A/N: Thanks to everyone for reviewing, following, and favoriting this fic. I hope you're all finding this third installment of the story to be as good as the first two. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

Also, I added entries about the Amazzi and the Grangers to the list of OCs at the end of chapter 1.

A/N 2: I need to make a note about dates in this story. J.K. Rowling's use of dates in her books is... creative, to say the least. The dating scheme in the first two stories of this series was based on the dates she used in The Goblet of Fire, which were not the same as the actual calendar. The dates I am using in this fic are a direct continuation of that same dating scheme... and it's not the same as what JKR used in either her fifth or her sixth books! So while canon events in my last fic actually happened on the correct day/date, in this fic... not so much. Try not to think about it too hard, OK?

Fanart! Nightcoreowl has created another piece, this one inspired by a scene in chapter 1: nightcoreowl. deviantart art/I-will-not-be-treated-like-your-slave-587669363

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

Recommendation: This chapter's recommended fic is "Focus" by Luan Mao. Luna has always had problems with her ability to focus, but luckily for her, Harry has a means for reversing that... temporarily. Then Hermione learns that this same technique improves even her ability to focus and get work done. Will Harry survive the new demands being placed on him? Lunar Harmony.

Italics: a person's thoughts.

Chapter 02 - Let's Get Physical

Monday, July 5, 1995. Morning.

She tried to focus on her Charms essay, she really did; but memories of the long conversation with her parents the night before kept intruding. I'd gotten used to being distant from them, she thought, but they've treated me like an adult for so long that I've also been accustomed to them trusting me... and now that's gone. Jasmine said that I should trust them and try to reconnect, but how can I do that if they don't trust me anymore? I've buggered things up royally, haven't I?

Hermione was interrupted from her self-recrimination by a tapping on the kitchen window. "Hedwig!" she cried happily when she saw Jasmine's snowy owl sitting outside. After letting her in and giving her some water and leftover bacon — she always made a point of having some bacon in the refrigerator for when Hedwig arrived — she started examining the owl and noticed that something was missing.

"There's no letter here," she said to herself.

Preck! came Hedwig's reply.

Hermione smiled indulgently at the owl. Snowy owls — and female snowy owls in particular — had one of the widest vocal ranges of any owl species, and she always enjoyed listening to Hedwig "talk," even though only Jasmine seemed to understand—

Preck! Bark! Preck!

Hermione frowned. She had a letter but it was stolen? she thought. Wait, how would I know something like that? Hermione shook her head in confusion and shoved the idea aside as ridiculous. Not noticing the annoyed look on the owl's face, she proceeded to write a quick note to Jasmine, explaining how Hedwig had arrived without a letter and asking if everything was OK.

After attaching the note to Hedwig and opening the window for her again, Hermione returned to her homework. It was a lost cause, however, because now the mystery surrounding Hedwig and the missing message niggled at her, too. Could this be the Headmaster's doing? she wondered. He said I shouldn't contact her, but would he really go so far as to steal her own messages to her friends?

Monday, July 5, 1995. Late Morning.

Dolores Umbridge smiled gleefully, an expression that would have made small children cry had any been unlucky enough to see it. After several days of negotiations and threats, the Daily Prophet was finally on board and starting to publish the sorts of articles she wanted — articles that promoted the Minister and the Ministry while undermining confidence in both Dumbledore and that Potter brat.

The shift wouldn't be immediately noticeable — she was smart enough to know that an abrupt and dramatic change would raise questions, even among the sheep of wizarding Britain. Instead, the editor would insert her desired slant into several stories, or have stories specially written for the purpose, in every edition. That slant would increase on an almost daily basis, and by next month even the most neutral British wizard or witch would be treating Dumbledore and Potter like pariahs.

And that wasn't even taking her second plan into account….

Monday, July 5, 1995. Afternoon.

Hermione's summer homework was interrupted once again when her parents arrived home — and far earlier than she had expected them. "Mum, Dad," she said as she hugged them in greeting. "You're both home so early — is anything wrong?" The hugs were a little stiff — even more so than usual — and they all knew it, which only added to the awkwardness they felt around each other.

"No, there's nothing wrong," Lindsey answered.

"Not at the office, at least," Emma added, causing Hermione's worries to redouble.

