A/N: Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers and anyone that has received licensing rights. I am grateful she gives us the privilege of playing in her world.

Edited: Proofed and edited. Some changes to make it read and flow easier. 22 Apr 22

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Chapter 3

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July 9, 1996

Little Sark, Bailiwick of Guernsey

Harry felt awful the next morning. Probably the only person from Hogwarts he would see all summer probably hated him now. After he cooled down, he finally thought about what she said.

He knew it wasn't easy for Hermione and other Muggleborns. There were those in their world that still thought it was the early eighteen-hundreds. Family, blood and honour were the most important thing to them. Muggleborns that showed themselves better than that lot were targeted and ridiculed, usually out of sight of Professors. It was people like him, the Blood Traitors, that usually stuck up for the Muggleborns and other half-bloods or less. Like others he knew, they usually tried to do it out of sight.

He had stuck up for her a few times. Even if she didn't know about it.

Was that why her words had stung so much?

Or was it his sensitivity to his parents and his family?

His mind brooded on these things as he put out fresh straw for the few ewes and lambs that came around him. "Hey there, Mirabelle. Feeling better?" he asked the sheep. She was a lustrous golden color. Of course, some of that was her magic. The other was the gold dust they put in the oat or grain buckets they fed them once a day, which her magic would infuse into her wool.

She bleated at him.

Harry turned to find a set of brown eyes looking at him when he heard something behind him. They were wide.

"How did you get back here? Why are you here?" he asked her harsher than he meant to.

"Are those real golden sheep?" as though trying to ignore his rudeness. She didn't meet his eyes.

Harry looked down at the sheep. The lambs were still silver and would be until their first shear in a year or two. "Yeah. Don't bother them. These are the first lambs in three years," he told her. "Why are you here? I wouldn't think you would want to talk to me? We don't usually allow others in here."

"Your aunt let me in. Said you were back here. How long have you been out here? It's just past seven and you look to have been at this for a while." Hermione looked to want to avoid answering anything related to last night.

He blinked, hoping that they might be able to get along again. His urge to fight was also tempered by the fact Aunt Bel never let people back here she didn't know and trust. These sheep were worth a couple thousand galleons a piece, and the cloaks and clothes they could make from them sold for just as much. It was why he liked charms, transfiguration and runes as much as he did. Aunt Bel was a Master Rune Weaver, and Harry wanted to be one one day, even if it meant he lived out here in the sticks. Places like London or Hogsmeade were a Floo ride away.

"I get up about five. This time of the year the sky starts getting light about then. You still haven't answered why you are here?"

"That's why I see you coming back to the common room so early at school? You get up God awful early," she said. "What do you do when you're up so early?"

"Go for a run. Do the workouts for Quidditch," he told her. "During exam times I usually just do the run and then study. Granger, why are you here?"

"I wanted to apologize," she said quickly. He waited a second before she commented, "I do take things too personally. I am always on guard and most of the Muggleborn all help each other. I'm sorry for thinking you would make fun of me."

He looked at her and gently pushed one of the lambs away when it tried to eat his pants. Harry didn't want to fight with her. "I'm sorry too. You want to come in?"

She looked in the pen and made a face. After a moment, she nodded. "How do I get in?"

"Just climb over the fence."

She was in a nice skirt and blouse. With her hair tied back, Harry found her cute. When she made to climb over, Harry felt impressed she would dare to do that in those clothes. The stall was clean, at least. She came over to him and sat, folding her skirt under her. "You can touch them. Just be careful they don't eat your clothes," he told her. "It can lessen the quality and magic in the wool."

She looked up at him after running a hand over one of the ewes. Their two rams were in the field at the moment. "Harry, are these real golden sheep?"

"Mycenean Antereeps," he answered. "Most call them Aegean Sheep. Very rare. Hard to breed. The wool can be made into yarn or fleece that my auntie makes magically enhanced clothes or clothing from."

She tried not to act shocked. "You mean like the golden fleece? I thought that just a myth."

