One Sunday morning, Hermione arrived at Minerva's cottage with an announcement.
"Today you're going to learn how to paddle a canoe."
"I'm going to learn what?"
"Paddle a canoe. After you did so splendidly with the ferry the other day, I thought you might like to go a little further and explore another means of transport. Come along. The water's fine."
Minerva had words of protest on her lips, but then she thought twice. Who knew, it might be enjoyable. And, well, if it turned out to be a disaster, then at least it would make for a good letter to Poppy.
Thus, she changed into something mud-coloured, just by way of a precaution, stepped up the skin protection charms, and followed Hermione to the pier.
A dug-out canoe lay there fastened to a post. It was perhaps twelve feet long ("I got you a small one for a start") and had one paddle and a five-foot pole. Hermione pulled it closer to the shore, then they waded through the shallow water, and Hermione held the canoe in place as Minerva - with some luck and a quietly-muttered steadying charm - mounted the thing. Hermione jumped in at the tail-end and reached for the pole.
"I'll just steer us out of eyeshot of any potential locals," she said as she staked the pole into the mud to propel the canoe out into the open water. "I never heard the end of it after my first attempt."
"Why, what happened?"
"Oh, never mind that now." Hermione exchanged the pole for the paddle, and Minerva found that she had heard more reassuring words in her life. "Watch me. Even strokes, pull the paddle straight, then make a sideways stroke like this to prevent the canoe from going in circles. Like so." Hermione paddled them around an overgrown tongue of land, at considerable pace, Minerva noticed, and towards a beach. "Think you can do it?" she asked, handing Minerva the paddle.
Minerva nodded. That looked feasible. And indeed, when she tried, the canoe did move. Quite suddenly, in fact, only not exactly forward, so that before they knew it they found themselves half-way up the river bank, bow in air.
"Sorry," Minerva said, and pointed her wand at the shore to push the boat back into the river.
"Not bad," Hermione said, "but you'll have to do better. I managed to overturn the thing after a mere five strokes."
Minerva tried again. The second time, she managed quite nicely to paddle more or less straight for a stretch before landing them in the shrubs, but the third attempt was stopped radically short by two rocks in the shallow water that caught the canoe between them. Hermione un-jammed them with her wand and got them waterborne again.
"May I show you?" she asked.
"With pleasure," Minerva said. Truth be told, her upper arms wouldn't mind a little rest.
Thus, Hermione carefully stood up and balanced her way towards the rear of the boat. "Steady," she said, putting her hands on Minerva's shoulder to climb past her without losing her footing, and knelt down directly behind Minerva. Minerva felt the cotton of the tunic (and, with a bit of secret appreciation that she would not have admitted even to Poppy, the softness of what was under the tunic), and she noticed a scent of sunshine and a little white musk when she felt two arms encircling her and reaching for the paddle. "There," Hermione said, closing her fingers around Minerva's. "In, back, turn, out. In, back, turn, out." There was a warm smile, and a cheek that seemed a little closer to Minerva's than the situation, strictly speaking would have required. "In, back, turn, out." Yes, indeed, it worked rather nicely that way. They paddled past the next tongue of land, past a beach, and into a small bay again. Hermione corrected their course here or there, but her instructions became fewer and fewer ... until ...
"Careful!"
A tree had appeared in front of them. It was one of those horizontal affairs that grew closely above the river - too close for comfort if one cared about one's head, as Minerva most certainly did. Hermione staked the paddle into the water to brake, but it seemed that she had been a little too jerky with it, or they had put their respective weights into incompatible positions, or perhaps Hermione should simply have done the exercise kneeling down instead of standing up - in any case, the next thing Minerva heard was "AAAAAHHHH!", and the next thing she sawwas Hermione in the river, drenched, muddy, laughing.
"Wait!" Minerva said, and "NO!" Hermione shouted when Minerva leaned forward to extend a hand to her now-wet hostess.