"Come on, pumpkin, let's all sit down at the kitchen table," Emma said, taking her daughter gently by the shoulder. "We need to talk." The use of the familiar pet name, something she hadn't heard in years, relaxed Hermione. But only a little.

Once they were sitting, her father began pulling some books and pamphlets out of a bag while her mother spoke. "After you went to bed, your father and I stayed up even later, continuing to talk about the situation you're in and what we as a family can do about it."

"And we will be acting as a family," Lindsey said sternly. "So far you've been making decisions on your own, and while I might be willing to concede that at least some of those decisions were good ones, you shouldn't have excluded us from the process like you did. You're mature and intelligent, but you don't know everything, and you simply don't have much experience in the world."

Her mother nodded. "That's why we're home early. Last night we came up with some ideas and provisional plans. We cancelled our afternoon appointments, went out for some shopping and research at lunch, and now we're here to talk."

"Do I..." Hermione asked hesitantly, "do I get any say in any of this? Or have you already made all of the decisions for me?" The fear and bitterness in her voice were unmistakable.

"Yes," Emma said.

"Maybe," her father said at the same time.

Her parents gave each other a look, then her mother turned back to her and continued, "That's one point where your father and I disagree slightly. In principle, we agree that you should have a say — both because it's your life and it involves a world that we don't live in."

"However," Lindsey said, "the high-handed manner in which you've excluded us in the past makes me a little reluctant to take your advice at face value. I've not rejected you having a say — I'm just more of a mind that we should take your input on a case-by-case basis."

Hermione nodded while avoiding her parents' eyes. She wasn't happy about her father's attitude, but realistically, she could hardly blame him. "So... what are our options?" she asked with some trepidation.

Her father started sorting through some of the pamphlets he'd pulled out of his bag. "The first thing we looked at was leaving the country," he said, causing Hermione to nearly leap out of her seat.

"No!" she cried out. "I can't just leave!"

"If this is about that boyfriend of yours..." Lindsey responded with a frown.

"I thought you broke up with him anyway," Emma said.

"No, there's no—" Hermione tried to answer, "I mean, it's not that. I won't leave Jasmine... or any of my friends here alone!"

Her father looked confused while her mother put her hand on Hermione's arm and said, "Calm down and just hear us out." Hermione sat, but she didn't calm down. Breathing heavily, she kept looking back and forth between her parents, panicking at what might be coming.

"We're looking into it because it's the best chance of making you safe," Emma explained gently but firmly. "And as your parents, that is our first priority — your safety. There is literally nothing that we wouldn't do to protect you, up to and including risking our own lives. Do you really think that moving abroad is unreasonable from our perspective?"

As soon as her mother mentioned risking her life, Hermione was caught up short. It reminded her instantly of Jasmine's own parents, and how often she'd told Jasmine how much her parents must have loved her if they were willing to die to give her a chance to live. Morgana, she thought as she slumped in her seat and her panic began ebbing slightly, how can I complain about them loving me enough to risk everything to protect me?

Emma Granger took her daughter's hand and squeezed it gently, recognizing that they were finally getting through to her, but once more wondering about the relationship between the two young girls.

"Moving abroad is not, however, an easy or quick solution," Lindsey admitted. "We'd prefer Australia because it's a Commonwealth nation, they speak English, and it's about as far from Britain as you can get. We can't make such a decision without knowing more about the situation there for magicals, though; and even if we chose today to go that route, it would take quite a while to get visas, find work, sell the business here... it's a very daunting task."

"So while we'll keep exploring that option," Emma continued, "it's not going to happen right away and may never happen. That means we need to find other ways to help protect you."

"Right," Lindsey said. "We can't help with your magic and we can't defend you magically. That leaves non-magical methods. First, we'll be improving home security — alarms, reinforced door locks, that sort of thing. I don't know how much it will help against a magical attack, but if it even delays someone by a few seconds, that might be enough time to escape." Hermione nodded, agreeing that it couldn't hurt and thinking about what sorts of things could be done to slow down an attacking witch or wizard.

"Next," Emma said, "we all need to improve our ability to defend ourselves. First and foremost, that means an exercise regimen. We're also looking into self-defense classes. Most martial arts would take a long time before we had skills that would really help us, but there are a few specialized classes designed to help an unarmed person deal with an attacker who has a knife or other weapon. Do you think that would help?"

