The next few weeks were the best and the worst of her life up to that point. It was very easy to focus on the negative things that had happened. Those things being that the relations between the two boys she'd once called her best friends had worsened, if possible. Evidently, it was her fault that a cat acted like a cat.

She had tried to keep an eye on Crookshanks, she really had! But cats do as they please and she'd lost track of him. It wasn't as if she didn't feel awful about what happened to Scabbers. She was mortified, in fact. But Ron and Harry had acted as if she'd set Crookshanks on the rat on purpose. It didn't help that she was seriously overwhelmed by all her coursework, not to mention all the research she was doing for Hagrid for Buckbeak's hearing.

She was stressed out and so, so tired; spending nearly every moment she had trying not to have a complete emotional breakdown. Somedays she had to settle for just not crying in frustration over something silly, like accidentally dropping her toothbrush. Hermione wasn't sure what would get her first, the stress from her studies or all the unnecessary teenage angst.

There was one, small ray of sunshine in her otherwise gloomy forecast; weekends with Roxy and Dave, which was now a regular thing. Dave was usually only available on the weekends. But it was nice because from Friday night to Sunday, he'd pop in with Roxy who was a much more frequent visitor. She'd showed up almost every day of the week at various times according to her own whimsical nature, apropos of nothing. Hermione would arrive at one of her classes and there Roxy would be - waiting for her dressed in Gryffindor robes. At one point or the other, Roxy had showed up for almost every class. No one ever questioned her, not even the teachers. At this point, Hermione had somewhat gotten used to the glazed look on people's faces when they looked at her. The only class the older girl had outright refused to go to was Potions. She wouldn't say precisely why.

"Can't take the chance of him ferretin' me out and stickin' his nose in my biz," Roxy had said in a tone that was a trifle ominous. "Dude sees through fuckery like it owes him money. And I'm made of 100% pure American bullshit - the best god damned fuckery on this planet."

Hermione couldn't really blame her. Snape was a deeply unpleasant person, and a terrible teacher, in her opinion; though she had a feeling that Roxy's misgivings were less about Snape's abilities as a teacher or a person, but something more ephemeral. She wasn't sure, but Hermione had worked out that it had to do with Roxy's abilities - her Aspect. Something about Snape, a peculiar power only he had, either neutralized or negated entirely her "sleeper" power. Meaning, he might be able to see her and remember her, which would clearly blow her cover.

Even so, Hermione secretly wished she would come anyway. It was the worst of all her classes, with the exception of Divination, and it would have been nice to have a bit of moral support. Plus, Roxy was pretty good with potions and all the theories behind them. She'd been helping the young witch with her homework at night in the library. When Hermione mentioned this, Roxy had let out a fully belly laugh.

"Just simple chemistry," she pointed out with a light hearted shrug. "Wish my bffsie Janey was here. Think she'd be way more helpful, what with all the cooking she gets up to."

"Cooking is better than chemistry, then?" Hermione asked archly.

"Nah, they're really similar when you get right down to it. But I just feel like she'd come at it from a more creative perspective than I can. Probably figure out a shit ton of amazing shortcuts that'd blow your fucking mind."

Any other day, Hermione might have pursued the argument. But Roxy had brought her some biscuits Jane had baked, and they were the most delicious things she'd ever eaten. They were apparently a recipe of her own invention. And if that was what she could do with flour, sugar, and eggs, Hermione could only hope to imagine what she'd do with more magical ingredients.

"Let me see your parch," Roxy drawled, breaking Hermione out of her momentary reverie.

Let me see your parch, it was a little in joke that started only a few days ago when she'd been reviewing her Arithmancy notes for the parchment she was writing. For any student, there comes a point when working on a project where you know something is wrong, but no matter how hard you try, your brain can't pinpoint where your error might be. That point where you begin to hate everything you've written and where it almost seems more useful to throw everything you've done in the bin. It is a desperately terrible feeling.

With a frustrated growl, Hermione had discovered that she was at that point. She was about to crumple up her parchment and maybe set it on fire, until Roxy had said those magic words, "let me see your parch." After a great deal of bemused misunderstanding, she'd handed Roxy her parchment. Ten minutes later, Roxy had given it back to her and explained where she'd gone wrong and the rest was history.