He shrugged. "It might be. The wool can be used for many things. It is incredibly magical, easily takes and keeps a transfiguration for decades, can be charmed and bound with some ancient magics that can last for hundreds of years. It's how my aunt keeps up the farm and pays for me."

"This is incredible. Is this why you want to stay?" Hermione enquired.

"I would like to learn what my aunt does. I can treat the wool, card it or thread it, even weave, but I can't do the real work with it yet. Next summer I turn seventeen and she can finally start teaching me."

She shook her head. "I had you wrong all these years. You really are as humble as you appear."

"Maybe."

She picked up a lamb when it jumped on her lap. "Be careful of your hair," he told her, laughing as the little lamb went for it.

"Oh! No. I don't think so," she said gently pushing the lamb off. She let out a breath. "Harry, I'm really sorry about last night. You have never treated me badly."

"It's fine, Hermione. I just get sensitive when people say stuff about my mum or Muggleborn." He ran his hand over his neck.

She nodded. "Aunt Millie, your aunt and my mother talked with me last night. You really get that upset with me that I get better grades?"

He gave her an uncertain smirk. "I get upset with myself for not being better."

For a few minutes they looked at each other as the sheep moved around them. He got up and held a handout for her. "You're going to smell like a barn all day if you stay in here much longer."

She took his hand and he helped her up. He expected her hand to be smooth, but herbology, Care of Magical Creatures and other classes must allow her to get a few calluses. It surprised and delighted him. When he went to the fence, he opened the gate. "Why didn't you just open that when I came in?"

"I wanted to see if you would climb over or not," he told her.

"Why?"

He shrugged. "If you're going to be around for a while, figured you should act like you live on the island. You want to see those pamphlets while I take a shower? Then I can show you around? Today is my day off."

"It's your day off and you still take care of the farm?" she queried.

"Someone has to do it. Prim, you do an excellent job," he called over his shoulder, knowing the elf was there.

She stepped out from behind a barrel. "Master Harry takes Prim's jobs when he is around," she said, sounding morose for a house elf.

"Prim, you know these are my chores. There is still lots to do around here," he told her.

Hermione stiffened. "You have a house elf!" she accused in a hard voice.

What had he done this time? He thought they had just called a truce. "Prim and Cork are the last of the Potter elves that my family has had for centuries. I keep trying to break them of this, but it is their nature to serve."

"Prim is pleased to serve the Potters, sir. The Potters always treated us right," she said.

"But they are slaves," Hermione chastised.

"They are our equals," Harry corrected her. "Prim, Aunt Bel wanted me to fix the fence in the south pasture. Would you help me tomorrow?"

Prim brightened. "Oh, yes, sir, Master Harry. Sir, who is your friend?"

"This is Hermione Granger. She'll be around for a few weeks. Can you let Cork know?" Harry requested.

"Yes, sir. Can Prim help Mr. Guille today? He wanted help with his mower," Prim said.

"He knows the price. Don't give him a discount like you did last time. You are worth more than a galleon," he told her.

She smiled at him. "Yes, sir." After a bow, she snapped her fingers and was gone.

He looked at Hermione, who looked between disgusted and confused. "Granger, you alright?" he asked.

"You sell your elves for services!" she snapped.

He looked confused. "What? I'm not selling them for anything. Prim and Cork are family," he told her.

"But you just said she was worth more than a galleon. She's a living being, Harry Potter! How much do you make off of her?" Hermione looked genuinely upset.

"I don't earn a knut off her. What are you on about?"

"You just told her to charge whomever Mr. Guille is for her time. She's your slave. How much do you make off of them?" Hermione fumed.

Harry pinched his nose, remembering her crusade fourth year to free the elves. This might be a trying few weeks. "Listen, Hermione. It's not what you are thinking. I don't take a knut of anything they earn. If they would take a salary, I would gladly pay them, but to them, that is an insult almost as big as giving them clothes. Whatever they earn, Prim and Cork like to use the money to help around the house. Aunt Bel and I treat them like family. They are family. I try to never order them around. If they want to tell me no, or go knob somewhere, that is their choice."

She flushed a little. "But they are slaves," she said.

