"We've heard so much about you," Mrs. Granger gushed.

Looking at Hermione, I could see a guilty look on her face. Her parents wouldn't be greeting me with such enthusiasm if they'd known the whole story. Most parents tended to give the side eye to a kid who was known to beat up other children; I'd spent the last school year murdering adults, most of whom were publicly known.

"It's nice to meet you," I said solemnly.

The Grangers had picked us up in a rented nine seat minibus. I'd slipped into the third row along with Hermione, and her parents were sitting in the front, with Lupin in the middle set of seats.

Mrs. Granger was twisted around in her seat. She stared curiously at Lupin. "And this is your...?"

"Bodyguard," I said. "And yours. There's been troubles, and they wanted to keep us safe."

Her face tightened. "Mr. Dumbledore told us a little about that. It's part of the reason we're taking the whole summer."

She never should have let him in the car without knowing exactly who he was. Even Hermione seeming to recognize me wasn't enough, not in a world where anyone could be polyjuiced as anyone else. We'd have to work with them on operational security.

"I've got a partner in my business," Mr. Granger said. "Other than my wife. Summers tend to be slower for us anyway, since so many people are on holiday."

Both the Grangers were dentists, apparently. Although they were making light of the financial hit they would take, I could see from the look on Hermione's face that she knew as well as I did that it would be a strain.

Of course, they weren't having to feed her for most of the year, so it wasn't as bad as it might have seemed at first, and the Wizarding World was taking care of her health care. Was health care as expensive in muggle Britain as in America? I wasn't sure.

"So what are we planning?" I asked.

"We'll be traveling all over the country," Mr. Granger said.

"We'll be going to the French version of Diagon Alley," Hermione said excitedly. "Can you imagine all the books?"

"Won't they be in French?" I asked.

"I speak French," she said, surprised. "Don't you?"

"I'm an American," I said irritably. "We barely speak English, much less other languages."

There was a strange sense of triumph on her face as she stared at me. Was that a hint of a smirk? I couldn't help but wonder uncharitably what she would think if she knew that I could speak snake?

I still wasn't very good at it, even after several months of practice, but at least I could make myself understood, if barely.

"Well, I'm sure that they will have a lot of joke products that aren't sold at home," Hermione said.

"You like joke products."

"I've got some friends who do," I said. "And if you're clever you can repurpose things in useful ways."

"That won't be until the end of our trip," Mrs. Granger said. "We went to Paris last year, and Mr. Lupin says it's best if we avoid the obvious places."

Neither of Hermione's parents showed any indication that they knew what I'd meant, which told me that Hermione definitely hadn't told them anything important about me. It was confusing; the fact that they were taking a months long vacation indicated that they knew about the danger they were in, but apparently Hermione hadn't given them any context.

Was she afraid they'd pull her out of school?

That would actually put her in more danger, unless they decided to relocate countries. I wasn't sure their medical licenses would transfer, either.

"Let's go, then," Lupin said. He was watching all around with a wary look on his face. Just because we were in France didn't mean that we were entirely safe.

If I'd been Voldemort, I'd have hired a muggle private Investigator. Of course, it wouldn't be as easy now to track us as it would have been in my time. In my time, it would have been a matter of a little work on the Internet by someone who knew what they were doing to track the Granger's credit card receipts, their hotels, and everything else.

With no Internet, people tracking us would have to work a little harder.

"You didn't tell anyone where you were planning to go," I asked Mr. Granger.

He looked down at me, startled, then shook his head. "My partner was upset that I wasn't leaving forwarding information, but Mr. Dumbledore was insistent. He seemed to think that wizards could easily control our friends and family into telling them where we'd gone."

"I told several people that we were going to Poland," Mrs. Granger said. "I always wanted to go to Poland."

"We aren't going to Poland," Lupin said shortly. ""They've got a werewolf infestation there and it's not particularly safe."

Also, the Death Eaters were likely going to Poland. If Voldemort bothered sending people after us instead of just waiting until the summer was over, then he'd waste manpower.

"Say, Hermione," I said casually. "Do you still have those things that I left for you?"

I'd stolen several brooms, wands and other items from the Death Eaters before I'd made sure they were dead. I'd shrunk them, and hidden them on Hermione, who hadn't been forced to go before Moody and his all seeing eye. He'd only been interested in interrogating me.

She nodded. "They went back to normal after I got home to my parents."

"And you brought them?"

"The customs agent looked at me funny," she said. Leaning over, she murmured, "There were bloodstains on one of the handles."