Hermione's mind started racing at the possibilities, and after a few moments said, "Perhaps, if you can get close enough. Spells aren't usually cast at great distances, and they don't travel as fast as a bullet, so you aren't as bad off as you might be against someone with a gun. Any sort of cover or solid shield will usually help, and dodging is possible, if you're fast enough. If you can get close enough to a witch or wizard, you can disarm them."

"OK, good," Lindsey said. "That's what we'll focus on, then. That leaves exercise: running for endurance and some weight training for strength."

"Running?" Hermione asked in a small voice.

"Yep," he answered. "I've made doctors appointments for us all to get checked over, but I think we're probably healthy enough to start with light running early tomorrow morning."

"Running?" she said again as her face took on an expression of horror. "Mornings?"

"I'm afraid so, sweetie," Emma replied with a wan smile. "Aside from the overall health benefits, the endurance should help you in several ways. At the very least, it will make it easier for you to run away if you can. And if you can't run away, the endurance should help you last longer in any sort of fight." Hermione didn't know a lot about magical duels, but she couldn't argue with that logic — extra endurance and strength just might help. It's just that the idea of getting up early to run every morning, she thought, is so... so... ugh!

"Running is also something we can continue to do while on vacation," her mother went on.

"Vacation?" Hermione asked. Every summer her family did something for vacation, and with all of the heavy discussions about the dangers she'd been in, she hadn't gotten a chance to ask about that.

"Yes," Emma responded, seeming to Hermione to be a bit hesitant. "We thought we'd try something a little different this year."

"We're booked for two weeks in St. Tropez in France," Lindsey explained. "We leave on Sunday."

"A beach? There's nothing different about a beach in France — we've done that a few times," Hermione pointed out, confused now. After a pause, she added, "Aren't the beaches there topless? We've done that a couple of times, too."

"Well, uh..." Emma said, looking a bit uncomfortable, "some of the beaches there are topless, but some are nude as well."

"Oh?" Hermione asked, now more intrigued than confused. "That's... different. What made you decide on something like that?" Aside from going to topless beaches in France on a couple of occasions, Hermione had always perceived her parents as very straight-laced and conservative in their private lives. It was, in fact, one of the reasons why she was so hesitant when it came to telling them about her relationship with Jasmine.

"We've heard some good things about such beaches, and St. Tropez in particular, from some of our patients and even a few neighbors," Emma explained, "so we've been thinking about it for a while. But as to going to such a place at all, well, we wanted to do something a little different. A bit more, uh, adventurous."

"At the same time, we've also been thinking for several months about how we could reconnect with you," Lindsey said, "and one idea we had was to do something out of the ordinary — familiar enough to be comfortable, but different enough that we wouldn't easily fall into old habits of interaction, because that's what we need to change. Since your mother and I were already talking about going there... well, it seemed like a helpful coincidence."

"That was your father's argument, at any rate," Emma said, giving her husband a sidelong glance. Turning back to Hermione, she continued, "St. Tropez might not have been my first choice for such a solution, but I agreed with the goal and couldn't come up with any better ideas. And, like he said, we were talking about going there anyway. Regardless, we don't have to go there if it will make you uncomfortable," Emma insisted, looking less than comfortable herself. "I didn't get the impression that there were, uh, regular beaches there, so if it bothers you, we'll change our plans."

Hermione bit her bottom lip in thought, turning the idea around in her mind. I've been to topless beaches a few times, but that was when I was younger. A year or two ago a nude beach might have been a bit awkward, she admitted, but after Eostre and Beltane... well, I've done a whole lot more than just lie in the sun while nude in public!

"No," Hermione said nonchalantly and with a slight smile. "I'm fine with it. I think it'll be fun." This was greeted with expressions of surprise and relief from her parents. Looking at them closely, she wondered at their real reasons for picking St. Tropez — what exactly did they mean about wanting a more adventurous vacation? Then something occurred to her. "I made some friends from the French magical school this past year. Is it OK if I write them and let them know where we'll be and when? It's possible that one or more will be able to meet up with us."

"Sure," Emma said as she started digging through some papers in order to find the flight and hotel information. "Who are your friends, anyway?"

"Fleur Delacour, the French champion from the tournament," Hermione answered. "There's also her sister, Gabrielle; her mother, Apolline; and a family friend named Adrienne. I met a few others, but those are the ones Jasmine and I were closest to.

