A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that so many are enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving the original so much. 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.

Just to be clear about the posting schedule, I do intend to go back to two chapters per week, but only after the crossovers are finished publishing. Two chapters of this plus one chapter of another story is simply too much for my beta readers to do in a single week.

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

Recommendation: This chapter's recommended fic is "0800-Rent-A-Hero" by brainthief. Harry Potter is settled in his new life after the war when he's violently ripped out of this reality and dragged into a new one where the Order of the Phoenix is desperate for a hero to help their chosen one — Iris Potter — solve their Voldemort problem. Harry is not amused.

Italics: a person's thoughts.

Chapter 03 - Parents Just Don't Understand

Sunday, July 11, 1995. Morning.

Finally able to relax now that the first leg of their trip to St. Tropez was underway, Emma Granger took some time to try to figure out the mystery that her daughter and only child had become. Well, more of a mystery than she has been, Emma was forced to correct herself. She and her husband had long been concerned about the fact that an unbridgeable gulf seemed to have opened up between them and their daughter. They simply didn't know her anymore, and while they couldn't pinpoint exactly when the problem started, they suspected it could be traced to when she was rather young — and that their treatment of her as being much more mature than her years had played a role in that.

It had seemed so reasonable at the time because she had proven herself to be incredibly smart, self-motivated, and indeed mature. It became easy to forget just how young she really was, given how adult her knowledge and language could be. And, truth be told, it was often easier and more convenient for their own lives. They had been constantly pressed for time when they first started their joint dental practice, and being able to leave Hermione to her own devices had seemed like such a godsend at the time.

We assumed that she was happiest when pursuing her own interests and learning at her own pace, Emma reflected, but our not being there to help and guide her meant that we were too often absent during critical periods of her childhood development. And then, once we started to have more time that we could have devoted to her, we found out she was a witch, and she started spending ten months out of the year in a boarding school in Scotland. Had she attended a local school like we originally expected, it would have been different. Instead we have been excluded from everything she has been learning and doing... and now she's a virtual stranger.

That wasn't the new mystery, though. That was the old mystery, and one that both Emma and her husband were optimistic they could deal with that summer. Learning just how many dangerous things she'd been keeping from them disappointed them beyond measure, but it also meant that they now knew far more about her life than they had before — things that had been critical in her development as a person, but which they had been shut out from.

The new mystery was the nature of her daughter's various relationships. Why hasn't she told us more about her boyfriend? she wondered. Not even his name! Every time he comes up, she changes the subject, but she insists that she hasn't broken up with him. Did something happen between them? A fight, maybe? Oh, I do hope it wasn't some sort of sexual assault that she's ashamed about — I'll need to get a couple of books on the subject so I can look up the signs for that.

Then there was her best friend, the Potter girl. Emma and Lindsey had been hearing about Jasmine almost constantly since shortly after Halloween in Hermione's first year. Every letter tended to have more about Jasmine than anyone or anything else, and at times they thought they might know Jasmine better than they knew their own daughter. I wish I could figure out why Hermione's reactions to anything involving Jasmine are so extreme. Why is she so upset over a brief separation, even if it is from her best friend? Is it just something magical that I won't be able to understand, or is it something more mundane? I don't think she used to be that way.

Emma frowned slightly as she looked at her daughter in the plane seat next to her, who as usual had her nose buried in a book. Looking more closely, though, she noticed an expression of worry, something that had hardly left Hermione's face over the past week. Maybe she'll relax and get distracted a little at the beach, Emma thought hopefully, and maybe that will give me a chance to find out more.

Molly Weasley had been surprised when her two youngest children volunteered to rid the garden of gnomes without having to be asked. It was the first time they'd ever done that, and she was suspicious at first; but after watching Ron and Ginny carefully for a bit, she decided that their offer had been made without ulterior motives and went back to work herself.

"Is she gone?" Ron asked quietly.

"Yeah," Ginny answered, "and it's about time, too. I thought she'd never leave us alone."

