I'd like to thank Balthazar23, Antar23, werewolfXZ, damadape, TheNarratingMan, WraithNX01, Vahktang, flixus, Lynix, TripsToTheRescue, fredfred, InquisitorCOC for betareading.

Chapter 15: The Hill

Quartier Magique, Paris, France, July 10th, 1996

Sirius Black studied the house across the street from his perch high up on a broom with the help of his cutting-edge Omnioculars. Cutting edge - he loved the muggle expression. Almost as much as he loved using such expressions to tweak his bigoted 'colleagues' in the Wizengamot. Too bad he couldn't tell them that he was about to break into a French house - while his use of muggle slang annoyed them, a number of them would be horrified if they knew this.

He was disillusioned and too high to be in the range of any Human-presence-revealing Spell cast on the ground or on the roof, but that didn't mean he was completely safe. The French Gendarmes Magiques might not be up to the standards of the British Aurors - at least not when it came to investigations - but they certainly weren't pushovers or layabouts. That was why they had waited for the evening patrol to pass before taking to the sky and taking a closer look at the house Padfoot had discovered.

It did look rather bland from afar. Not any taller than its neighbours, nor built in a different style. Almost perfectly average except for the decorative turret at the corner. It barely topped the roof, but it made the house stand out just enough not to look suspiciously normal.

At least that was what Peter had called it. Sirius wasn't an Auror or a spy, so he would have to defer to his friend's expertise in this area. Just as Peter had had to defer to Sirius's talents - his friend hadn't been happy to find out that Cobblespun wasn't actually staying in La Folie de Morgane, the best wizarding hotel in Paris, but in this rather plain building, but Padfoot's nose didn't make mistakes.

Sirius, on the other hand, did make mistakes. Many. But not when it counted. Not so far. But he was distracting himself. He focused on the house below again. The turret with its big windows was an obvious weak spot. Windows were generally easier to break through than walls. Generally - some reinforced their windows and doors so much, the walls were the weakest part of the building. But this house didn't look like this would be the case - the protections on it weren't new, but not really old. His dear unlamented mother would've sneered at the mere thought of calling them old.

"So, what's the verdict?" he heard Peter whisper in his ear thanks to the charm on Sirius's collar.

"Standard protections," Sirius replied. He wasn't a Curse-Breaker, but, during the war, he had dealt with enough wards to be able to tell that. And he had paid attention when he had hired a Curse-Breaker to strengthen his home's defences. "Shouldn't take you long to get through them." Sirius could break them, of course - but not without alerting anyone inside.

"I wanted to avoid doing that," Peter complained. "But the house is warded against rats."

Sirius smiled - not that Peter would be able to see it. That meant he would join his friend going in. "I'm coming down," he said.

"Check the windows on the way down," Peter told him. "Just in case."

Sirius rolled his eyes but looked at the windows as he guided his broom down to the ground. Nothing, not even with his Omnicoulars' spells. "Don't see anyone, asleep or not," he whispered when he stepped up to Peter, who was hiding behind a corner.

"That was to be expected," his friend replied. "Someone willing to pay for a room in La Folie de Morgane just to lead pursuers astray wouldn't make a beginner's mistake and present himself at the window of his bedroom."

Sirius shrugged. "It doesn't change anything. Once we're inside, I'll sniff him out."

"Yes." Peter sighed. "I'll start on the wards, then."

"Just finish before the sun goes up," Sirius told him. He'd rather not deal with witnesses if things went sideways and they had to blast their way out of the house.

"No promises," Peter said. "I can't rush this - I'm no Curse-Breaker."

Sirius snorted. Peter always said that - but he always came through. His friend was too modest for his own good. No wonder he hadn't found a good witch yet. And not because he was living the life of a muggle spy with a girl every other mission - Sirius had checked.

Perhaps after they'd recovered Harry and Miss Granger, Sirius could do something about that. His friend deserved better than to live alone, after all. At the very least, he could drag Peter with him when he went on a pub crawl in muggle London.

"I'm through," Peter announced.

Sirius smiled. No Curse-breaker' indeed! "So, let's go and get Mr Cobblespun!"

"Careful," Peter replied. "He won't be helpless, Guards, traps, beasts - he'll have something up his sleeve."