"Speaking of Jasmine," her father said, "I wanted to talk about her and exercising."

"What about her?"

"Well, she can't be here with us," her mother pointed out. "What is her fitness level like?"

Hermione felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she looked down at the table, mumbling softly, "Oh, she's fit alright." Suddenly all Hermione could think about was Jasmine's body in the forest... Jasmine's body in the ritual circle on Beltane... her own body stretched out against Jasmine in one of their beds…. "Pretty damned fit," she said under her breath.

"What was that?" Emma asked, a confused look on her face.

"Oh, uh, Quidditch keeps her pretty fit," Hermione said quickly, flushing even more.

"OK, then," Lindsey said with a frown, "that's a start, but you should probably tell her in your next letter about the exercise program we're doing and recommend that she try to do something similar on her own."

"I can even write it out and explain it, if you'd like," Emma added.

"But, uh, the headmaster said I shouldn't..." Hermione tried to object.

Her father simply shook his head, and her mother rolled her eyes before saying, "Yes, and we all know just how likely it is that you're going to follow those orders — am I right?" Hermione turned pink again and tried to look away. "Don't worry, pumpkin, I happen to agree with you. Isolating a teenager like that would be a bad idea even if her family were wonderful, and I could see that that wasn't the case. However good your headmaster's intentions may be, his execution is horrible. Just so long as you're careful about how you contact her, we'll support you."

Hermione looked back up to see that both of her parents were smiling at her, something they hadn't done since getting in the car at King's Cross Station the day before. "Thank you," she said softly, tears welling up in her eyes.

Her mother stood up and hugged her as she knelt next to Hermione's chair. "We both love you very much, Hermione, and we want what's best for you. We just need you to work with us instead of going off on your own, OK?" Hermione nodded into her mother's shoulder, feeling both ashamed at how she'd excluded them from her life and grateful that they seemed to be forgiving her. Maybe she hadn't ruined her chances of reconnecting with them after all.

Tuesday, July 6, 1995. Morning.

She felt like her lungs were on fire. She was certain that her legs were about to fall off. She'd have done anything to end this horrible torture — torture made all the worse by the fact that it was her parents who were inflicting it on her! "Are we—" gasp! "—there yet?" she heaved.

"Almost... pumpkin," Lindsey panted, struggling a bit himself, though not nearly as much as Hermione was.

When they finally reached the house, her parents led her around to the back yard, where she was forced to stretch and walk around a little to prevent cramps. "And how far was that?" she asked as she finally got some of her breath back.

"Two kilometers," Emma answered, recovering faster than Hermione. "Like we said, we're only starting out easy until we get physicals."

"Two kilometers?!" Hermione asked disbelievingly. "It felt more like twenty!"

"Sorry, pumpkin," her father said, but while his tone sounded sympathetic enough, she was sure that he was laughing at her on the inside.

"And why do we have to do it so early in the morning?" she whinged.

"Because it's going to be a hot summer," Emma answered, wiping at her face. "And mornings will be cooler. Besides, exercising in the morning helps give you energy for the rest of the day."

"Is that Jasmine's owl?" Lindsey asked suddenly, pointing up into the largest tree that grew in their backyard.

Hermione looked and immediately recognized the snowy bird. "Hedwig!" she called, holding out her arm for the owl to land on. "Come on down!"

When the owl didn't immediately come to her, she called again, "Hedwig? Are you alright?" After staring at Hermione for a long moment, she finally came down, but all three Grangers could tell that there was something wrong. Once she landed, Hermione could clearly see missing and broken feathers, and there was even some blood on one of her wings.

"Oh, Hedwig!" Hermione said sadly, trying to gently smooth her feathers. It was obvious that the owl was in distress, but she seemed to be comforted by Hermione's touch.

Preck! Bark! Bark!

"Do you know what happened to her?" Emma asked.

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head. "I... well, no, she was attacked and her message was stolen. Again, in fact. She tried to fight them off, but she got injured."

"How do you know that?" Lindsey asked curiously.

"I... I don't know," Hermione answered. "I'm not sure that I do. Maybe I'm just guessing or something."

Hedwig irritably fluffed out her feathers and nipped at the hand she was standing on.

"Hey!" Hermione complained. "That hurt!"

Preck!

"Well, how would I know?"

Bark! Preck!

"Don't give me that!"

