of floor space. We'll get more shelves and put them down the middle of the room and fill them with the larger books which won't fit on the shelves. I'll put my desk in the middle of them, perhaps, and the small books which might get lost among the normal sized books could go on my desk. I'll keep them in order. The bookshelves can back onto each other. It just means buying more furniture. I'm sure we'll keep finding things we need to buy as we fill this place. Which reminds me, we need to find you a bed. You can't keep sleeping on cushions. A bed is better for your spine.”

“Missy Granger!” Pella said, looking scandalised.

“What if you're injured? You told me that the house elf hospital has beds. And Crookshanks has a lovely bed. You should have one too. Oh, have you chosen a room yet? I know elves usually sleep near the kitchen or in the attic, but there are so many rooms here, it's ridiculous. I've already chosen mine, and Crookshanks may have a room of his own if he wishes. We'll still have plenty of guest rooms leftover. The important thing was to have a library with built-in shelves, but that's left us in a house with too many bedrooms. I don't need a ballroom or a music room or anything frivolous like that, but you both need rooms of your own.”

“Missy Granger... is too good,” Pella said, beginning to cry.

“Very kind of you, mistress, but I shall prefer to be in your room, to curl up with you when it gets cold,” Crookshanks said, stretching, though careful not to scratch the polished wooden floor of the library. Hermione glanced at the curtains, and wondered about the curtain-cleaning spells she had been reading about in her new household management spellbook.

“It's up to you, Pella, I didn't mean to upset you,” Hermione said. “But I thought that if you found a room of your own, we could have more beds in it for when other elves begin to show up in need of assistance, and they can stay with you in a place that will be just for elves. You can have your own cabinet of healing potions in there, and I won't come in unless you need me. Crookshanks would also value your privacy, wouldn't you, Crookshanks?” She arched a brow at him.

“Of course,” he said, and he walked over to nudge Pella, who patted him softly behind the ears. He purred, which calmed her down.

“Yes, Missy Granger is very thoughtful, as always,” Pella said. “Pella will choose a room of her own before we leaves today.”

“Good. Just make sure I don't forget that I'm meeting Fred when the shop closes.”

“Will Missy Granger need to dress up to meets with Mr Fred?”

“I shouldn't think so. He'll probably be wearing his eye-watering clothes from the shop, and it's just to talk. It isn't a date or anything.” Hermione blushed. “Now, I've been reading this book, and I think I'd like a different colour for those curtains, or a lighter shade. What do you two think? It would let more natural light in...”

When Fred stepped out of the shop, wearing normal casual clothes, he saw Hermione looking a bit dusty but otherwise normal as well, carrying her usual satchel. She was wearing normal shoes and short socks, and the socks had cat hairs on them. There was some dirt and grass around the edges of the shoes, but she didn't smell like she used to after Herbology, so she hadn't been gardening.

“Hello, what've you been up to today?” he asked, and he offered his arm. Her cheeks turned a light shade of pink as she tucked her hand into his elbow. George ribbed him about having a date with Hermione, mostly about how long it'd taken. At least it was happening, even if Hermione didn't know about it yet.

“Went to visit my house, start getting it ready to move in,” Hermione said.

“So you really did buy a house? Percy said you had, something about hearing through the Ministry grapevine about the paperwork.”

“Yes, it's on a leyline, so I had to register it with the Ministry. I'm planning to plant wand wood trees for Mr Ollivander to source wood, if they turn out alright. Neville advised the best ones to get before heading off to Japan yesterday. Then Professor Sprout will help me get them started before school resumes. I'm hoping some bowtruckles will move in, since Luna and her father have had so little chance to study them. Anyway, that's enough about me for now. Anything interesting happen in the shop today?”

“Oh, something interesting always happens in the shop. So often it's commonplace.”

“Well, anything to report from the Weasley family then?” she asked. “Your mother is still happy to work in Hogsmeade, even though nearly all of you are out of Hogwarts?”

“Yeah, she's happy making potions again, even if it means working with old Filch,” Fred said, as they walked through the brick archway into the Leaky Cauldron. “I know, I know, you like him, he's somehow your friend. George and I had very different experiences with him, especially before you came along and bewitched him into a somewhat normal person.”

“I really don't know what you were all talking about, he was perfectly nice to me,” Hermione said, as Fred led her to a table in a corner. He pulled out a chair for her. She sat down with no suspicion whatsoever, which would've made his parents stare in disbelief; but she'd never experienced any pranks from the twins, so she had no reason to worry. “Perhaps a bit grumpy at times, but we all have our off days, and he was in a school surrounded by people doing things he didn't think he could, until I showed him that he could learn more than half the subjects.”

“S'pose we never saw it that way,” Fred said, shrugging as he sat opposite her, and summoned a pair of menus to their table.

“Well, we were children,” she said.

“You were open-minded for a child.”

