"Hermione!"
Hermione put down her textbook, sliding off her bed to see what her mother wanted. She had learned long ago not to yell in the house, despite the fact that her mother did it frequently.
Finally making it downstairs, she found her mother waiting for her in the entryway to the sitting room, her brown eyes bright and a small smile on her face.
"I believe there's a letter here for you," her mother said.
A smile overtook her face. "Really? For me?" While her friends had promised to write to her, Hermione hadn't had much confidence that they actually would. In fact, she had been positive they wouldn't even want to be her friend when they returned to school. It was something she'd been secretly dreading.
Nodding her head, her mother pushed open the tall wooden door that led to the sitting room.
Sitting perched on the edge of a chair was a Crested Owl, easily recognizable by its long white ear tufts, that looked like eyebrows.
Attached to his foot was a letter and a package.
"He's handsome," Hermione's mother said, admiring the bird. "Maybe his owner is handsome as well."
Hermione whirled around, scarlet rising up her neck, flooding her face. "Mum!"
Her mother threw her head back and laughed. She brushed her curly brown hair out of her face. "I was just teasing dear," she said, still chuckling. "So, who's it from then?"
Hermione was curious herself. She ruled out Harry immediately. She was quite fond of Hedwig, and would recognize the snowy owl anywhere.
Really, that only left one person.
Gently pulling the letter and package from the owl's leg, she beamed at it. She'd written enough notes with the boy to recognize his neat, looping cursive.
"Perseus," she whispered.
Clearly, not quietly enough.
"Ah," her mother said, the same teasing tone back in her voice. "Your very secret, very handsome friend."
Hermione blushed again, but opted to ignore her mother this time, in favor of opening the letter.
Dear Hermione,
I'm sorry for the delay in the arrival of my letter, but as I'm sure you can imagine, the journey from Milan to Cambridge is a long one, even for a messenger as magnificent as Hyperion.
Hermione looked at the bird, who was staring back at her with unnerving intensity, the set of its tufts reminding her of Madam Pince. His feathers shined even in the lowlight, and he had a very distinct pattern. He was rather magnificent, she supposed.
First and foremost, how has your summer been thus far? How far ahead have you managed to read?
I've personally finished all of our summer work, and have begun reading third year level books for all our wanded courses.
Hermione shook her head. He said that so casually, as if being an entire year ahead was no big deal.
If you were wondering (I know you were), my Aunt has not been entirely unpleasant. She has stuck mostly to her rooms, and I often see her only at mealtimes, which suits me just fine. I think her health may be declining.
Hermione didn't know if it was her imagination, but she thought he seemed oddly happy about that.
I've recovered well from my recent trip to the infirmary. I find that I do not have much use for my voice during the summer, and the rest has done me very well.
I'm sorry to have unloaded all of that information onto you on the Express, but I found that once I began talking, I couldn't stop. I told you much more than I had ever intended, and I can't say that I am upset with myself for it.
It feels good to know I have someone who cares for my well-being. Thank you.
Well, I don't have much else to say. In case I don't get back to you in time, I will be making a trip to Diagon Alley on August 29th, around 3 PM. I know it's not much, but I'd like to see you at least once, before I have to return to pretending as though we are not friends.
Yours truly,
P.S.B.
PS. I have included two books regarding the wizarding history of Great Britain. Binns is a nightmare, and I feel that there are things you should know about the world you live in, besides Goblin Rebellions.
One is written by my own ancestor, Selene Black, who was a rather famous historian in her own right, though she was not known for being particularly unbiased. Therefore I have included another book, written by none other than Bathilda Bagshot, a name I'm sure you recognize. While not being completely unbiased, she was a great deal less so than my how ever many Greats Aunt, and on the opposite end of the spectrum at that. You are intelligent enough to come to the correct conclusions with both sets of information available to you. Feel free to let your parents read them as well.
Enjoy.
Hermione's eyes immediately flew to the package she had removed from Perseus' owl, Hyperion.
She opened the package quickly, taking care not to jostle the precious wells of knowledge unnecessarily.
This would be a great distraction from her constant reading of magical law, which was incredibly dull, even for her.
"Well? How is this mysterious friend of yours doing?"
Hermione nearly jumped at the sound of her mother's voice. She'd completely forgotten her mother was present, lost as she was in the thick tomes her best friend had sent her.
"He's doing fine, mum," she replied. Her mother was looking over her shoulder, eyes roving the covers of the two books she'd been given.
"These look rather old, Hermione," she said, reaching around her and rubbing her fingers along the cover of one of the books.
Hermione frowned. Now that her mother mentioned it, these books did look ancient. They looked older than any book she'd seen in Flourish and Blotts, and they rivaled any tome she'd ever read at Hogwarts.
Just how old was Perseus' family?
"Yes well, Perseus is from an old wizarding family, and I'm sure he has many old books. Hopefully one day in the future I'll be free to visit his home."
Her mother looked at her now, and Hermione felt her face fill with heat.
"What do you mean ' free to visit'?"
Hermione's teeth automatically sank into her bottom lip, and only the books in her hands stopped her from nervously rolling the hem of her shirt between her fingers.
"Well, do you remember how Professor McGonnagall told us that not all witches and wizards were fond of Muggleborns?"
Hermione swallowed thickly as her mother's piercing brown eyes narrowed, and her brows pinched together.
"Yes, I do remember something like that."
"Yes well," Hermione paused, breaking her mother's gaze. "Perseus' aunt is one of those people, and would make visiting him very, very difficult."
Her mother remained silent, but Hermione felt like a small child again, as if her stare could see right through her.