"Hermione, are you talking to Hedwig?" Emma asked slowly.

"What?" Hermione responded. "Of course not, only Jasmine can do that. Come on, let's get Hedwig in the house."

Once inside, Hermione was able to do a better job of getting Hedwig cleaned up. After giving her some water and bacon, she went to her room and came back down with a piece of parchment. "What's that?" her father asked.

"Jasmine gave me the Dursleys' phone number," Hermione answered. "I haven't wanted to use it because I don't want to get her into trouble — she had a lot of problems with her aunt and uncle after Ron called her the summer before third year. I only got it for emergencies, but right now I think this qualifies — two trips in a row without a message at the end, and now Hedwig's hurt."

The phone was answered after just two rings. "Hello, is this the Dursley residence? Oh, good. My name is Hermione Granger. May I speak— What? No, I'm not little Duddy's girlfriend! I'm calling for Jasmine Potter. May I speak to her, please? ...Yes, I know about her, I'm a friend of hers. From school. ...Yes, that school. ...She is not a freak! And I can use a phone because I grew up with telephones. My parents are perfectly respectable dentists, I'll have you know. ...Thank you, I'll hold."

In response to her mother's surprised expression, Hermione whispered, "Petunia Dursley, Jasmine's aunt. A horrid, horrid woman — and I think that was her being nice." Abruptly she turned back to the phone.

"Jasmine! Oh, I'm so glad I could reach you! Yes, Hedwig arrived, but she had no message, same as yesterday. ...You, too? Well, this time she was injured, too. ...Not too bad — she did make it here. She has some missing and broken feathers, and there was a bit of blood, but no obvious wounds. And no broken bones, at least not that I can tell. ...Of course, I'll be happy to keep her here. My parents like her, too." Both Emma and Lindsey smiled and nodded at that.

"Yeah, I miss you, too. ...Ugh, exercising! Yes, my parents have decided that it's a good idea to torture me with running so that I'll be fitter and have more physical endurance." The adults rolled their eyes at this comment.

"Oh, Wood made you all run, too? I guess that make sense. You, uh, certainly looked like it. That was actually something I was going to write to you about — to recommend that you exercise, too. ...I just hate the way it makes me all sweaty and sticky! It's so uncomfortable! I so desperately need a long shower right now."

Suddenly Hermione started blushing and stuttering. "No... yes... uh... yeah... well, there's nothing wrong with... Of course stamina is useful... You… you would? I mean, is that even...? Really? My parents' shower is big enough to... oh! And... oh!"

Hermione's blushing just got worse and worse, then she started squirming in her seat. Finally she said, "I'm glad that you're alright, but I really want to go take a shower! I mean, I need to! Take a shower! Right! I'll call you back tomorrow, then, OK! Bye!" She slammed the phone down and looked around a bit desperately.

"Is everything OK?" Emma asked uncertainly.

"Yes!" Hermione answered rather quickly. "I'm, uh, going to take a shower! Bye!" She fled, running for the bathroom on the second floor while her parents just watched her go, baffled.

Lindsey shook his head. "All this fuss about trying to get in touch with her, and then she practically hangs up on her in favor of personal hygiene. It's official: someone has taken our sweet little girl and replaced her with a raving teenager." He sighed ruefully. "I'm really not sure I'm ready for this…."

Emma patted his arm in sympathy. "It was bound to happen sometime, dear." Privately, though, she couldn't help but wonder if there wasn't more going on than met the eyes.

Wednesday, July 7, 1995. Morning.

When Hermione tried to call Jasmine again the next day, instead of hearing the dulcet tones of Petunia Dursley, she got the message: "The number you have dialled has not been recognised, please check and try again."

Confused, Hermione dialed the number again, more slowly this time and checking it against what she had on parchment. Once again, she got the same message. "This can't be right," she said aloud to no one in particular — her parents had already left, and Hedwig was sleeping on a spare perch which Hermione had gotten for her two years earlier. "This number worked yesterday, and I can't imagine that it would be having problems now."

So she tried for a third time. Instead of ringing or the message, though, she got loud static — so loud that she had to move the handset away from her ear. "This can't be good," she muttered. Unfortunately there was no one she could contact for help. No one that she could call could help her with the magical world, and she wouldn't be able to contact anyone magical until Hedwig was healed.