“I was desperate for friendship anywhere I could find it.” Her blush deepened. “I could have been taken advantage of, if I hadn't been taught well by my cousins.”

“Yeah, we're lucky Harry's got such honour, he could've taken advantage of Ginny worshipping him if he'd been a lesser person,” Fred mused.

“I hope this year clears her head.”

“Me too. Well, let's order something to eat. My treat.”

“No, Fred--”

“Yes, Hermione. You can pay next time.”

“Next time?”

He cleared his throat, carefully studying the menu instead of looking at her.

“Next... date,” he clarified.

There was a long silence. Then he glanced up at Hermione, whose cheeks were redder still, and she placed her menu down.

“I didn't think you'd ever play a joke on me,” she said quietly.

“I'm not,” he said. “I wanted this to be a date. I've wanted to take you on a date for ages, but you've still been in Hogwarts for two years.”

“And before that? When we were at Hogwarts, and you only went to Hogsmeade with girls who played sports, who were pretty?”

“You are pretty, Hermione, I've always thought so! But more than that, you're really brave, and you're also fierce. Both George and I thought so since first year. You're scary when you have to be, you stand up to bullies, you're smart, and you're fair. No wonder you were Head Girl! And I just... I thought you were too good for me.” He dropped his menu to the table and began running his hands through his hair, agitated. “You slayed a basilisk at twelve years old, for Merlin's sake! You're on first name terms with the head of Gringotts. You helped to end Voldemort before he could come back to life, and you took on the Wizengamot when that reporter tried to send you to Azkaban with that story about a Dark army. Of course I was too intimidated to ask you to Hogsmeade! You're probably rolling in galleons, and I come from a family where we had to make every knut count until Lucius Malfoy was put in jail, and again, that was probably thanks to you.”

“Actually, Harry--” she began meekly.

“Harry says he poured your Norboot Tonic over Voldemort's soul crystal, so it still wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for you,” Fred told her, and Hermione mentally kicked Harry's behind, hoping fervently that he felt it wherever he was at that moment. “You also got Sirius Black, one of our backers, out of Azkaban, and he and your parents – as well as you – helped us put our loan application together for the shop. So yeah, George and I are doing well now, but you're still probably wealthier than us, and we're living in the shop not because we can't afford to move, but because it's quicker to get to the store. We're not used to being apart. If you dated me, George would need to date someone else or he'd interfere all the time. We're used to being one person. We're a package deal, which most girls wouldn't be prepared for. And my parents... they're not as well-educated as yours. My mother was a housewife for so long, and now she works in a shop. My father isn't ambitious at all. Your parents are healers.”

“Your parents have magic, Fred, that's still a big deal in this world,” Hermione said. “And you, you and George were always popular with everyone. You're likeable. You're handsome. You've always had girls drooling over you, hoping you'd ask them out. I've never had to learn how to make ends meet from nothing; I wouldn't know what to do if I went bankrupt. My family wouldn't let me starve, but I'd still be useless. And you're so creative.”

“But... those potions and runes you invented...?”

“I didn't think them up because of creativity,” Hermione said, distressed. “I found a problem and developed a solution for it. But you think of things out of thin air. I thought of how bad Dark magic was and wondered if there was a way to cleanse it, like bleach. I knew that truth potions were heavily regulated, so I thought of a way around the regulations, and came up with a potion to match. I loved the Dr Dolittle books, where a doctor could speak to animals, and wanted a way to do that, and I needed something for my Ancient Runes practical to impress the examiners, so I came up with the Lofting Sequence. I love books because I admire the writers' creativity, but I know I could never do it myself. You and your brother, though, you have a kind of cleverness I'll never have, and I envy you that. Your brains work in amazing ways.”

“Imagine what we could do together,” Fred said, looking into her eyes. Hermione ducked her head, overwhelmed. “Could... could we have this date? See where it goes? I've fancied you for years, Hermione. I thought I couldn't compete with your close friendship with Harry, or Neville, but seeing you with Florence the other day, how sweet you are with her... you probably haven't even thought about whether you want to have kids one day or not...”

Hermione swallowed.

“I don't know yet,” she said. “I'm not locked into a contract anywhere. I can work from home. I have Pella to help. I have so many rooms in my house that I don't know what to do with. Pella and Crookshanks have their own rooms. It seems silly to have such a large house for just the three of us, and maybe a horse in the future, but, well...”

“What, did it come with a library already, with in-built shelves?” he asked. When Hermione looked away, he laughed. “Oh, come on, you've only mentioned it about, what, a dozen times since you came to Hogwarts? When describing your ideal house?”

“Oh,” she said, sure her cheeks would never go back to their normal colour. “I didn't realise you were paying that much attention.”

“I was, my bookworm,” he said, resting a hand on the table.

She placed her hand in his, with a small, hopeful smile, that matched his.