"I know!" Sirius grinned. He wasn't new to this. Perhaps a little rusty compared to his friend, but he did keep in shape with duelling. He had to so he could keep up with James in their sparring matches. And so that he could teach Harry.

Peter, though, sighed.

Sirius shook his head. "Oh, ye of such little faith!"

"Call it experience," Peter shot back. "Let's go. Floor by floor, stick close."

"Yes, sir!" Sirius saluted, just like he'd seen it on the telly.

Peter sighed again. "Wrong country."

"Huh?"

"Never mind. Let's go."

They disillusioned themselves and dashed across the street, then alongside the building, to the back. The door there opened into a back alley without any lights other than the stars and the moon - and it was so narrow, the shadows cast by the neighbouring buildings hid almost everything in darkness.

Sirius could still see the marker floating above Peter approach the door, though, to pick the lock while Sirius played lookout. Or bodyguard. Bodyguard sounded better. More spy-like. He looked round but didn't spot anyone. Nor did Padfoot smell anyone, as a brief transformation told Sirius.

"Alright," Peter whispered. "It's open."

They entered the house. Peter went first - his marker went low. He was crouching to look at the floor. "No traps. Let's search the floor."

Sirius scoffed. A moment later, Padfoot knew that Cobblespun was upstairs. He barked, not loudly, then started up the stairs.

"Padfoot! Oh, for the love of…" Silly Wormtail followed him. "If you get cursed, I'll never let you forget it."

Well, Padfoot wouldn't forget it, either, if he were cursed.

The first floor was, well, not empty, but no Cobblespun. Padfoot went up the next stairs.

"Stop! Padfoot!"

He stopped, paw frozen in the air. Wormtail wasn't kidding if he used that voice.

"There's a trap."

A trap? Who would be as mad as to lay down a trap in a home? Unless it was for a prank. Or it wasn't your home.

Wormtail moved past him and started casting something. "I've dispelt it."

Good. Padfoot moved ahead again, nose on the floor. The smell was stronger here. And it didn't lead upstairs again - but forward! He trotted over the soft carpet, then had to stop - his nose itched, It was dusty, and he… he…

He sneezed. And sneezed again. And once more. And… he heard a curse from the room ahead. And the room behind it.

Oops.

"Padfoot!" Wormtail hissed.

But Sirius had already changed back, wand pointed ahead as he shifted in a classic duelling stance, presenting the narrowest target to the enemy. Then he cast a Shield Charm.

The closer door was pulled open, and he stepped to the side. A moment later, a wand appeared in the gap, and a brownish spell flew down the middle of the corridor.

Sirius sent a Reductor Curse at the door, blowing it into splinters and dust, then dropped into a crouch and flicked his wand, casting a Frog-Tongue Charm.

A tongue erupted from the tip of his wand and shot through the dust cloud into the room. Sirius felt it wrap itself around the other wizard and pulled.

And ended up with a chair in the corridor. Another curse, this one yellow, hit the chair and turned it into a puddle on the floor. Which started to eat through the floor.

That didn't look like a spell Cobblespun would know how to cast. "Get the other door," Sirius hissed, then moved to the edge of the blown door frame.

Peter's marker dipped low, almost touching the ground - he must have changed - and then shot down the corridor. Good.

Sirius took a deep breath and pulled out a 'Snape Special' from his robes' pocket. He threw it around the corner, into the room, then withdrew and cast a Mending Charm on the remains of the door still hanging from its hinges before any of the green mist the vial released could escape.

He heard some coughing, then heavy breathing - the wizard must have cast a Bubble-Head Charm - followed by the sound of someone falling over.

He grinned. As if they would come up with something easily countered by a single spell. Too bad they never got to use it against Snape.

"Got him," he said.

"Got him as well," Peter replied as his marker floated back into the corridor, trailing a bound and unconscious man after him. "Check him."

Padfoot sniffed the man, then barked before changing back. "Smells the same, and the clothes are his." But they couldn't rule out Polyjuice Potion.

But they could outwait it.

"Let's go," Peter said. "Hideout."

Sirius heard someone moving below them, but they were already at the window, and outside, disapparating, before anyone reached their floor.

Unknown Location, July 11th, 1996

The sun was barely up when Harry Potter approached Granger's bed. The girl was sleeping silently, now. No more speaking in her sleep. Or groaning. She was lying on her side, half her 'blanket' kicked off and entangled with her legs. Well, it was warm enough, even at night, so they didn't need a blanket.