Ron sighed in relief. "Right, then — any thoughts about Hermione's message?" He and his sister had been pleased when they got Hermione's letter the previous day, then shocked at what she had written. It was bad enough that she couldn't get in contact with Jasmine in any way, but the idea that a former professor would stun her in the middle of a muggle street was incredible.

"Not really," Ginny said, shaking her head as she chucked another gnome over the fence. "It's got to be tough on Jasmine, not being allowed any outside contact."

"Do you think Mum is in on it?" Ron asked.

Ginny stopped to consider that. "I really don't know. We could try writing a letter to Jasmine and see if she tries to stop us."

Ron nodded, liking that plan. "Do you think the twins might be able to help?"

Ginny started to answer, then stopped and seemed to change her mind. "I was going to say that that was a good idea," Ginny said, "but near the end of term they started acting... differently. More reserved and cautious, not like their usual selves."

"They did get caught in a couple of major pranks." Ron pointed out. "Maybe it's made them a little less daring?"

Ginny shrugged. "Maybe, but they've been caught before, and it didn't change anything."

"Why do you suppose Hermione is so upset?" Ron suddenly asked. "I mean, of course she's unhappy about it — I don't like it either. But Hermione seems... I dunno, a bit over the top." Ron didn't notice his sister go still as he paused for a moment before continuing, "As a matter of fact, they both seemed to be a bit over the top whenever it came to something happening to the other. More so this past year than in previous years, I'd say."

"Dunno, Ron," Ginny said, trying very hard to be casual. "Are you sure you haven't been imagining things?"

Ron scowled at her. "Look, I may not be the most observant bloke in the world, but I'm not completely thick — there was definitely something strange going on last year. You got a lot closer to them, so I thought you might have noticed something."

Ginny shook her head firmly. "Nope, sorry."

Ron frowned at Ginny's back as she tossed another gnome over the fence. He was sure that she knew more than she was letting on, but apparently asking directly wouldn't get him anywhere. He'd have to try something different, but he wasn't exactly sure what. He wasn't a Slytherin, and being sneaky just didn't come naturally to him.

Sunday, July 11, 1995. Late Afternoon.

"Pad?" came a voice from the open bedroom door, and Padma looked up from her Potions essay to see her sister standing in the doorway, looking more than a bit hesitant. "Can we talk? Just you and me?"

Padma sighed and motioned her sister to come in. She'd been expecting this for a couple of days now. She'd known that she had changed at the end the spring term, but it wasn't until she'd gotten home and spent time around her twin that she'd realized just how much she'd changed. And was still changing. Her entire family had noticed, but whereas her parents seemed to accept the explanation that it was simply a difference in growth spurts, Parvati clearly had doubts — and those doubts seemed to grow every time the two of them lounged around the pool, where the differences in physical development became impossible to ignore.

Even Padma, despite her focus on academics, couldn't help but think about how much she was developing physically — not just height and muscle mass, but hips and bust as well. She knew that Parvati, who obsessed about looks and fashion, must have been thinking about it non-stop.

Aside from any envy Parvati might be feeling, there was the fact that as twins, they'd always looked so much alike, even when they deliberately tried to look different. But now Padma's changes were separating them in ways that even being sorted into different houses at Hogwarts hadn't.

After the door had been closed and Parvati was sitting on the bed, Padma asked, "So, what's up?"

Parvati hesitated for a moment, obviously trying to choose her words, then finally said simply, "You've changed. A lot. What happened to you?"

Padma shrugged, hoping for nonchalance. "Like I said to Mum and Dad, I must be getting my growth spurt earlier than you."

Parvati scoffed. "Don't lie, Pad. Not to me — please. I know there's more to it than that."

Padma looked down, avoiding her sister's eyes. I hate lying to her, she thought, and I shouldn't have even bothered trying — we can always tell. Even though I don't know the full story, I know that something about that ritual affected me. I just don't know how... and I certainly can't tell Parvi.

Before she could come up with a response, her sister asked, "It has something to do with Jasmine and Hermione, doesn't it?"

