After a quick look-in on their adopted families, the dragons took them back to the covert, where they took their places on Temeraire and returned to Dover.

The orchestra was still scraping and tootling away in the front of Florenzia's pavilion, with several dragons singing in the courtyard in front of them. At least the chief musician had overcome his terror; he popped up from his seat at the piano to wave his arms and scream at both musicians and dragons alike. Other courtyards held blocking or singing rehearsals too, though the dragons were singing at half-voice so as not to disturb the main rehearsal. Humans either stood still and shouted or ran around in response to the shouting. Lady Rose and Perscitia, the blue and green ballet mistress dragon, seemed to have powers of bilocation or advanced apparating skills. Harry thought he saw one or both whichever way he looked.

Temeraire almost shook off his passengers, in his eagerness to get to his rehearsal. "But, Laurence, they're midway through the second act already. I should have been here!"

Captain Laurence soothed him. "And the orchestra should have playing yesterday instead of cowering in their rooms. Then you would have been available, according to plan. As they have made mice feet with the rehearsal schedule, it is not incumbent on you to make up for lost time, particularly as the principal tenor."

"Oh, that is very true!" Temeraire preened, rubbing his nose against his hide and making it worse as his harness men tried to disentangle him. "But Laurence, I have never sung with an orchestra. I am so eager to try!"

The wizards and crew took the opportunity of this exchange to scatter as far away as possible before Temeraire charged on stage. The wizards reunited in Florenzia's pavilion, where the dragon diva was drinking from one of her bowls, something steaming, spiced with enough ginger to either clear sinuses or choke bystanders. Florenzia explained that the drink was for her voice.

She wanted to see the new jewelry and clothes. As Emily Roland had foretold, the sparkling stones were the favorites. With hesitation, Harry broached the idea of Ginny's gift, telling the dragon the sadly brief story and pledging his service to her. Florenzia was much moved, almost to tears, it looked like, though he didn't know if dragons could actually cry. She agreed to his proposal and promised to keep him busy, which gave him a sinking feeling.

"Indeed, you have all been industrious, and the small scarves are almost complete," she said with a glance at the work table. With hardly any sighing at all, Harry and Ron returned to the table and resumed their crystal work.

Florenzia looked pleased. But as she looked around the pavilion, she asked, "Where is Miss Granger?"

Mrs. Weasley also looked and frowned. Her worry lines deepened each day. "Even in the covert, I do think we should stay at least in sight of each other."

"She's just talking to that feathered dragon," Ron gestured with his shoulder so as not to interrupt his beading. "The orange and purple one. I can see her."

Florenzia snapped her head around and sprang to her feet. "Churki? Oh no." She picked her way daintily around the orchestra and the stage, but quite rapidly.

"Is she in danger?" asked Mrs. Weasley, running to keep pace.

Florenzia didn't reply, but stopped a few feet from the other dragon and nodded with the grace of a queen.

Churki nodded back. An South American dragon, she was probably larger than Florenzia, but that impression might have come from her scales, not flat like the other dragons', but frilled on the edges, giving her a feathered look. Florenzia said that was one reason she had been cast as Papageno, the Bird Man, though she then needed a tunic to cover her feminine parts. The tunic's bright green over her violet and orange made her look as festive as a parade float. Her voice was low and musical. "Hello, Florenzia. I am giving a small reception after the opera. Hammond thinks it appropriate. I do hope Miss Granger will find the time to look in. I am most anxious to present my Hammond to you, Miss Granger. Such a superior creature, you will find. His brothers and sisters will be attending also. I believe you are quite unattached?"

Puffing to keep up, Ron gasped, punctuating every few words with a breath, "Hermione is promised to me. To be married, you know. I've known her since we were children, and she is the sweetest, kindest, smartest girl ever. And so beautiful. I can't imagine life without her, and I can't wait for our wedding day."

"I congratulate you. And certainly you are all welcome at my reception," said Churki with less enthusiasm, though she cast a speculative eye on Harry.