He cleared his throat, then hesitated. Granger looked quite peaceful, like that. Bushy hair splayed around her head like a mane, lips slightly parted, one hand stuck under her makeshift pillow - she was sleeping with her wand under her pillow, he realised. Moody would like her. Of course, that was useless right now - if he wanted to, he could prank her to his heart's content.

He didn't want to, though. That would be stupid - they needed each other to survive on this island. The fight with the wyvern had proved that.

Also, if he pranked her, she'd be angry and hurt. And that was… He scoffed at the thought, then looked at her.

Asleep, she looked nothing like the girl he knew from Hogwarts. She looked peaceful and relaxed, not annoyed and angry - usually at him. Hell, no one who didn't know her and saw her like this would believe that she could be such a… shrew. That was Shakespeare, right? Like 'Hermione', as she had informed him in her lecturing manner in first year, when she had lost her temper just because he had said her name was old-fashioned. Well, he had added 'old-fashioned enough for a Slytherin', but still. She had completely overreacted to a harmless joke.

He blinked. He should wake her up instead of woolgathering. They had a long day ahead of them. He cleared his throat again, but she shifted in her sleep, kicking the blanket completely off with her… long, bare legs. He'd seen them before, but today, they looked, well… different.

He wet his lips. Granger looked very different. And with her lying on her back now, one arm under her pillow, the other draped over her bare belly, her chest slowly rising and falling, he could easily see that…

Blushing, he looked away, then clenched his teeth together. It wasn't his fault that Granger had decided to sleep almost in the nude. It wasn't that hot or humid, anyway. Not that she'd see it the same way, of course. She'd probably accuse him of trying to prank her, or peep on her, or something.

Damn it, he wouldn't deal with this. He walked back to the edge of the divider, cleared his throat for the third time and yelled: "Granger! Wake up!"

He heard her gasp, then saw her roll on her bed, waving her wand around, and ducked behind the divider. Not that she had a chance in hell of hitting him, anyway. "Are you awake now?" he yelled.

"That's a stupid question. Why did you yell like that?" she yelled back.

"To wake you up, duh!" he told her, rounding the corner again to look at her.

"And you couldn't have chosen a less disturbing method?" she shot back as she sat up in her bed. "You've managed before."

Damn. "I didn't feel like getting closer and letting you hex me in your sleep," he lied.

"I don't hex people in my sleep! Who do you think I am?"

"What about Parkinson?" he asked. That had been quite a memorable incident in third year. Pomfrey had spent an hour fixing the Slytherin. And Granger had been banned from the library for a week.

"She startled me; I wasn't asleep - I was expecting you."

He blinked. "Well, if it had been me, you wouldn't have hit me."

"Really?" She sniffed. "That's why you didn't want to walk up to my bed and wake me up like a normal person?"

"Anyone can get lucky," he replied.

She shook her head, then spent a few spells dealing with her hair. "Well, I'm awake now."

"See? It worked!" He grinned at her. "And I didn't have to cast a Water-Making Charm!"

She rolled her eyes. "That was a subtle clue that I would like some privacy so I can dress. I'll make a note to be more blunt in the future."

"More blunt?" He shook his head. Granger was already more blunt than any other girl he knew.

"I've always wanted to try out the Bludgeoning Curse." She flashed her teeth at him in a feral smile, then held out her wand, and her bra flew into her hand, followed by her shorts. And she kept looking at him as if she dared Harry to stay and watch.

Harry turned and stepped outside. She was such… whatever!

Hermione Granger was still annoyed when she finished casting cleaning charms on herself and her clothes and dressed. Her hormone-driven subconscious was still influencing her dreams! Although she had to admit that those dreams were preferable than nightmares about being literally eaten by a wyvern. Still, she hoped that her hormones would take a hint after seeing Potter this morning, and she'd start dreaming about Hugh Grant or another celebrity. Potter might be attractive, but he was a boy, not a man. How was she supposed to reach for the stars if she didn't even dream big?

She shook her head as she stepped out of their shelter, then casually restored her ponytail. "Good morning."

Potter, fully dressed and not showing off his bare chest, was sitting at the ashes left from their campfire. "Morning. Calmed down?"

She rolled her eyes. As if she hadn't been calm the whole time! She hadn't hexed him for yelling at her, had she? "Have you gotten it out of your system so we can tackle our next step without the distraction of pointless, puerile antics?"