The silly way her new friend shortened things that didn't need shortening was as endearing as it was annoying. It should have aggravated Hermione, and once upon a time it might have. As it was, she found it more amusing than anything else. Handing over her parchment, Hermione watched as Roxy carefully checked over her homework. It was nice having another pair of eyes to look over her work. It was nice just having someone who understood it.

It was nice having a female friend... she didn't really have many of them. Being the best friend of the Boy Who Lived had its ups and downs. One of those was, well, it was hard to trust other girls as they very often were using her as a way to get to Harry. And it didn't really help that Hermione was a bit of a fuss budget and in general found it hard to make friends, period. She didn't have much time or inclination for frivolity, which most of her peers seemed to enjoy. They thought she was a prude or a killjoy.

Roxy had a lot of the qualities that those other girls had. She was often very silly and fun loving above all else. She was reckless and loved drama. But deep down, Roxy could be very serious and driven. She hid it well, covering it with a hundred ridiculous ruses but it was there. There was a saying Hermione once heard, which sounded very cheesy and it had made her eyes roll just reading it... the idea that someone could be silk covering steel. She still thought it was a very cheap romance novel way of saying something, but it fit Roxy perfectly. Roxy Lalonde was a woman who looked and sometimes acted like a pretty bauble - eye catching nothingness - but deep down in her very core, she was made of steel. And she was Hermione's first real friend she'd made outside of Harry and Ron. The first really good female friend she'd ever had.

In her very secret of heart of hearts, she was more than just a friend to Hermione. Being an only child is a very lonely way to grow up. She'd look at her cousins, who all had siblings of their own or more recently Ron and his very large family. They had all said that she was lucky. Hermione never felt she was lucky at all. Just because she was the only child, didn't mean that she got any more attention than children with siblings did.

Oh, you got your own room. And all your toys were yours and you needn't worry about siblings breaking or misplacing them. And if you made good grades or did all your chores, the accolades were yours and yours alone. But there was no one else to play with. You could try to engage your parents but most of the time they could hardly be bothered - adult things took up their time and were far more important than you and whatever game you wanted to play.

Hermione distinctly remembered having tea parties with a dozen imaginary friends (which was far less fun than the movies lead her to believe) or playing board games with her stuffed animals, cheating and being angry at herself because what was the point... you can't really argue with yourself properly, could you. And if you were too noisy or if you broke something important, something grownups cared about, there'd be no one else to share the blame. There was no one to share anything with at all. And very, very quickly, childhood games lost their luster.

In the end, turning to books was the natural choice for an only child. Reading books was quiet. Reading books didn't disturb your parents when they were watching the nightly news or had their friends or colleagues over. Reading books meant you were ahead in your studies and that you could skip an entire grade. Reading books made your parents proud... made them pay attention to you and only you for just a moment. Yes, Hermione supposed there were some good things about being an only child - but if she were honest, it had been lonely. Very, very lonely.

So deep in her secret heart, Hermione had always wanted a sister or a brother. And if she were to be really honest, she had always wanted an older sibling - an older sister, in point of fact. Someone she could talk to about all the things that made little girls giggle and all the things that made them cry. Someone just older than her to be a little more responsible, more mature, but no so old that they couldn't understand her hopes and dreams. Hermione would not admit it out loud, not under pain of death, but she had begun to see Roxy in that secret little heart as the kind of older sister she had always wished she had.

Pink eyes peaked over parchment, slowly revealing the mischievous smile hidden behind it, as if she knew where Hermione's thoughts had gone. "Wanna know the verdict?" The young witch nodded, Roxy was a tough but fair critic and Hermione deeply respected her opinion. "It's poifect! All your 'T's dotted and your 'I's crossed," she exclaimed, rolling the parchment and handing it back to Hermione. "Not that I expected anything less."

Carefully rolling it back out, the young witch examined her own work critically. "Are you sure? I feel like the solution for the second equation is far too simple and I'm not sure I explained it right - I couldn't get the wording to work the way I wanted."

