Recommendation: This chapter's recommended fic is "The Lost Summer" by Belcris. After winning the war, Harry decides to take a vacation in France. Harry being Harry, things get a little out of control. Short, fluffy, and funny. Not for Ron or Ginny fans. Harry/Hermione/Others.

Chapter 39 - We Are Family

Wednesday, February 24, 1995, 11:30 AM.

It was a fairly subdued group that sat at the Gryffindor table eating an early lunch organized by Dobby and Winky, the house elves which Jasmine and Hermione had adopted, who had been fussing over their mistresses like mother hens. They all had a lot to talk about, but none of them were quite ready to start any of the conversations they needed to have. Instead, they all seemed content simply to take comfort in the presence of the others. Only two were related by blood, but all were feeling more like family than they ever had before.

Some were in fact feeling far closer than others, though not all of them realized it yet.

"Fleur, did you mean what you said to Dumbledore?" Jasmine asked.

"You mean, about my maman and grandmere complaining to 'im... and about 'im?" Fleur responded. "Oui, very much. Zey will not tolerate my sister being treated like she was."

"Will anyone listen to their complaints, though?" Hermione asked. "You've mentioned more than once about how veela are regarded."

"Oh, I zink zey will be 'eard," Fleur said with a sly smile. "Ze veela in France are treated well by ze magical government zere. We still suffer from prejudice, but ze upper echelons of government and commerce 'ave worked closely with ze veela enclaves for centuries. When we complain, ze French magical government will complain, and ze British magical government will 'ave to listen."

Fleur reached over and put a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Zey will complain about what 'appened to my sister, but I zink zey will also talk about what 'appened to you. Ze 'eadmaster should not 'ave done zat to you without your permission. Zough whether ze British actually do anything eez another matter."

Jasmine smiled, happy to see that someone else was willing to be as protective of Hermione as she was. Now if I can just stop thinking about how to best mutilate and destroy Dumbledore, she thought, maybe I can finally relax a bit...

Minerva McGonagall surprised herself as well as the others when she decided to sit with the group at the Gryffindor table instead of up at the staff table. Such an act by one of the Hogwarts staff was unheard of — separation between students and staff was a longstanding tradition, and while not a written rule, it had been strictly followed for as long as anyone could remember.

In for a knut, in for a galleon, Minerva had thought as she sat down, struck by how much better she felt since deciding to publicly support the girls a short while before. The feeling stood in sharp contrast to how she had felt for the previous twelve hours.

"When did you learn about Hermione being Jasmine's hostage, Professor?" Neville asked her. She couldn't detect any reproach in his voice, but she was sure that he had it in mind.

"I only learned the identity of the final hostages late last night," she responded, "which was also when I found Miss Granger stunned in the Headmaster's office."

"Who did that?" Neville asked before she could continue.

"I'm afraid I don't know," Minerva said darkly. "If I find out, I'll be sure to tell her. By that point there was nothing I could do to make him change his mind. It was probably too late anyway, though I did tell him that he was making a big mistake by ignoring her wishes and refusing to contact her guardians."

Neville shook his head in frustration. "Unfortunately, as a muggleborn she doesn't have enough political clout to force people to care about what happens to her. I'll write to my gran to tell her about all this and let her know how I feel, but I doubt there's much she can do, either."

He chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then added, "Thanks, by the way, for coming back to the castle with us. I'd have expected you to stay with the staff and wouldn't have blamed you, but I know we all appreciate it." Cedric and Viktor, who were listening in because they, too, were eager to find out how the hostages had been taken, both expressed their agreement with Neville.

Minerva smiled, pleased to see that her choice was having an impact.

The only one in a truly upbeat mood was Gabrielle Delacour. Despite having just recently survived nearly drowning at the bottom of the Black Lake and floating helpless while the others fought off an attack by the merpeople, she was chattering away at everyone as though nothing could possibly bring her down. She seemed to be the very definition of irrepressible, and she was lightening the mood of all those around her.