He frowned at her. "You're complaining about distractions?"

"Yes." She tilted her head. "I certainly didn't distract you while I was asleep, did I?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, which was a rather curious reaction. Then he smirked. "Well, sometimes you make the cutest noises in your sleep." Then he blinked.

"The cutest noises?" She glared at him, even though she felt herself blushing. Had she talked in her sleep? While she had been dreaming? Oh, no! She felt her heart skip a beat. If Potter had heard her moaning his name, he would never let her forget it.

"I was being polite," he said. "You snore, actually."

Relief was quickly replaced by annoyance. "I already told you, I don't snore," she corrected him.

"Maybe you forgot to cast an anti-snoring charm."

"There is such a charm?" she blurted out before she could help herself. Then she frowned - she should have investigated that, instead of considering the matter settled after their testing revealed Lily Moon's cat as the culprit.

"Of course," Potter replied as if that should've been obvious. "It has saved more lives than any Healing Charm, or so Uncle Sirius likes to claim." He grinned at his own joke, then added: "Because people have an alternative to killing their snoring partner, you know?"

"I am perfectly able to understand the joke," she told him in a flat tone. "It's just not particularly funny, so I didn't feel the need to laugh." She smiled sweetly at him.

"It's considered polite to laugh at jokes." He matched her smile. "Where are your manners, Miss Granger?"

"They were left behind when you tackled me onto a Portkey," she told him.

He laughed in return. And it didn't look as if he was just being polite. Not that he would know how to be polite, anyway, in her opinion. "So… breakfast, then we go mountain climbing?"

"Climbing? We'll fly!" Potter, predictably, objected.

"Technically, we'll be using Levitation Charms," she pointed out. "That's not exactly flying."

"That's what brooms use. It's flying."

"Brooms use a number of spells to achieve flight. The levitation charm is merely one part of a complex pattern of charms." She knew she was being facetious, but anything to take down Potter's unholy love for flying and Quidditch down a peg or two.

"The Levitation Charm is the heart of any broom's enchantment. Without it, the whole thing wouldn't be anything more than a self-propelled plough you can ride. For a very short time, until you crash against the closest obstacle."

She narrowed her eyes at him. That sounded practised. "How often did you argue this?"

He blushed a little. "As often as needed to win the argument."

"It's still not flying," she told him with a scoff. "We learned the Levitation Charm in first year. If it counted as flying, flying without a broom wouldn't be held in such esteem in the lore."

He scoffed in return. "Flying without a broom is only for show. You're slower, less maneuverable, and you can't really do anything else while keeping yourself from falling to your death."

"That sounds like a good description of our first flying lesson."

He laughed again while she snorted. "Don't tell me you were scared, Granger."

"Scared?" She scoffed once more. "But I was quite aware of the risks."

"There were no risks. The pitch has Cushioning Charms cast on it, remember?" He grinned at her.

She returned the grin with more teeth. "That won't help you if Wood banishes you from it because he thinks forty hours a week aren't enough training."

"Oliver wouldn't have done that!" he protested. "Well, not to Gryffindors - he would never accidentally scare away potential recruits."

"And if they made it clear that they won't ever play Quidditch because they think it's a silly game?" She raised her eyebrows at him.

He actually looked shocked. "You told Oliver that?"

"Do I look suicidal?" she shot back.

"Do you want the honest or the polite answer?"

They both laughed at that.

After another coconut breakfast - Merlin's beard, what wouldn't Harry Potter give for a piece of toast! - they were finally ready to head for the hilltop. Though Granger insisted on walking towards the hill, first: "We can explore the area between the shelter and the foot of the hill that way."

"Alright. But we're not going to go back and forth," Harry told her.

For a moment, she looked as if she'd contest that. Then she nodded - though with that pouty frown of hers. Well, Harry was taking his victories where he could.

They set out - carrying another coconut in a sling made from a palm frond for lunch - and started to make their way through the jungle. Fortunately, the underbrush wasn't dense nearby, though the less dense the canopy above them became, the worse the underbrush got. By the time they reached the foot of the hill, they had to cut their way through some of the foliage.

"We wouldn't have had to do that if we had flown," Harry told her when they took a short rest under one of the last trees before the hillside.