Roxy hummed, her tongue sticking out briefly as she thought. "I get what you're tryin' to say. But, like, the simplest equations are sometimes the most elegant, when you get down to it... and your wording don't gotta be flawless. You just gotta get across the meaning. So long as you got that right, who gives a fuck? Amiright?"

"I suppose," admitted Hermione reluctantly, restlessly twisting a small lock of hair between her fingers. "I just feel like I ought to do more. Like I'm missing something..."

"Y-e-e-e-ah, but if you keep pickin' at it, you're just gonna make a mess. Now, don't get me wrong, messes can be fun," Roxy mused, gesturing expressively with her hands. "But there's a time and a place for fucking around. And we can both agree, this parch ain't the time or place for it. It's like a good friend once told me - sometimes you just gotta put the fucking chalk down or it's just gonna smudge like a motherfucker."

"I've heard that before, but isn't it about a paint brush?"

"Mmmhmm. 'Cept my friend was more partial to chalk. It's easier to lick."

It was just like her friend to find the right kind of conversation to take her mind off things. Resting her chin in her hand, she remarked, "Are you implying that this friend of yours licks chalk?"

"Ain't no implying. She straight up licks chalk. Well, red chalk specifically. Sorta has a thing for that color. Probably go apeshit over these robes we're wearing," she said, indicating the bright scarlet details on their school robes.

Hermione laughed lightly. "So I suppose your friend would unquestioningly belong in Gryffindor?"

"Fuck yeah, she would. It'd be obnoxious for everyone involved. Ask Dave once about Terezi and the color red. It's a fucking hilarious story."

Dave and Roxy had mentioned many of their friends, not to mention their relations. She'd heard a lot about John and Jade from Dave. John was his best friend "in the whole fucking world" who loved ridiculously bad movies and Jade was also his best friend but also a partner in crime, as they often worked together. She liked dogs and orchids and was extremely silly by all accounts. Roxy talked glowingly of her bffsie, Jane, almost all the time. She also mentioned Jake more than once - a boy they'd all had a crush on at some point, even though he was kind of a dork. Not to mention all the stories relating to Rose and Dirk. There were so many stories about the six of them, Hermione almost felt as if she'd met them already, despite only ever seeing pictures of them.

It was in her nature to pull at strings, and this string was loose and lying there so temptingly. "You've never mentioned a Terezi before, have you?"

Roxy paused for a second and hummed. "No, I haven't. Weird. Yeah, she's one of our other friends. Real piece of work."

"So, what IS it with her and the color red?" Hermione queried, attempting to act as if she wasn't on the hunt for more information.

"Weeeell, Dave could tell the story better," Roxy hedged, subtly aware of how her friend was attempting to manipulate her and willingly going along with it, capricious as ever. Relenting, she explained, "It's just, 'Rezi's favorite color is red. Like she really fucking loves the color and that's really all there is to it. She normally writes in this shade of teal but there was just this one time she switched to red and Dave said she nearly had a stroke. It's kinda difficult to explain. Like I said, it's Dave's story and he's way better at the buildup." She gave her an apologetic shrug.

Hermione had then let the conversation slip to other topics, but inside all she could whisper to herself was 'teal, she wrote in teal'. The moment Roxy had left her at the entrance to Gryffindor tower she had sped up to her room. Pulling the curtains around her four-poster, she frantically tore apart the contents of her school bag until she found the long forgotten note written on a poster Dave had left her seemingly ages ago. Smoothing it out, she carefully touched the words written in teal ink. 'S33 YOU SOON.' It was silly but it felt a like some kind of portent or omen. Replacing the 'E's with threes had seemed, at the time, rather nonsensical but ultimately harmless. But now she wondered if there might be something there, a message.

In her limited spare time, she spent a total of three hours between classes and homework using every conceivable Arithmantic equation to figure it out. She even went so far as to use ordinary algebra to see if she could find some meaning beyond the surface of the message. But there was nothing. No matter how she combined the numbers, it all added up to nonsense - not even the now normal obfuscation she was used to in relation to her new friends. She could only conclude that perhaps she was just reading too deeply for something that clearly wasn't there. In the end, it was just an addendum to a note that had more to do with Dave seeing her soon after giving her the note, rather than something more prophetic.