"It was getting dark," I said defensively. I'd missed an entire head; I could hardly be blamed for missing a few blood splatters.

"I wouldn't approve," she murmured again, "But if we'd had these in the first place, we might have simply been able to run. I've looked at the prices on new brooms, and they are frightfully expensive."

I'd looked too, a cheap broom cost at least two hundred galleons, which was worth about a thousand British pounds, or about two thousand dollars. Given inflation, by my time, it would have been worth over three thousand dollars, or about as much as a crappy used car.

Unfortunately, a cheap broom wouldn't be fast enough to help us escape anything. The top of the line models were worth a lot more; the people I'd asked had just shaken their heads. Apparently only the richest families could afford one.

In my mind, it was probably like owning a sports car; it was functionally faster, and it looked better, but at least part of what you were paying for was the status it gave you.

"It's not a good idea to buy used brooms either," Hermione said. "Because they often aren't safe."

"Like the brooms we had before Malfoy got us new ones?" I asked.

She nodded.

I could see Lupin stiffen. Apparently he knew enough about Malfoy to be wary. The Grangers didn't react at all.

I'd been like Hermione at her age; even at fifteen I hadn't told my father about my career as a super villain. I'd put him in danger by doing that, though, even if it would have been more difficult.

Mr. Granger made a terrible joke, and Hermione giggled. Her mother was watching both of us and smiling.

I felt a sudden sense of melancholy.

Hermione lit up when she was talking to her parents, and they were just as joyful when they talked to her. It was utterly innocent and it was as though all the worries that had slowly been accumulating over the course of the last year just vanished.

I'd had that once, when Mom was still alive. I could remember laughing and being joyful. I'd lived in the moment then; I hadn't worried about anything because I'd had an absolute certainty that my parents would be there for me always, and they would always love me.

Mom's death had begun the end of my innocence, and Emma had hastened its demise. Lung and Coil and the Slaughterhouse had killed it off forever.

I'd spent so long trying to save the world, all the worlds that nothing else had mattered. Time spent with my own father would have meant less time training, or looking for the Slaughterhouse Nine. I hadn't been able to stand the thought that my slacking off would mean the deaths of everyone I had ever loved, and even people that I'd never known.

Over the past year I'd been completely focused on survival, or on learning more magic so I could survive.

The fact that it was likely that I would never see my father again wasn't something I'd let myself think about. Even if we hadn't been close in years, I'd always thought there would come a time when we could become a family again.

Now, even if I somehow found a spell that would let me jump universes, and another one that would let me find the one universe in a practical infinity where my father was located, I no longer looked anything at all like his daughter. Would he even recognize me?

Would he still be alive in the seven to ten years that it would take me to learn that much magic?

Even if I found the universe he was in, an entire planet was difficult to find someone. It was obvious that Wizards didn't have any spells that easily tracked people, or the Death Eaters would have been rounded up shortly after the first one had been caught.

It might be possible to buy a Wizarding owl and write him a letter, though, assuming I could find the right dimension.

What were the limits on those owls?

Did they have to fly directly to their targets? If so, a letter to Australia might take a very long time. Or did they take shortcuts along the route; if they did, was it possible that one could find my father even from the dimension that I was in?

It wasn't something I could even try now; the chance of my owl being intercepted was far too high, and it might not even be the Death Eaters who did it. I couldn't trust anyone with knowledge of my origins; even someone as seemingly loyal as Hermione could have her mind easily read, or been mind controlled into revealing what she knew.

She was laughing still, and it was bittersweet watching her with her family.

Lupin was watching me, and I saw a strange sort of understanding on his face. I quickly pushed my emotions into my bugs, and everything immediately felt better.

Was that part of the reason that I'd been so emotionally flat all year? In my old life I'd actually felt my own emotions, even if I'd been able to push my reactions into them. Was I pushing my pain and anger, depression and loneliness into my bugs as a way of staying focused?

What kind of long term effects would that kind of emotional numbing have on my psyche?

Was I even feeling my own emotions at all? While I still had my own memories, the hardware my mind was running on was Millie Scrivener's brain. I'd assumed that some of my personality changes were due to having an eleven year old brain, but what if it was more than that?

Anti-social personality disorder often had hereditary causes. What did I really know about the Scriveners; I hadn't really given much of a thought to them since I'd woken up in that alley. Was the brain I was using influencing me, or was it the fact that I was becoming addicted to pushing my emotions into my bugs.

Were the bugs at Hogwarts the most depressed bugs in the world and I just didn't know it?

Was I even me any more?