"We'd be too exposed. And we would've levitated, not flown," she replied, whipping some sweat from her brow before following up with a Water-Making Spell.

He frowned. Did she have to play 'wet t-shirt competition' every time things got a little hot? "You'll damage the fabric," he told her when she cast a Drying Charm.

"That's why I always cast a Mending Charm at the end," she replied with a sniff. "Didn't your parents teach you how to use those charms?"

"Of course they did!" he replied. "But they also taught me not to cast spells for every little thing."

"Heatstroke isn't a little thing," she shot back.

"The Drying Charm must've countered any cooling effect you got from the Water-Making Charm," he retorted.

She glared at him, then cast a brief Water-Making Spell on herself that left her bushy hair soaked and plastered against her head, as if she had taken a shower but hadn't yet blow-dried it. Like out of some of the movies Harry had watched with Dudley. And she cast another Water-Making Spell to drink. Messily.

She must be doing this just to mess with him. But he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of reacting. "Are you done?" he asked in the most bored tone he could use.

"Yes," she replied with a frown.

"Then let's levitate to the hilltop." He grinned and enlarged the small plank he had carried with him.

"Yes." After a moment, she asked: "Do you want to levitate us?"

"I think it's better if you do it," he replied. That had worked well when they had fled from the wyvern, hadn't it?

She nodded and cast a Levitation Charm on the plank before mounting it.

He climbed on it behind her, wrapping one arm around her belly. And frowned when her wet hair ended up between them, causing his shirt to soak up some water. Great.

Then Granger started flying up the slope.

"Keep us close to the ground," he told her. "Less exposure."

"As we talked about," she replied.

"Never hurts to make sure," he told her.

She didn't have an answer to that, but he felt her growing tense in return. She really didn't like not having the last word. It was almost cute.

No, it wasn't cute. It was annoying.

Harry kept an eye out as they slowly - for a flight - rose, following a creek with a small stream in it. That would hide them from sight, at least somewhat. There were even some small trees growing here - not quite a jungle. No palm trees, though.

And then they reached a small saddle before the top, and Granger put the plank down. Harry didn't have to ask why - he could see the cave ahead. And the claw marks around its entrance. "The wyvern's lair."

"Yes."

"We need to check if there are… young wyvern or something. Or eggs," he said.

She nodded. Very slowly. "I suppose so. I doubt there are any, though. We would've noticed them flying. So, it shouldn't be too dangerous."

She sounded as if she was trying to convince herself. Well, Harry could use some convincing himself, if he was honest. If there were young wyverns inside, and if they had a similar resistance to spells as young dragons had…

But they had to know, or they would risk getting attacked by more monsters when they least expected it. "Let's go and check it out," he said.

As they approached - he was carrying the plank in his free hand - the wind turned a little - and Harry felt a foul stench fill his nostrils. "Ugh."

"That's… Do wyverns use secretions to mark their territory?" Granger asked.

"It's not rotting meat, at least," Harry said. He resisted making a quip about Granger not knowing everything. This wasn't the time. "We can ask Hagrid once we're back at Hogwarts."

"Then we'll have to tell him about the wyvern," she replied.

"Right." Lying about the wyvern would be bad. Not mentioning the whole thing… well, it wasn't quite as bad. Just a little white omission, if that was a word.

They reached the entrance, wands drawn and aimed. The stench was even stronger now. "Bubble-Head Charms," Harry said, already moving his wand.

"Yes."

Hermione Granger cast a Bubble-Head Charm, almost as fast as Potter, though he'd had a head start. Instantly, the stench - and she couldn't call the smell anything else - vanished. Mostly. She was sure her hair and clothes had already caught some of it and had to resist the urge to cast a Cleaning Charm on herself. It would be pointless with them about to enter the cave.

She took a deep breath and tried not to show how nervous she was. They were literally entering the lair of the beast. The lion's den. We've killed the monster, she told herself, which helped.

The chance that there was another monster hiding inside was slim but not zero. If wyvern reproduction had one half of the pair go out and hunt while the other stayed in the lair with the eggs or young… Not the first time she wished she'd read up on wyvern. If she died because of missing critical information…

"Let's go," Potter said.

She nodded and followed him into the cave. She felt bad for letting him go first, but not bad enough to make an issue out of it. It would be stupid and dangerous, anyway, to argue at the entrance of the cave - and she knew Potter would argue. He always did when she tried to keep him from endangering himself.