Too late.
There was a splash, and the next instant, Minerva had joined Hermione in the shallow, brownish water. To add insult to immersion, a considerable wave had descended upon her, making her fear the worst for her bun. When she turned to see where the unexpected load of water had come from, she saw their canoe at a distance, merrily floating down the river, upside-down and with the paddle nowhere in sight.
"Oh dear, I'm sorry!" Minerva took her wand and pointed it at the boat, which instantly reversed its course.
Hermione laughed. "Well, Minerva McGonagall, I suppose you can call this your bush baptism."
"My what?" Minerva looked up, a hand on the canoe that was now back by her side. She had no idea how to turn it over; wet wands didn't do for advanced spellwork, and the thing was very heavy, but at least they had it back.
"Your bush baptism. Rule number one up here: nobody leaves this place without taking a dunk at some point. It's practically a natural law."
"I beg your pardon?" Minerva lowered her spectacles (bless Impervio charms) and shot Hermione a piercing glance. "Hermione Granger, are you saying that you contrivedto get me into this situation?"
"Minerva!" Hermione exclaimed, her hand darting to her heart. "Would I do that?"
Minerva pondered the situation for a few seconds, then erected herself to her full height. "I'm afraid, young lady," she clipped, "that this deserves punishment." She drew her wand, and before Hermione could react, slashed it diagonally through the air, stopping sharp a few inches above the water. A jet of water sliced itself off from the surface and descended upon Hermione's head.
"Not fair!" Hermione shouted, shaking out her hair. "When I'm only trying to give you a valuable holiday experience!" She drew her own wand, brandished it vertically at the water, and sent a well-placed lateral wave at Minerva.
This was followed by a rising tide that lifted Hermione off her feet and then dropped her back onto the water surface, whereupon a grapefruit-sized waterball formed at the tip of Hermione's wand and narrowly missed Minerva (who had ducked in time and retaliated with a series of jets.) At which point, however, it dawned upon them that they were again one important accessory short.
"The boat!" Minerva pointed at the canoe, which was, once again, floating down the middle of the river.
"Damn!" Hermione said. "Well, it's not far. Can you swim?"
"I am a witch, Hermione. I float."
"Perfect," Hermione said. They took a dive and went for the canoe. Luckily, the current wasn't strong during this time of year, and so they soon caught up with it. Getting a hold of it and scrambling on top proved a little difficult and involved some spluttering and swearing (and a little magic, on Minerva's part), but they managed, and then they leisurely propelled it back to the shore of Doualéné with the help of paddling feet.
When they were both back on the beach, taking stock of their respective degrees of muddiness and wetness and general dishevelledness, Hermione began to laugh. "You look like a true explorer," she said and reached for the towels they had deposited by the pier. Her smile was warm when she handed one of them to Minerva and began rubbing her hair with the other one. "Tell me - do you feel a bit like one, too?"
Well, Minerva thought, if this was how Mr Stanley had felt when he found Mr Livingstone, it was no wonder he couldn't find anything intelligent to say. Her wet skirt flapped heavily around her legs, and her blouse clung to her skin, making her glad she had at least had the sense to change out of the white one. Not that she thought she had anything to hide there, though, if she might say so herself. She hadn't been too happy with her bony, angular frame when she was a teenager, but the older she got, the more she appreciated it. They aged well, those British bones, they certainly did. Still ...
"I have never felt less adventurous than at this very moment," she said. But she didn't make much of an effort to conceal the twitching of her lips.
Still smiling, Hermione approached, wiped a strand of wet hair from Minerva's forehead and tucked it behind her ear. Whether it was her hand or just the imagination of it that brushed Minerva's jawbone as she withdrew it, Minerva couldn't tell.
"I'll make it up to you after dinner."
-/-/-
Will she? Find out in the final chapter - which, since this was a somewhat shortish one, shall be posted a little earlier. Watch this space on Sunday 27!