Padma looked up in surprise, and Parvati said, "Oh, don't give me that look. I may not be in Ravenclaw, but I'm not stupid. Neither is Lavender." Padma's skepticism must have been just as plain as her surprise, because Parvati continued irritably, "It's true! Just because we like makeup and clothes doesn't mean we're airheads. We've lived with those two for ten months a year for the past four years, so it wasn't hard to notice significant changes in their bodies during last term. They're both taller and fitter, and... curvier," she added, gesturing helplessly. "Sure, we're all changing, but those two changed a lot more and a lot faster than anyone else. Then we also noticed that you and the rest of their closest friends — well, the witches, at least — all just happened to start changing right at the end of the year, though not as much."

Padma looked at her sister with a new appreciation. "I guess your interest in clothing and such actually helped you notice the changes, even through our bulky Hogwarts robes," she finally conceded.

Parvati smiled — a bit smugly, it seemed to Padma, though she also thought she could detect something else there as well. Jealousy, perhaps? Jealousy that I'm filling out?

"I'm sorry, Parvi," she said, "but I can't tell you what I've been doing. It's nothing bad, I can promise you that; but it's not my secret to tell. I'm really sorry." When she saw how upset that made her sister, she tried to comfort her by adding, "I'm sure what's happened to me will happen to you, too. It might just take a little longer until you fill out the same..."

"No!" Parvati interrupted her. "It's not that! I mean, well, I certainly wouldn't mind filling out as much as you have already, but that's not..." She sighed as she trailed off, clearly having trouble explaining. "It's just that, well, we're all Gryffindors, but you're Ravenclaw, you know?"

And suddenly it clicked for Padma. Her sister was jealous not of Padma's recent physical changes, but of her relationship with Jasmine and Hermione. Those two were Gryffindors, but instead of sharing whatever was going on with their fellow Gryffindors, they had instead chosen to share with a Ravenclaw, a couple of Hufflepuffs, and a couple of Slytherins. Parvati was feeling like she'd been snubbed in favor of her sister and was having trouble dealing with it — especially when faced with the obvious and interesting consequences of the relationships she was missing out on.

"Oh, Parvi," she said as she moved to the bed and put her arm around her twin's shoulders. She couldn't help but feel sorry for her, despite the fact that the problem was pretty much her own fault. "I know that you and Lavender were really supportive of those two in your common room recently. They told me later how surprised and impressed they were."

"Really?" Parvati asked. "They never said anything."

"You two treated them pretty badly over the Triwizard Tournament," Padma pointed out, "and they're not quick to forget that sort of thing. You just need to show that you've changed. Keep showing that you can be counted on, like in the DA and our new witches' group next term."

"You think it'll help?" Parvati asked. "Do you think we'll be accepted like you are?"

"It will take time, so be patient," Padma said, "but yes, Parvi, I do think so."

"Thanks," Parvati said softly as she put her arm around her sister and leaned into her shoulder. "So," she added after a few moments, "when can Lav and I take you shopping for new clothes to fit that rockin' new body you have?"

Padma huffed and gave her a shove, only for her sister to retaliate by trying to tickle her. "C'mon, you know you want to!" she cried as the two of them descended into a tickle battle that would leave both panting, but also feeling much closer than they had felt in months.

Sunday, July 11, 1995. Early Evening.

Lindsey Granger tried to stifle a yawn as he picked up the last piece of their checked luggage. I can't believe how much we packed to go to a place known for nude beaches, he lamented — and not for the first time that day. Since neither Heathrow nor Gatwick offered direct flights to La Mole, the airport that served St. Tropez, they'd been travelling all day for what would have ideally been a mere two or three hour flight.

And they weren't done yet, because they still had to pick up a car and drive nearly half an hour to their hotel over in St. Tropez, where he suspected he'd immediately drop off to sleep. Emma and Hermione don't look any better, he thought as he gazed at the two women in his life. They'd been on the move just as long that day as he had, and he hadn't missed how stressed Hermione had been looking recently.

Lindsey was still yawning as he walked up to his family with the last of the luggage, causing both of them to yawn as well. "Prat!" Emma said with a mock scowl as she elbowed him in the ribs.

