"I can't believe we're going to fairyland, of all places, to find the cure for Harry," Ron said. "I mean, fairyland?" He twirled in a circle, fluttering his arms as if they were wings.

Hermione grabbed his arm to pull him along. They were walking from the castle to the lake.

"Obviously, no humans can cure Harry. If the fairies are able to, then to fairyland we go."

When they reached the water's edge, Ron asked "What do we do now?"

Hermione took out a notebook, into which she had scribbled copious notes.

"I still don't understand why you took notes," Ron added. "We could just have rented out the book."

Hermione shrugged, remembering with faint bitterness how Draco had refused to take the book, staring coolly at her. I took all these notes just to help him? she asked herself. Obviously he thought he was too superior to touch a muggle-born.

"It says that any large body of water will serve as a portal to the fairy world," Hermione said, forcing herself to focus. "We just need to stare at the water and recite these words."

Ron looked over her shoulder at the poem she had copied into the notebook.

"Together?" Ron asked.

"No. Just one of us. If we pronounce the words even slightly differently, we'll end up in different parts of fairyland."

"You say them," Ron said. "I don't want to mess up.

"All right," Hermione agreed. "The book said that if two people sit side-by-side facing the water, holding hands, then only one person needs to recite the words, and they will enter fairyland together."

Ron and Hermione settled themselves onto the ground.

"Wait—did you say holding hands?" Ron asked. He hated holding hands. His palms were always damp—clammy when he was cold, and sweaty when he was warm.

"Don't worry," Hermione said, taking a quick glance around. "There's no one here to see." She held out her hand.

"Let me see that notebook," Ron said, ignoring Hermione's proffered hand.

"Ron, I read the instructions five times. I know them inside and out!" Hermione held the notebook out of Ron's reach and offered her hand more pointedly this time.

"Of course you did," Ron said, "I just want to see if there's another way."

"What's wrong with holding my hand?"

"Nothing, nothing. I just—hate holding hands." By now his palms were sweating profusely.

'Don't be childish, Ron." Hermione grabbed for his hand.

Ron jerked it away, scowling. Hermione looked furious now.

"What, am I so disgusting that you can't even hold my hand for five seconds?"

Though Hermione looked furious, she was actually deeply mortified. Why was Ron so ashamed to hold her hand? Was she that dorky?

"Well, look who's all huffy and puffy," Ron said.

"Fine, we'll just go separately and see where we end up!" Hermione snapped.

She shoved the notebook into his hands and turned away from Ron. Facing the water, she began to recite the spell. The world started to dissolve around her. It seemed as though rain were falling, all the colors around her began to fade into a toneless gray. The wind felt as though it were made of silk, or water. The ground beneath her began to melt. The grass, the light began to flow...

Suddenly, Hermione was standing in a forest glade, surrounded by slim trees with white boughs and tiny leaves. She turned slowly in a full circle. No Ron. There was, however, a short, pot-bellied dwarf sitting on a rock.

"Hello," he said. His voice was so low, it rumbled. "I am the gatekeeper of fairyland."

"I don't see any gate," Hermione said.

"Yes, I've no gate." The dwarf frowned. "But the idea is the same. It's my job to exact payment for your entry to fairyland." He was not longer frowning. In fact, he looked positively gleeful.

"Payment?" Hermione gasped. "I've got nothing."

"Nothing, you say?" The dwarf threw back his head and laughed. "You are mistaken, my dear. You've got lots of things I can take. Youth, for one. Intelligence, for another."

Hermione's eyes widened with horror.

"Yes, eyesight too," the dwarf rumbled. "What shall I take?" He seemed to be asking himself more than Hermione.

"The book said nothing about payment," Hermione said, her voice shrill.

"Hm?" The dwarf seemed lost in thought. "Oh, this book?" With a snap of his fingers, Exactly the book you need appeared in his hand. He grinned a toothy grin at Hermione. "This book was written three hundred years ago. Things have changed since then."

"Well," Hermione said, regaining her composure. "In that case, it was incorrectly titled. It's not 'Exactly the book I need' if it doesn't contain all the pertinent infor—"

"Yeah, yeah." The dwarf waved his hand dismissively. "You can take that up with the author. Now stop your chatter, I need to decide what to take."

"My robe!" Hermione exclaimed, beginning to pull her arms out of the sleeves. "It's very warm."

"Shush! I have no need for robes."

"Take...my wand!" Hermione really didn't want to give up her wand, but when it came down to things, her wand was more replaceable than her youth. Or her intelligence. Or her eyesight.

The dwarf looked at her wand with distaste.

"I have no use for your wand. Human wands don't work here in fairyland."

"Certainly there must be some way I can pay, without having anything taken from me," Hermione said. "I'm willing to work."

"Quiet, I'm thinking!" the dwarf said.

"Please, sir—"

"That's it!" The dwarf snapped his fingers. "I'll take your voice. Then you won't be able to bother anyone with your obnoxious comments."

Hermione was speechless. Literally. Speechless.

"Ah! Another human has arrived," the dwarf said. He now spoke with Hermione's voice. It was unnerving. He stood up to leave. Hermione grabbed his arm, her eyes pleading.

"Yes, yes, you'll get your voice back when you leave fairyland, as long as you don't steal anything." The dwarf said irritably. Then he spun in a circle and disappeared. The glade was empty.

A/N:

Does this story make sense at all? Please review and tell me what you think! Thanks.