"I see," she said.
"Oh mum," Hermione said quickly, putting the books down and holding on to her mother's hand. "Perseus isn't like that! You have to believe me! He's one of the sweetest people I know!"
"Of course not, Queen," her mother said, using a nickname that Hermione usually only heard from her father. "I can see that. He must like you a great deal to send you these books, that I'm sure he had to sneak out from his aunt."
Hermione pulled away from her mother at the mention of the books.
Tucking the letter back into its envelope, she picked up the book written by Perseus' ancestor. Something about the book being written by another Black just called to her. She wanted to know anything she could about Perseus' family, and this was an easy way to get started.
Turning back to her mother, she nodded her head at the other book. While she would've liked to read both books at once, Perseus had said her parents could read them as well, and Hermione didn't have many things to share with them about the magical world. She wasn't going to stop her mother from learning something she'd been so desperate to know just for the sake of her own curiosity.
Besides, the chances were her mother would be finished reading her massive tome before she would. She hadn't taught herself how to read, after all.
"Perseus said it's fine if you and dad read them as well," she said. Her mother's eyes lit up, and she didn't hesitate to pick up the massive tome sitting on the mahogany table.
Hooo .
Hermione turned to the owl that was sitting perched on the chair, and felt heat rushing to her face again at the obvious glare the bird was giving her.
His long crests and dark eyes made his stare quite stern, and despite herself Hermione felt admonished.
"Sorry Hyperion," she said. Risking a finger, she reached out to rub his plumage, which thankfully he seemed to enjoy. "If you could wait just a few more minutes, I'll have a letter for you to return to Perseus."
The owl hooted again, softly this time, and gave a very slight nod of his head.
Hermione turned to her mother, who was staring at the bird in amazement.
"What?" Hermione said, a small smirk on her lips. "You didn't think he was just an ordinary bird, did you?"
Hermione's mother shook her head. "Sometimes I forget Hermione, nothing will ever be just ordinary with you."
Perseus drummed his fingers silently against his leg as he strode quietly through the magical shopping district of Milan, Paradiso Nascosto Milano.
He knew he shouldn't be doing what he was going to do, but he just couldn't bring himself to care.
He walked shoulder and shoulder with witches and wizards dressed in every manner from full robes, to a sophisticated ensemble of clothing called a suit.
Finally, he came to a stop.
In front of him was a large building, with floor to ceiling windows and clothing on display. There dolls in each window, dressed in vibrant combinations of colors that somehow went well together, and a distinctly muggle style that he knew his Aunt hated.
It was exactly the kind of thing he wanted.
Opening the large glass door, he entered the store, noting the quiet chime that signaled his arrival.
He'd gotten no more than ten steps before he was greeted by a man dressed in a white jacket, with a shirt that lacked a tie and proudly displayed his somewhat hairy chest.
"How can I help you, young Mister Black?" He spoke in accented English, his teeth gleaming as he smiled down at Perseus.
"I'd like to purchase a suit," Perseus said confidently, though he had no clue what he was talking about. The man clearly knew who he was, and he needed to act as his status required of him.
The man nodded enthusiastically, his thickly gelled hair not moving an inch despite the rapid movement.
"Of course, of course," the man said happily, leading Perseus by the shoulder to a fitting room. "My name is Giuseppe Canali, and I will make sure you leave with the perfect fit, Mister Black."
"Perseus will be fine, Mr. Canali," Perseus said, annoyed at the constant use of his family name.
The man didn't respond. He led him into a small room, each wall covered in mirrors, tape measures strewn across the room at random.
Perseus nearly flinched as a wand practically materialized in the odd man's hand.
With a flick, the tape measures came to life, and began measuring every conceivable length there was to measure.
Perseus was impressed. To animate multiple objects, wordlessly at that, was something that wouldn't even be asked of him on his NEWTs. Hopefully within a few years he'd be able to do something similar.
"Here we are, Mr. Black," Mr. Canali said, returning to him with a suit levitating after him.
Perseus was surprised at the color, a pale yellow, but he wasn't opposed to it. The man likely knew better than him, anyway.
With a tap of Canali's wand on Perseus chest, he was wearing the outfit, and his robes floated in the air.
A switching spell , he thought, struggling to keep the surprise of his face.
"Go on, have a look!"
Perseus stepped down off the stool he'd been standing on, examining himself in the mirror directly in front of him, stunned at his own appearance.
The first thing he noticed was how light the clothes were. Far lighter than any robe he owned, and much more comfortable as well.
His jacket was pale, light yellow, and seemed to shine in its own light. His pants were bright white, and his shirt matched.
He examined the small, round objects on his shirt and jacket that seemed to fasten the two sides together. He'd never had anything like them on his robes. He'd have to ask Hermione how they worked, he'd couldn't imagine possibly asking Mr. Canali and embarrassing himself in front of the clearly talented man.
Similar to Mr. Canali, his own shirt was unfastened at the top. Though unlike Mr. Canali, there was a silken piece of patterned fabric that wrapped around his neck, and filled the open space left in the unfastened shirt.
Taking a step back, Perseus turned and admired himself in the mirror.
He looked much more dignified and high class than he ever had in any robe, he thought.
Looking in the mirror, his violet eyes stood out drastically against the yellow of his jacket and odd tie, and Perseus couldn't keep the smile off his face. Hermione would be proud of him.
It was time to fight back against his aunt. For Hermione's sake, as well as his own.
Buying this suit was just the first step towards his freedom.
It was a small one. But it was a step in the right direction.
Now, how could he get this home without his aunt noticing?