Still, S33 YOU SOON... there was a part of her that just couldn't help but think there was something more going on here. They kept talking about a project they were working on. There were vague mentions of them not even being from the same universe. Hermione at first had thought it had been some kind of terrible joke, because she had never entirely understood the American sense of humor. There was also the off chance that they had been making reference to some piece of American muggle media that she hadn't seen. They did it quite often but it occurred to her as she thought that night, that whenever they did make a reference they'd usually explain it.

She had taken a lot on faith; perhaps too much. But it just didn't seem as if they were up to anything untoward. Her mind immediately went to Harry, who attracted trouble like a moth to candlelight. But neither of them ever expressed any interest in him at all. At one point Dave had even called him Jerry Pooter, and she wasn't entirely sure if he was joking or not. She got the distinct impression that he didn't even know who Harry was (beyond a few well known facts) or why everyone else seemed so fixated on him. Roxy, at least, knew who he was, but she didn't seem any more interested in him than Dave.

And then there was the slip Roxy had made when they first met - she had said literary hero. She'd taken it back a second later, indicating that it was on account of how much Dave had talked about her. But it had seemed to Hermione then and now, that it was a cover - she had only said that to explain the slip up. There were a thousand little details like this, that were off by just a little bit... but for the life of her, Hermione could not get any one of these details to form a coherent picture.

The one thing she did know for sure was that they were very powerful and they most certainly were not wizards. The feel of their power was different from any wizard or witch she'd met. There was something decidedly dangerous about the feel of it, a wildness in it that was frightening. Something deep within her, something primal, was terrified of it - the way the air pressure dropped when they entered a room, the deadly purpose behind that feeling. Dave made jokes about being a demigod - it was clear he didn't take it seriously when he called himself that. But Hermione was sure it wasn't all that far off the mark.

Her professors were powerful and the few times they'd show an inkling of what they could really do, it had left her breathless. But it wasn't just the breathlessness of someone unleashing that much power that she felt the one time Dave had time traveled with her in tow. It was the fact that she knew with grim certainty that he wasn't even using half of his real strength. And if she was really being honest, he wasn't even using a quarter of it. His single demonstration seemed like he wasn't doing anything more complicated than turning on a tap. Roxy was the same way, though she wasn't as overt or flashy as Dave. There was no incantation, no gesture, no potion, no wand, nothing. She willed people not to see her and they didn't, like she'd flicked off some universal switch.

It was maddening. Perhaps some of her aggravation showed, because the next day when Roxy met her for her first class, she noticed the change in demeanor immediately. She badgered Hermione relentlessly, until just after lunch when the young witch finally exploded - letting out every last doubt and all the strange contradictions she'd been brushing off for weeks. The look on the older girl's face was nothing short of grave.

"Listen, I understand why you're upset but there's stuff we can't tell you," she said, speaking slowly. She looked at Hermione then, really looked at her, as if she was making some kind of decision. "I suppose I owe you at least some kind of explanation."

Without a warning, she touched the young witch's shoulder. Her vision went black and suddenly they were in the deserted corridor where she'd first met Dave. Hermione stumbled, feeling suddenly very sick. The world was spinning uncomfortably. Taking a deep breath, she braced herself against a balustrade. Cool highland wind buffeted her face; it made her feel slightly less like vomiting.

"Sorry 'bout that. S'why I don't use my powers to transport folks directly - tends to make people wanna yartz." Hermione didn't say anything, though she did give her a very baleful look. "Thought privacy was more important though," said Roxy with a jerky little shrug.

Her gaze was firmly focused on the landscape, harsh January wind whipping her hair fiercely. This was Roxy at her most serious, the steel she so effectively hid. Hermione hadn't realized that she could look like that - like a hardened veteran of some long forgotten war. She had no clue how close to the mark she had come.