Well, maybe I can try muggle post... I still have Jasmine's address, somewhere, she finally concluded. But I doubt I'll get a reply in what little time I have left before we leave for France….

Jasmine looked around at the walls of her room again. And again. She could go out, but after having spent a couple of days at the local park, she just wasn't all that interested. So she decided to stay in with the intention of getting started on her summer homework. That plan didn't last long, though, and she was becoming incredibly bored looking at the same, boring walls day after boring day.

Has it really only been three days? Jasmine wondered. It usually takes longer for me to get this frustrated and bored. I wish Hermione would call again. Or write. Or something.

She sighed glumly and eyed the blank piece of parchment that she had gotten out an hour ago. Maybe I'll try that Charms essay again.

Thursday, July 8, 1995. Morning.

"Hermione, there's an owl here for you!"

Only just having finished showering after their morning run, Hermione came downstairs in her bathrobe. "Won't it let you take the message?" she asked her mother.

"No," Emma answered. "I tried, but it... well, it got rather snooty with me and refused to turn it over."

The mystery was quickly solved when she saw the seal on the parchment envelope. "Oh, this message is from Gringotts. The goblins have very strict rules about who can accept their letters." After taking the letter and trying to offer the regal-looking owl some bacon — which was refused — Hermione sat down to see what the goblins wanted with her while her mother let the owl back out the window.

"Well?" Emma asked. Hermione couldn't help but notice that while previously her mother wouldn't have asked, it seemed like part of the loss of trust meant her parents asked a lot more questions about what she was doing, especially when it involved magic.

"Huh," Hermione said after skimming through the letter quickly. "It's the results of the audit that was done on Jasmine's Gringotts' vaults."

"Why would you be getting it?" Lindsey wondered.

Hermione frowned, then explained, "She's been having trouble getting her mail — even from Gringotts, which is supposed to be really secure. They finished the audit a while ago, but they couldn't come up with a way to guarantee that she'd get this, especially while she was still in the castle. So they decided that I would be safe and reliable, at least once I got out into the muggle world for the summer."

Hermione set the letter down and made to open the packet which contained all the details about the audit, then stopped. While her mother tried to read some of the letter upside down, Hermione considered whether she really should read the audit information. Jasmine did promise that if we're going to build a life together, then all of her money would be mine as well, Hermione remembered, but I'm still not entirely comfortable with that. Besides, this money belongs to Jasmine alone right now, and she should at least be the first to see it.

After waffling between her options for another long moment, she looked at her mother and decided that maybe this would be a good time to ask for advice. "Should I open it? It's Jasmine's, which means I shouldn't. But if there's a problem, Jasmine might not find out for a while, so maybe I should? But then again, I wouldn't be able to do anything if there is a problem, right?"

Putting her hand on her daughter's, Emma said, "If there was an emergency, or if there was a very serious problem, I think they'd have said so in the letter to you. So whatever is in there, I think it can wait. At least for a little while."

Brightening at that, Hermione thanked her mother and took the packet up to her trunk. Meanwhile, Emma Granger was left wondering why goblin bankers would choose to send her daughter so much confidential financial information about her friend when they were normally so strict about such things.

Friday, July 9, 1995. Late Morning.

It had been three days since Hermione had been able to speak to Jasmine on the phone — three days in which every phone call she tried to make was met with horrible static. Even the conversation on Tuesday had been cut short — something she'd been regretting ever since — because Jasmine started distracting her with talk about getting hot and sweaty together (presumably from running, though she couldn't be sure) and needing a long, lingering shower and….

Stop! she told herself. Focus!

She'd written Jasmine a letter and sent it via muggle post, but that had been two days earlier, and she simply didn't have the patience to wait any longer. That's why she was now on a train just entering Surrey, and she needed to pay attention so she wouldn't miss her stop. She was too young to drive herself, but fortunately the trip wasn't too complex — she'd only had to change trains once, then walk a bit. She knew she could have taken the Knight Bus, but she decided against it in case it was being watched — whether by Death Eaters or by Dumbledore.

Right now, she wanted to avoid them both equally.

When the train finally arrived at the right stop, she exited and began what she estimated would be a fifteen minute walk to Jasmine's house. She was careful enough to keep checking behind her to make sure she wasn't being followed, and everything went well until she turned onto Privet Drive. Just minutes from her destination, Remus Lupin stepped out of nowhere and blocked her way.