Lindsey grinned. "Sorry," he replied, not looking the least bit apologetic. "Let's go rent a car so we can get to the hotel and crash for the night."

As they exited the baggage claim area, Lindsey was stopped short by two surprising sights. The first was the tallest, fittest, most beautiful blonde woman he'd ever seen. Well, she was for all of two seconds until he noticed the two taller, fitter, and even more beautiful blondes standing on either side of her. The first looked to be around six feet tall, but the other two were nearly half a head taller and a couple of stone heavier — and both of them had very stern, even dangerous, expressions on their faces.

The second surprise was the fact that the first blonde was holding a sign in front of her that said "Granger."

Before he could say anything more articulate than "wha—?" his daughter had already run forward, shouting, "Phoebe! Areto!" As she hugged the two taller women, who for some reason kept bringing to mind the term "Amazons," he couldn't help but notice just how much they dwarfed his little girl. For a moment he was afraid that they might crush her, and he was well familiar with the crushing hugs his wife and daughter were wont to give.

"Monsieur et Madame Granger?" the first blonde asked as she stepped up to them. "I am Victoire, and I 'ave been sent to fetch you to your 'otel."

Lindsey gulped and shook his head to get focused. The woman's beauty was astounding, there was no doubt about that; but he had things to do. "Thank you, but, uh, we were going to rent a car to get to St. Tropez and use it to drive around while we're here."

"Zere eez no need," she responded with a warm smile that seemed to make his head go fuzzy for a moment. "We 'ave been put at your disposal for as long as you are 'ere."

"And who are you, exactly?" Emma asked suspiciously.

"These are the friends that I told you about," Hermione said as she came up with the other two. Lindsey noticed that their eyes were constantly moving, taking in everything and everyone around them. "This is Phoebe and Areto — they were helping train Fleur and Gabrielle while they were in Scotland. And..." she turned to the first blonde of the group, "I'm sorry, I don't think we've met yet?"

"I am Victoire Delacour," she said as she shook his daughter's hand. "I am so delighted to finally meet you, Mademoiselle Granger. I am ze cousin of Fleur and Gabrielle, and I visited zem at Hogwarts in May," she explained, giving Hermione a look he couldn't quite decipher, "but I never got ze chance to introduce myself. Zat eez part of why I volunteered for zis."

"Well, let's go," Hermione said as she picked up her bags. "Phoebe said that Fleur and Gabrielle are waiting for us!" She then trotted out towards the parking area without bothering to wait for her parents, though the woman he thought was Phoebe strode right behind her. Not having any good reason to say no, and more comfortable now that he saw how accepting his daughter was of these people, Lindsey looked at his wife and shrugged before picking up the other bags. Emma frowned slightly, but followed along.

When he and his wife exited the airport, he was confronted with his third surprise of the evening: his daughter standing next to a large stretch limousine while being embraced simultaneously by two more blondes — also incredibly gorgeous and tall, though not as tall as the three who had been inside waiting. "Is this France or Sweden?" he heard his wife mutter. Lindsey snorted; he'd actually been wondering the same thing, but hadn't dared say it out loud.

Sunday, July 11, 1995. Night.

Sirius desperately wanted a drink, but he had to admit that it might not be a good idea to be under the influence when having this conversation. It was something that had been coming for a while, ever since he read Hermione and Jasmine's description of all the odd things that had happened in his goddaughter's life and saw several questions about the behavior of one Remus J. Lupin.

Several serious and disturbing questions, in fact.

After getting Hermione's letter the day before, though, he couldn't put it off any longer. I'm honestly not all that surprised that Dumbledore would try to restrict Jasmine's contact with the magical world, he thought. There are dangers that she needs to be protected from. Banning all contact, though, is going a bit far — and Moony's decision to stun Hermione in the middle of a muggle neighborhood... that went well over the line. The old man and I are going to have words about what he's doing to my goddaughter, but first I need to focus on Moony.

There were several ways he could approach this conversation, but he was going to go with a course that would be sure to put his old friend off-balance: act mature about it. Actually, that had been his mother's idea, and while he could see the value in it, he suspected she only suggested it because she wanted him to get the practice.