"So," the little veela said as she turned and smiled at the redheaded boy next to her, "are you friends with 'Ermione and Jasmine? Are you friends with my sister, too? How long have you known zem? My sister says zat zey are very nice, and she seems to like zem. She always has good zings to say about zem. I met zem a month ago, zough not for very long. What did you say your name was?"

Ron blinked at the barrage of questions, wondering where to start. Ordinarily he might not be inclined to chat with a little kid, but she was so bubbly and happy that he couldn't bring himself to brush her off. There was also the fact that he didn't want to upset the younger sister of the veela champion, seeing how protective of her she was.

"Uh," he said hesitantly, "I've known Hermione and Jasmine since first year. We met on our first train ride to Hogwarts, actually, and we've been friends ever since Jasmine and I saved Hermione from a troll on Halloween of our first year." Gabrielle's eyes lit up, eager to hear more about the adventures of her heroine.

Under other circumstances, Ron might have started to brag a bit and inflate his role in their exploits. Recent experiences, however, had begun to have an effect on him. "Well, to be honest it was more Jasmine who saved Hermione than me," he admitted. "And it was my fault she was in the bathroom to begin with. I had said some awful things to her earlier in the day, and she ran in there to cry." Gabrielle frowned at this, not happy that he had upset Hermione, a girl she'd heard so many good things about.

Ron shot a glance at his friends, who appeared to be engrossed in their conversation with Fleur. "I also said some even more awful things to both of them when this tournament started," he said quietly, now looking very embarrassed. "I was a right prat to them, and for a while they didn't want to be my friends anymore. I should never have said those things, and I wish I could go back in time and slap myself. Before, they were my best friends — they were like my sisters. Now, though..." he trailed off dejectedly.

Gabrielle looked pensive. "Well, you are sorry for what you did, yes?" He nodded glumly. "And you apologized to zem for it, yes?"

"Well," Ron said reluctantly, "sorta. I'm rubbish at that sort of thing, so I guess it wasn't a very good apology."

"You 'ave to apologize if you really are sorry," Gabrielle insisted. "Otherwise, how can zey know for sure? If you are zeir friend, you must tell zem you are sorry; if zey are your friends, zey will forgive you — but only if you are sincere. Zen you can be together again!"

Ron was thoughtful for a moment, then nodded and held out his hand. "I'm Ron Weasley, by the way — pleased to meet you."

Gabrielle beamed as she took his hand. "I'm Gabrielle Delacour. Friends?"

"Friends," he replied with a grin.

Jasmine and Hermione, who hadn't been quite as absorbed in their conversation as Ron had thought, gave each other knowing smiles.

Wednesday, February 24, 1995, Afternoon.

Albus Dumbledore stood over the pensieve in his office while he gently extracted yet another memory. He desperately wanted to talk to Jasmine Potter — well, he wanted to talk to all of those who had been involved in the fiasco that morning, but Jasmine Potter was at the top of his list. However, he needed to be as prepared as possible before any such interview, and to accomplish that, he needed to carefully review all relevant memories.

This included not just his memories of the events of last night and the following morning, but also his memories of other related events in recent weeks. Something odd has been going on, Dumbledore thought, and much of it centers around Miss Potter. She must know and is likely involved, especially given how much power she seemed to be exhibiting this morning. In order to find out more myself, I need to know what questions to ask and how to word them.

Fawkes trilled mournfully from his perch.

Fleur was writing furiously, desperate to get a letter off to her family. Merde! Putain de tournoi! Putain de directeur! My family had better start talking to me, she fumed silently, because Gabrielle and I are now neck-deep in whatever is going on, and we can't afford to be kept ignorant any longer!

Her sister was stretched out lazily on their bed, quietly reading and completely unaware of the true problems that had arisen earlier that day. She thought that Fleur was writing to their family about her being taken as a hostage without proper permission, and Fleur was indeed doing that, but that wasn't all she was writing. Apparently, Gabrielle either didn't see the glow that touched us both or failed to recognize it as something significant.