"I will never treat them like that. Other wizards do. I find them to be as low as one can get, next to those that begrudge blood status."

"If you see them as family, why don't you free them?" she put to him.

He looked distressed now. "Free them? Why would I? The bond between elf and wizard is supposed to be reciprocated and sacrosanct. If you free them and they don't find a new master or institution that would take them, then they die within a year or so. I won't do that to Prim and Cork. I mean it that they are family," he said rather protectively of his elves.

She looked at him for a moment before her hands went to her mouth. "You aren't serious?" she questioned horrified.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"They would really die?" she asked.

"Yes. Don't you remember doing the essay for Professor Lupin second year? It was in at least two books in the library," he informed her.

"I never read that. Oh, Merlin. Harry, I tried to free elves all of fourth year," she told him.

"I know. The whole House knew. You do know you can't do that, right? They belong to Hogwarts. Only the Headmaster or Assistant Headmaster can free them."

She sighed. "I didn't know. I had only hoped to see them free. It is not right for magic and wizards to bind them like that."

"If you ever want to call on Prim or Cork to talk with them, you can. I'll warn you now though, they like where they are and don't want to leave."

"Are you sure an elf will die if it's not serving someone?" she asked.

"It's not about serving," he told her. "They share the magic of the wizard, witch or institution they bind themselves to. It is an ancient magic that is so much a part of them now, I don't think they can ever go back to what they once were. The binding and their society forces them to obey. I would free them all if I could."

He knew his voice sounded sad. If he could release them, he would. Harry would prefer to work with them as equals.

Hermione looked pensive as she looked at him. "You care for them, don't you?"

"They are family," he repeated. "Come on, I can get you those pamphlets."

A little while later, Hermione was in the kitchen table talking with his aunt. He listened for a few minutes as Hermione grilled her about the clothes and other stuff they made. His Aunt, like she always had been with him, patiently explained what she could, not looking or sounding vexed when Hermione interrupted her when she didn't understand.

His aunt gave him a smile when she noticed him. Hermione, still so intent on understanding how they made the yarn, didn't notice him.

"So, it's not like a normal spindle?" she asked.

"If you stay around for the summer, Harry can show you how we make it. They should need a shear in a few more weeks, and then again in the fall after you go back to Hogwarts. Their wool grows fast enough to require a shear about three times a year," his aunt informed her.

Hermione turned to him when his aunt had motioned towards him. "You would really teach me?" she asked, sounding excited and a little apprehensive.

"If Aunt Bel gives me permission. It's not something we usually teach," he said, looking at his aunt.

She gave him a smirk. "I trust Hermione not to go blabbing about this," she told him. "We are not the only ones to make materials from these sheep."

His aunt was right. Making the yarn and materials were not a large secret. It was what they did with it once the material was made that was the secret. Much of their operation was family magic from the Flints. Harry knew it though. He was family and his aunt wanted the secrets passed down. She also made sure Harry knew about the Potter family magics as well, who were known for transfiguration and charms.

"I would really like to learn," the girl said. Her brown eyes shown with the willingness to learn.

"We have some left over I haven't finished yet. I could take you into the shop this morning," he told her.

"It is a nice day. Go take her into town. I think it will be rather warm the rest of the week after today," Aunt Bel encouraged.

"There isn't much of a town," he said to his aunt.

Aunt Bel shook her head. "Go explore and take Hermione around. Here are a few galleons and some pounds if you need," his aunt said taking out a purse from her pocket. She put ten galleons on the table and three twenty-pound notes.

Harry took the money. His Aunt wasn't always this generous, and anything extra could go towards his fund. "Thank you," he said.

"I have my own money," Hermione told them.

"Up to you what you want to do," his aunt said. "Just get out of here."

He eyed her. She usually didn't kick him out like this unless clients were coming. "We'll be back this afternoon."

"Stay out as long as you want. Cork can do your chores if you need this evening," she told him.

"Aunt Bel, you gave me those chores," he told her.

"And you do them very well, but I think Cork and Prim are getting a little bored now you are back. You do enough around here. Now go," she told them.

