Hermione's face was sticky with bulldog slobber. She was trying to pull the pup away from her face but he had a death grip on her sweater.

"Can I help?" a deep voice said. She looked over the wriggling ears to see a tan boy about her age with soft wavy hair.

"If you can just... pluck him off."

The boy smirked and it looked... familiar. Probably nothing. She had never met him before. He reached out and pulled the struggling puppy off Hermione. The bulldog wriggled his way up the boy's arm and plopped down his shoulder.

"Oops..." Hermione laughed.

"Thanks a lot." He wrinkled his nose as the puppy slurped his cheek. "Clingy one, isn't he?"

"Maybe if we do it at the same time. You grab the back. I'll grab the front and we set it loose."

"Okay."

"On the count of three," said Hermione.

"Gee. I hope this dog can't count."

Hermione rolled her eyes and started, "One-Two-Three." The boy grabbed the back of the dog and she grabbed the front. They placed it on the ground and it scurried through the thick green grass.

"Oh, look at this puppy!" said a little girl with strawberry hair. She reached out to the dog and in less than five seconds it was swinging from her pigtails.

"I'm not responsible for that," the boy said. He jumped up on the lowest branch of the tree, kicking his brown boots back and forth.

"You looking to buy a pet?" asked Hermione. She wanted to keep this conversation going for some reason she couldn't explain.

"No my uh... place doesn't allow animals."

"Sorry to hear that. I love them." Hermione scooped up a caramel colored Golden Retriever that squirmed happily in her grip. She loved the feel of its silky soft fur in her hands. "Want to hold him?"

"Maybe I'll have better luck with this one." He grinned. Hermione placed the puppy in the boy's hands. Her fingers brushed over his. The sun reflected off a silver ring on his thumb, a dragon carved into the metal.

"That's a lovely ring. Where'd you get it?" she asked.

"Family heirloom." The boy stroked the puppy's head. "You buying a dog?"

She smiled. "No. I wish. I'm volunteering. No matter how difficult life gets, giving back always makes me feel better. I know it's cliché but it helps you see how there is always a little good left in the world, left inside you. You know?"

"Not really," he smirked, then slid off the tree branch, the golden puppy in his arms. He dropped it gently in the grass.

"Nice to meet you, Puppy Girl." He winked, swiveled around on his heel. Hermione watched him navigate his way through the maze of puppies and pins with inexplicable smile on her face.

Dear Silverhawk,

I'm proud to say I've been wart-free all my life but dad's sister likes to drop by every few years lie on the couch in her bathrobe and insult mum's cooking. She's quite a wart herself. Just promise me you won't go all homicidal on your house guest. I don't think the dementors will let you send owls from prison and I don't know what I'd do without our lovely conversations.

Always,

Vinewood

P.S. Sorry about the owl. I was borrowing a friend's... he's on his last wing. (The owl, not the friend)