The decision to act mature did not, however, prevent him from building up some anger while waiting for his friend, and when Moony finally did arrive, Sirius was in a right state. Good thing that none of the other members of the Order of the Phoenix are staying here tonight. I just need to avoid yelling and throwing curses, he thought to himself, because he won't take me as seriously if I look like I'm throwing a tantrum.

Woah — when did I start sounding like my mother?

Shaking his head elicited a questioning look from Moony as his friend sat down and poured himself a drink. Sirius already had something non-alcoholic and was struggling to resist the urge to replace it with some of the firewhiskey Moony just poured. Deciding to use that agitation to good effect, he waited until his friend was in the middle of drinking before asking in as casual a manner as possible, "So, curse any teen girls in the back lately?"

His question had the intended result, which was Remus spitting a mouthful of firewhiskey across the table and choking for the next minute on what had gone down. Serves him right, Sirius thought with a private smirk. And if I can't drink any of that, why should he get to enjoy it?

"Where did you...?" Remus coughed out. Sirius was pleased to see that he looked embarrassed, but that didn't mean he was going to go easy on his old friend. Not yet, at least.

"Oh, I've got my sources," Sirius answered cryptically. "Just because I'm a prisoner in my own home like Jasmine is doesn't mean that I've been completely isolated from the rest of the world. I, at least, am still allowed contact with others." Putting as much scorn into his voice as he could muster, he continued, "I suppose you're proud of yourself for what you did? Taking down a teen girl like that really shows off your big bad dueling skills — I'll bet all the other werewolves are envious of how macho you are now."

"Sweet Merlin," Remus said hoarsely. "Of course I'm not proud of myself. I felt ashamed as soon as I did it... no, even before, because of some of the things Miss Granger said to me. And it got worse when she woke up and started in on me again."

"Didn't stop you from doing it, though, did it?" Sirius pointed out. "You made a choice, and from where I'm sitting it was a really bad one."

"Yeah," Remus said morosely as he took a large swig of firewhiskey. "I've been thinking the same thing."

"If I'm not mistaken," Sirius went on, "they were already losing trust in you once they noticed how you basically ignored Jasmine's existence until you showed up at Hogwarts. Do you think you have any chance of them trusting you now that you've stunned Hermione when her back was turned? How do you think they'll treat you the next time they see you?"

Remus sighed deeply and poured himself another glass — a bigger one this time. "You think I don't know that?"

"So why did you do it in the first place?" Sirius demanded, struggling to not smack his long-time friend in the head for being such an idiot. He certainly would have back in Hogwarts, and Remus had done it to him on more than one occasion; but he was working to control those impulses and behave more like an adult. His mother was convinced that it would make it easier to get custody of Jasmine later, and he couldn't refute her reasoning.

"I didn't know what else to do!" Remus protested, bringing Sirius back to the moment. "Dumbledore said that she wasn't to have contact with anyone from the wizarding world. He visited Miss Granger personally and told her not to contact Miss Potter — I know, I was there with Tonks. Then she comes walking down Privet Drive like she lived there herself. What was I supposed to do? I felt that I had to follow the Headmaster's instructions. She wasn't going to leave voluntarily and threatened to scream if I used physical force, so that left nothing but magic."

"Or you could have just let her go," Sirius pointed out. When Remus started to object, Sirius simply talked over him, saying, "You can't expect me to believe you think a blanket 'no contact' policy is justified or even healthy. I'm all for security procedures, but they should be restrictions that actually take her wishes into account, not high-handed decisions by people who have no authority over her. It's her life, and she's more than old enough to have some voice in what happens to her. For Merlin's sake, Moony, she's about to turn fifteen, not five!"

Remus looked thoroughly chastened, but Sirius wasn't quite done. "And while I know you feel like you owe Dumbledore, the fact of the matter is that he's not perfect. He makes mistakes. At the very least, he hasn't been fifteen since the turn of the century, and even then he was never a teen girl (his fashion choices notwithstanding). You can't simply assume that any and every decision he makes about Jasmine is right — and that's when we're talking about decisions he actually has the authority to make in the first place. You do know that neither he nor you has any right to order the girls around during the summer?"