He gave Hermione a look. She didn't look as pleased, but she didn't say anything.

They walked out of the house. "You don't have to show me around," she told him.

He shrugged. "About the only thing I have to do today is finish those extra credit assignments and work on spinning the last of the yarn. My Aunt pays me five galleons for each skein I make."

"She makes you earn your money?" she asked as they walked across the road. Hermione wanted to check in with her parents first.

"I get my allowance, but I've been saving up for a Firebolt for almost three years. I think I can finally afford one this summer." He knew he had a slightly dreamy expression to think of the broom.

She shook her head. "You're just like every other quidditch loving wizard."

He smiled. "Yep. I already have tickets to go see the Harpies on my birthday and Portree mid-August. I had to sacrifice a little of my Firebolt fund for that, but it will be worth it. I just wish I could see England. They are playing Sweden in July and the United States in August. I think they have a real chance at the world cup next year."

"I've only ever been to the school matches."

"Those are nothing like the National matches," he responded.

"I don't know. I've only ever found it fun to watch you," she replied.

He looked out the corner of his eye. He had never had the sense she enjoyed quidditch. She was not looking at him and looked a little flush. "I do my best," he told her. He loved to fly and play.

She tried to keep a straight face when she turned back to him. "You have only lost twice, and the last time people are saying you gave it to Summerby. I thought you just off for some reason."

He shrugged. " It was his last game. He earned it."

"You did let him catch it?" she said in a higher pitch voice, catching on almost immediately. "Gryffindor could have lost!"

"We were up two-hundred and twenty points, and it was his last game. We still won," he told her.

She shook her head, and they went into the Bakers. There were noises from the back of the house, and they found their way into the kitchen. Mrs. Baker and Mrs. Granger were moving around and making a big breakfast.

"Oh, I was hoping you would come over," Mrs. Baker said to him. "Glad to see you made it back."

Hermione gave her cousin a look. "Harry was taking care of the sheep, like you said he would be."

Mrs. Baker nodded. "Harry is always very responsible that way. Speaking of which, Tim and I are taking the next week off. I want you to also, Harry. William can take care of the stables. He doesn't have any interviews scheduled."

"But I want to do it. I need the galleons," he told her.

Mrs. Granger raised an eyebrow. "Why do you need the money that bad?" she asked.

"Harry has been saving up for a Firebolt," Hermione answered.

Understanding dawned on Mrs. Bakers face as Mrs. Granger looked confused. "That's why you've wanted any odd job I would give you the last few years?" she queried.

"Yes, ma'am," he said to her.

"What is a Firebolt, Millie?" Mrs. Granger enquired.

"The top quidditch broom on the market. They aren't cheap. How much have you gotten?" Mrs. Baker asked as she put some fried tomatoes on a plate.

"I'm three-hundred and two galleons away now," he told her.

"Quidditch? Is that that game you told us about on brooms with all sorts of balls?" Mrs. Grainger asked Hermione. There was a look that passed between mother and daughter.

Her daughter flushed a little. "Yes. Harry is the Gryffindor Seeker."

"Why don't you two eat some breakfast with us and then you can go explore," Mrs. Baker told them.

"Didn't you want to go into town too?" Hermione asked her mother.

"Millie and Tim will take us. You and Harry just go off. It's not like you should be able to get into much trouble around here," her mum said.

Mrs. Baker laughed. "I think the most trouble Harry has ever gotten into was when my boys convinced him to go head-to-head with them last Christmas."

He groaned. "Do you have to remind me of that? I had a headache for two days."

"Then don't drink so much fire whiskey. Especially against Garret. He's like his father and can drink us all under the table," Mrs. Baker told him, wagging a ladle at him.

"I don't want to touch that stuff again," he said.

"How much did you drink?" Hermione queried.

"Too much," he told her, and Mrs. Granger laughed at his expression.

"Guess I don't need to worry about that. We'll have breakfast up in a few minutes. Get the table set," her mum told them.

Harry felt much better that the adults were only asking Hermione and him about school this morning. Close to nine, they made it out onto the lane after Harry had her put on some more practical hiking boots. Sandals would quickly become painful with how much walking they were probably going to do.