Fleur did recognize it as significant. She couldn't tell exactly what it was, but based on what she knew, she suspected that it was the glow that should normally be associated with a developing special bond. That didn't really explain anything, though — such bonds existed within couples, so how could it encompass and affect her and her sister? Even the fact that the bond seemed to be getting stronger between Jasmine and Hermione shouldn't matter. It just didn't make sense, and she didn't want to tell her sister anything until she understood it herself.

Grandmere is an expert, so she should understand and be able to explain what's happened to us… and she'd better start talking, because I am running out of patience!

Viktor Krum sat stoically, his arms crossed over his chest, as his headmaster ranted and raved at him about the importance of beating rather than joining the competition. Karkaroff was clearly outraged that Viktor had chosen to put the hostages over his own standing in the tournament, but his attempts to argue that such action would harm his Quidditch career and undermine his fan base were just laughable. Karkaroff honestly didn't realize that such selflessness and teamwork would make him more appealing, not less.

Then again, he had always known that Karkaroff was a selfish kreten, only interested in himself and his own goals. Karkaroff needed Krum more than Krum needed Karkaroff, and they both knew it. Krum was only listening to his headmaster's temper tantrum in order to humor him, not because he had to or because he actually felt chastened — and that only made his headmaster angrier.

Eventually, Viktor simply stood up and walked out without saying a word. He was tired of listening to the man's useless whinging. He was proud of what he had done and would do it again in a heartbeat. Despite the mistakes they had all made, he had enjoyed working with the other champions and recognized that they all had a lot of potential. It was like working with a promising Quidditch team that had a lot of great players, but needed to practice their teamwork.

If Viktor was sorry about anything, it was the fact that he hadn't thought of the plan to work together himself.

Come to think of it, he mused as he walked back to his quarters on the Durmstrang ship, I wonder if I should propose something similar for the final task? There won't be any hostages again, I assume, but how would the others react to the idea of a joint, four-way victory? None of the officials or judges can object, since this tournament is supposed to be about international cooperation — and if we all cooperate, aren't we keeping with the spirit of the event?

Viktor Krum would spend a great deal of time thinking about that over the rest of the day.

Cedric Diggory sat with his father in Professor Sprout's office, only half listening as the two adults talked about the Triwizard Tournament, Albus Dumbledore, suspicious events that had been happening in Hogwarts over the past couple of years, and more. In truth, they were all things that he knew he should care about, but he couldn't seem to concentrate on any of them.

Instead, he kept finding himself returning to events under the lake — how they had all worked together to free the hostages, how they had made mistakes in both planning and execution, how Pott... no, Jasmine... had been the first to react to perceived danger and started dealing with it in such a decisive manner, and how they all had had to work together to get everyone back safe and sound.

He'd meant it when he told his father that Jasmine was a better Hufflepuff than some of the people sorted into his house. It made him a bit ashamed about his house, but also proud that she had chosen to confide in him and ask him to join her plan for the champions to work together. He hoped they could do so again — he liked the feeling of working as a team like that.

I wonder if the others would be willing to work together again for the final task? he thought to himself. I know Jasmine doesn't care about points or winning, and right now I'm finding that I really don't, either. If I'm going to win, I'd like the victory to mean something, and I think it would mean a lot more if all four of us are holding up the trophy together than if I'm just holding it alone.

For the rest of the day and well into the night, Cedric Diggory considered how he might convince the others that this was a good idea.

Neville Longbottom and the four Weasleys all sat in the Gryffindor common room, each lost in their own thoughts about what had happened that morning. Despite their experience with the sorts of adventures that Jasmine Potter invariably got herself involved in, the events of the day had been a bit heavier and more complex than they were accustomed to, and they weren't sure what to do about it all.

Ron's thoughts were the most complex, especially for him. He was pretty sure that he had been seriously told off by that little veela at lunch. Granted, she did so in an incredibly polite and sweet way, but he could see the criticism behind the veil of bubbly happiness, and the fact that it took a little kid to force him to face his errors didn't make him feel any better about it.

Nevertheless, he couldn't deny that she had been right. He needed to apologize — really, sincerely apologize — and he needed to do it soon. This meant he had to open up to a degree he'd never done before, not even to himself, and he wasn't sure if he could do it.