Remus grimaced. "Yes, Miss Granger did point that out to me. She also threatened me with the DMLE." When Sirius raised an eyebrow at that, Remus added, "She didn't have to mention that as a werewolf, I'm especially vulnerable if any legal complaints are made against me. I, more than almost anyone else, need to keep my nose clean. Following the headmaster's orders had me breaking the law." Remus downed a large gulp at that.

"And do you think he'd expend political capital in order to save you, should you find yourself in a DMLE holding cell?" Sirius asked as he took a sip of his own drink.

"At one time, maybe," Remus said slowly. "But now... I don't know anymore. Reading between the lines of some of the recent stories in the Daily Prophet, I don't like the message the Ministry seems to be sending, and I'm worried about what it might mean in the future."

Sirius nodded. "I had thought that Jasmine's handling of the Minister would prevent something like this, but it looks like it didn't work."

"No, my impression is that it did work, but she laid into him at the end of the third task something fierce. I think that undid whatever good will she might have had with him."

Sirius smirked and said, "She can be a real spitfire. And Hermione isn't much different."

"Oh, Merlin," Remus groaned as he took another swig of his firewhiskey. "I was sure she was going to attack me before I apparated out of her house."

"Did you or did you not run with your tail between your legs?" Sirius needled him. He could tell that he had successfully gotten Remus to rethink his priorities. That was enough for one night and justified adopting a friendlier tone now.

Remus rolled his eyes. "I didn't want to get into a fight with a teen girl under any circumstances. But I will admit that she got a bit scary there at the end." Remus paused, obviously considering something, then added, "I know you won't believe me (and I have trouble believing it myself), but at the end, just before I apparated out, I'm sure that I saw her eyes glowing."

"Glowing?" Sirius asked in disbelief.

Remus nodded. "Yes, glowing. I've never seen that, though I have read that it can occur with very powerful wizards or witches. If I'm right and that's what was happening, she was building up an awful lot of power. She could have seriously hurt me, had she cast a harmful spell."

Sirius chose not to mention that Hermione did, in fact, know a number of incredibly harmful spells that she could have used against Moony — and that Sirius himself was responsible for her having learned some of them in the first place. Remus was already rethinking his choices and didn't need to be told how much danger his choices might have put him in. Merlin, Sirius thought, Jasmine wrote that Hermione loves the siege engine spell, and if she'd forgotten herself and cast that... Moony would have been turned into a puddle of goo.

Monday, July 12, 1995. Morning.

Jasmine sighed as she slipped on her least-tattered pair of trainers. It had been over a week since summer break had started, and except for one brief telephone call from Hermione, she hadn't heard from anyone. She had learned from the call that Hedwig's messages had been lost, but she'd expected that by now Hermione would have managed something — if not owl post, then regular muggle post or even a personal visit.

Or just another phone call, Jasmine thought dejectedly. Their one and only conversation had been cut short, presumably because of how Jasmine had started teasing her girlfriend about getting hot and sweaty then taking long, lingering showers together. It had been said in good fun (and of course because Jasmine was getting both lonely and frustrated over Hermione's absence), but the lack of any follow-up calls made her worry. I didn't make her mad, did I? She did hang up awfully fast, and she promised to call the next day. Maybe I should have thought to get her phone number before leaving the train, but I figured the Dursleys wouldn't allow me to use the phone.

Shaking her head, the auburn-haired witch decided to put that out of her mind for now. She knew that Hermione needed time with her parents and that that might be the cause of Hermione's silence, not any anger at Jasmine. She walked outside and did a few stretches before taking off down the street in a fast jog. At least something came out of our one phone call, she thought. Other than homework and a very few chores, I'd have nothing else to do if Hermione hadn't given me the idea of running for exercise and endurance.

"Sending out a postcard already, pumpkin?" Lindsey asked when he walked up behind his daughter and saw her writing at the table in their suite's living area. "We only just arrived last night, you know."