"Miss Granger," he said quietly, "you know you're not supposed to be here. I'm very disappointed in you."

She had always liked Lupin, but after days of endless frustration, something inside her snapped at being thwarted so close to her goal. "Oh, really?" she drawled as she backed up a step. "You're disappointed that I would care enough about Jasmine to seek her out and spend time with her? I guess that explains why you never did that in all the years she was growing up as a slave in that prison the Headmaster stuck her in."

Lupin looked stricken by her words, which had been her intent. He had been her favorite Defense instructor, but after she and Jasmine started writing down the problems and oddities in her life, Lupin's absence despite being her parents' friend stood out. Why had he never visited? Or never written a letter — not even after she entered Hogwarts? Hermione couldn't imagine abandoning Jasmine or any of Jasmine's children like that, and her respect for him had suffered as a result.

Which made it all the easier for her to lash out now.

"Dumbledore assures us that she is safest with her relatives," Lupin insisted.

"And have you ever bothered to ask Jasmine what her home life is like?" Hermione shot back. "Do you even care?"

That seemed to stop him for a moment, but he quickly recovered. "That's unfair," Lupin said. "I'm just doing what the Headmaster wants, which is what you should be doing as well."

"Why?" Hermione asked belligerently.

"What?" Lupin responded, confused. "He's... he's Albus Dumbledore, of course. And he's your headmaster."

"As headmaster," Hermione retorted, "he has no authority over me or Jasmine during the summer. He can express his opinions about what we should do, but that's all — we don't have to obey."

Lupin shook his head. "I don't know where this hostility towards the Headmaster has come from, but it's certainly not justified. He only has the best interests of you and Miss Potter at..."

"Once again, did you ever bother to ask me or Jasmine what we think about that?" Hermione asked. "Or do you simply follow orders blindly?"

Lupin actually took a step back at that question, so Hermione pressed further. "I'm going to visit Jasmine, and there's nothing you can do about it. You have no authority over me whatsoever, no more than the Headmaster does. Out here in the muggle world, you're just another middle-aged man standing on the side of the street."

As she started moving forward, Lupin held out his hand to grab her, but she twisted away. "If you touch me, I'll scream," she warned, her expression making it clear that she wasn't bluffing. "The muggles around here won't hesitate to help a screaming teen girl who's being grabbed by a scruffy older man." Lupin's eyes widened in shock as he digested her words, giving her time to step around him and start moving quickly towards #4 and Jasmine.

Then everything went black.

Friday, July 9, 1995. Evening.

When Hermione came back to consciousness, she found herself lying on the sofa of her living room with her parents peering down at her. Lupin was there, too, with an apologetic expression on his face; but as soon as Hermione saw him she lept off the couch, flicked her wand into her hand, and stalked in his direction. "What did you do to me?!" she shouted.

Both her parents were stunned into silence, and Lupin himself barely got out of the chair before she reached it. "Miss Granger!" he said indignantly as he stepped back, just in case he needed to put the chair between her and him. "I only did what was necessary!"

"It was necessary to stun a teen witch in the middle of a muggle neighborhood in broad daylight?!" she exploded. "What gave you the right? What gave you the authority?"

"I'm simply doing what Albus Dumbledore has asked me to do," he tried to say. "In fact, I really should report this to him, but in deference to your relationship to Miss Potter I'll let this one go. Next time, though, I won't be so lenient."

"Oh, don't worry about there being a next time, Professor," she spat. "I won't be turning my back on you again."

Lupin rocked back as if struck. He looked as though he were about to protest, but then his gaze was caught by the tip of her wand, which was now glowing. "Miss Granger," he reminded her uneasily, "you cannot use magic outside of school."

"And you aren't supposed to use magic in front of muggles," she pointed out.

"That's why I cast a wide notice-me-not charm before I… er, stunned you," he said, now seeming to question whether that had been a good idea after all.

"And I'm allowed to use magic in self-defense," she countered. "I think that being attacked by an old man qualifies. What do you think the DMLE will say when they question me about it, huh?" No need to point out that as a werewolf, he'd almost certainly not be believed over her, despite her blood status.

Whatever thoughts were going through his mind at the implied threat, they were driven out when he saw that her eyes were glowing as brightly as her wand.