Neville pondered the changes that Jasmine's and Hermione's relationship were starting to produce in the castle. He had to admit, he had been more than a bit uncomfortable about it in the beginning — it just wasn't the way things were done. Yet now that he had had time to get used to the idea, it seemed like it wasn't such an earth-shattering thing after all. Oh, sure, there was a major secret that now had to be protected; still, he suspected there was always a bit of weirdness when two long-time friends suddenly became a couple, and that was probably true whether they were same-sex or not. In the end, it just didn't affect him that much, and he was beginning to wonder what all the fuss had ever been about.

It was the changes outside their relationship that were more significant, in his opinion. First there was Professor McGonagall, who finally seemed to be stepping up and fulfilling some of the responsibilities to her house that she had been neglecting. Then there was the way all three of the other champions had publicly stood up to Dumbledore and defended Jasmine. Well, he supposed that might not be the result of the girls' relationship as such, but it did seem like their long stint as social outcasts was finally starting to turn around, and it appeared to start at about the time they got together. The inter-house study group was another example. Somehow those two witches had a knack for changing minds, as he himself had experienced.

Neville sighed. I really ought to write to Gran about what happened today, he realized. She'll find out anyway, but she'll appreciate a first-hand account, especially if I can emphasize certain portions that she'll be most interested in. And I'll want to get her to think about what we might do to protect Hermione going forward.

The Weasley twins were thinking about how there was almost certainly more going on than they had been told. Jasmine and Hermione had always been close, but recently they seemed to be closer than ever. Her reaction to Hermione's absence had gone well beyond anything they would have expected from her before. Ron was distant from the two witches, but that at least they understood and hoped their little brother got his act together before he lost their friendship permanently.

Neville was acting a bit odd, too — he had gone to the Yule Ball as Jasmine's date, but they couldn't detect the slightest bit of romance between them. He also seemed to give the two witches knowing looks now and again. In fact, Ginny seemed to be giving them similar looks, which suggested that both of them knew something that they weren't telling anyone else. Unfortunately, neither would be easy to pressure.

Which meant it was time for a spot of information-gathering.

Ginny, for her part, was still trying to deal with her feelings about Jasmine and Hermione. She hadn't gotten any less uncomfortable with the idea of them being a romantic couple, yet she still wanted to help them as much as possible despite that discomfort. If anything, this internal conflict had only been getting worse, and she realized that she needed to deal with it before she said or did something inappropriate.

But what? That was a question she had no answer to.

Unlike everyone else, Hermione and Jasmine weren't consumed by deep, complex thoughts. In fact, they weren't thinking much at all. After lunch, they had thanked everyone both for their help and for joining them at lunch, then had taken their leave and headed directly for the Room of Requirement, where Hermione had brought out her Hot Tub Grotto.

They hadn't even bothered to stop by the common room for swimsuits — Jasmine was already wearing one under her robes, and they figured that the Room might be able to provide something for Hermione. But as they neared their destination, Jasmine realized with dismay that her suit still reeked of the Black Lake. Suddenly she wanted more than anything just to get out of it, and she hoped that there might be a swimsuit available for her, too.

What they got was a selection of bikinis in the individual dressing rooms. Neither witch was entirely comfortable with wearing a swimsuit quite that revealing and wondered why the room had provided them, but they both decided to take the plunge, so to speak, and wear one anyway.

Upon leaving the dressing rooms, both stopped and just stared at each other, drinking in what each considered to be an amazing sight. Once they had made their way over to the "hot tub," they found a selection of drinks and snacks waiting for them, including oysters with a spicy avocado sauce. Again. They ignored the food, though, and focused instead on each other — talking, cuddling, and occasionally snogging — for the rest of the afternoon.

Neither noticed the pair of house elves hiding in a darkened corner while they watched to see if their creative additions to the Room were bearing fruit for their mistresses' relationship.

Wednesday, February 24, 1995, Evening.

"Jasmine? Hermione?" Ron said hesitantly as he stood beside the table they were working at. "Can I talk to you two? Uh, alone?" The last was said with a quick look to Neville and Ginny, who in turn gave questioning looks to the first two witches to see what they wanted to do.