"There's plenty of stuff we haven't told you, that's true. Ain't cus we're trying ta hoodwink ya or that we're balls deep into some nefarious hijinks. It's cus some of the shit we're here to do is dangerous as fuck, and I don't wanna involve you in that. Cus if it ain't obvious before, lemme be real clear. The shit we get up to is beyond you," and as she said this, she looked Hermione dead in the eyes - her own vibrant pink eyes shining fiercely. "And not just cus you're a kid. Wouldn't matter if you was full grown and at your most powerful. Y'all aren't made for the shit we deal with. And that's a god damned good thing. I care 'bout you enough to not want to entangle you in our bullshit."

She gazed back out at the highlands pensively. The fierceness was gone, replaced by bone deep sadness. Her eyes were watery and far away, her lips pinched and thin. Hermione felt terrible. What had happened to Roxy to make her face look like that? Did Hermione even really want to know? Silence stretched between them for a very long time.

"When you got the time turner, they told you how hazardous time travel can be, right?" It was the first thing she'd said in twenty minutes. Her gaze didn't leave the distant horizon.

"Y-yes," Hermione replied hesitantly.

"What they tell you about it?"

"That it was dangerous... that you couldn't be seen, by anyone, but especially by any future or past versions of yourself. They said that some wizards had gone mad when they did - even going so far as killing their own double and creating a paradox."

"And you only got five hours on that thing. Imagine what it's like to have the entire timeline at your disposal," Dave intoned, appearing at her other elbow all whirling clockwork gears. "To become a God Tier in some respect you gotta not just master your Aspect but accept it. When Time is your Aspect, that means you gotta accept the fact that you'll die a thousand deaths to keep your timeline intact and whole. You'll go back again and again, spinning those gears until you work it out; till you find where you fucked up."

Hermione glanced at him. He was leaning back against the balustrade, looking artfully unbothered in that languorous way that seemed to define him. His glasses were perched on his head, which was the only indicator anything might be off. She supposed it was the things he said, the unspoken admission that she was too afraid to confirm. In the end, she didn't have to.

"Don't know if I died a thousand times. Lost count a long time ago," he stated bluntly. His strange eyes which were normally so bright and expressive were flat like the slowly dying embers of a fire. He sighed, it was a frustrated sound. "So here we are. Shit's awkward as fuck." Looking over at Hermione, it was obvious she was seconds away from tears. He gave an expert oh-god-360 eyeroll, flicking her forehead with a finger. "You think too much. Or like, over think it. Fuck. Just, get a lid on your shit. Everything's cool. You were just protecting your timeline and responsible timeline management is why we're time buddies, okay."

He held out a fist and she slowly bumped her fist against his, her eyes glassy. Then she burst into tears rather noisily. Dave slipped his glasses back on, looking positively alarmed. Roxy, however, went to immediately hug her. In seconds they both were crying and apologizing, and eventually Dave got dragged into a ridiculously uncomfortable group hug situation. The awkwardness was a thing that was never gonna stop happening.

Tears were dried. The young man who was suffering from the current lack of personal space was summarily released from his short sentence in friend jail. And plans were made for that very Sunday. Dave said they had something big, which was why he stopped by on a "non-regulation" day.

"It's sorta a good news/bad news deal," said Roxy, wiping neatly at her hopelessly smudged eyeliner. "Me n' Dave have been figuring out the logistics of it forever. Lotsa movin' parts. Soooo... d'ya wanna hear the good news or the bad news first?"

"I suppose the good news," Hermione sniffed, dabbing at her red, puffy eyes.

"We've been cooking up a real small shindig for you. Ain't nothing big. Just me, you, Dave, and a couple of special guests."

"It's gunna be a real hootenanny," drawled Dave with a terrible attempt at a Southern accent. "Gonna get old timey as hell up in this piece. We got that good backwoods hooch all stuffed away in a big fucking barrel. Barrel so god damned big you'd see it from the moon. S'why it's called moonshine. Gonna get crunk as hell and get chased by some cops through byzantine Louisiana backroads, get lost and then high five a Minotaur. Best god damned getaway Boss Hog done never seen."

Roxy looked at him, her face halfway between amusement and befuddlement. "Who the fuck is Boss Hog?" Dave looked up from his phone and shrugged unhelpfully. She rolled her eyes and smiled broadly. "Aaaanyway... so that's the good news. Bad news is - it's gonna be a going away party."

