~*T*~

"So," Taylor asked, from Amy's side, Lisa curled up against her back, "Same sex accidental pregnancy?"

"Stir up a lot of magic," Lisa started.

"Have sex," Amy clarified.

"And think about babies. Particularly think about having babies with your partner."

"I have never thought about babies while having sex," Taylor said.

"I have," Amy curled up a bit, hiding, and continued, "Remember the first time we had sex?"

"Yeah?"

"Barely talked myself out of unprotected, get me and Lisa pregnant sex."

"You could do that?"

"Thirty second's work. Stretch some parts, a bit of spermatogenesis, poof, parahuman teen moms, if I guessed the timing right."

"So you can fix my tackle, too?"

"Yeah, ovaries are a little more difficult than a few million sperm, but it wouldn't be difficult."

"Later, if it gets too annoying."

"I need another set of kisses goodnight, now," Lisa said.

It was about twenty kisses later that they went to sleep.

~*i*~

After a very good breakfast, Lisa grabbed her bag in her left hand, snapped to attention, tapping her bare heels together, and snapped Amy a picture-perfect salute, "Permission to depart?"

Amy returned the salute, "Dismissed."

Lisa teleports with a crack like a gunshot.

Taylor thought about repeating the dog and pony show, then gave Amy a hug instead, "See you soon."

"See you."

Taylor teleported out silently, in swirl of pale blue light that clung to every surface for a few moments after she left.

~*i*~

Taylor pulled bags, boxes, and two trunks, out of her pockets, then stuffed the boxes and trunks into a bag, and put the bag in a hole in the wall of her room, hidden by her mattress. She leaned back against that wall, a book in her hands, and began to read.

~*i*~

Lisa walked boldly though the front gates of Hogwarts, up the path, and climbed the steps to the front door of the keep. It did not open at her first touch, and she frowned at it. It sagged open, and she walked through.

"Woke up this morning," she sang, not skipping, but dancing along to the pounding beat in her head, "Started to sneeze, had a cigarette and a cuppa tea," she started up the steps, smiled at a portrait, "Looked in the mirror, what did I see? A nine-stone weakling with knobbly knees. Did my knees bend, press ups, touched my toes," she twirled on the landing, "Had another sneeze and I blew my nose," started up the next flight, "I looked in the mirror at my pigeon chest, had to put on my clothes because it made me depressed," she bebopped along as the backup singers sang in her head.

"I wanna be like Superman," bob bob bob, "Wish I could fly like Superman."

She stopped in front of a bare patch of wall, gave it an Arnold Rimmer salute, then traced an elaborate pattern on the stone before stepping into it.

"Superman," she sang in the dark, "Superman. Wish I could fly like Superman."

Light floods in as a wall is pushed open, and Lisa steps out, bobbing along, silently, to the song.

A locked cabinet succumbed, after a few minutes, to her persuasion, and she pulls out a thick book, which obligingly opened where she wanted, and she smiled.

"The wood is full of shining eyes, the wood is full of creeping feet, the wood is full of tiny cries, you must not go to the wood at night," she sang as she leafed through to the next year's list, found the entry for Luna Lovegood, and pinched it between her fingers, "Showed me how to catch a lark, with a straw and a nut and a whispered word, penny worth of ginger wrapped up in a leaf," pulled it off the page, held it while she flipped back to the current year, and dropped it back onto the page, right after "Hermione Granger." The later entries shifted down to make room, and in a moment one could hardly tell a change had been made.

"He asked me my name and where I lived: I told him a name from my book of tales," Lisa stepped back into the dark passage, closing it behind her, "He asked me to come with him into the wood, and dance with the kings from under the hills."

She sang as she stepped out again, through the stone, "The wood is full of shining eyes, the wood is full of creeping feet, the wood is full of tiny cries, you must not go to the wood at night," and bounced down the stairs.

~*i*~

"Hey pretty girl," Taylor stood behind the garden shed, long owl talons pricked through her skin into her arm, and offered the snowy owl an owl treat.

The golden-eyed female on her arm took it, then made a noise something like "Pre-ek."

"A rat would be hard. I can get you as many bugs as you'd like-"

"Eck."

"How about a mouse?"

"Pre."

"It'll take me a bit," Taylor said, "Do you mind if I pet you?"

"Pre."

Taylor stroked her breast feathers with her knuckles, "Do you have a name?"

"Prek Ack Prep-prep,"

"I'd totally mangle that name. Can I call you Hermione? I don't think Amy's going to use that name much anymore."

"Eck."

"Yeah, I guess that could get confusing," Taylor bent her knees to catch the mouse as it jumped out of the grass. She grabbed it by the tail as it writhed and twisted, scratching and biting at the arthropods that drove it to captivity and death. It went limp as the fleas and mites tormenting it dropped off, too tired to react as it was offered to the owl.

The owl tilted her head, leaned forward, and cracked the mouse's spine with a quick pinch of her beak, then swallowed the dying creature whole, its tail flipping up and down as it followed the rest of the mouse into her gizzard.

"How about Minerva? Goddess of wisdom, associated with owls?"

"Eck."

"Oh, so the professor's name is Minerva. Hmm."

"Prek."

"Hedwig, huh?"

"Pre."

"Have you seen Hedwig and the Angry Inch? It's been a long time since I saw it, but you don't remind me of her at all."

"Pre-eck."

"Really, the movie doesn't come out until 2001? Huh. I thought it was a lot older than that."

~*i*~

"What happened to your arm, boy?" the heron asked.

Taylor contemplated mentioning owls, decided it was not a good idea, and went with the truth, "It got scratched while I was gardening."

"Make sure you clean it, disinfect it, and wrap it properly. I don't want to have to wipe up your blood, and we shouldn't have to pay because you get an infection by not taking care of it."

Taylor looked at the deep, slowly-seeping wounds in her arm, "I got distracted, it hardly hurts at all."

"Come on," the heron said, "Let's go clean that up."

Taylor followed. She couldn't remember the heron ever helping Harry clean his wounds.

~*T*~

Note: Lisa is mauling "Superman" by The Kinks, and "The Magic Wood" by Joan Baez