Jasmine and Hermione looked at Ron, then looked at each other. Jasmine raised an eyebrow — Shall we talk to him?

Hermione shrugged. I guess so. We were expecting this.

Jasmine smiled. I know, but I don't want to make it too easy for him.

Hermione rolled her eyes, then turned to Ron to say, "Sure, we can talk." She looked over at Neville and Ginny, who quickly said that they'd leave them alone for a little bit, gathering up their books and going over to a nearby couch to work.

Ron was silent for a long moment after he sat down, just staring at the table, but finally he looked up at his two former best friends and said, "The first time I apologized to you, I didn't do such a great job — I know that now. I want to try again, but I think I need to explain some things about how I was acting."

"I think we know that you were jealous," Jasmine started to respond, but Ron interrupted her almost immediately.

"No, no," he insisted, "I didn't act that way because I was jealous."

"What? But you seemed to be," Hermione objected.

"I'll admit that I've occasionally been jealous of Jasmine," Ron replied, "but to be jealous about her being a Triwizard Champion would mean that I'd want to be one myself."

"Didn't you?" Jasmine said "I remember you mooning over the thought of getting a thousand galleons and becoming famous. Hermione tried to remind you that no one remembered any of the previous champions, and tried to argue that risking your life for a thousand galleons wasn't really worth it."

"Yeah," Ron said, "and money and fame have at times been a sore spot for me, but not in this case. I knew I didn't stand a chance as a champion. Those were just idle fantasies, so it didn't matter to me that they weren't realistic. A guy can fantasize occasionally, yeah?"

"Then why did you act the way you did when my name came out of the Goblet of Fire?" Jasmine asked, confused now.

Sighing deeply, Ron said softly, "I... I was afraid of being left behind."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"I was afraid that you two would leave me behind," Ron said a little more firmly. "I was afraid that the two of you would start going on adventures without me, that you'd decide you didn't need Ron Weasley anymore. That it would no longer be the three of us together, like it was from the beginning. I tend to feel like just a sidekick for the Girl Who Lived, like I'm standing in your shadow all the time, but it's still better than being a nobody, which is what I'd end up being without you." The pained look on Ron's face made it clear just how hard it was for him to admit all of this — and how much harder it was on him to think that he couldn't be anything special without them.

"Why did you think we'd leave you behind at all?" Jasmine asked.

"Well, it already started last year, didn't it?" Ron said, a little heat edging into his voice. "I know you two went and did something outside the hospital wing without me and didn't tell me anything. It was eating at me all last summer. I kept imagining you two always off doing something fun and exciting while I was stuck forever tossing gnomes or cleaning the chicken coop. It's bad enough knowing that my older brothers are always off doing something exciting, but the thought of being left behind by my own best friends just about killed me."

Sighing again when he saw them give each other a knowing glance, he continued, "Look, I know that you two are closer to each other than either of you are to me — than either of you ever will be to me. No, don't deny it; but I'm not upset about that. It's only natural that you two would be closer. You're both girls, after all. If Jasmine had been born a boy, I figure she and I would be closer to each other than either of us would be with you, Hermione."

Jasmine scrunched up her face in disgust at that mental image. A boy? Me? How revolting!

Hermione saw her distress and refused to take it seriously. "Just think of how much fun you'd have as a boy, Jas! You could fart and belch all you want. You could lie around in your underwear and scratch yourself in inappropriate places. You could stand up to pee. You could goof off playing exploding snap. You could develop a crush on Ron's little sister..."

"Merlin, Hermione, keep that sort of thing to yourself!" Jasmine said in a hoarse whisper. "I'm going to have to have myself obliviated now!"

Ron chuckled at their antics before trying to bring the conversation back to the original topic. "So you see, I wasn't jealous, I was... scared. And I guess I took it out on you. I was wrong and stupid, but not for the reasons you thought I was. I'm not saying that my actual reasons make it all OK — they don't. I just wanted you to understand, yeah?"

"That's... that's actually quite insightful, Ron," Hermione said, more than a little impressed.