She shook her head and forced herself to focus on the task at hand. They had to investigate the cave. The lair. She cast a Wand-Lighting Charm after a few steps into the cave, just in case.

"Ugh," Potter muttered and stopped walking.

"What?" she whispered, taking a step to the side so they would have a better field of fire.

"Bones."

She glanced at the ground. There were bones, indeed. She moved her wand over the heap to see them more clearly. "Those are quite large," she commented, pointing at what looked like half of a femur.

"Human-sized," Potter said.

"Yes." And, though it was hard to tell, with most of the bones have been crushed or cracked, they could be human bones. Then again, she wasn't a biologist by any means. Another area she should've studied. "I don't see any skulls or skull fragments."

"They would've survived, right? Skulls are the hardest bones, aren't they?" Potter asked.

"Probably," she replied. She wasn't certain.

"Uh… if the bones are here, did the wyvern, ah, shit here?"

She grimaced. "I don't see any faecal matter." And she wasn't about to end her charm to smell the air to check. "It might just be a place where the wyvern stashed the remains after cracking the bones for the marrow, but then again, given the size difference, I doubt that it could've sucked out the marrow."

"But a smaller wyvern could've done it, couldn't it?"

Damn. "Yes," she whispered, clenching her teeth.

"Let's check the rest of the cave." Potter moved ahead again.

She followed him, keeping an eye on the ceiling and the walls. There were no stalactites, but there were enough nooks and crannies for something small to hide inside or behind.

But they reached the end of the cave without anything attacking them. And without Hermione casting spells at shadows - though she came close, once.

"More bones," Potter said. "A whole damn lot of them." Indeed, the ground was covered with bones - she couldn't see the stone beneath it in this part of the cave. Then she heard him gasp. "There's a skull."

She didn't have to ask if it was a human skull - she could see it at once. "This might be the witch whose arm we found," she said, kneeling down next to the skull.

Then she saw the other skull fragments.

"Or not," Potter commented.

She silently cursed again. "There are enough skulls and fragments for… multiple people. Amongst other bones." Which looked like… there was at least one dolphin's skull. Or perhaps it was a smaller whale. So, the wyvern had eaten mostly sea mammals. And probably fish as well.

"You don't want us to sift through the whole heap and puzzle them together, do you?"

She turned her head to glare at the boy. "Of course not!" Not here, at least. "But we'll take them with us." At least the bones that looked human. Mostly the skulls and skull fragments.

"Yes."

She started casting Shrinking Charms on the selected bones while Potter created another container from a summoned coconut. Neither of them spoke a word until they had left the cave.

Hermione took a deep breath. She hadn't dispelled her Bubble-Head Charm, but just being outside, feeling the sun on her skin, helped a lot.

"We should clean up before we drop the spells," Potter said next to her.

"Yes. But not here." The whole area smelt. Or stank. "Let's go this way." She pointed to the side. "We should get a good view of the east from there."

"Right."

They mounted their plank - Hermione wouldn't call it a broom just as they weren't really flying - and left the cave entrance. After a short distance, they found a small stream.

And a small waterfall.

Yes!

She stopped the plank and dismounted. "This is perfect!"

"Are you going to take a shower?"

She frowned at Potter. Why did he sound as if that was a bad thing?

A shower. In the middle of their... exploration trip. Harry Potter shook his head. "Did you forget how to cast a cleaning charm?"

"Of course not! But as you undoubtedly know - we've talked about this before, didn't we? - taking an actual shower just feels much better than merely casting a charm." She glared at him, then continued in a lower voice. "And I certainly need to feel clean after that cave."

And I don't need to see you taking a shower, Harry thought. His dreams were already weird enough. Not that he'd tell her that - she'd never let him forget it. She'd mock him for it. "Whatever," he said, "I'll keep an eye out while you go and get yourself feeling clean."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "This isn't a mocking matter! And it's not as if we're under a time constraint."

"We don't know that," he shot back.

"Then we shouldn't waste more time pointlessly arguing!" She huffed, sat down on a rock near the stream, and started to pull her shoes off.

Harry clenched his teeth and turned away, looking anywhere but at her. How typical of Granger! Scoffing, he started casting cleaning charms on himself. Unlike Granger, he didn't need to get wet to feel better… He blinked, then groaned. Merlin's Beard, what was his subconsciousness doing to him?

