~*T*~

"Mrs. Figg's broken her leg," the heron repeated, having already told Harry the week before, "So she can't watch you."

"I'm ten. I can watch myself here, or make myself scarce somewhere else," Taylor said, calmly.

"Or you can come with us and not make trouble."

"I end trouble, I don't start it," Taylor said, smiling.

The heron blinked down at her.

"Keep your little pony away from me at the zoo, or give me the five quid you'd pay to get me in, and I'll stay out of your hair until tomorrow."

"If you get picked up by the police we won't get you until Monday."

"That's fine," Taylor held out her hand.

The heron handed her a five pound note, "Be back after church tomorrow."

Taylor gave her a lazy salute, "Roger," and started out the door.

~*i*~

Taylor walked along, smiling at the passerby, who cringed gratifyingly and got out of her way, and mapped her new neighborhood, filling in what Harry remembered with her prioperception, cellars, storm and septic sewers, the layouts of the houses, which vary more than the outsides. As she walked, she pondered, wondering how she would find Amy and Lisa, if they were even here with her, and her age. If they were in England, they were still two out of millions, in any of a thousand little towns, and there was no internet, well, there was, but it was tiny. She spotted a newspaper, rolled, on a porch, no, front step, and smiled.

She walked up to the door, knocked, waited, knocked again, then sat down, took the rubber band off, and flipped through the paper, looking for the classifieds, then the personals, women seeking, "Amy is looking for Taylor and Lisa, please call, 01293 438000" *note: this is the Crawley Borough Council number in real life

She straightened the paper out, rolled it back up, and put the rubber band back before she left it on the step where she found it, stretched, and went in search of a pay phone.

~*i*~

"Hello?" an older woman answers the phone.

"Yes, this is Taylor, and I'm calling for Amy?"

"Hermione?"

Taylor blinks, then nods, "Maybe? We're pen-pals and she asked me to call."

"Hermione!" the other end is muffled, like there is a hand over the microphone, "Taylor's on the phone!"

Even more muffled, "Really! Already?! Don't let her hang up!"

"You hear that?" the other woman asked a bit of a laugh in her voice.

"I did."

"I think this is the first time she's had a friend call, ever."

"Ouch. Could you give her a hug for me?"

"Sure," and there was a real chuckle this time.

The phone was handed over, and Amy squeaked, startled by something. "Taylor?" she asked.

"Hey pretty lady. Sounds like you're ten, too."

"Eleven, twelve in September, but who's counting."

"Sure. I'll be eleven at the end of the month."

"Awesome, you'll probably get a letter from Hogwarts, too."

"Hogwarts?"

"Magic school."

"Interesting."

"Yeah, I've got an appointment to get my school stuff Thursday of next week, wanna meet up?"

"Sure, where at?"

"King's Cross station, in London, Pancras Road west side entrance."

"I'll be there. How's your family this time? I got a heron, the whale she married, and the pony they spawned. The heron's my aunt."

"A pair of dentists, in the Little Shop of Horrors mold. It's lovely."

"Not used to hugs?"

"Not from adults, no."

~*i*~

"We really should at least have a convenience store in easy walking distance," Taylor grumbled, continuing the three mile trek to the closest fast food place, a Mosburger.

"Why," Taylor asked the manager while she waited for her burger on a bun of pressed rice, "Do you have a Japanese chain restaurant in Surrey?"

"Because the Author loves you, and wants you to be happy."

"Have you been talking to Amy?"

"No, I don't think so. Actually, the owner visited one in Japan, and thought it was amazing. We're totally an unlicensed knockoff, really."

"Hmm."

Taylor took her burger when it was ready, sat at a table with a clear view out the window and of the door, her back to a wall, and ate it slowly, sipping her water.

~*i*~

Taylor sat in the swing, feet dangling, further from the Dursley house than the rumors about Harry had spread.

A smile curled her lips, watching the young mothers talking and the little kids at play. She looked at her left hand, palm facing away, fingers spread out flat, "Yeah, it'll be a bit longer now, won't it," she sighed, one corner of her mouth pulling down, then relaxing, "More time with my wives, and we'll be all grown up again before long at all."

Even so her hands clenched tighter on the swing chains as a screaming baby quieted suddenly, surprised and distracted by the nipple before sucking greedily. The baby's mother stroked his, he was in yellow, so Taylor was guessing, hair, smiling. The baby squirmed, protesting the distraction. Taylor hopped off the swing and left the park.

~*i*~

Taylor woke as her concrete bed shook under the load of an artic, looked up at the underside of the road above her, and sighed, "Add this to the list of things that sound better in theory than practice," shifted position, and tried to go back to sleep.

The concrete sucked the heat from her slight body, and the lack of blankets didn't help, but the little cubby under the bridge was dry and out of the wind.

"Could be worse," she grumbled, and turned over again, onto her right side, pillowed her head on her arm, tucked her other hand between her knees, and went still again.

~*T*~