Suspecting that getting into a duel with a teen witch would not go over well with anyone, no matter what the outcome, he decided to cut his visit — and his losses — short. "I'm sorry you feel that way and I hope you reconsider," he said very quickly. "Good day!" And with a crack, he apparated right out of the Grangers' living room.

"That... that... ohh!" Hermione sputtered. "That bastard!"

"Hermione, language!" her mother chastised her.

"I was right there on her street, Mum!" Hermione fumed. "I was just a couple of minutes away from her house! From seeing her!"

"Hermione, he told us that he had to stun you because you were fighting and belligerent," her father said.

"That liar!" Hermione screeched, but then realized that her behavior would probably only serve to make her ex-professor look more credible. She took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself, then tried again. "I'm sorry for yelling at you, but I'm simply beyond angry that a former professor of mine would attack me like that! All I did was tell him that the Headmaster had no authority over my movements in the summer, and when he went to grab me, I threatened to scream."

"That's it?" Emma asked.

Hermione stopped and thought about it carefully for a moment, then said, "Aside from making clear my opinion about being kept apart from my friend by people who had no authority over us, yes. I won't deny that I expressed my anger that he'd presume to stop me on the street like that, but after threatening to scream if he grabbed me, I simply stepped around him and continued on my way. Then... well, that's when he must have stunned me, because the next thing I knew, I ended up here."

Lindsey shook his head. "I'm rather glad he's not your professor anymore. I know you said good things about him when he was teaching you, but he didn't handle that well at all." He paused for a moment, then said pointedly, "Neither did you, I suspect. As justified as your anger may be, you need to avoid lashing out like you just tried to do. You can't use or even just threaten violence to solve your disagreements with others."

"Your father's right, pumpkin," Emma said. "You can't criticize Lupin for using magic to forcefully stop you if you're going to turn around and use violence against him because he upset you. You can't descend to their level — you need to learn how to resolve disagreements by talking things out, just as we taught you when you were growing up."

Hermione simply nodded, accepting the criticism and not mentioning how she'd been reconsidering some of the lessons her parents had taught her. As she now knew all too well, not all disagreements could be talked out, because not everyone cared about talking. Still, she had to admit that she hadn't been thinking very clearly — she had just been overwhelmed by rage that came out of nowhere. Suddenly she looked down and realized her wand was still in her hand, and she hastily flicked it back into its holster.

"Why does your headmaster think he has the right to tell you where you can and can't go during the summer?" Lindsey asked.

Hermione sighed and sat back on the couch. "He seems to think he has the right to do whatever he wants if the goals are important enough. It doesn't matter what others think — he just acts as he sees fit and never asks for anyone else's opinion." Hermione shook her head. "Jasmine and I have been wondering for several months what's wrong with him and why he behaves like this. We just haven't come to any conclusions."

"Let's have dinner, pumpkin," Emma said, offering Hermione a hand. "We can talk more about this while we eat."

Saturday, July 10, 1995. Afternoon.

Hermione exited the Owl Post Office and headed for Flourish & Blotts to meet her parents. Normally she'd have been right there with them, browsing for new books, but she really didn't want to look through books about magical education in other nations, which was their reason for going there. By entering the book store later, she hoped to have a chance to go off on her own to find something more interesting. Or at least something less distressing.

More important, though, was the fact that she desperately needed to contact someone, and she wasn't sure Hedwig would be a good choice. Even though she was now healed enough to release, Hermione didn't want to take the chance that she might be tracked and attacked again if she were seen carrying a message. Tomorrow she'd send Hedwig to Neville for sanctuary, but she'd tell her to choose a long route and take it slowly.

That's why she'd chosen to use publicly available owls and hoped that at least one of them made it through — she had just sent out more-or-less identical letters to Neville, Ginny and Ron, and Sirius. She knew that there probably wasn't anything they could do to help, at least not directly; but the more people who knew about her predicament, the more hope she had of a solution being found.

Hermione never noticed the figure in a dark cloak that had been waiting for her outside the Owl Post Office and which then followed her to Flourish & Blotts. He waited outside there, too, then followed the Granger family out of Diagon Alley when they finally left two hours later. The cloaked figure managed to tail them through muggle London and even onto a muggle bus by using a silent confundus charm, but then lost them in Victoria Station.

Cursing to himself, he ducked into an alley and apparated home, making plans for how to do better next time if another opportunity presented itself.