"So, where do you want to go first?" he asked her.

"You said you could take me to the Parliament," she reminded him.

"It's not much to see. It's only a one room house, but there are some other things in La Ville Roussel, like the muggle weavers and Rosenheim's," he told her.

"What is Rosenheim's?" she asked.

"A small wizarding store. Sells groceries and other supplies. The other wizarding stores are on Guernsey. There are quite a few wizards on the isles, and many come from France and England to visit. There is an old stone circle. We missed the solstice this year. That is always a big gathering and festival of many of the wizards around here. On the winter solstice we go to the stone circle on Guernsey."

"You mean like Stone Henge?" she queried.

"Nothing that impressive. It's the other way though, if you want to see it."

"Is today the only day you will show me around?"

"Not if you want," he told her. He had to admit to himself, he was happy to have someone to talk with besides his aunt and elves. Well, someone that understood their world.

"Are there other magical sites?"

"If you're parents don't mind, there is a small library in St. Peter Port, with a few shops we could explore. There is also an old castle there with some ghosts. Sark only really has the few places. Oh, there are the dwarf vineyards on the northern tip. They make and sell wines, butterbeer and a few other dwarf made products."

Her eyes showed her joy. "That all sounds brilliant. Anywhere else?"

"There are some ruins on Alderney. At one time there was a small magical school there, but it fell in 1521 to the English military, and then was made into a fort," he said.

She looked surprised. "Muggles attacked wizards?"

"Yeah, but most wizards don't want to acknowledge the Muggle-Wizarding wars. Most knowledge has been wiped about it. We remember here though."

"How do you know all this and do so poorly in History of magic?" she kept on with her questions.

"I don't do that poorly. It is just boring what Binns teaches. There is so much more history out there than the goblins, the old witch trials and the British Ministry establishing Azkaban. It seems the Ministry tries to cover everything else up."

She looked at him as they walked.

"Where have you read this? Hogwarts doesn't have anything like you said, and the bookstores only really carry British authors," Hermione put to him.

"Depends how long you are here. There's Bailiwick Books on Guernsey, or we could go to Cherbourg or Paris. Do you know French?"

"Yes. Do you?" she countered.

"Je parle très bien le français. J'ai sérieusement envisagé Beauxbatons."

The smile she gave was quite attractive... no, she was his biggest competition. Besides, they had a big fight just last night…

"I considered it too but wanted to stay in country. I have thought a few times I have made the wrong decision," she told him.

He frowned. "I know what you mean. I mean this in the best possible way, but you are the only competition at Hogwarts and so many of the classes seem subpar."

"I thought I was the only one that thought that. Do we have to go this way again?" she asked as the La Coppee entered their sight.

"It's the only way to the other side of the island, unless we use a private Floo, but I don't know anyone over there that would just let us do that. Your cousin and the others around us are the only ones my aunt really talks too," he responded.

She had stopped and didn't look that pleased. "Maybe we can go see that stone circle?" she suggested, looking the other way.

"Do you need to hold my hand? I promise you won't fall off," he told her.

She looked at him rather dubiously. Then the roadway across the narrow spline of land. Then him again. "There is no other way?"

"No."

"You promise you won't let me fall?"

"I'll make a wizards oath if you want."

She blinked at him a few times before taking in a large breath that expanded her whole chest and let it slowly out. "I don't need an oath. I swear though, you let me fall and I'll haunt you until you die."

He chuckled. "Fair enough."

She took his hand when he held it out. There were a few people on the bridge on bikes. Early morning guests to the island. She took it, squeezing tighter and tighter as they made their way across. Harry walked next to the rail and Hermione in the middle.

When they made it across, she didn't say a word. She was shaking slightly and looked a little pale. It was another five minutes past the cut in the hill and in the middle of a hedgerow when she finally let his hand go.

Harry wasn't sure why, but he had found he liked her holding his hand.

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Je parle très bien le français. J'ai sérieusement envisagé Beauxbatons. = I can speak French very well. I seriously considered Beauxbatons.