"Always the tone of surprise..." Ron griped, but the rueful smile he gave them belied his tone.

Jasmine sighed. "I guess I can understand your reasoning, Ron. And you're right, it doesn't make it OK, but understanding it better will, I think, make it easier to get past all this."

"But Ron, I don't think you should see us as your only means for standing out or being special," Hermione put in. "You shouldn't compare yourself to Jasmine — she's a unique case. Instead, you should focus on the things you like to do and can do well. Focus on where you want to be in a couple of decades and what it will take to get there."

"I don't want anyone to feel miserable and trapped in my shadow," Jasmine said. "I don't even want a shadow like that. But I'll tell you right now, Ron, the only reason you'll be there is if you let yourself."

"That's right, Ron," Hermione continued. "I know that I'm sometimes probably overlooked because I'm in her shadow, but I never feel like I'm trapped there. I do my own things and am recognized for them."

"Yeah, but you're brilliant," Ron protested. "Of course you're recognized for that!"

"And you've got your own things to be proud of," Jasmine responded firmly (though privately hoping that he wouldn't ask her to list them because, in all honesty, skill at chess and having memorized the history of the Chudley Cannons weren't things she thought she could put a very positive spin on).

"And if none of that is enough," Hermione added, almost as if she read Jasmine's mind and was trying to help, "then it's up to you to find more. You're capable of it, you just need to figure out what you want."

"And we'll help," Jasmine said, "because that's what friends do."

Ron smiled now, recognizing that last statement as the acceptance he was hoping for. "I guess you're right, I do need to find something for myself instead of just staying in your shadow and growing to resent you for it." After thinking a bit, he continued, "I know we can't go back to the way we were before, at least not right away, but I'd like to try to make it up to you. Like... maybe helping you out with the last task?" The question was asked in a very hopeful voice.

"I think we can probably work something out," Jasmine said carefully, not wanting to dash his hopes but reluctant to agree outright. "We don't know yet what it will be, so we don't know what I might need to do in order to prepare."

"Brilliant!" Ron said, happier than he had been in a long time. "I won't push, though. And I'll let you get back to what you were doing." After he got up and left, Neville and Ginny returned to their seats at the table.

"So, how'd it go?" Ginny asked. "Better than last time?"

"Yes, loads better," Hermione said, smiling slightly.

"And now he wants to help me prepare for the final task," Jasmine added, smiling a bit less.

Neville and Ginny looked at each other, both recognizing the sorts of problems that could cause.

"Did you say yes?" Neville asked.

"We didn't quite say yes or no," Hermione admitted. Ginny raised a questioning eyebrow at that.

"We left it open, but gave him reason to be optimistic," Jasmine added. "We don't even know yet what I'll need to do to prepare. For all we know, there won't be any way for you to help, never mind him."

"Regardless, we wanted to talk to the two of you first," Hermione said, "to figure out how well it would work and what we'd need to do in order to, uh, you know, keep certain things secret." The last bit she said very softly.

None of them noticed the flesh-colored bit of string that had been lying under their table and which now started to withdraw towards another part of the common room.

Wednesday, February 24, 1995, Night.

Peter Pettigrew groaned in exhaustion as he slowly lowered himself down onto the piece of floor he was forced to call his bed. The day had been one of the worst he'd experienced in a while. His master had started feeling uncomfortable the night before for some reason, and then that morning he'd been in a rage, though even he couldn't figure out why. He wasn't in pain, and nothing specific had happened, but that hadn't stopped the Dark Lord from using the Cruciatus on him. Repeatedly. And what was worse, his curses seemed to be back at full power, too.

Then, starting late in the morning and continuing through the afternoon, the Dark Lord had been howling in pain. The pain had been enough to prevent him from continuing to torture Peter, though Peter was careful not to append the sentiment "luckily" to the beginning of that thought: even in his ugly little baby form, he was still a master legilimens and would easily find that thought if Peter allowed it to fully develop.

As he drifted off to sleep, he wished desperately that his situation might improve on the morrow, and wished even more that he had never betrayed his brothers in order to become a slave to the Dark Lord.