When Lupin turned back to say something to Mrs. Granger, I deliberately allowed my emotions to seep back into my bones.

It was a stark contrast.

Moments before my mind had felt clear and sharp. Now everything felt dull and gray. Now, melancholy filled me, and I forced my features to remain impassive.

"What part of America did you come from dear?" Mrs. Granger asked.

"It was a place near Boston,' I said. "You wouldn't have heard of it."

"I've heard nice things about America," she said.

"Most of America is great," I said. "But there are places that are terrible. I guess that's true everywhere. I spent some time in Chicago before I came here."

"I'm sorry to hear about your parents, dear," she said.

"I'm sure they'd be happy to know that I'm all right," I said. "And safe, at least for the moment."

My real dad would have felt that way, and I'm sure the Scriveners would have too, at least until they realized that I was really a kind of eldritch abomination wearing their daughters skin.

I'd been lucky that hadn't shown up as my boggart; my face melting away to show my real face underneath. That might have given people a few too many clues.

Talking about the gangs where I'd grown up with around Hermione's parents might make them cautious around me, yet it wasn't fair to keep them in the dark either.

"I'm glad Hermione had good parents," I said to Mrs. Granger. "I think that makes things easier."

"We were afraid that she wouldn't make any friends,' her father admitted. "So we're very glad that you befriended her. She tells us that she'd made several friends because of you."

Hermione flushed.

"She'd have made friends eventually," I said. "Once she realized that she didn't always have to be the smartest person in the room. That was all that was holding her back, really."

"Taylor and I are neck in neck for top of our classes," Hermione said proudly.

"But Hermione no longer has to let everybody know that,m and that's made all the difference," I said, giving her a glance.

It had taken her a long time to stop her habit of bragging about her intellectual abilities; I'd called her on it every time I'd heard it, and there were still times when she backslid.

Draco's bragging had lessened as well, but not as quickly. Partially that was because I had less contact with him, and partially because he was less motivated that Hermione. Still, he'd done a lot on the basis of a few conversations I'd had with him, and I expected that he'd continue to get better.

I'd had Dumbledore arrange for him to have his trunk sent back to him with an anonymous letter of thanks. The last thing he needed was written proof that he'd sided with me against the Death Eaters.

It was possible that he'd complain to his father, but his father was undoubtedly smart enough not to let his compatriots know what had happened. Hopefully Draco had been smart enough not to say anything.

Most likely his father would have instructed him on the value of keeping quiet.

I listened to Hermione chattering away like a monkey about her school year. I noticed that she avoided any subject that involved danger. She didn't mention that I'd killed a boy in a duel, or the deaths of the Death Eaters over the holidays.

How had the Ministry explained the attack on the train? What had Hermione told them?

When things finally got quiet after forty five minutes, I finally asked.

"Where are we going then?"

"La Londe Les Maures," Mr. Granger said. "It's a seaside resort in southeastern France on the French Riviera. Have you ever been scuba diving?"

"No," I admitted.

"Well, there's snorkeling, and windsurfing, beaches, and there's a tropical bird garden. We'll be visiting some vineyards."

"Taylor won't be drinking," Lupin said. "I have a feeling none of us would be comfortable with that."

"She's an American," Hermione rushed to say. "And they are a little more prudish about alcohol."

Was Lupin worried that I might stab someone if I was drunk?

Little did he know that my aim was terrible when I was drunk; it was one of the reasons that I'd rarely ever bothered to drink when I was in my last body. The fact that I was underage hadn't been a factor at all.

Still, I stuck my tongue out at him. He grinned at me, and the smile made him look a little less sickly for a moment.

Maybe this could actually work.

After a moment of consideration, I said, "But I don't have a bathing suit!"

"We'll get them when we get there," Mr. Granger said. "She's grown enough in the past year that I doubt that her old bathing suit would fit her anyway."

I was smaller than Hermione, and I had a feeling that I'd never be tall. I hadn't seen either of Millie Scrivener's parents standing up, but neither one of them had seen particularly tall.

I wondered for a moment how Lupin was paying for all of this. For all I knew there was a bounty on the heads of the Death Eaters I'd killed, or maybe Dumbledore was paying for this out of his own pocket.

In any case, I had some ideas about how Lupin could use magic to make money in the muggle world, and I'd broach them with him when we were alone.

My only worry now was how I was going to hide a wand on the beach. Could you shrink a wand?

Not mine, of course, but one of the extra ones I'd stolen?

Still, being able to relax on the sand for once without worrying that the world was going to end... that sounded nice.