"I wish my intended could be here also," said Harry interjected with a strong sense of self-preservation. "She's Ron's sister, she is. I have just bought her a handsome set of peridots and pearls. For our engagement."

With a sour expression at war with her honeyed tones, Churki addressed Mrs. Weasley. "I congratulate you on such right-thinking children, to settle so early in life. Too many today have their heads full of other things. They must always be thinking of the war."

"As soldiers, they must do so," Florenzia said, her voice full of steel. "I would not push any young person under my protection to a hasty settlement. My guests, of course, are free to do as they will, but you see they have made plans for their futures. As for me, my first captain's two daughters will provide eggs in time, Lilias when her health allows, and I am in hopes that dear Rose will select Laurence or Granby—or both!—when her military duties allow, and when we are not in such deep mourning over her dearest mother."

Churki flipped her feathered tail, rather like a cross between a gargantuan parrot and cat. "One can mourn and do any number of things. One frequently must. But I should not cherish any hope of Granby. He is an invert—prefers men, you know."

It was Florenzia's turn to flip her tail in dismissal. Ron and Harry jumped out of the way. "He may prefer anything he likes. That has nothing to do with providing eggs. Iskierka will not stand for it, there is no doubt. But I have long wanted to know the particulars of Granby's failed engagement to the Sapa Inca. You were there and must know the truth."

"Oh, my dear, was there ever anything so unfortunate? At the very engagement ceremony! But they do not like it spoken of." Churki turned away, but tossed her head to ask Florenzia to follow, clearly intending to speak at great length on the forbidden topic.

Florenzia drew near enough so that Churki had to stoop only a little to whisper in her ear. The wizards backed away, with Mrs. Weasley's encouragement.

"Children, we must stay together. I don't we've understand this culture at all. I'm beginning to think that people are just dragon pets." Mrs. Weasley cast a worried glance back at the gossiping dragons, though they were far enough away that the opera music drowned the juicy tidbits Churki was having such a good time imparting.

"Hermione," said Ron, desperate edge in his voice. "I meant it. Everything. I only said it so Churki wouldn't marry you to that git."

"She was just inviting me to a party," Hermione protested. "And you don't know he's a git."

Ron insisted, "Bound to be. And Florenzia thought you were in danger. Looks like the dragons around here will snatch up anyone not attached. So that's why I said it. But I meant it. How could I help it? You are the kindest—Look, I don't understand Muggle money, but where were you getting the money for the vacation? Harry, wouldn't that be expensive?"

Harry nodded while Hermione looked away. She traced a pattern in the dirt with her shoe. Finally she said, so low that they all had to lean forward. "So you know I changed my parents' memories so they'd forget about me and move to Australia? They'd always saved for my education, and I thought they'd want me to have that money. So I had them transfer the funds completely to me and forget they'd done so."

"Your school money? You're using your school money to take my family to the beach?" Ron's voice cracked.

"I thought we all needed a rest." Hermione refused to meet his eyes.

Ron threw his arms around her. Hermione jumped in surprise, then hugged him back just as hard.

"Do you know, I think as long as we stay in twos, we'll be fine," said Mrs. Weasley, to Harry's relief. She put a hand on his arm and guided him away from both the dragons and his friends.

Ron and Hermione broke to a one-armed embrace so they could walk. They leaned into each other, heads almost touching, and soon they were far enough away that they looked like one person in the twilight.

Harry didn't realize that he could feel both joyous and sad at the same time, over the same thing. He decided to focus on happiness for his friends, even if he couldn't ignore the deep ache in his soul. He put his hand in his pocket to clutch the jewelry case.

Mrs. Weasley was saying something, but he didn't catch all of it. "…Ginny is too young, you know. I know she'll be of age and the first thing she'll say is, 'You can't tell me what to do,' but I want her to go back to Hogwarts for her seventh year. I don't care if she gets absolutely no NEWTS! I want her to have a school year that's just a school year, not a battle with the worst wizards in history. And that young lady needs to get back on a broomstick!" She squeezed Harry's arm. "I suppose that could be said for many students. Oh, you don't have to say anything. It's hard to make plans when we don't know if we'll ever get back to our time in our world."