"I know, Dad," Hermione responded tiredly, "but this is for Jasmine. I need her to know that I haven't forgotten about her."

Lindsey frowned. "I hardly think she'd believe that, would she?" He turned to look at his wife when he heard her exit their bedroom, and she was frowning too.

"I don't know — I hope not," Hermione said with a sigh. "But I promised to call her back on Wednesday — last Wednesday — and since then I haven't been able to contact her at all. She has no idea how many times and ways I've tried or that I keep getting blocked. So she won't know what to think. She won't know what I'm doing. I just... I..."

"It'll be alright, sweetie," Emma said as she knelt down and pulled her daughter into a hug. "She's your friend, and she won't instantly think the worst of you." When an unexpected knock came at the door, Lindsey started to move in that direction, but one of the tall blondes who occupied the second of the suite's three bedrooms got there first and opened it, revealing Victoire standing in the hall.

"Good morning," she said brightly as she entered. "Did you all sleep well?"

"Wonderfully," Lindsey said, thinking back to how unexpectedly awake he had felt last night when they checked in. Awake... and frisky. Fortunately, Emma hadn't minded. "I want to thank you again for getting the hotel to upgrade us to this suite. I'm sure the regular room we booked would have been fine, but this..."

"It eez quite alright," Victoire said with a wave of her hand. "As I explained last night, zis suite allows us to put two bodyguards with you, so it eez for our benefit as well."

"We appreciate that, too," Lindsey said. "It never occurred to us that the dangers back home might follow us so quickly."

"Zey probably will not," Victoire said as she shrugged, "But better safe zan sorry, no? Hermione eez a dear friend of my cousins, and my family just wants to 'elp 'owever zey can." She then leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "And if nothing 'appens, Areto and Phoebe get to spend some days being lazy on ze beach!"

"Holà!" Phoebe complained. "We are not being lazy."

Victoire grinned. "If you say so." Almost immediately she turned serious and asked the taller woman, whom Lindsey learned last night was a witch and a veela, like the others, "Were zere any problems last night?" When Phoebe shook her head, Victoire added, "Not even, you know?" Lindsey noticed that the shorter of the two gave a significant look in his direction.

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

Victoire suddenly looked very embarrassed and seemed to grope for the right words. Eventually, Areto, who had been standing by the windows, said, "We told you last night zat we are veela. What we did not mention is zat veela 'ave something called an 'allure,' which is a magical attraction zat works on anyone who is already attracted to women. We can never shut it down entirely, zough with practice we can reduce it a great deal — enough zat most wizards will not notice, but muggles..."

"Oh?" Lindsey asked, wondering where this was going. Emma was also paying attention now, while Hermione finished with her postcard.

"Even zough ze zree of us are concentrating on 'olding it in," Phoebe said, "it's a bit of a surprise zat you aren't affected in zis enclosed space. Nor were you affected all night last night."

"Or in ze car, despite 'aving five veela around you," Victoire added. "It would maybe not be so surprising for you to not be affected by one of us, but so many? Zat eez impressive."

"Why would he be able to do that?" Emma asked, her curiosity piqued.

Victoire shrugged. "Zere are zeveral factors zat can come into play. He eez not magical, zo occlumency eez excluded. I suspect zat it eez a combination of a strong mind and his love for you, Madame Granger. Zey allow him to resist."

Emma smiled fondly at her husband while Lindsey looked thoughtful. "Now that you mention it," he said, "I have felt... I don't know, like my head was going swimmy or something now and then. I thought I was just distracted by, well," he gestured at the veela, "having several extremely beautiful women right in front of me. When I noticed it, though, I concentrated and shook it off."

Victoire nodded. "You may find it easier ze more practice you 'ave."

"He'll certainly get a lot of practice today," Areto said with a grin.

Lindsey, who had been feeling a bit smug for being able to resist the allure of magically attractive supermodels, froze when he realized that today was going to be his first day ever at a nude beach... surrounded by magically attractive supermodels. Naked magically attractive supermodels.

Emma gave him a poke as she passed by on her way back to their bedroom. "Keep your eyes to yourself, buster," she murmured.