But at least he was clean. And he felt clean. He dispelled his Bubble-Head Charm and sniffed the air. Yes, he also smelt clean. "Oh, yes!"

He turned before he realised what he was doing and froze seeing Granger stepping out from under the small waterfall. She wasn't naked, but that didn't help much. She was staring straight at him, frozen as well, then huffed and continued walking towards her clothes. And he turned away.

Damn.

A few minutes later, he heard her walk towards him and turned around again. "Are you done?" he asked.

"No, I put my clothes on so I could take a second shower," she replied with an eye-roll.

He snorted. "I wouldn't put it past you - perhaps you won't feel as if you were wearing clean clothes until they've been properly washed as well."

"I consider it the same as dry cleaning," she shot back.

"Dry cleaning?" That sounded… weird.

"Cleaning clothes without using water as a solvent." She sounded like a professor.

"So, with magic?" He cocked his head and frowned at her.

Another eye-roll. "It's a muggle term, not a wizarding word. Usually, chemical solutions are used."

"So, it's not really dry, then," He grinned.

She rolled her eyes once more. "I said I consider it the same as dry cleaning, not that it was the same. Although the definition technically fits. But do you really want to waste more time literally arguing semantics here?"

"As long as you don't want to hop into every pond we find on the way, sure."

"Really, Potter," she said, "if I hadn't seen you swimming - and enjoying it - I would suspect you were afraid of water."

"There's a time and place for such things," he retorted. "And it's not in the middle of exploring a deserted island."

"I beg to differ."

"That's obvious." As were a few other things.

She shook her head. "Anyway, let's go on."

"I've been saying that for some time," he told her.

"You actually didn't say that."

"I implied it." He bared his teeth at her.

"Which isn't the same." She matched him.

He scoffed, annoyed at her and himself. "If we keep arguing semantics, we'll never get off this hill, much less the island."

"Then let's go."

"You just have to have the last word, do you?" So typically Granger.

"You wouldn't care about that if you didn't want to have the last word yourself."

He pressed his lips together, forced himself to smile, and gestured towards her.

Seeing her clench her teeth and glare at him lifted his mood.

Until he realised that if they mounted their makeshift broom again, he'd have to wrap his hands around her waist once more.

Damn.

Hermione Granger hated it when Potter got one over on her. But she couldn't reply to his insinuation that she wanted to have the last word without proving him correct. Which was very vexing. Almost as vexing as him silently staring at her when she stepped out from under the waterfall.

"Let's walk," Potter interrupted her thoughts. "We're less likely to miss something, and we'll be able to keep an eye out for threats.

And they would have to climb the hill, well, the last third or so. But complaining about that would make her look weak. So she nodded. "Good idea."

They went a bit more towards the east, to clear the small cliff forming the waterfall, then went straight up. Fortunately, they didn't have to literally climb - the slope here wasn't steep enough for that. But in the heat - it was now close to noon - it was exhausting. "Let's take a break. A short break," she said once they were halfway to the top.

"Alright." Potter nodded as if he didn't need a break himself - he was quite red in the face, and it wasn't sunburn since they had cast charms against that. A Water-Making Spell later, Hermione felt better. Except for her knees, which still felt as if she were ninety years old and had just gone up the Eiffel Tower on foot.

To distract herself, she said: "I wonder where the humans the wyvern killed came from. And if they all were kidnapped." That would be… disturbing. Very disturbing.

"Probably," Potter replied. "What are the odds they were shipwrecked?"

She pressed her lips together for a moment. "Possible, but unlikely. What are the odds that they were dragged here by a hidden Portkey?"

He cursed, which was answer enough. "If someone was feeding the wyvern..."

"...then they'll notice we didn't play along," she finished for him. As they had discussed before. "Let's go on."

They slowly and silently climbed to the top of the hill.

They were on an island, Hermione realised at once. Decently sized, but far from the coast - she couldn't see even a hint of a landmass or another island. Jungle covered most of the island, except for the beaches and the hill. And…

"There's a village!" Potter exclaimed.

She whirled. "Where?"

"There, half-hidden in that cove there, next to the rocky mini-peninsula."

She took a closer look at where he was pointing at. Then she drew a sharp breath. There was a settlement, yes. Buildings. And… "There's a ship," she realised.