"We have to," said Harry, with a glance back at the gossiping dragons. "The dragons…they're not trying to eat us or anything, but I'm not sure about them. I thought their captains had them under control, like really big horses, but—"

"Exactly! It's more like people are their pets. I want to get away before they start fighting over us. I'm not sure our wishes would matter." Mrs. Weasley hurried him to the pavilion.

It wasn't a refuge: the work table, covered in netting and crystals beckoned. They both sighed and took their seats.

"And it makes it so much the harder when we actually owe a debt," said Mrs. Weasley, pulling thread from a skein.

"I can give the jewelry to Florenzia," said Harry, subdued. "She liked the bright green stones."

Mrs. Weasley patted his hand, which unfortunately held a needle. "There's still the clothes, room, board, rescue…you may have to, but let's settle everything else first."

Harry was still rubbing his pierced palm when Ron and Hermione climbed the grand marble steps to the pavilion. Their hair and clothes looked mussed, with Hermione's rebellious hair escaping its braids to stick out in as many directions as Harry's hair normally did, but to be fair, they'd looked much the same after dismounting Temeraire that afternoon. Without a word, but fleeting smiles at each other, they took seats at the work table. Harry couldn't decide which one looked happier.

They worked in silence, except for exclamations of pain from misguided needles and of frustration at having to chase crystals on the parquet floor. The different colored wood pieces fit so well together that the beads could roll a long way before capture, even into the floor-level copper basins.

Everyone heaved a relieved sigh when the musicians finally quit playing for the evening. The candles on their music stands had burned to nubs, and that seemed to be reason enough to stope. Harry hadn't thought the music bothered him, but it seemed as though his entire Regency experience was accompanied by a Mozart soundtrack. He even liked Mozart, he decided, but an absence of skittering notes—just for a change—was restful.

After the musicians stumbled away, either too tired or grown accustomed to be afraid of the dragons in the courtyard, Florenzia returned, a pleased expression on her face. "Well! You would not credit it, but the true story of how Granby did not become the Aztec Emperor is even more exciting than the stories circulating about it. That is hardly ever true. South America sounds like a marvelous place, with golden walls and truly sensible views on dragons. It is too bad that the Inca have thrown their lot in with Bonaparte, for how can you trust those of such poor judgment? But perhaps we will visit Brazil, now that the Tswana dragons are assisting our Portuguese allies in reforms." She admired their handiwork and was pleased with its imminent conclusion. Then she said, "I beg your pardon for not inquiring earlier, but was your mission successful? Did you find your Diagon Alley?"

Any happiness they'd acquired during the day fled owls with urgent post to deliver. The morning's disappointment settled over them all, heavy and smothering."

"I am afraid it was not," said Mrs. Weasley.

Ron explained, "We could see it, but we could not find a way to get there, not without Temeraire blowing a hole in the shield. I never heard that it had a shield. Did you, Hermione?"

"No. I never thought of it, but surely airplanes and helicopters would have seen it, if it were visible from the air. If only we could get to a library," said Hermione, her voice shaking. "I feel lost without books."

Florenzia offered, "Both my captains are and were great readers. We have any number of books here, and Rose is a member of several circulating libraries. Also, we have subscriptions to La Belle Assemblée. It was delivered today, and one of the cadets shall read the serial story to us tonight. I am most particular that my crew should be educated, and I am quite sure that we can find you a book, Miss Granger."

Hermione ducked her head, whether to hide crying or laughing, Harry couldn't tell. "I mean magic books, like at school. Can we get to Hogwarts, do you think?"

"No," said Ron. "Not without trains."

Hermione shook her head. "No books. No teachers. No one at all to ask! We don't know any wizard at all, no one who can help us." Her voice rose with each word.

"Sure we do," said Ron. "Well, I feel like I know him anyway. Spent most of our first year looking for him, didn't we? Nicholas Flamel, born in 1327. He was alive in 1992; he must be alive now."

"Ron, you're a genius!" cried Hermione, throwing her arms around his neck.