Neville stroked the feathers of Rollo, the strongest and fastest of the Longbottom owls. "Now remember," Neville said softly, "this is a very important letter, but it's not more important than your life. I know for a fact that there's something interfering with Jasmine's owl mail, but I don't know what it is. One owl has already been hurt, and I don't want you to get hurt, too."

Rollo hooted gravely at him.

"If anyone tries to stop you or take the letter, don't put up too much of a fight." Neville added with a smirk, "There's an extra message in there for whoever tries to steal it, so I won't get too upset, and I certainly won't blame you. Just do your best and be sure to come back, OK?"

The owl stood a bit taller at the trust he was being shown.

"OK, then, off you go!" Once he was released, Rollo beat his wings hard and took to the sky, headed south in the direction of Jasmine Potter.

"Good luck," Neville whispered.

Monday, July 12, 1995. Late Morning.

Lindsey Granger lay back uneasily, trying hard not to look around any more than was necessary and annoyed that his wife seemed to be so much more relaxed than he was. This wasn't quite working out the way he had envisioned.

The two of them had decided on St. Tropez for several interconnected reasons. As they had explained to Hermione, they wanted a place that would help them reconnect as a family. Beyond that, however, was the fact that their daughter wasn't the only one who had been changing. He and Emma had been slowly moving away from conservative, traditional beliefs ever since they had discovered their little girl was a witch. A nude beach would have seemed quite scandalous five years ago; today, given their personal desire for something different and adventurous, it felt like a reasonable next step.

Oh, he knew Emma was a bit nervous about it, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. More importantly, Hermione hadn't appeared to judge them for a choice that probably seemed rather extreme to her, and it gave them hope that their plan might work out after all.

Unfortunately, the reality of their situation wasn't quite measuring up to the theory. Hermione was incredibly distracted and upset about Jasmine, making it difficult to have productive conversations with her. The situation made him not only concerned, but also curious about why his daughter was taking it so hard. He understood the importance of friends — especially first and best friends — but Hermione seemed to be a lot more upset than he thought was warranted.

She only seemed to grow calm and relaxed when close to her two young veela friends, and while he didn't mind having the veela around in general — especially since they were generously providing security — their presence at the beaches had been preventing him from relaxing at all. He had originally thought that being surrounded by nude women all day would just be icing on the cake, and perhaps inspire a bit more fun between him and his wife during their nights.

I guess the old saying about being careful what you wish for is right, he lamented. Even if they didn't have magical pheromones or whatever it is, I still wouldn't be able to relax. I feel more relaxed when performing root canals! And do they have to... practically drape themselves over each other? Even seeing that out of the corner of my eye is... distracting. Ugh! Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day! Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day! Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day...

"So gorgeous!" Emma exclaimed.

Lindsey jumped. "I wasn't looking at... I mean, what?" he said, blinking at her.

"The beach," she clarified. "Isn't it gorgeous?"

"Oh — yes," he answered, clearing his throat. "Indeed."

Emma eyed him up and down for a moment before asking, "Are you quite alright, dear? You seem a bit uptight. You're supposed to relax, not lie there all stiff and rigid."

"Easy for you to say," he muttered under his breath.

"What was that, dear?" Emma asked.

"Nothing," he said a little bitterly, not seeing the mirth in her eyes behind her sunglasses.

Monday, July 12, 1995. Night.

Susan Bones yawned deeply as she got into bed. She and Hannah had been working at the Ministry for a week now, putting in long days researching how the Death Eaters had operated during the war and discussing ways to counter their most common tactics. It was harder than anything they did at school, in large part because the information was so disturbing — more than once she'd come home and cried herself to sleep, haunted by the dreadful things she'd read about during the day.

At the same time, it was also more rewarding, because she felt she was learning important things which might be useful in helping others survive. Neither she nor Hannah had fooled themselves into thinking that they'd create revolutionary new tactics, but they were optimistic that they might catch a few things that earlier DMLE employees hadn't. Even just one good idea might save lives, and that's what kept the two of them going: the hope that they could prevent even one of the horrors they were reading about from happening again.

Especially to their friends.