Hermione's heart stopped. She could feel her hands trembling. "What... why?" she whispered breathlessly. This couldn't be happening.

Alarmed, Roxy held up her hands and waved them in a shushing motion. "No, no,no! It's not cus of anything that happened today. Please, don't get the wrong idea!"

"Then what idea would you like me to have?!" Hermione demanded tearfully.

"Well, it's j-just... you k-know we c-can't s-stuh-stay," began Roxy, her voice very wobbly.

They stood there silently for a moment or two; Roxy still stumbling over her words, tears smudging her makeup worse than ever. Hermione felt numb as her own tears coursed down her cheeks in hot waves. Both of them were trembling with emotion uncontrollably. Dave watched this all blandly; annoyed that he'd have to step up and save this situation from becoming a complete clusterfuck, again.

"Jesus fucking- can you two put a fucking cap on the waterworks for, like, two seconds?! Y'all are acting like someone fucking died. We're just going away cus we have to, not cus we want to. We got obligations. So do you. Fuck me," he bellowed, sounding a bit more rancorous than he had intended. "And s'not like we're going away forever. We'll see each other again."

"When," Hermione sniffled hoarsely, her voice congested.

"In approximately four years, give or take," supplied Dave with a regretful smile.

"That's ages!"

"Well, not in the grand scheme of things," he commented, grimacing a bit at the harshness of the statement. She glared at him mutinously. He frowned at her, his expression softening until it became obvious he had come to a hard, but necessary decision. "Real talk. Things are gonna heat up for you and your little boyfriend in the next few years-"

Hermione interrupted him immediately, shouting, "HE'S NOT MY-"

"Yeah, cool. Whatever. Don't care," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "Fact is, your life for the next four years is gonna become an inescapable maelstrom of flaming dicks. All perky and impudent, smacking you in your face like those little bug-eyed demons in a Bosch painting. Just relentless dick demons all up in your shit, flagellating like a bunch of highly flammable assholes. That's gonna be your life. And your head needs to be 100% in the game for that. Distracting you has been fun, but realistically, it can't go on. You gotta keep that big noggin of yours focused on the very serious shit going on right here." As he said it, he gestured to the ground forcefully. "Eyes on the prize and all that."

Taking his words in, the young witch went quiet for several seconds. In a hushed whisper, she looked up at him, her eyes were very big. "What's... what's going to happen? You know, don't you? You can s-see..."

Dave's head fell back as he groaned loudly in frustration. He had been expecting that question. People always asked that question. "You know I can't tell you that."

"Why ever not?! You're my friend! Harry's my friend! It's only fair-"

Dave interrupted her angrily, "Because people can't know what's gonna happen or what they're gonna do before they do it! That's how timelines get doomed. Your timeline right now is straight as a fucking arrow, no deviations. And it's gonna stay that way! I ain't gonna be responsible for gettin' you and everyone you love killed or worse! Cuz there are things that are far worse than death, Hermione. You remember I died, like, a million times, right. Did'ya think I did that shit for fun?! Did'ya think I took some kind of sick pleasure from watchin' my friends die horribly over and over and over again all the while trying to fix what got fucked up?! Do'ya wanna make me watch you die over and over? Is that what you want? I'll fucking do it, but don't think I'm playin' when I say that I don't want to." He stopped when he saw her face pale. She finally got it, though he was still fuming that it had to be explained. He had thought she was smarter than that. With a shaky exhalation, he muttered, "and that's all there is to say about it."

Her tears began in earnest again, face crumpling as she tried to stutter out an apology. 'Why did I have to ruin everything?' she thought morosely. Still agitated, Dave ran his hands through his hair. Blowing out air like some god damn cartoon storm cloud, he whispered a single, "fuck," and pulled her into a very stiff embrace. She resisted at first, but eventually melted into it, sobbing loudly as she clutched the back of his coat like a lifeline. He looked over at Roxy, who was just as hysterical. Her hands covered her mouth, stifling her sobs, but her apocalyptically smeared makeup told the truth of the matter. He beckoned her forward, relenting to doing more time in friend jail.

They eventually broke away; all of them feeling wrung out and tired in their own separate ways. Hermione in particular felt as if something in her had simultaneously been ripped out and healed again. Because the thought of losing these new friends was horrible, but to realize that they really did have her back, just as they'd always been telling her, was a dear comfort. Before leaving, Roxy quickly fixed her makeup as best she could, despite Dave's endless complaining about it. She also summoned a pair of Gryffindor robes from between her hands and badgered him into wearing them. When they were ready, they walked her back to Gryffindor Tower as usual.

It was Roxy who hugged her first, pressing a kiss to her cheek that left a dark magenta smudge on it. "Gonna miss you heaps, kid."

"Me too," Hermione affirmed, unable to keep sorrow from her voice. She turned to Dave and gave him a very watery smile, holding out her first slowly. Pressing her lips together, she gazed up at him expectantly.

His smiles previous to this had always been very small, almost imperceptible. But this time, he broke out a huge shit eating grin. She was delighted to find out that he had dimples. He laughed; it was a deep, hearty sound. "Fuck, dawg. That's my time buddy, all grown and handing out fist bunps like they're candy," he said, nearly glowing with happiness as he returned her fist bump. He then gave her a rough one armed hug and then ruffled her hair fondly. She waved him off half-heartedly, her smile less watery and more genuine in its joy.

They stepped away like parents on the first day of kindergarten, giving over their child into the care of strangers.

"See ya Sunday?" Roxy asked, as if they hadn't just made the plans minutes ago.

"Sunday," Hermione confirmed, nodding her head before turning and running up the stairs.

She stopped at the portrait of the Fat Lady, turning briefly to give them both a little wave before giving the password and disappearing behind the door as it slowly swung open and then closed again. There was a pregnant pause as they watched the spot where she'd just been. Roxy's lip trembled a little. Dave gave her arm a reassuring pat.

Neither of them had seen the dark haired young man with bottle green eyes who'd just witnessed everything they thought was secret. He hadn't been able to hear much of what little they'd said, only that they were doing something on Sunday. This young man didn't claim to know everyone in Gryffindor, especially older students. But he didn't recognize these two people, even though they wore Gryffindor's colors. He reckoned he would have remembered them, considering the pale blond color of their hair. It'd be hard to miss. Stepping out of the shadows, he eyed them warily. Who were they? Why were they with Hermione? He didn't like it, something wasn't right.

Harry Potter inhaled to say something, what it might have been no one would know, because as soon as he did the young woman had spotted him - bright pink eyes widening in shock. She tugged gently on her companion's robes and pointed at where Harry stood. The young man looked at him but did not react with the same amount of surprise as his fellow. His eyebrows rose above the aviators he wore, lips turning down into a small frown. Wordlessly, he shrugged and turned back to the girl, jerking his head in the direction of a corridor to their immediate left, away from Harry. She nodded back, entwining her arm in his as they lazily strolled away. Before he lost sight of her, the woman blew him a kiss and then winked at him.

He was stunned by the clear dismissal, standing motionless for a beat before barreling forward towards their retreating footsteps. But when he got to the corridor where they by all rights should be, they were gone. It was empty. Eyes wide and breathing heavily, he stood there for several minutes trying to comprehend what was not there.

Sunday. They were meeting her Sunday. He promised himself that he would find out what was going on and what Hermione may have unwittingly gotten herself into.

Author's Notes

I struggled with the Boss Hogg joke in this one. Mostly because I'm not sure how many kids Dave's actual age know about Dukes of Hazard, which was popular in the early 80s and not so much now. I justified it by having a personal headcanon that Dirk's Bro was ironically into the show, thus giving Dave secondhand knowledge of certain facts without really knowing all that much at all about it. (to be fair, his joke is about all I know.) It also stems from a real life event when I realized my brother didn't know who Bob Denver, aka Gilligan from Gilligan's Island, was. He kept making jokes about him and once I made one back referencing Gilligan's Island. His face went blank before telling me in perfect monotone that he had no idea who Bob Denver was, he just knew he was an actor and that the name was funny. So, it's just obscure jokes all around. Sorry/not sorry.